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From: Stevan Freeborn <65925598+StevanFreeborn@users.noreply.github.com>
Date: Wed, 20 May 2026 13:45:10 -0500
Subject: [PATCH] feat: complete project

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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus
+    
+This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
+at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
+you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
+before using this eBook.
+
+Title: Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus
+
+Author: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
+
+Release date: November 23, 2012 [eBook #41445]
+                Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
+
+Language: English
+
+Original publication: United Kingdom: Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor, & Jones, 1818
+
+Credits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
+        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+        Revised by Richard Tonsing.
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANKENSTEIN; OR, THE MODERN PROMETHEUS ***
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This text was produced from a photo-reprint of the
+1818 edition.]
+
+
+
+
+                             FRANKENSTEIN;
+
+                                  OR,
+
+                         THE MODERN PROMETHEUS.
+
+
+    IN THREE VOLUMES.
+    VOL. I.
+
+    London:
+
+    _PRINTED FOR_
+    LACKINGTON, HUGHES, HARDING, MAVOR, & JONES,
+    FINSBURY SQUARE.
+
+    1818.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
+    To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
+    From darkness to promote me?——
+
+                                  Paradise Lost.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                          _TO_
+                     WILLIAM GODWIN,
+    _AUTHOR OF POLITICAL JUSTICE, CALEB WILLIAMS, &c._
+                      THESE VOLUMES
+               _Are respectfully inscribed_
+                           BY
+                       THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The event on which this fiction is founded has been supposed, by Dr.
+Darwin, and some of the physiological writers of Germany, as not of
+impossible occurrence. I shall not be supposed as according the remotest
+degree of serious faith to such an imagination; yet, in assuming it as
+the basis of a work of fancy, I have not considered myself as merely
+weaving a series of supernatural terrors. The event on which the
+interest of the story depends is exempt from the disadvantages of a mere
+tale of spectres or enchantment. It was recommended by the novelty of
+the situations which it developes; and, however impossible as a physical
+fact, affords a point of view to the imagination for the delineating of
+human passions more comprehensive and commanding than any which the
+ordinary relations of existing events can yield.
+
+I have thus endeavoured to preserve the truth of the elementary
+principles of human nature, while I have not scrupled to innovate
+upon their combinations. The _Iliad_, the tragic poetry of
+Greece,—Shakespeare, in the _Tempest_ and _Midsummer Night’s
+Dream_,—and most especially Milton, in _Paradise Lost_, conform to this
+rule; and the most humble novelist, who seeks to confer or receive
+amusement from his labours, may, without presumption, apply to prose
+fiction a licence, or rather a rule, from the adoption of which so many
+exquisite combinations of human feeling have resulted in the highest
+specimens of poetry.
+
+The circumstance on which my story rests was suggested in casual
+conversation. It was commenced, partly as a source of amusement, and
+partly as an expedient for exercising any untried resources of mind.
+Other motives were mingled with these, as the work proceeded. I am by no
+means indifferent to the manner in which whatever moral tendencies exist
+in the sentiments or characters it contains shall affect the reader; yet
+my chief concern in this respect has been limited to the avoiding of the
+enervating effects of the novels of the present day, and to the
+exhibitions of the amiableness of domestic affection, and the excellence
+of universal virtue. The opinions which naturally spring from the
+character and situation of the hero are by no means to be conceived as
+existing always in my own conviction; nor is any inference justly to be
+drawn from the following pages as prejudicing any philosophical doctrine
+of whatever kind.
+
+It is a subject also of additional interest to the author, that this
+story was begun in the majestic region where the scene is principally
+laid, and in society which cannot cease to be regretted. I passed the
+summer of 1816 in the environs of Geneva. The season was cold and rainy,
+and in the evenings we crowded around a blazing wood fire, and
+occasionally amused ourselves with some German stories of ghosts, which
+happened to fall into our hands. These tales excited in us a playful
+desire of imitation. Two other friends (a tale from the pen of one of
+whom would be far more acceptable to the public than any thing I can
+ever hope to produce) and myself agreed to write each a story, founded
+on some supernatural occurrence.
+
+The weather, however, suddenly became serene; and my two friends left me
+on a journey among the Alps, and lost, in the magnificent scenes which
+they present, all memory of their ghostly visions. The following tale is
+the only one which has been completed.
+
+
+
+
+FRANKENSTEIN;
+
+OR, THE
+
+_MODERN PROMETHEUS._
+
+
+
+
+LETTER I.
+
+
+_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_.
+
+St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—.
+
+You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the
+commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil
+forebodings. I arrived here yesterday; and my first task is to assure my
+dear sister of my welfare, and increasing confidence in the success of
+my undertaking.
+
+I am already far north of London; and as I walk in the streets of
+Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which
+braces my nerves, and fills me with delight. Do you understand this
+feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards which
+I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by
+this wind of promise, my day dreams become more fervent and vivid. I try
+in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of frost and
+desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of
+beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for ever visible; its
+broad disk just skirting the horizon, and diffusing a perpetual
+splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put some trust
+in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing
+over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in
+beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe. Its
+productions and features may be without example, as the phænomena of the
+heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes. What
+may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I may there discover
+the wondrous power which attracts the needle; and may regulate a
+thousand celestial observations, that require only this voyage to render
+their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I shall satiate my
+ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before
+visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man.
+These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of
+danger or death, and to induce me to commence this laborious voyage with
+the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday
+mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river. But, supposing
+all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable
+benefit which I shall confer on all mankind to the last generation, by
+discovering a passage near the pole to those countries, to reach which
+at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining the secret
+of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be effected by an
+undertaking such as mine.
+
+These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my
+letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to
+heaven; for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as a
+steady purpose,—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.
+This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I have
+read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have been
+made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean through the
+seas which surround the pole. You may remember, that a history of all
+the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the whole of our
+good uncle Thomas’s library. My education was neglected, yet I was
+passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study day and night,
+and my familiarity with them increased that regret which I had felt, as
+a child, on learning that my father’s dying injunction had forbidden my
+uncle to allow me to embark in a sea-faring life.
+
+These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets
+whose effusions entranced my soul, and lifted it to heaven. I also
+became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation;
+I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the
+names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are well acquainted
+with my failure, and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just at
+that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my thoughts were
+turned into the channel of their earlier bent.
+
+Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I can,
+even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this great
+enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I accompanied
+the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea; I voluntarily
+endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often worked harder
+than the common sailors during the day, and devoted my nights to the
+study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those branches of
+physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive the greatest
+practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as an under-mate in
+a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I must own I
+felt a little proud, when my captain offered me the second dignity in
+the vessel, and entreated me to remain with the greatest earnestness; so
+valuable did he consider my services.
+
+And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great
+purpose. My life might have been passed in ease and luxury; but I
+preferred glory to every enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh,
+that some encouraging voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage
+and my resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are
+often depressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage;
+the emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required not
+only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own,
+when their’s are failing.
+
+This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly
+quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in
+my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stage-coach. The
+cold is not excessive, if you are wrapt in furs, a dress which I have
+already adopted; for there is a great difference between walking the
+deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise
+prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have no
+ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and
+Archangel.
+
+I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and my
+intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying
+the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think
+necessary among those who are accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not
+intend to sail until the month of June: and when shall I return? Ah,
+dear sister, how can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many
+months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet. If I fail,
+you will see me again soon, or never.
+
+Farewell, my dear, excellent, Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on
+you, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for
+all your love and kindness.
+
+Your affectionate brother,
+
+R. WALTON.
+
+
+
+
+LETTER II.
+
+
+_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_.
+
+Archangel, 28th March, 17—.
+
+How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow;
+yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I have hired a vessel,
+and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have already
+engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend, and are certainly
+possessed of dauntless courage.
+
+But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy; and the
+absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil. I have
+no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success,
+there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by
+disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I
+shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium
+for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who
+could sympathize with me; whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem
+me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend. I
+have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as
+well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve
+or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair the faults of your
+poor brother! I am too ardent in execution, and too impatient of
+difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me that I am
+self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a
+common, and read nothing but our uncle Thomas’s books of voyages. At
+that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own
+country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive
+its most important benefits from such a conviction, that I perceived the
+necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my
+native country. Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate
+than many school-boys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more,
+and that my day dreams are more extended and magnificent; but they want
+(as the painters call it) _keeping_; and I greatly need a friend who
+would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection
+enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.
+
+Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on
+the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen.
+Yet some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in
+these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of wonderful
+courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory. He is an
+Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional prejudices,
+unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest endowments of
+humanity. I first became acquainted with him on board a whale vessel:
+finding that he was unemployed in this city, I easily engaged him to
+assist in my enterprise.
+
+The master is a person of an excellent disposition, and is remarkable in
+the ship for his gentleness, and the mildness of his discipline. He is,
+indeed, of so amiable a nature, that he will not hunt (a favourite, and
+almost the only amusement here), because he cannot endure to spill
+blood. He is, moreover, heroically generous. Some years ago he loved a
+young Russian lady, of moderate fortune; and having amassed a
+considerable sum in prize-money, the father of the girl consented to the
+match. He saw his mistress once before the destined ceremony; but she
+was bathed in tears, and, throwing herself at his feet, entreated him to
+spare her, confessing at the same time that she loved another, but that
+he was poor, and that her father would never consent to the union. My
+generous friend reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the
+name of her lover instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought
+a farm with his money, on which he had designed to pass the remainder of
+his life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the
+remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited
+the young woman’s father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But
+the old man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my
+friend; who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country,
+nor returned until he heard that his former mistress was married
+according to her inclinations. “What a noble fellow!” you will exclaim.
+He is so; but then he has passed all his life on board a vessel, and has
+scarcely an idea beyond the rope and the shroud.
+
+But do not suppose that, because I complain a little, or because I can
+conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am
+wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate; and my voyage is
+only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. The
+winter has been dreadfully severe; but the spring promises well, and it
+is considered as a remarkably early season; so that, perhaps, I may sail
+sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly; you know me
+sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the
+safety of others is committed to my care.
+
+I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my
+undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of the
+trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which I am
+preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to “the land of
+mist and snow;” but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be
+alarmed for my safety.
+
+Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and
+returned by the most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare not
+expect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the
+picture. Continue to write to me by every opportunity: I may receive
+your letters (though the chance is very doubtful) on some occasions when
+I need them most to support my spirits. I love you very tenderly.
+Remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again.
+
+Your affectionate brother,
+
+ROBERT WALTON.
+
+
+
+
+LETTER III.
+
+
+_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_.
+
+July 7th, 17—.
+
+MY DEAR SISTER,
+
+I write a few lines in haste, to say that I am safe, and well advanced
+on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchant-man now on
+its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not
+see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good
+spirits: my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose; nor do the
+floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers
+of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We
+have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of
+summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales,
+which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire
+to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not
+expected.
+
+No incidents have hitherto befallen us, that would make a figure in a
+letter. One or two stiff gales, and the breaking of a mast, are
+accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record; and
+I shall be well content, if nothing worse happen to us during our
+voyage.
+
+Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured, that for my own sake, as well as
+your’s, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering,
+and prudent.
+
+Remember me to all my English friends.
+
+Most affectionately yours,
+
+R. W.
+
+
+
+
+LETTER IV.
+
+
+_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_.
+
+August 5th, 17—.
+
+So strange an accident has happened to us, that I cannot forbear
+recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before
+these papers can come into your possession.
+
+Last Monday (July 31st), we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed
+in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea room in which she
+floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we were
+compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to, hoping that
+some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.
+
+About two o’clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out in
+every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to have
+no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to grow
+watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly attracted
+our attention, and diverted our solicitude from our own situation. We
+perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, pass on
+towards the north, at the distance of half a mile: a being which had the
+shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature, sat in the sledge,
+and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progress of the traveller
+with our telescopes, until he was lost among the distant inequalities of
+the ice.
+
+This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We were, as we believed,
+many hundred miles from any land; but this apparition seemed to denote
+that it was not, in reality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in,
+however, by ice, it was impossible to follow his track, which we had
+observed with the greatest attention.
+
+About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground sea; and
+before night the ice broke, and freed our ship. We, however, lay to
+until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those large loose
+masses which float about after the breaking up of the ice. I profited of
+this time to rest for a few hours.
+
+In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck, and
+found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently talking
+to some one in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we had seen
+before, which had drifted towards us in the night, on a large fragment
+of ice. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a human being within
+it, whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel. He was not, as
+the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some
+undiscovered island, but an European. When I appeared on deck, the
+master said, “Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish
+on the open sea.”
+
+On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a
+foreign accent. “Before I come on board your vessel,” said he, “will you
+have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?”
+
+You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed to
+me from a man on the brink of destruction, and to whom I should have
+supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not
+have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. I
+replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the
+northern pole.
+
+Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied, and consented to come on board.
+Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for his
+safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were nearly
+frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering. I
+never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted to carry him
+into the cabin; but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he fainted.
+We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and restored him to
+animation by rubbing him with brandy, and forcing him to swallow a small
+quantity. As soon as he shewed signs of life, we wrapped him up in
+blankets, and placed him near the chimney of the kitchen-stove. By slow
+degrees he recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored him
+wonderfully.
+
+Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak; and I often
+feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When he
+had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin, and
+attended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more
+interesting creature: his eyes have generally an expression of wildness,
+and even madness; but there are moments when, if any one performs an act
+of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling service, his
+whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with a beam of benevolence
+and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he is generally melancholy
+and despairing; and sometimes he gnashes his teeth, as if impatient of
+the weight of woes that oppresses him.
+
+When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to keep off
+the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not
+allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body
+and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose. Once,
+however, the lieutenant asked, Why he had come so far upon the ice in so
+strange a vehicle?
+
+His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom; and he
+replied, “To seek one who fled from me.”
+
+“And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then I fancy we have seen him; for, the day before we picked you up, we
+saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice.”
+
+This aroused the stranger’s attention; and he asked a multitude of
+questions concerning the route which the dæmon, as he called him, had
+pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, “I have,
+doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good people;
+but you are too considerate to make inquiries.”
+
+“Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to
+trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine.”
+
+“And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have
+benevolently restored me to life.”
+
+Soon after this he inquired, if I thought that the breaking up of the
+ice had destroyed the other sledge? I replied, that I could not answer
+with any degree of certainty; for the ice had not broken until near
+midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety
+before that time; but of this I could not judge.
+
+From this time the stranger seemed very eager to be upon deck, to watch
+for the sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to
+remain in the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of
+the atmosphere. But I have promised that some one should watch for him,
+and give him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.
+
+Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the
+present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health, but is very
+silent, and appears uneasy when any one except myself enters his cabin.
+Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle, that the sailors are all
+interested in him, although they have had very little communication with
+him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother; and his constant
+and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must have been
+a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck so
+attractive and amiable.
+
+I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no
+friend on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who, before his spirit
+had been broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as
+the brother of my heart.
+
+I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals, should
+I have any fresh incidents to record.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+August 13th, 17—.
+
+My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my
+admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so noble
+a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant grief?
+He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated; and when he
+speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art, yet they
+flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.
+
+He is now much recovered from his illness, and is continually on the
+deck, apparently watching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet,
+although unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery, but
+that he interests himself deeply in the employments of others. He has
+asked me many questions concerning my design; and I have related my
+little history frankly to him. He appeared pleased with the confidence,
+and suggested several alterations in my plan, which I shall find
+exceedingly useful. There is no pedantry in his manner; but all he does
+appears to spring solely from the interest he instinctively takes in the
+welfare of those who surround him. He is often overcome by gloom, and
+then he sits by himself, and tries to overcome all that is sullen or
+unsocial in his humour. These paroxysms pass from him like a cloud from
+before the sun, though his dejection never leaves him. I have
+endeavoured to win his confidence; and I trust that I have succeeded.
+One day I mentioned to him the desire I had always felt of finding a
+friend who might sympathize with me, and direct me by his counsel. I
+said, I did not belong to that class of men who are offended by advice.
+“I am self-educated, and perhaps I hardly rely sufficiently upon my own
+powers. I wish therefore that my companion should be wiser and more
+experienced than myself, to confirm and support me; nor have I believed
+it impossible to find a true friend.”
+
+“I agree with you,” replied the stranger, “in believing that friendship
+is not only a desirable, but a possible acquisition. I once had a
+friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled, therefore,
+to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and the world before you,
+and have no cause for despair. But I——I have lost every thing, and
+cannot begin life anew.”
+
+As he said this, his countenance became expressive of a calm settled
+grief, that touched me to the heart. But he was silent, and presently
+retired to his cabin.
+
+Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does
+the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight
+afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of
+elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may
+suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet when he has
+retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit, that has a
+halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.
+
+Will you laugh at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine
+wanderer? If you do, you must have certainly lost that simplicity which
+was once your characteristic charm. Yet, if you will, smile at the
+warmth of my expressions, while I find every day new causes for
+repeating them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+August 19th, 17—.
+
+Yesterday the stranger said to me, “You may easily perceive, Captain
+Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I had
+determined, once, that the memory of these evils should die with me; but
+you have won me to alter my determination. You seek for knowledge and
+wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of
+your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been. I do
+not know that the relation of my misfortunes will be useful to you, yet,
+if you are inclined, listen to my tale. I believe that the strange
+incidents connected with it will afford a view of nature, which may
+enlarge your faculties and understanding. You will hear of powers and
+occurrences, such as you have been accustomed to believe impossible: but
+I do not doubt that my tale conveys in its series internal evidence of
+the truth of the events of which it is composed.”
+
+You may easily conceive that I was much gratified by the offered
+communication; yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by
+a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hear the
+promised narrative, partly from curiosity, and partly from a strong
+desire to ameliorate his fate, if it were in my power. I expressed these
+feelings in my answer.
+
+“I thank you,” he replied, “for your sympathy, but it is useless; my
+fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall
+repose in peace. I understand your feeling,” continued he, perceiving
+that I wished to interrupt him; “but you are mistaken, my friend, if
+thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny: listen
+to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is determined.”
+
+He then told me, that he would commence his narrative the next day when
+I should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. I
+have resolved every night, when I am not engaged, to record, as nearly
+as possible in his own words, what he has related during the day. If I
+should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This manuscript will
+doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure: but to me, who know him, and
+who hear it from his own lips, with what interest and sympathy shall I
+read it in some future day!
+
+
+
+
+FRANKENSTEIN;
+
+OR,
+
+THE MODERN PROMETHEUS.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished
+of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and
+syndics; and my father had filled several public situations with honour
+and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his integrity
+and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his younger
+days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; and it was not
+until the decline of life that he thought of marrying, and bestowing on
+the state sons who might carry his virtues and his name down to
+posterity.
+
+As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot
+refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a
+merchant, who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous
+mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a
+proud and unbending disposition, and could not bear to live in poverty
+and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been
+distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts,
+therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter
+to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My
+father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved
+by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He grieved also for
+the loss of his society, and resolved to seek him out and endeavour to
+persuade him to begin the world again through his credit and assistance.
+
+Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself; and it was ten
+months before my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this
+discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean
+street, near the Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone
+welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the
+wreck of his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with
+sustenance for some months, and in the mean time he hoped to procure
+some respectable employment in a merchant’s house. The interval was
+consequently spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and
+rankling, when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so
+fast hold of his mind, that at the end of three months he lay on a bed
+of sickness, incapable of any exertion.
+
+His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness; but she saw with
+despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing, and that there
+was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind
+of an uncommon mould; and her courage rose to support her in her
+adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw; and by various
+means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to support life.
+
+Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time
+was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence
+decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving
+her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her; and she knelt
+by Beaufort’s coffin, weeping bitterly, when my father entered the
+chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who
+committed herself to his care, and after the interment of his friend he
+conducted her to Geneva, and placed her under the protection of a
+relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.
+
+When my father became a husband and a parent, he found his time so
+occupied by the duties of his new situation, that he relinquished many
+of his public employments, and devoted himself to the education of his
+children. Of these I was the eldest, and the destined successor to all
+his labours and utility. No creature could have more tender parents than
+mine. My improvement and health were their constant care, especially as
+I remained for several years their only child. But before I continue my
+narrative, I must record an incident which took place when I was four
+years of age.
+
+My father had a sister, whom he tenderly loved, and who had married
+early in life an Italian gentleman. Soon after her marriage, she had
+accompanied her husband into her native country, and for some years my
+father had very little communication with her. About the time I
+mentioned she died; and a few months afterwards he received a letter
+from her husband, acquainting him with his intention of marrying an
+Italian lady, and requesting my father to take charge of the infant
+Elizabeth, the only child of his deceased sister. “It is my wish,” he
+said, “that you should consider her as your own daughter, and educate
+her thus. Her mother’s fortune is secured to her, the documents of which
+I will commit to your keeping. Reflect upon this proposition; and decide
+whether you would prefer educating your niece yourself to her being
+brought up by a stepmother.”
+
+My father did not hesitate, and immediately went to Italy, that he
+might accompany the little Elizabeth to her future home. I have often
+heard my mother say, that she was at that time the most beautiful child
+she had ever seen, and shewed signs even then of a gentle and
+affectionate disposition. These indications, and a desire to bind as
+closely as possible the ties of domestic love, determined my mother to
+consider Elizabeth as my future wife; a design which she never found
+reason to repent.
+
+From this time Elizabeth Lavenza became my playfellow, and, as we grew
+older, my friend. She was docile and good tempered, yet gay and playful
+as a summer insect. Although she was lively and animated, her feelings
+were strong and deep, and her disposition uncommonly affectionate. No
+one could better enjoy liberty, yet no one could submit with more grace
+than she did to constraint and caprice. Her imagination was luxuriant,
+yet her capability of application was great. Her person was the image of
+her mind; her hazel eyes, although as lively as a bird’s, possessed an
+attractive softness. Her figure was light and airy; and, though capable
+of enduring great fatigue, she appeared the most fragile creature in the
+world. While I admired her understanding and fancy, I loved to tend on
+her, as I should on a favourite animal; and I never saw so much grace
+both of person and mind united to so little pretension.
+
+Every one adored Elizabeth. If the servants had any request to make, it
+was always through her intercession. We were strangers to any species of
+disunion and dispute; for although there was a great dissimilitude in
+our characters, there was an harmony in that very dissimilitude. I was
+more calm and philosophical than my companion; yet my temper was not so
+yielding. My application was of longer endurance; but it was not so
+severe whilst it endured. I delighted in investigating the facts
+relative to the actual world; she busied herself in following the aërial
+creations of the poets. The world was to me a secret, which I desired to
+discover; to her it was a vacancy, which she sought to people with
+imaginations of her own.
+
+My brothers were considerably younger than myself; but I had a friend
+in one of my schoolfellows, who compensated for this deficiency. Henry
+Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva, an intimate friend of my
+father. He was a boy of singular talent and fancy. I remember, when he
+was nine years old, he wrote a fairy tale, which was the delight and
+amazement of all his companions. His favourite study consisted in books
+of chivalry and romance; and when very young, I can remember, that we
+used to act plays composed by him out of these favourite books, the
+principal characters of which were Orlando, Robin Hood, Amadis, and St.
+George.
+
+No youth could have passed more happily than mine. My parents were
+indulgent, and my companions amiable. Our studies were never forced; and
+by some means we always had an end placed in view, which excited us to
+ardour in the prosecution of them. It was by this method, and not by
+emulation, that we were urged to application. Elizabeth was not incited
+to apply herself to drawing, that her companions might not outstrip her;
+but through the desire of pleasing her aunt, by the representation of
+some favourite scene done by her own hand. We learned Latin and English,
+that we might read the writings in those languages; and so far from
+study being made odious to us through punishment, we loved application,
+and our amusements would have been the labours of other children.
+Perhaps we did not read so many books, or learn languages so quickly, as
+those who are disciplined according to the ordinary methods; but what
+we learned was impressed the more deeply on our memories.
+
+In this description of our domestic circle I include Henry Clerval; for
+he was constantly with us. He went to school with me, and generally
+passed the afternoon at our house; for being an only child, and
+destitute of companions at home, his father was well pleased that he
+should find associates at our house; and we were never completely happy
+when Clerval was absent.
+
+I feel pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood, before
+misfortune had tainted my mind, and changed its bright visions of
+extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self. But,
+in drawing the picture of my early days, I must not omit to record those
+events which led, by insensible steps to my after tale of misery: for
+when I would account to myself for the birth of that passion, which
+afterwards ruled my destiny, I find it arise, like a mountain river,
+from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, swelling as it
+proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course, has swept away
+all my hopes and joys.
+
+Natural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate; I desire
+therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my
+predilection for that science. When I was thirteen years of age, we all
+went on a party of pleasure to the baths near Thonon: the inclemency of
+the weather obliged us to remain a day confined to the inn. In this
+house I chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I
+opened it with apathy; the theory which he attempts to demonstrate, and
+the wonderful facts which he relates, soon changed this feeling into
+enthusiasm. A new light seemed to dawn upon my mind; and, bounding with
+joy, I communicated my discovery to my father. I cannot help remarking
+here the many opportunities instructors possess of directing the
+attention of their pupils to useful knowledge, which they utterly
+neglect. My father looked carelessly at the title-page of my book, and
+said, “Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time
+upon this; it is sad trash.”
+
+If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains, to explain to
+me, that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded, and that
+a modern system of science had been introduced, which possessed much
+greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were
+chimerical, while those of the former were real and practical; under
+such circumstances, I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside, and,
+with my imagination warmed as it was, should probably have applied
+myself to the more rational theory of chemistry which has resulted from
+modern discoveries. It is even possible, that the train of my ideas
+would never have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the
+cursory glance my father had taken of my volume by no means assured me
+that he was acquainted with its contents; and I continued to read with
+the greatest avidity.
+
+When I returned home, my first care was to procure the whole works of
+this author, and afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read
+and studied the wild fancies of these writers with delight; they
+appeared to me treasures known to few beside myself; and although I
+often wished to communicate these secret stores of knowledge to my
+father, yet his indefinite censure of my favourite Agrippa always
+withheld me. I disclosed my discoveries to Elizabeth, therefore, under a
+promise of strict secrecy; but she did not interest herself in the
+subject, and I was left by her to pursue my studies alone.
+
+It may appear very strange, that a disciple of Albertus Magnus should
+arise in the eighteenth century; but our family was not scientifical,
+and I had not attended any of the lectures given at the schools of
+Geneva. My dreams were therefore undisturbed by reality; and I entered
+with the greatest diligence into the search of the philosopher’s stone
+and the elixir of life. But the latter obtained my most undivided
+attention: wealth was an inferior object; but what glory would attend
+the discovery, if I could banish disease from the human frame, and
+render man invulnerable to any but a violent death!
+
+Nor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a
+promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment of
+which I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were always
+unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience and
+mistake, than to a want of skill or fidelity in my instructors.
+
+The natural phænomena that take place every day before our eyes did not
+escape my examinations. Distillation, and the wonderful effects of
+steam, processes of which my favourite authors were utterly ignorant,
+excited my astonishment; but my utmost wonder was engaged by some
+experiments on an air-pump, which I saw employed by a gentleman whom we
+were in the habit of visiting.
+
+The ignorance of the early philosophers on these and several other
+points served to decrease their credit with me: but I could not entirely
+throw them aside, before some other system should occupy their place in
+my mind.
+
+When I was about fifteen years old, we had retired to our house near
+Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunder-storm. It
+advanced from behind the mountains of Jura; and the thunder burst at
+once with frightful loudness from various quarters of the heavens. I
+remained, while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity
+and delight. As I stood at the door, on a sudden I beheld a stream of
+fire issue from an old and beautiful oak, which stood about twenty yards
+from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had
+disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. When we visited
+it the next morning, we found the tree shattered in a singular manner.
+It was not splintered by the shock, but entirely reduced to thin
+ribbands of wood. I never beheld any thing so utterly destroyed.
+
+The catastrophe of this tree excited my extreme astonishment; and I
+eagerly inquired of my father the nature and origin of thunder and
+lightning. He replied, “Electricity;” describing at the same time the
+various effects of that power. He constructed a small electrical
+machine, and exhibited a few experiments; he made also a kite, with a
+wire and string, which drew down that fluid from the clouds.
+
+This last stroke completed the overthrow of Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus
+Magnus, and Paracelsus, who had so long reigned the lords of my
+imagination. But by some fatality I did not feel inclined to commence
+the study of any modern system; and this disinclination was influenced
+by the following circumstance.
+
+My father expressed a wish that I should attend a course of lectures
+upon natural philosophy, to which I cheerfully consented. Some accident
+prevented my attending these lectures until the course was nearly
+finished. The lecture, being therefore one of the last, was entirely
+incomprehensible to me. The professor discoursed with the greatest
+fluency of potassium and boron, of sulphates and oxyds, terms to which I
+could affix no idea; and I became disgusted with the science of natural
+philosophy, although I still read Pliny and Buffon with delight,
+authors, in my estimation, of nearly equal interest and utility.
+
+My occupations at this age were principally the mathematics, and most of
+the branches of study appertaining to that science. I was busily
+employed in learning languages; Latin was already familiar to me, and I
+began to read some of the easiest Greek authors without the help of a
+lexicon. I also perfectly understood English and German. This is the
+list of my accomplishments at the age of seventeen; and you may conceive
+that my hours were fully employed in acquiring and maintaining a
+knowledge of this various literature.
+
+Another task also devolved upon me, when I became the instructor of my
+brothers. Ernest was six years younger than myself, and was my principal
+pupil. He had been afflicted with ill health from his infancy, through
+which Elizabeth and I had been his constant nurses: his disposition was
+gentle, but he was incapable of any severe application. William, the
+youngest of our family, was yet an infant, and the most beautiful little
+fellow in the world; his lively blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, and endearing
+manners, inspired the tenderest affection.
+
+Such was our domestic circle, from which care and pain seemed for ever
+banished. My father directed our studies, and my mother partook of our
+enjoyments. Neither of us possessed the slightest pre-eminence over the
+other; the voice of command was never heard amongst us; but mutual
+affection engaged us all to comply with and obey the slightest desire of
+each other.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+When I had attained the age of seventeen, my parents resolved that I
+should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt. I had hitherto
+attended the schools of Geneva; but my father thought it necessary, for
+the completion of my education, that I should be made acquainted with
+other customs than those of my native country. My departure was
+therefore fixed at an early date; but, before the day resolved upon
+could arrive, the first misfortune of my life occurred—an omen, as it
+were, of my future misery.
+
+Elizabeth had caught the scarlet fever; but her illness was not severe,
+and she quickly recovered. During her confinement, many arguments had
+been urged to persuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her. She
+had, at first, yielded to our entreaties; but when she heard that her
+favourite was recovering, she could no longer debar herself from her
+society, and entered her chamber long before the danger of infection was
+past. The consequences of this imprudence were fatal. On the third day
+my mother sickened; her fever was very malignant, and the looks of her
+attendants prognosticated the worst event. On her death-bed the
+fortitude and benignity of this admirable woman did not desert her. She
+joined the hands of Elizabeth and myself: “My children,” she said, “my
+firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your
+union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father.
+Elizabeth, my love, you must supply my place to your younger cousins.
+Alas! I regret that I am taken from you; and, happy and beloved as I
+have been, is it not hard to quit you all? But these are not thoughts
+befitting me; I will endeavour to resign myself cheerfully to death, and
+will indulge a hope of meeting you in another world.”
+
+She died calmly; and her countenance expressed affection even in death.
+I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by
+that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul,
+and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long
+before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we saw every day, and
+whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed for
+ever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished,
+and the sound of a voice so familiar, and dear to the ear, can be
+hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of the first
+days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil, then
+the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that
+rude hand rent away some dear connexion; and why should I describe a
+sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives,
+when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that
+plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not
+banished. My mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to
+perform; we must continue our course with the rest, and learn to think
+ourselves fortunate, whilst one remains whom the spoiler has not seized.
+
+My journey to Ingolstadt, which had been deferred by these events, was
+now again determined upon. I obtained from my father a respite of some
+weeks. This period was spent sadly; my mother’s death, and my speedy
+departure, depressed our spirits; but Elizabeth endeavoured to renew the
+spirit of cheerfulness in our little society. Since the death of her
+aunt, her mind had acquired new firmness and vigour. She determined to
+fulfil her duties with the greatest exactness; and she felt that that
+most imperious duty, of rendering her uncle and cousins happy, had
+devolved upon her. She consoled me, amused her uncle, instructed my
+brothers; and I never beheld her so enchanting as at this time, when she
+was continually endeavouring to contribute to the happiness of others,
+entirely forgetful of herself.
+
+The day of my departure at length arrived. I had taken leave of all my
+friends, excepting Clerval, who spent the last evening with us. He
+bitterly lamented that he was unable to accompany me: but his father
+could not be persuaded to part with him, intending that he should become
+a partner with him in business, in compliance with his favourite theory,
+that learning was superfluous in the commerce of ordinary life. Henry
+had a refined mind; he had no desire to be idle, and was well pleased to
+become his father’s partner, but he believed that a man might be a very
+good trader, and yet possess a cultivated understanding.
+
+We sat late, listening to his complaints, and making many little
+arrangements for the future. The next morning early I departed. Tears
+gushed from the eyes of Elizabeth; they proceeded partly from sorrow at
+my departure, and partly because she reflected that the same journey was
+to have taken place three months before, when a mother’s blessing would
+have accompanied me.
+
+I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away, and indulged
+in the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by
+amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow
+mutual pleasure, I was now alone. In the university, whither I was
+going, I must form my own friends, and be my own protector. My life had
+hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic; and this had given me
+invincible repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers,
+Elizabeth, and Clerval; these were “old familiar faces;” but I believed
+myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were my
+reflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spirits
+and hopes rose. I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. I had
+often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youth cooped up
+in one place, and had longed to enter the world, and take my station
+among other human beings. Now my desires were complied with, and it
+would, indeed, have been folly to repent.
+
+I had sufficient leisure for these and many other reflections during my
+journey to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing. At length the high
+white steeple of the town met my eyes. I alighted, and was conducted to
+my solitary apartment, to spend the evening as I pleased.
+
+The next morning I delivered my letters of introduction, and paid a
+visit to some of the principal professors, and among others to M.
+Krempe, professor of natural philosophy. He received me with politeness,
+and asked me several questions concerning my progress in the different
+branches of science appertaining to natural philosophy. I mentioned, it
+is true, with fear and trembling, the only authors I had ever read upon
+those subjects. The professor stared: “Have you,” he said, “really spent
+your time in studying such nonsense?”
+
+I replied in the affirmative. “Every minute,” continued M. Krempe with
+warmth, “every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly
+and entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with exploded systems,
+and useless names. Good God! in what desert land have you lived, where
+no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies, which you have
+so greedily imbibed, are a thousand years old, and as musty as they are
+ancient? I little expected in this enlightened and scientific age to
+find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus. My dear Sir, you must
+begin your studies entirely anew.”
+
+So saying, he stept aside, and wrote down a list of several books
+treating of natural philosophy, which he desired me to procure, and
+dismissed me, after mentioning that in the beginning of the following
+week he intended to commence a course of lectures upon natural
+philosophy in its general relations, and that M. Waldman, a
+fellow-professor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that
+he missed.
+
+I returned home, not disappointed, for I had long considered those
+authors useless whom the professor had so strongly reprobated; but I did
+not feel much inclined to study the books which I procured at his
+recommendation. M. Krempe was a little squat man, with a gruff voice and
+repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in
+favour of his doctrine. Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern
+natural philosophy. It was very different, when the masters of the
+science sought immortality and power; such views, although futile, were
+grand: but now the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer
+seemed to limit itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my
+interest in science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange
+chimeras of boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.
+
+Such were my reflections during the first two or three days spent almost
+in solitude. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the
+information which M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures. And
+although I could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow
+deliver sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M.
+Waldman, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town.
+
+Partly from curiosity, and partly from idleness, I went into the
+lecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professor
+was very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, but
+with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few gray hairs
+covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were nearly
+black. His person was short, but remarkably erect; and his voice the
+sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by a recapitulation of
+the history of chemistry and the various improvements made by different
+men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names of the most
+distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view of the present
+state of the science, and explained many of its elementary terms. After
+having made a few preparatory experiments, he concluded with a panegyric
+upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall never forget:—
+
+“The ancient teachers of this science,” said he, “promised
+impossibilities, and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very
+little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted, and that the elixir
+of life is a chimera. But these philosophers, whose hands seem only made
+to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pour over the microscope or
+crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the
+recesses of nature, and shew how she works in her hiding places. They
+ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates,
+and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost
+unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the
+earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows.”
+
+I departed highly pleased with the professor and his lecture, and paid
+him a visit the same evening. His manners in private were even more mild
+and attractive than in public; for there was a certain dignity in his
+mien during his lecture, which in his own house was replaced by the
+greatest affability and kindness. He heard with attention my little
+narration concerning my studies, and smiled at the names of Cornelius
+Agrippa, and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe had
+exhibited. He said, that “these were men to whose indefatigable zeal
+modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their
+knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names,
+and arrange in connected classifications, the facts which they in a
+great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. The labours
+of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in
+ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.” I listened to his
+statement, which was delivered without any presumption or affectation;
+and then added, that his lecture had removed my prejudices against
+modern chemists; and I, at the same time, requested his advice
+concerning the books I ought to procure.
+
+“I am happy,” said M. Waldman, “to have gained a disciple; and if your
+application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success.
+Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest
+improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that I
+have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time I have not
+neglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a very
+sorry chemist, if he attended to that department of human knowledge
+alone. If your wish is to become really a man of science, and not merely
+a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every branch of
+natural philosophy, including mathematics.”
+
+He then took me into his laboratory, and explained to me the uses of
+his various machines; instructing me as to what I ought to procure, and
+promising me the use of his own, when I should have advanced far enough
+in the science not to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list
+of books which I had requested; and I took my leave.
+
+Thus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the
+most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.
+I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination,
+which modern inquirers have written on these subjects. I attended the
+lectures, and cultivated the acquaintance, of the men of science of the
+university; and I found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound sense
+and real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive physiognomy
+and manners, but not on that account the less valuable. In M. Waldman I
+found a true friend. His gentleness was never tinged by dogmatism; and
+his instructions were given with an air of frankness and good nature,
+that banished every idea of pedantry. It was, perhaps, the amiable
+character of this man that inclined me more to that branch of natural
+philosophy which he professed, than an intrinsic love for the science
+itself. But this state of mind had place only in the first steps towards
+knowledge: the more fully I entered into the science, the more
+exclusively I pursued it for its own sake. That application, which at
+first had been a matter of duty and resolution, now became so ardent and
+eager, that the stars often disappeared in the light of morning whilst
+I was yet engaged in my laboratory.
+
+As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that I improved
+rapidly. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students; and my
+proficiency, that of the masters. Professor Krempe often asked me, with
+a sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on? whilst M. Waldman expressed
+the most heart-felt exultation in my progress. Two years passed in this
+manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was engaged, heart
+and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries, which I hoped to make.
+None but those who have experienced them can conceive of the enticements
+of science. In other studies you go as far as others have gone before
+you, and there is nothing more to know; but in a scientific pursuit
+there is continual food for discovery and wonder. A mind of moderate
+capacity, which closely pursues one study, must infallibly arrive at
+great proficiency in that study; and I, who continually sought the
+attainment of one object of pursuit, and was solely wrapt up in this,
+improved so rapidly, that, at the end of two years, I made some
+discoveries in the improvement of some chemical instruments, which
+procured me great esteem and admiration at the university. When I had
+arrived at this point, and had become as well acquainted with the theory
+and practice of natural philosophy as depended on the lessons of any of
+the professors at Ingolstadt, my residence there being no longer
+conducive to my improvements, I thought of returning to my friends and
+my native town, when an incident happened that protracted my stay.
+
+One of the phænonema which had peculiarly attracted my attention was the
+structure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued with life.
+Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed? It was
+a bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a mystery;
+yet with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming acquainted,
+if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries. I revolved
+these circumstances in my mind, and determined thenceforth to apply
+myself more particularly to those branches of natural philosophy which
+relate to physiology. Unless I had been animated by an almost
+supernatural enthusiasm, my application to this study would have been
+irksome, and almost intolerable. To examine the causes of life, we must
+first have recourse to death. I became acquainted with the science of
+anatomy: but this was not sufficient; I must also observe the natural
+decay and corruption of the human body. In my education my father had
+taken the greatest precautions that my mind should be impressed with no
+supernatural horrors. I do not ever remember to have trembled at a tale
+of superstition, or to have feared the apparition of a spirit. Darkness
+had no effect upon my fancy; and a church-yard was to me merely the
+receptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat of
+beauty and strength, had become food for the worm. Now I was led to
+examine the cause and progress of this decay, and forced to spend days
+and nights in vaults and charnel houses. My attention was fixed upon
+every object the most insupportable to the delicacy of the human
+feelings. I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I
+beheld the corruption of death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I
+saw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused,
+examining and analysing all the minutiæ of causation, as exemplified in
+the change from life to death, and death to life, until from the midst
+of this darkness a sudden light broke in upon me—a light so brilliant
+and wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the
+immensity of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that
+among so many men of genius, who had directed their inquiries towards
+the same science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so
+astonishing a secret.
+
+Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does not
+more certainly shine in the heavens, than that which I now affirm is
+true. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of the
+discovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights of
+incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of
+generation and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowing
+animation upon lifeless matter.
+
+The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery soon
+gave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in painful
+labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires, was the most
+gratifying consummation of my toils. But this discovery was so great
+and overwhelming, that all the steps by which I had been progressively
+led to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result. What had been
+the study and desire of the wisest men since the creation of the world,
+was now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, it all opened
+upon me at once: the information I had obtained was of a nature rather
+to direct my endeavours so soon as I should point them towards the
+object of my search, than to exhibit that object already accomplished. I
+was like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead, and found a
+passage to life aided only by one glimmering, and seemingly ineffectual
+light.
+
+I see by your eagerness, and the wonder and hope which your eyes
+express, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with
+which I am acquainted; that cannot be: listen patiently until the end of
+my story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon that
+subject. I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was, to
+your destruction and infallible misery. Learn from me, if not by my
+precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of
+knowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native town
+to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature
+will allow.
+
+When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitated
+a long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it. Although
+I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to prepare a frame
+for the reception of it, with all its intricacies of fibres, muscles,
+and veins, still remained a work of inconceivable difficulty and labour.
+I doubted at first whether I should attempt the creation of a being like
+myself or one of simpler organization; but my imagination was too much
+exalted by my first success to permit me to doubt of my ability to give
+life to an animal as complex and wonderful as man. The materials at
+present within my command hardly appeared adequate to so arduous an
+undertaking; but I doubted not that I should ultimately succeed. I
+prepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my operations might be
+incessantly baffled, and at last my work be imperfect: yet, when I
+considered the improvement which every day takes place in science and
+mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present attempts would at least
+lay the foundations of future success. Nor could I consider the
+magnitude and complexity of my plan as any argument of its
+impracticability. It was with these feelings that I began the creation
+of a human being. As the minuteness of the parts formed a great
+hindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my first intention, to
+make the being of a gigantic stature; that is to say, about eight feet
+in height, and proportionably large. After having formed this
+determination, and having spent some months in successfully collecting
+and arranging my materials, I began.
+
+No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like
+a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death appeared
+to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a
+torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me as
+its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their
+being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so
+completely as I should deserve their’s. Pursuing these reflections, I
+thought, that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I might
+in process of time (although I now found it impossible) renew life where
+death had apparently devoted the body to corruption.
+
+These thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my undertaking with
+unremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale with study, and my person
+had become emaciated with confinement. Sometimes, on the very brink of
+certainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the next day or
+the next hour might realize. One secret which I alone possessed was the
+hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon gazed on my midnight
+labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued
+nature to her hiding places. Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret
+toil, as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave, or tortured
+the living animal to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble,
+and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless, and almost
+frantic impulse, urged me forward; I seemed to have lost all soul or
+sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance,
+that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural
+stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits. I
+collected bones from charnel houses; and disturbed, with profane
+fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human frame. In a solitary
+chamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house, and separated from all
+the other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my workshop of
+filthy creation; my eyeballs were starting from their sockets in
+attending to the details of my employment. The dissecting room and the
+slaughter-house furnished many of my materials; and often did my human
+nature turn with loathing from my occupation, whilst, still urged on by
+an eagerness which perpetually increased, I brought my work near to a
+conclusion.
+
+The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in
+one pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow
+a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage:
+but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature. And the same
+feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to
+forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not
+seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them; and I well
+remembered the words of my father: “I know that while you are pleased
+with yourself, you will think of us with affection, and we shall hear
+regularly from you. You must pardon me, if I regard any interruption in
+your correspondence as a proof that your other duties are equally
+neglected.”
+
+I knew well therefore what would be my father’s feelings; but I could
+not tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but which
+had taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as it were,
+to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection until the
+great object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature, should be
+completed.
+
+I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglect
+to vice, or faultiness on my part; but I am now convinced that he was
+justified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free from blame.
+A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful
+mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his
+tranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge is an
+exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourself has a
+tendency to weaken your affections, and to destroy your taste for those
+simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that study is
+certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human mind. If
+this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit
+whatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domestic
+affections, Greece had not been enslaved; Cæsar would have spared his
+country; America would have been discovered more gradually; and the
+empires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.
+
+But I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of my
+tale; and your looks remind me to proceed.
+
+My father made no reproach in his letters; and only took notice of my
+silence by inquiring into my occupations more particularly than before.
+Winter, spring, and summer, passed away during my labours; but I did not
+watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always
+yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation.
+The leaves of that year had withered before my work drew near to a
+close; and now every day shewed me more plainly how well I had
+succeeded. But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appeared
+rather like one doomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any other
+unwholesome trade, than an artist occupied by his favourite employment.
+Every night I was oppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to a
+most painful degree; a disease that I regretted the more because I had
+hitherto enjoyed most excellent health, and had always boasted of the
+firmness of my nerves. But I believed that exercise and amusement would
+soon drive away such symptoms; and I promised myself both of these, when
+my creation should be complete.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment
+of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected
+the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being
+into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the
+morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was
+nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I
+saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a
+convulsive motion agitated its limbs.
+
+How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the
+wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form?
+His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as
+beautiful. Beautiful!—Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the
+work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black,
+and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only
+formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost
+of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his
+shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips.
+
+The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of
+human nature. I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole
+purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had deprived
+myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardour that far
+exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the
+dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.
+Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of
+the room, and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber, unable
+to compose my mind to sleep. At length lassitude succeeded to the
+tumult I had before endured; and I threw myself on the bed in my
+clothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness. But it was
+in vain: I slept indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams. I
+thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets
+of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her; but as I
+imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of
+death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the
+corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form, and I
+saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. I started from
+my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth
+chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow
+light of the moon, as it forced its way through the window-shutters, I
+beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up
+the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were
+fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds,
+while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not
+hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped,
+and rushed down stairs. I took refuge in the court-yard belonging to the
+house which I inhabited; where I remained during the rest of the night,
+walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively,
+catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach
+of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life.
+
+Oh! no mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy
+again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I
+had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then; but when those
+muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing
+such as even Dante could not have conceived.
+
+I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and
+hardly, that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly
+sank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness. Mingled with
+this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment: dreams that had
+been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space, were now become a
+hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!
+
+Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned, and discovered to my
+sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple
+and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gates
+of the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into the
+streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the
+wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my
+view. I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but felt
+impelled to hurry on, although wetted by the rain, which poured from a
+black and comfortless sky.
+
+I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring, by
+bodily exercise, to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I
+traversed the streets, without any clear conception of where I was, or
+what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear; and I
+hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:
+
+    Like one who, on a lonely road,
+      Doth walk in fear and dread,
+    And, having once turn’d round, walks on,
+      And turns no more his head;
+    Because he knows a frightful fiend
+      Doth close behind him tread.
+
+Continuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which the
+various diligences and carriages usually stopped. Here I paused, I knew
+not why; but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on a coach that
+was coming towards me from the other end of the street. As it drew
+nearer, I observed that it was the Swiss diligence: it stopped just
+where I was standing; and, on the door being opened, I perceived Henry
+Clerval, who, on seeing me, instantly sprung out. “My dear
+Frankenstein,” exclaimed he, “how glad I am to see you! how fortunate
+that you should be here at the very moment of my alighting!”
+
+Nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval; his presence brought
+back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home
+so dear to my recollection. I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgot
+my horror and misfortune; I felt suddenly, and for the first time during
+many months, calm and serene joy. I welcomed my friend, therefore, in
+the most cordial manner, and we walked towards my college. Clerval
+continued talking for some time about our mutual friends, and his own
+good fortune in being permitted to come to Ingolstadt. “You may easily
+believe,” said he, “how great was the difficulty to persuade my father
+that it was not absolutely necessary for a merchant not to understand
+any thing except book-keeping; and, indeed, I believe I left him
+incredulous to the last, for his constant answer to my unwearied
+entreaties was the same as that of the Dutch schoolmaster in the Vicar
+of Wakefield: ‘I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek, I eat
+heartily without Greek.’ But his affection for me at length overcame his
+dislike of learning, and he has permitted me to undertake a voyage of
+discovery to the land of knowledge.”
+
+“It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you left
+my father, brothers, and Elizabeth.”
+
+“Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from you
+so seldom. By the bye, I mean to lecture you a little upon their account
+myself.—But, my dear Frankenstein,” continued he, stopping short, and
+gazing full in my face, “I did not before remark how very ill you
+appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching for
+several nights.”
+
+“You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in one
+occupation, that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see:
+but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at an
+end, and that I am at length free.”
+
+I trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less to
+allude to the occurrences of the preceding night. I walked with a quick
+pace, and we soon arrived at my college. I then reflected, and the
+thought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in my
+apartment might still be there, alive, and walking about. I dreaded to
+behold this monster; but I feared still more that Henry should see him.
+Entreating him therefore to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the
+stairs, I darted up towards my own room. My hand was already on the lock
+of the door before I recollected myself. I then paused; and a cold
+shivering came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, as children are
+accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for them
+on the other side; but nothing appeared. I stepped fearfully in: the
+apartment was empty; and my bedroom was also freed from its hideous
+guest. I could hardly believe that so great a good-fortune could have
+befallen me; but when I became assured that my enemy had indeed fled, I
+clapped my hands for joy, and ran down to Clerval.
+
+We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast;
+but I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed
+me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse
+beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same
+place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud.
+Clerval at first attributed my unusual spirits to joy on his arrival;
+but when he observed me more attentively, he saw a wildness in my eyes
+for which he could not account; and my loud, unrestrained, heartless
+laughter, frightened and astonished him.
+
+“My dear Victor,” cried he, “what, for God’s sake, is the matter? Do not
+laugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the cause of all this?”
+
+“Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought
+I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “_he_ can tell.—Oh, save
+me! save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled
+furiously, and fell down in a fit.
+
+Poor Clerval! what must have been his feelings? A meeting, which he
+anticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness. But I was
+not the witness of his grief; for I was lifeless, and did not recover my
+senses for a long, long time.
+
+This was the commencement of a nervous fever, which confined me for
+several months. During all that time Henry was my only nurse. I
+afterwards learned that, knowing my father’s advanced age, and unfitness
+for so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would make
+Elizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of my
+disorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive nurse
+than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, he did not
+doubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindest action that
+he could towards them.
+
+But I was in reality very ill; and surely nothing but the unbounded and
+unremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life. The
+form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before
+my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him. Doubtless my words
+surprised Henry: he at first believed them to be the wanderings of my
+disturbed imagination; but the pertinacity with which I continually
+recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorder indeed owed
+its origin to some uncommon and terrible event.
+
+By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses, that alarmed and
+grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became
+capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, I
+perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared, and that the young
+buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window. It was a
+divine spring; and the season contributed greatly to my convalescence. I
+felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive in my bosom; my gloom
+disappeared, and in a short time I became as cheerful as before I was
+attacked by the fatal passion.
+
+“Dearest Clerval,” exclaimed I, “how kind, how very good you are to me.
+This whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you promised
+yourself, has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I ever repay
+you? I feel the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which I have
+been the occasion; but you will forgive me.”
+
+“You will repay me entirely, if you do not discompose yourself, but get
+well as fast as you can; and since you appear in such good spirits, I
+may speak to you on one subject, may I not?”
+
+I trembled. One subject! what could it be? Could he allude to an object
+on whom I dared not even think?
+
+“Compose yourself,” said Clerval, who observed my change of colour, “I
+will not mention it, if it agitates you; but your father and cousin
+would be very happy if they received a letter from you in your own
+hand-writing. They hardly know how ill you have been, and are uneasy at
+your long silence.”
+
+“Is that all? my dear Henry. How could you suppose that my first thought
+would not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love, and who are
+so deserving of my love.”
+
+“If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be glad to
+see a letter that has been lying here some days for you: it is from your
+cousin, I believe.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Clerval then put the following letter into my hands.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“_To_ V. FRANKENSTEIN.
+
+“MY DEAR COUSIN,
+
+“I cannot describe to you the uneasiness we have all felt concerning
+your health. We cannot help imagining that your friend Clerval conceals
+the extent of your disorder: for it is now several months since we have
+seen your hand-writing; and all this time you have been obliged to
+dictate your letters to Henry. Surely, Victor, you must have been
+exceedingly ill; and this makes us all very wretched, as much so nearly
+as after the death of your dear mother. My uncle was almost persuaded
+that you were indeed dangerously ill, and could hardly be restrained
+from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. Clerval always writes that you
+are getting better; I eagerly hope that you will confirm this
+intelligence soon in your own hand-writing; for indeed, indeed, Victor,
+we are all very miserable on this account. Relieve us from this fear,
+and we shall be the happiest creatures in the world. Your father’s
+health is now so vigorous, that he appears ten years younger since last
+winter. Ernest also is so much improved, that you would hardly know him:
+he is now nearly sixteen, and has lost that sickly appearance which he
+had some years ago; he is grown quite robust and active.
+
+“My uncle and I conversed a long time last night about what profession
+Ernest should follow. His constant illness when young has deprived him
+of the habits of application; and now that he enjoys good health, he is
+continually in the open air, climbing the hills, or rowing on the lake.
+I therefore proposed that he should be a farmer; which you know, Cousin,
+is a favourite scheme of mine. A farmer’s is a very healthy happy life;
+and the least hurtful, or rather the most beneficial profession of any.
+My uncle had an idea of his being educated as an advocate, that through
+his interest he might become a judge. But, besides that he is not at all
+fitted for such an occupation, it is certainly more creditable to
+cultivate the earth for the sustenance of man, than to be the confidant,
+and sometimes the accomplice, of his vices; which is the profession of a
+lawyer. I said, that the employments of a prosperous farmer, if they
+were not a more honourable, they were at least a happier species of
+occupation than that of a judge, whose misfortune it was always to
+meddle with the dark side of human nature. My uncle smiled, and said,
+that I ought to be an advocate myself, which put an end to the
+conversation on that subject.
+
+“And now I must tell you a little story that will please, and perhaps
+amuse you. Do you not remember Justine Moritz? Probably you do not; I
+will relate her history, therefore, in a few words. Madame Moritz, her
+mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justine was the third.
+This girl had always been the favourite of her father; but, through a
+strange perversity, her mother could not endure her, and, after the
+death of M. Moritz, treated her very ill. My aunt observed this; and,
+when Justine was twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother to allow
+her to live at her house. The republican institutions of our country
+have produced simpler and happier manners than those which prevail in
+the great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is less distinction
+between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the lower orders
+being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are more refined
+and moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the same thing as a servant
+in France and England. Justine, thus received in our family, learned the
+duties of a servant; a condition which, in our fortunate country, does
+not include the idea of ignorance, and a sacrifice of the dignity of a
+human being.
+
+“After what I have said, I dare say you well remember the heroine of my
+little tale: for Justine was a great favourite of your’s; and I
+recollect you once remarked, that if you were in an ill-humour, one
+glance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason that Ariosto
+gives concerning the beauty of Angelica—she looked so frank-hearted and
+happy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her, by which she was
+induced to give her an education superior to that which she had at
+first intended. This benefit was fully repaid; Justine was the most
+grateful little creature in the world: I do not mean that she made any
+professions, I never heard one pass her lips; but you could see by her
+eyes that she almost adored her protectress. Although her disposition
+was gay, and in many respects inconsiderate, yet she paid the greatest
+attention to every gesture of my aunt. She thought her the model of all
+excellence, and endeavoured to imitate her phraseology and manners, so
+that even now she often reminds me of her.
+
+“When my dearest aunt died, every one was too much occupied in their own
+grief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illness
+with the most anxious affection. Poor Justine was very ill; but other
+trials were reserved for her.
+
+“One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with the
+exception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. The conscience
+of the woman was troubled; she began to think that the deaths of her
+favourites was a judgment from heaven to chastise her partiality. She
+was a Roman Catholic; and I believe her confessor confirmed the idea
+which she had conceived. Accordingly, a few months after your departure
+for Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by her repentant mother. Poor
+girl! she wept when she quitted our house: she was much altered since
+the death of my aunt; grief had given softness and a winning mildness to
+her manners, which had before been remarkable for vivacity. Nor was her
+residence at her mother’s house of a nature to restore her gaiety. The
+poor woman was very vacillating in her repentance. She sometimes begged
+Justine to forgive her unkindness, but much oftener accused her of
+having caused the deaths of her brothers and sister. Perpetual fretting
+at length threw Madame Moritz into a decline, which at first increased
+her irritability, but she is now at peace for ever. She died on the
+first approach of cold weather, at the beginning of this last winter.
+Justine has returned to us; and I assure you I love her tenderly. She is
+very clever and gentle, and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, her
+mien and her expressions continually remind me of my dear aunt.
+
+“I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling
+William. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, with
+sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eye-lashes, and curling hair. When he
+smiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with
+health. He has already had one or two little _wives_, but Louisa Biron
+is his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.
+
+“Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip
+concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield has
+already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching marriage
+with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly sister, Manon,
+married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favourite
+schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the
+departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already recovered his
+spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very lively
+pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much older
+than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with every
+body.
+
+“I have written myself into good spirits, dear cousin; yet I cannot
+conclude without again anxiously inquiring concerning your health. Dear
+Victor, if you are not very ill, write yourself, and make your father
+and all of us happy; or——I cannot bear to think of the other side of
+the question; my tears already flow. Adieu, my dearest cousin.”
+
+“ELIZABETH LAVENZA.
+
+“Geneva, March 18th, 17—.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“Dear, dear Elizabeth!” I exclaimed when I had read her letter, “I will
+write instantly, and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel.” I
+wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence had
+commenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I was able to
+leave my chamber.
+
+One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the
+several professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a kind
+of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had sustained.
+Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the beginning of
+my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name of
+natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored to health, the
+sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony of my nervous
+symptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all my apparatus from my view.
+He had also changed my apartment; for he perceived that I had acquired a
+dislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But these
+cares of Clerval were made of no avail when I visited the professors. M.
+Waldman inflicted torture when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the
+astonishing progress I had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that
+I disliked the subject; but, not guessing the real cause, he attributed
+my feelings to modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement to
+the science itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me
+out. What could I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as
+if he had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments
+which were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel
+death. I writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt.
+Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the
+sensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his
+total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I
+thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly that
+he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from me; and
+although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence that knew
+no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide to him that
+event which was so often present to my recollection, but which I feared
+the detail to another would only impress more deeply.
+
+M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of
+almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me
+even more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. “D—n the
+fellow!” cried he; “why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript us
+all. Aye, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngster
+who, but a few years ago, believed Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as the
+gospel, has now set himself at the head of the university; and if he is
+not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of countenance.—Aye, aye,”
+continued he, observing my face expressive of suffering, “M.
+Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young man. Young men
+should be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Clerval; I was myself
+when young: but that wears out in a very short time.”
+
+M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned
+the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.
+
+Clerval was no natural philosopher. His imagination was too vivid for
+the minutiæ of science. Languages were his principal study; and he
+sought, by acquiring their elements, to open a field for
+self-instruction on his return to Geneva. Persian, Arabic, and Hebrew,
+gained his attention, after he had made himself perfectly master of
+Greek and Latin. For my own part, idleness had ever been irksome to me;
+and now that I wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former
+studies, I felt great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend,
+and found not only instruction but consolation in the works of the
+orientalists. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating to a
+degree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country.
+When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and
+garden of roses,—in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire
+that consumes your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical
+poetry of Greece and Rome.
+
+Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was
+fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several
+accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable,
+and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this delay
+very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town, and my beloved
+friends. My return had only been delayed so long from an unwillingness
+to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become acquainted
+with any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent cheerfully;
+and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came, its beauty
+compensated for its dilatoriness.
+
+The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily
+which was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed a
+pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt that I might bid a
+personal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded
+with pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clerval
+had always been my favourite companion in the rambles of this nature
+that I had taken among the scenes of my native country.
+
+We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits had
+long been restored, and they gained additional strength from the
+salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and
+the conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the
+intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but
+Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught me
+to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children.
+Excellent friend! how sincerely did you love me, and endeavour to
+elevate my mind, until it was on a level with your own. A selfish
+pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection
+warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature who, a few
+years ago, loving and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care. When happy,
+inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful
+sensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with ecstacy. The
+present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring bloomed in the
+hedges, while those of summer were already in bud: I was undisturbed by
+thoughts which during the preceding year had pressed upon me,
+notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an invincible
+burden.
+
+Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathized in my feelings:
+he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that
+filled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly
+astonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often,
+in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of
+wonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite
+poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with great
+ingenuity.
+
+We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants were
+dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My own spirits
+were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and
+hilarity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+On my return, I found the following letter from my father:—
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“_To_ V. FRANKENSTEIN.
+
+“MY DEAR VICTOR,
+
+“You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of
+your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few lines,
+merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. But that would
+be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be your surprise,
+my son, when you expected a happy and gay welcome, to behold, on the
+contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, can I relate our
+misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to our joys and
+griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on an absent child? I wish to
+prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is impossible; even now
+your eye skims over the page, to seek the words which are to convey to
+you the horrible tidings.
+
+“William is dead!—that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed
+my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered!
+
+“I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the
+circumstances of the transaction.
+
+“Last Thursday (May 7th) I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to
+walk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged
+our walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought of
+returning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had gone
+on before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat until
+they should return. Presently Ernest came, and inquired if we had seen
+his brother: he said, that they had been playing together, that William
+had run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and
+afterwards waited for him a long time, but that he did not return.
+
+“This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him
+until night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might have returned
+to the house. He was not there. We returned again, with torches; for I
+could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had lost himself, and
+was exposed to all the damps and dews of night: Elizabeth also suffered
+extreme anguish. About five in the morning I discovered my lovely boy,
+whom the night before I had seen blooming and active in health,
+stretched on the grass livid and motionless: the print of the murderer’s
+finger was on his neck.
+
+“He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my
+countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to
+see the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her; but she persisted,
+and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the
+victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, ‘O God! I have murdered my
+darling infant!’
+
+“She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again
+lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same evening
+William had teazed her to let him wear a very valuable miniature that
+she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and was doubtless
+the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. We have no trace of
+him at present, although our exertions to discover him are unremitted;
+but they will not restore my beloved William.
+
+“Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth. She weeps
+continually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death; her
+words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be an
+additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter? Your
+dear mother! Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not live to
+witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling!
+
+“Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin,
+but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of
+festering the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my
+friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not
+with hatred for your enemies.
+
+“Your affectionate and afflicted father,
+
+“ALPHONSE FRANKENSTEIN.
+
+“Geneva, May 12th, 17—.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was
+surprised to observe the despair that succeeded to the joy I at first
+expressed on receiving news from my friends. I threw the letter on the
+table, and covered my face with my hands.
+
+“My dear Frankenstein,” exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weep with
+bitterness, “are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend, what has
+happened?”
+
+I motioned to him to take up the letter, while I walked up and down the
+room in the extremest agitation. Tears also gushed from the eyes of
+Clerval, as he read the account of my misfortune.
+
+“I can offer you no consolation, my friend,” said he; “your disaster is
+irreparable. What do you intend to do?”
+
+“To go instantly to Geneva: come with me, Henry, to order the horses.”
+
+During our walk, Clerval endeavoured to raise my spirits. He did not do
+this by common topics of consolation, but by exhibiting the truest
+sympathy. “Poor William!” said he, “that dear child; he now sleeps with
+his angel mother. His friends mourn and weep, but he is at rest: he does
+not now feel the murderer’s grasp; a sod covers his gentle form, and he
+knows no pain. He can no longer be a fit subject for pity; the survivors
+are the greatest sufferers, and for them time is the only consolation.
+Those maxims of the Stoics, that death was no evil, and that the mind of
+man ought to be superior to despair on the eternal absence of a beloved
+object, ought not to be urged. Even Cato wept over the dead body of his
+brother.”
+
+Clerval spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the words
+impressed themselves on my mind, and I remembered them afterwards in
+solitude. But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into a
+cabriole, and bade farewell to my friend.
+
+My journey was very melancholy. At first I wished to hurry on, for I
+longed to console and sympathize with my loved and sorrowing friends;
+but when I drew near my native town, I slackened my progress. I could
+hardly sustain the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind. I
+passed through scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seen for
+nearly six years. How altered every thing might be during that time? One
+sudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousand little
+circumstances might have by degrees worked other alterations which,
+although they were done more tranquilly, might not be the less decisive.
+Fear overcame me; I dared not advance, dreading a thousand nameless
+evils that made me tremble, although I was unable to define them.
+
+I remained two days at Lausanne, in this painful state of mind. I
+contemplated the lake: the waters were placid; all around was calm, and
+the snowy mountains, “the palaces of nature,” were not changed. By
+degrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my
+journey towards Geneva.
+
+The road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as I
+approached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the black sides
+of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blânc; I wept like a child: “Dear
+mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your wanderer? Your
+summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and placid. Is this to
+prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?”
+
+I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on
+these preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative
+happiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my beloved
+country! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again beholding
+thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely lake.
+
+Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Night also
+closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I felt
+still more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of evil,
+and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most wretched
+of human beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed only in one single
+circumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and dreaded, I did not
+conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was destined to endure.
+
+It was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva; the
+gates of the town were already shut; and I was obliged to pass the night
+at Secheron, a village half a league to the east of the city. The sky
+was serene; and, as I was unable to rest, I resolved to visit the spot
+where my poor William had been murdered. As I could not pass through the
+town, I was obliged to cross the lake in a boat to arrive at
+Plainpalais. During this short voyage I saw the lightnings playing on
+the summit of Mont Blânc in the most beautiful figures. The storm
+appeared to approach rapidly; and, on landing, I ascended a low hill,
+that I might observe its progress. It advanced; the heavens were
+clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops, but its
+violence quickly increased.
+
+I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm
+increased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash
+over my head. It was echoed from Salêve, the Juras, and the Alps of
+Savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the
+lake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant
+every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself
+from the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case in
+Switzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. The most
+violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over that part of the lake
+which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of Copêt.
+Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another darkened
+and sometimes disclosed the Môle, a peaked mountain to the east of the
+lake.
+
+While I watched the storm, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on with
+a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I clasped
+my hands, and exclaimed aloud, “William, dear angel! this is thy
+funeral, this thy dirge!” As I said these words, I perceived in the
+gloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; I stood
+fixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken. A flash of lightning
+illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to me; its
+gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than
+belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the
+filthy dæmon to whom I had given life. What did he there? Could he be (I
+shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother? No sooner did
+that idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced of its truth; my
+teeth chattered, and I was forced to lean against a tree for support.
+The figure passed me quickly, and I lost it in the gloom. Nothing in
+human shape could have destroyed that fair child. _He_ was the murderer!
+I could not doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was an irresistible
+proof of the fact. I thought of pursuing the devil; but it would have
+been in vain, for another flash discovered him to me hanging among the
+rocks of the nearly perpendicular ascent of Mont Salêve, a hill that
+bounds Plainpalais on the south. He soon reached the summit, and
+disappeared.
+
+I remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain still continued,
+and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. I revolved in
+my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget: the whole
+train of my progress towards the creation; the appearance of the work of
+my own hands alive at my bed side; its departure. Two years had now
+nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and was
+this his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world a depraved
+wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not murdered my
+brother?
+
+No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the
+night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did not feel
+the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in scenes of
+evil and despair. I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind,
+and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such
+as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light of my own
+vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced to destroy
+all that was dear to me.
+
+Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates were
+open; and I hastened to my father’s house. My first thought was to
+discover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be
+made. But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. A
+being whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me at
+midnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain. I remembered
+also the nervous fever with which I had been seized just at the time
+that I dated my creation, and which would give an air of delirium to a
+tale otherwise so utterly improbable. I well knew that if any other had
+communicated such a relation to me, I should have looked upon it as the
+ravings of insanity. Besides, the strange nature of the animal would
+elude all pursuit, even if I were so far credited as to persuade my
+relatives to commence it. Besides, of what use would be pursuit? Who
+could arrest a creature capable of scaling the overhanging sides of Mont
+Salêve? These reflections determined me, and I resolved to remain
+silent.
+
+It was about five in the morning when I entered my father’s house. I
+told the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the library
+to attend their usual hour of rising.
+
+Six years had elapsed, passed as a dream but for one indelible trace,
+and I stood in the same place where I had last embraced my father before
+my departure for Ingolstadt. Beloved and respectable parent! He still
+remained to me. I gazed on the picture of my mother, which stood over
+the mantle-piece. It was an historical subject, painted at my father’s
+desire, and represented Caroline Beaufort in an agony of despair,
+kneeling by the coffin of her dead father. Her garb was rustic, and her
+cheek pale; but there was an air of dignity and beauty, that hardly
+permitted the sentiment of pity. Below this picture was a miniature of
+William; and my tears flowed when I looked upon it. While I was thus
+engaged, Ernest entered: he had heard me arrive, and hastened to welcome
+me. He expressed a sorrowful delight to see me: “Welcome, my dearest
+Victor,” said he. “Ah! I wish you had come three months ago, and then
+you would have found us all joyous and delighted. But we are now
+unhappy; and, I am afraid, tears instead of smiles will be your welcome.
+Our father looks so sorrowful: this dreadful event seems to have revived
+in his mind his grief on the death of Mamma. Poor Elizabeth also is
+quite inconsolable.” Ernest began to weep as he said these words.
+
+“Do not,” said I, “welcome me thus; try to be more calm, that I may not
+be absolutely miserable the moment I enter my father’s house after so
+long an absence. But, tell me, how does my father support his
+misfortunes? and how is my poor Elizabeth?”
+
+“She indeed requires consolation; she accused herself of having caused
+the death of my brother, and that made her very wretched. But since the
+murderer has been discovered——”
+
+“The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could attempt
+to pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake the
+winds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw.”
+
+“I do not know what you mean; but we were all very unhappy when she was
+discovered. No one would believe it at first; and even now Elizabeth
+will not be convinced, notwithstanding all the evidence. Indeed, who
+would credit that Justine Moritz, who was so amiable, and fond of all
+the family, could all at once become so extremely wicked?”
+
+“Justine Moritz! Poor, poor girl, is she the accused? But it is
+wrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?”
+
+“No one did at first; but several circumstances came out, that have
+almost forced conviction upon us: and her own behaviour has been so
+confused, as to add to the evidence of facts a weight that, I fear,
+leaves no hope for doubt. But she will be tried to-day, and you will
+then hear all.”
+
+He related that, the morning on which the murder of poor William had
+been discovered, Justine had been taken ill, and confined to her bed;
+and, after several days, one of the servants, happening to examine the
+apparel she had worn on the night of the murder, had discovered in her
+pocket the picture of my mother, which had been judged to be the
+temptation of the murderer. The servant instantly shewed it to one of
+the others, who, without saying a word to any of the family, went to a
+magistrate; and, upon their deposition, Justine was apprehended. On
+being charged with the fact, the poor girl confirmed the suspicion in a
+great measure by her extreme confusion of manner.
+
+This was a strange tale, but it did not shake my faith; and I replied
+earnestly, “You are all mistaken; I know the murderer. Justine, poor,
+good Justine, is innocent.”
+
+At that instant my father entered. I saw unhappiness deeply impressed on
+his countenance, but he endeavoured to welcome me cheerfully; and, after
+we had exchanged our mournful greeting, would have introduced some other
+topic than that of our disaster, had not Ernest exclaimed, “Good God,
+Papa! Victor says that he knows who was the murderer of poor William.”
+
+“We do also, unfortunately,” replied my father; “for indeed I had rather
+have been for ever ignorant than have discovered so much depravity and
+ingratitude in one I valued so highly.”
+
+“My dear father, you are mistaken; Justine is innocent.”
+
+“If she is, God forbid that she should suffer as guilty. She is to be
+tried to-day, and I hope, I sincerely hope, that she will be acquitted.”
+
+This speech calmed me. I was firmly convinced in my own mind that
+Justine, and indeed every human being, was guiltless of this murder. I
+had no fear, therefore, that any circumstantial evidence could be
+brought forward strong enough to convict her; and, in this assurance, I
+calmed myself, expecting the trial with eagerness, but without
+prognosticating an evil result.
+
+We were soon joined by Elizabeth. Time had made great alterations in her
+form since I had last beheld her. Six years before she had been a
+pretty, good-humoured girl, whom every one loved and caressed. She was
+now a woman in stature and expression of countenance, which was
+uncommonly lovely. An open and capacious forehead gave indications of a
+good understanding, joined to great frankness of disposition. Her eyes
+were hazel, and expressive of mildness, now through recent affliction
+allied to sadness. Her hair was of a rich, dark auburn, her complexion
+fair, and her figure slight and graceful. She welcomed me with the
+greatest affection. “Your arrival, my dear cousin,” said she, “fills me
+with hope. You perhaps will find some means to justify my poor guiltless
+Justine. Alas! who is safe, if she be convicted of crime? I rely on her
+innocence as certainly as I do upon my own. Our misfortune is doubly
+hard to us; we have not only lost that lovely darling boy, but this poor
+girl, whom I sincerely love, is to be torn away by even a worse fate. If
+she is condemned, I never shall know joy more. But she will not, I am
+sure she will not; and then I shall be happy again, even after the sad
+death of my little William.”
+
+“She is innocent, my Elizabeth,” said I, “and that shall be proved;
+fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance of her
+acquittal.”
+
+“How kind you are! every one else believes in her guilt, and that made
+me wretched; for I knew that it was impossible: and to see every one
+else prejudiced in so deadly a manner, rendered me hopeless and
+despairing.” She wept.
+
+“Sweet niece,” said my father, “dry your tears. If she is, as you
+believe, innocent, rely on the justice of our judges, and the activity
+with which I shall prevent the slightest shadow of partiality.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+We passed a few sad hours, until eleven o’clock, when the trial was to
+commence. My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attend
+as witnesses, I accompanied them to the court. During the whole of this
+wretched mockery of justice, I suffered living torture. It was to be
+decided, whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices would
+cause the death of two of my fellow-beings: one a smiling babe, full of
+innocence and joy; the other far more dreadfully murdered, with every
+aggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror.
+Justine also was a girl of merit, and possessed qualities which promised
+to render her life happy: now all was to be obliterated in an
+ignominious grave; and I the cause! A thousand times rather would I have
+confessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Justine; but I was
+absent when it was committed, and such a declaration would have been
+considered as the ravings of a madman, and would not have exculpated her
+who suffered through me.
+
+The appearance of Justine was calm. She was dressed in mourning; and her
+countenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of her
+feelings, exquisitely beautiful. Yet she appeared confident in
+innocence, and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated by
+thousands; for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise have
+excited, was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by the
+imagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed. She was
+tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and as her
+confusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, she worked up
+her mind to an appearance of courage. When she entered the court, she
+threw her eyes round it, and quickly discovered where we were seated. A
+tear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us; but she quickly recovered
+herself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attest her utter
+guiltlessness.
+
+The trial began; and after the advocate against her had stated the
+charge, several witnesses were called. Several strange facts combined
+against her, which might have staggered any one who had not such proof
+of her innocence as I had. She had been out the whole of the night on
+which the murder had been committed, and towards morning had been
+perceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of the
+murdered child had been afterwards found. The woman asked her what she
+did there; but she looked very strangely, and only returned a confused
+and unintelligible answer. She returned to the house about eight
+o’clock; and when one inquired where she had passed the night, she
+replied, that she had been looking for the child, and demanded
+earnestly, if any thing had been heard concerning him. When shewn the
+body, she fell into violent hysterics, and kept her bed for several
+days. The picture was then produced, which the servant had found in her
+pocket; and when Elizabeth, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the
+same which, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed
+round his neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court.
+
+Justine was called on for her defence. As the trial had proceeded, her
+countenance had altered. Surprise, horror, and misery, were strongly
+expressed. Sometimes she struggled with her tears; but when she was
+desired to plead, she collected her powers, and spoke in an audible
+although variable voice:—
+
+“God knows,” she said, “how entirely I am innocent. But I do not pretend
+that my protestations should acquit me: I rest my innocence on a plain
+and simple explanation of the facts which have been adduced against me;
+and I hope the character I have always borne will incline my judges to a
+favourable interpretation, where any circumstance appears doubtful or
+suspicious.”
+
+She then related that, by the permission of Elizabeth, she had passed
+the evening of the night on which the murder had been committed, at the
+house of an aunt at Chêne, a village situated at about a league from
+Geneva. On her return, at about nine o’clock, she met a man, who asked
+her if she had seen any thing of the child who was lost. She was alarmed
+by this account, and passed several hours in looking for him, when the
+gates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remain several hours of
+the night in a barn belonging to a cottage, being unwilling to call up
+the inhabitants, to whom she was well known. Unable to rest or sleep,
+she quitted her asylum early, that she might again endeavour to find my
+brother. If she had gone near the spot where his body lay, it was
+without her knowledge. That she had been bewildered when questioned by
+the market-woman, was not surprising, since she had passed a sleepless
+night, and the fate of poor William was yet uncertain. Concerning the
+picture she could give no account.
+
+“I know,” continued the unhappy victim, “how heavily and fatally this
+one circumstance weighs against me, but I have no power of explaining
+it; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left to
+conjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have been
+placed in my pocket. But here also I am checked. I believe that I have
+no enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as to
+destroy me wantonly. Did the murderer place it there? I know of no
+opportunity afforded him for so doing; or if I had, why should he have
+stolen the jewel, to part with it again so soon?
+
+“I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room for
+hope. I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning my
+character; and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposed guilt,
+I must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on my
+innocence.”
+
+Several witnesses were called, who had known her for many years, and
+they spoke well of her; but fear, and hatred of the crime of which they
+supposed her guilty, rendered them timorous, and unwilling to come
+forward. Elizabeth saw even this last resource, her excellent
+dispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused,
+when, although violently agitated, she desired permission to address the
+court.
+
+“I am,” said she, “the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, or
+rather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with his parents
+ever since and even long before his birth. It may therefore be judged
+indecent in me to come forward on this occasion; but when I see a
+fellow-creature about to perish through the cowardice of her pretended
+friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I know of
+her character. I am well acquainted with the accused. I have lived in
+the same house with her, at one time for five, and at another for nearly
+two years. During all that period she appeared to me the most amiable
+and benevolent of human creatures. She nursed Madame Frankenstein, my
+aunt, in her last illness with the greatest affection and care; and
+afterwards attended her own mother during a tedious illness, in a manner
+that excited the admiration of all who knew her. After which she again
+lived in my uncle’s house, where she was beloved by all the family. She
+was warmly attached to the child who is now dead, and acted towards him
+like a most affectionate mother. For my own part, I do not hesitate to
+say, that, notwithstanding all the evidence produced against her, I
+believe and rely on her perfect innocence. She had no temptation for
+such an action: as to the bauble on which the chief proof rests, if she
+had earnestly desired it, I should have willingly given it to her; so
+much do I esteem and value her.”
+
+Excellent Elizabeth! A murmur of approbation was heard; but it was
+excited by her generous interference, and not in favour of poor Justine,
+on whom the public indignation was turned with renewed violence,
+charging her with the blackest ingratitude. She herself wept as
+Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer. My own agitation and anguish
+was extreme during the whole trial. I believed in her innocence; I knew
+it. Could the dæmon, who had (I did not for a minute doubt) murdered my
+brother, also in his hellish sport have betrayed the innocent to death
+and ignominy. I could not sustain the horror of my situation; and when I
+perceived that the popular voice, and the countenances of the judges,
+had already condemned my unhappy victim, I rushed out of the court in
+agony. The tortures of the accused did not equal mine; she was sustained
+by innocence, but the fangs of remorse tore my bosom, and would not
+forego their hold.
+
+I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I went to the
+court; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not ask the fatal
+question; but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of my
+visit. The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Justine was
+condemned.
+
+I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had before experienced
+sensations of horror; and I have endeavoured to bestow upon them
+adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the
+heart-sickening despair that I then endured. The person to whom I
+addressed myself added, that Justine had already confessed her guilt.
+“That evidence,” he observed, “was hardly required in so glaring a case,
+but I am glad of it; and, indeed, none of our judges like to condemn a
+criminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so decisive.”
+
+When I returned home, Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result.
+
+“My cousin,” replied I, “it is decided as you may have expected; all
+judges had rather that ten innocent should suffer, than that one guilty
+should escape. But she has confessed.”
+
+This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmness
+upon Justine’s innocence. “Alas!” said she, “how shall I ever again
+believe in human benevolence? Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as my
+sister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray;
+her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or ill-humour, and yet
+she has committed a murder.”
+
+Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a wish to see my
+cousin. My father wished her not to go; but said, that he left it to her
+own judgment and feelings to decide. “Yes,” said Elizabeth, “I will go,
+although she is guilty; and you, Victor, shall accompany me: I cannot go
+alone.” The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet I could not
+refuse.
+
+We entered the gloomy prison-chamber, and beheld Justine sitting on some
+straw at the further end; her hands were manacled, and her head rested
+on her knees. She rose on seeing us enter; and when we were left alone
+with her, she threw herself at the feet of Elizabeth, weeping bitterly.
+My cousin wept also.
+
+“Oh, Justine!” said she, “why did you rob me of my last consolation. I
+relied on your innocence; and although I was then very wretched, I was
+not so miserable as I am now.”
+
+“And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked? Do you also
+join with my enemies to crush me?” Her voice was suffocated with sobs.
+
+“Rise, my poor girl,” said Elizabeth, “why do you kneel, if you are
+innocent? I am not one of your enemies; I believed you guiltless,
+notwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had yourself
+declared your guilt. That report, you say, is false; and be assured,
+dear Justine, that nothing can shake my confidence in you for a moment,
+but your own confession.”
+
+“I did confess; but I confessed a lie. I confessed, that I might obtain
+absolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart than all my
+other sins. The God of heaven forgive me! Ever since I was condemned, my
+confessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced, until I almost
+began to think that I was the monster that he said I was. He threatened
+excommunication and hell fire in my last moments, if I continued
+obdurate. Dear lady, I had none to support me; all looked on me as a
+wretch doomed to ignominy and perdition. What could I do? In an evil
+hour I subscribed to a lie; and now only am I truly miserable.”
+
+She paused, weeping, and then continued—“I thought with horror, my
+sweet lady, that you should believe your Justine, whom your blessed aunt
+had so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capable of a
+crime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated. Dear
+William! dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again in heaven,
+where we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as I am to
+suffer ignominy and death.”
+
+“Oh, Justine! forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. Why
+did you confess? But do not mourn, my dear girl; I will every where
+proclaim your innocence, and force belief. Yet you must die; you, my
+playfellow, my companion, my more than sister. I never can survive so
+horrible a misfortune.”
+
+“Dear, sweet Elizabeth, do not weep. You ought to raise me with thoughts
+of a better life, and elevate me from the petty cares of this world of
+injustice and strife. Do not you, excellent friend, drive me to
+despair.”
+
+“I will try to comfort you; but this, I fear, is an evil too deep and
+poignant to admit of consolation, for there is no hope. Yet heaven
+bless thee, my dearest Justine, with resignation, and a confidence
+elevated beyond this world. Oh! how I hate its shews and mockeries! when
+one creature is murdered, another is immediately deprived of life in a
+slow torturing manner; then the executioners, their hands yet reeking
+with the blood of innocence, believe that they have done a great deed.
+They call this _retribution_. Hateful name! When that word is
+pronounced, I know greater and more horrid punishments are going to be
+inflicted than the gloomiest tyrant has ever invented to satiate his
+utmost revenge. Yet this is not consolation for you, my Justine, unless
+indeed that you may glory in escaping from so miserable a den. Alas! I
+would I were in peace with my aunt and my lovely William, escaped from a
+world which is hateful to me, and the visages of men which I abhor.”
+
+Justine smiled languidly. “This, dear lady, is despair, and not
+resignation. I must not learn the lesson that you would teach me. Talk
+of something else, something that will bring peace, and not increase of
+misery.”
+
+During this conversation I had retired to a corner of the prison-room,
+where I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me. Despair! Who
+dared talk of that? The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass the
+dreary boundary between life and death, felt not as I did, such deep and
+bitter agony. I gnashed my teeth, and ground them together, uttering a
+groan that came from my inmost soul. Justine started. When she saw who
+it was, she approached me, and said, “Dear Sir, you are very kind to
+visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty.”
+
+I could not answer. “No, Justine,” said Elizabeth; “he is more convinced
+of your innocence than I was; for even when he heard that you had
+confessed, he did not credit it.”
+
+“I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest gratitude
+towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is the affection
+of others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more than half my
+misfortune; and I feel as if I could die in peace, now that my innocence
+is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin.”
+
+Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed
+gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the
+never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or
+consolation. Elizabeth also wept, and was unhappy; but her’s also was
+the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair
+moon, for a while hides, but cannot tarnish its brightness. Anguish and
+despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within
+me, which nothing could extinguish. We staid several hours with Justine;
+and it was with great difficulty that Elizabeth could tear herself away.
+“I wish,” cried she, “that I were to die with you; I cannot live in this
+world of misery.”
+
+Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficulty
+repressed her bitter tears. She embraced Elizabeth, and said, in a voice
+of half-suppressed emotion, “Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth, my
+beloved and only friend; may heaven in its bounty bless and preserve
+you; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever suffer. Live,
+and be happy, and make others so.”
+
+As we returned, Elizabeth said, “You know not, my dear Victor, how much
+I am relieved, now that I trust in the innocence of this unfortunate
+girl. I never could again have known peace, if I had been deceived in my
+reliance on her. For the moment that I did believe her guilty, I felt an
+anguish that I could not have long sustained. Now my heart is lightened.
+The innocent suffers; but she whom I thought amiable and good has not
+betrayed the trust I reposed in her, and I am consoled.”
+
+Amiable cousin! such were your thoughts, mild and gentle as your own
+dear eyes and voice. But I—I was a wretch, and none ever conceived of
+the misery that I then endured.
+
+
+END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+FRANKENSTEIN;
+
+OR,
+
+THE MODERN PROMETHEUS.
+
+
+    IN THREE VOLUMES.
+    VOL. II.
+
+    London:
+
+    _PRINTED FOR_
+    LACKINGTON, HUGHES, HARDING, MAVOR, & JONES,
+    FINSBURY SQUARE.
+
+    1818.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
+    To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
+    From darkness to promote me?——
+
+    Paradise Lost.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Nothing is more painful to the human mind, than, after the feelings have
+been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of
+inaction and certainty which follows, and deprives the soul both of hope
+and fear. Justine died; she rested; and I was alive. The blood flowed
+freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my
+heart, which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes; I wandered
+like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond
+description horrible, and more, much more, (I persuaded myself) was yet
+behind. Yet my heart overflowed with kindness, and the love of virtue. I
+had begun life with benevolent intentions, and thirsted for the moment
+when I should put them in practice, and make myself useful to my
+fellow-beings. Now all was blasted: instead of that serenity of
+conscience, which allowed me to look back upon the past with
+self-satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I
+was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to
+a hell of intense tortures, such as no language can describe.
+
+This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had entirely recovered
+from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all
+sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only
+consolation—deep, dark, death-like solitude.
+
+My father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my
+disposition and habits, and endeavoured to reason with me on the folly
+of giving way to immoderate grief. “Do you think, Victor,” said he,
+“that I do not suffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved
+your brother;” (tears came into his eyes as he spoke); “but is it not a
+duty to the survivors, that we should refrain from augmenting their
+unhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty owed
+to yourself; for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment, or
+even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for
+society.”
+
+This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case; I
+should have been the first to hide my grief, and console my friends, if
+remorse had not mingled its bitterness with my other sensations. Now I
+could only answer my father with a look of despair, and endeavour to
+hide myself from his view.
+
+About this time we retired to our house at Belrive. This change was
+particularly agreeable to me. The shutting of the gates regularly at ten
+o’clock, and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after that
+hour, had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksome
+to me. I was now free. Often, after the rest of the family had retired
+for the night, I took the boat, and passed many hours upon the water.
+Sometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind; and sometimes,
+after rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat to pursue its
+own course, and gave way to my own miserable reflections. I was often
+tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only unquiet thing
+that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and heavenly, if I except
+some bat, or the frogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard
+only when I approached the shore—often, I say, I was tempted to plunge
+into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my
+calamities for ever. But I was restrained, when I thought of the heroic
+and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderly loved, and whose existence was
+bound up in mine. I thought also of my father, and surviving brother:
+should I by my base desertion leave them exposed and unprotected to the
+malice of the fiend whom I had let loose among them?
+
+At these moments I wept bitterly, and wished that peace would revisit my
+mind only that I might afford them consolation and happiness. But that
+could not be. Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the author of
+unalterable evils; and I lived in daily fear, lest the monster whom I
+had created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I had an obscure
+feeling that all was not over, and that he would still commit some
+signal crime, which by its enormity should almost efface the
+recollection of the past. There was always scope for fear, so long as
+any thing I loved remained behind. My abhorrence of this fiend cannot be
+conceived. When I thought of him, I gnashed my teeth, my eyes became
+inflamed, and I ardently wished to extinguish that life which I had so
+thoughtlessly bestowed. When I reflected on his crimes and malice, my
+hatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation. I would have made a
+pilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes, could I, when there, have
+precipitated him to their base. I wished to see him again, that I might
+wreak the utmost extent of anger on his head, and avenge the deaths of
+William and Justine.
+
+Our house was the house of mourning. My father’s health was deeply
+shaken by the horror of the recent events. Elizabeth was sad and
+desponding; she no longer took delight in her ordinary occupations; all
+pleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward the dead; eternal woe and tears
+she then thought was the just tribute she should pay to innocence so
+blasted and destroyed. She was no longer that happy creature, who in
+earlier youth wandered with me on the banks of the lake, and talked with
+ecstacy of our future prospects. She had become grave, and often
+conversed of the inconstancy of fortune, and the instability of human
+life.
+
+“When I reflect, my dear cousin,” said she, “on the miserable death of
+Justine Moritz, I no longer see the world and its works as they before
+appeared to me. Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and
+injustice, that I read in books or heard from others, as tales of
+ancient days, or imaginary evils; at least they were remote, and more
+familiar to reason than to the imagination; but now misery has come
+home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other’s blood.
+Yet I am certainly unjust. Every body believed that poor girl to be
+guilty; and if she could have committed the crime for which she
+suffered, assuredly she would have been the most depraved of human
+creatures. For the sake of a few jewels, to have murdered the son of her
+benefactor and friend, a child whom she had nursed from its birth, and
+appeared to love as if it had been her own! I could not consent to the
+death of any human being; but certainly I should have thought such a
+creature unfit to remain in the society of men. Yet she was innocent. I
+know, I feel she was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that
+confirms me. Alas! Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth,
+who can assure themselves of certain happiness? I feel as if I were
+walking on the edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are
+crowding, and endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss. William and
+Justine were assassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the
+world free, and perhaps respected. But even if I were condemned to
+suffer on the scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places
+with such a wretch.”
+
+I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony. I, not in deed,
+but in effect, was the true murderer. Elizabeth read my anguish in my
+countenance, and kindly taking my hand said, “My dearest cousin, you
+must calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows how deeply;
+but I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of despair,
+and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance, that makes me tremble. Be
+calm, my dear Victor; I would sacrifice my life to your peace. We surely
+shall be happy: quiet in our native country, and not mingling in the
+world, what can disturb our tranquillity?”
+
+She shed tears as she said this, distrusting the very solace that she
+gave; but at the same time she smiled, that she might chase away the
+fiend that lurked in my heart. My father, who saw in the unhappiness
+that was painted in my face only an exaggeration of that sorrow which I
+might naturally feel, thought that an amusement suited to my taste would
+be the best means of restoring to me my wonted serenity. It was from
+this cause that he had removed to the country; and, induced by the same
+motive, he now proposed that we should all make an excursion to the
+valley of Chamounix. I had been there before, but Elizabeth and Ernest
+never had; and both had often expressed an earnest desire to see the
+scenery of this place, which had been described to them as so wonderful
+and sublime. Accordingly we departed from Geneva on this tour about the
+middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of
+Justine.
+
+The weather was uncommonly fine; and if mine had been a sorrow to be
+chased away by any fleeting circumstance, this excursion would certainly
+have had the effect intended by my father. As it was, I was somewhat
+interested in the scene; it sometimes lulled, although it could not
+extinguish my grief. During the first day we travelled in a carriage. In
+the morning we had seen the mountains at a distance, towards which we
+gradually advanced. We perceived that the valley through which we wound,
+and which was formed by the river Arve, whose course we followed, closed
+in upon us by degrees; and when the sun had set, we beheld immense
+mountains and precipices overhanging us on every side, and heard the
+sound of the river raging among rocks, and the dashing of water-falls
+around.
+
+The next day we pursued our journey upon mules; and as we ascended still
+higher, the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character.
+Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains; the
+impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from
+among the trees, formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was augmented
+and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and shining
+pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to another earth, the
+habitations of another race of beings.
+
+We passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine, which the river
+forms, opened before us, and we began to ascend the mountain that
+overhangs it. Soon after we entered the valley of Chamounix. This valley
+is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and picturesque as
+that of Servox, through which we had just passed. The high and snowy
+mountains were its immediate boundaries; but we saw no more ruined
+castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached the road; we
+heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche, and marked the
+smoke of its passage. Mont Blânc, the supreme and magnificent Mont
+Blânc, raised itself from the surrounding _aiguilles_, and its
+tremendous _dome_ overlooked the valley.
+
+During this journey, I sometimes joined Elizabeth, and exerted myself to
+point out to her the various beauties of the scene. I often suffered my
+mule to lag behind, and indulged in the misery of reflection. At other
+times I spurred on the animal before my companions, that I might forget
+them, the world, and, more than all, myself. When at a distance, I
+alighted, and threw myself on the grass, weighed down by horror and
+despair. At eight in the evening I arrived at Chamounix. My father and
+Elizabeth were very much fatigued; Ernest, who accompanied us, was
+delighted, and in high spirits: the only circumstance that detracted
+from his pleasure was the south wind, and the rain it seemed to promise
+for the next day.
+
+We retired early to our apartments, but not to sleep; at least I did
+not. I remained many hours at the window, watching the pallid lightning
+that played above Mont Blânc, and listening to the rushing of the Arve,
+which ran below my window.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+The next day, contrary to the prognostications of our guides, was fine,
+although clouded. We visited the source of the Arveiron, and rode about
+the valley until evening. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded
+me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They
+elevated me from all littleness of feeling; and although they did not
+remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillized it. In some degree,
+also, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded
+for the last month. I returned in the evening, fatigued, but less
+unhappy, and conversed with my family with more cheerfulness than had
+been my custom for some time. My father was pleased, and Elizabeth
+overjoyed. “My dear cousin,” said she, “you see what happiness you
+diffuse when you are happy; do not relapse again!”
+
+The following morning the rain poured down in torrents, and thick mists
+hid the summits of the mountains. I rose early, but felt unusually
+melancholy. The rain depressed me; my old feelings recurred, and I was
+miserable. I knew how disappointed my father would be at this sudden
+change, and I wished to avoid him until I had recovered myself so far as
+to be enabled to conceal those feelings that overpowered me. I knew
+that they would remain that day at the inn; and as I had ever inured
+myself to rain, moisture, and cold, I resolved to go alone to the summit
+of Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous
+and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it.
+It had then filled me with a sublime ecstacy that gave wings to the
+soul, and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy.
+The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the
+effect of solemnizing my mind, and causing me to forget the passing
+cares of life. I determined to go alone, for I was well acquainted with
+the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary
+grandeur of the scene.
+
+The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short
+windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the
+mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the
+traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie broken
+and strewed on the ground; some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning
+upon the jutting rocks of the mountain, or transversely upon other
+trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of
+snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is
+particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking in
+a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw
+destruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or
+luxuriant, but they are sombre, and add an air of severity to the scene.
+I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers
+which ran through it, and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite
+mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain
+poured from the dark sky, and added to the melancholy impression I
+received from the objects around me. Alas! why does man boast of
+sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders
+them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger,
+thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by
+every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may
+convey to us.
+
+    We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.
+      We rise; one wand’ring thought pollutes the day.
+    We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh, or weep,
+      Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;
+    It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,
+      The path of its departure still is free.
+    Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
+      Nought may endure but mutability!
+
+It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some
+time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered
+both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated
+the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very uneven,
+rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and
+interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a
+league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The
+opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I
+now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league;
+and above it rose Mont Blânc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess
+of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea, or
+rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, whose
+aërial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering peaks
+shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was before
+sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed—“Wandering
+spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow
+me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the
+joys of life.”
+
+As I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance,
+advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices
+in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his stature also, as
+he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled: a mist came
+over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me; but I was quickly
+restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape
+came nearer, (sight tremendous and abhorred!) that it was the wretch
+whom I had created. I trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait
+his approach, and then close with him in mortal combat. He approached;
+his countenance bespoke bitter anguish, combined with disdain and
+malignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible
+for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this; anger and hatred had at
+first deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him
+with words expressive of furious detestation and contempt.
+
+“Devil!” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? and do not you fear the
+fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone, vile
+insect! or rather stay, that I may trample you to dust! and, oh, that I
+could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those
+victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!”
+
+“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the wretched;
+how then must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet
+you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art
+bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You
+purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty
+towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If
+you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace;
+but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated
+with the blood of your remaining friends.”
+
+“Abhorred monster! fiend that thou art! the tortures of hell are too
+mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! you reproach me with
+your creation; come on then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so
+negligently bestowed.”
+
+My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the
+feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.
+
+He easily eluded me, and said,
+
+“Be calm! I entreat you to hear me, before you give vent to your hatred
+on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to
+increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of
+anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made
+me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine; my joints
+more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to
+thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my
+natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which
+thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other, and
+trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and
+affection, is most due. Remember, that I am thy creature: I ought to be
+thy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy
+for no misdeed. Every where I see bliss, from which I alone am
+irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.
+Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”
+
+“Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and
+me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight, in
+which one must fall.”
+
+“How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable
+eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe
+me, Frankenstein: I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and
+humanity: but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor
+me; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me
+nothing? they spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary
+glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the caves of
+ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the only one
+which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder
+to me than your fellow-beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my
+existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for my
+destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no
+terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my
+wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them
+from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that not
+only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be swallowed
+up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be moved, and do
+not disdain me. Listen to my tale: when you have heard that, abandon or
+commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me. The
+guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they may be, to speak in
+their own defence before they are condemned. Listen to me, Frankenstein.
+You accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience,
+destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I
+ask you not to spare me: listen to me; and then, if you can, and if you
+will, destroy the work of your hands.”
+
+“Why do you call to my remembrance circumstances of which I shudder to
+reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and author? Cursed be the
+day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw light! Cursed (although I
+curse myself) be the hands that formed you! You have made me wretched
+beyond expression. You have left me no power to consider whether I am
+just to you, or not. Begone! relieve me from the sight of your detested
+form.”
+
+“Thus I relieve thee, my creator,” he said, and placed his hated hands
+before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; “thus I take from
+thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me, and grant
+me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this
+from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of
+this place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon
+the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends to
+hide itself behind yon snowy precipices, and illuminate another world,
+you will have heard my story, and can decide. On you it rests, whether I
+quit for ever the neighbourhood of man, and lead a harmless life, or
+become the scourge of your fellow-creatures, and the author of your own
+speedy ruin.”
+
+As he said this, he led the way across the ice: I followed. My heart was
+full, and I did not answer him; but, as I proceeded, I weighed the
+various arguments that he had used, and determined at least to listen to
+his tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my
+resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my
+brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion.
+For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards
+his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I
+complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with his
+demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite rock.
+The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend: we entered the
+hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy heart, and
+depressed spirits. But I consented to listen; and, seating myself by the
+fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began his tale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+“It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original æra of
+my being: all the events of that period appear confused and indistinct.
+A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard,
+and smelt, at the same time; and it was, indeed, a long time before I
+learned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. By
+degrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I
+was obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me, and troubled
+me; but hardly had I felt this, when, by opening my eyes, as I now
+suppose, the light poured in upon me again. I walked, and, I believe,
+descended; but I presently found a great alteration in my sensations.
+Before, dark and opaque bodies had surrounded me, impervious to my touch
+or sight; but I now found that I could wander on at liberty, with no
+obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The light became
+more and more oppressive to me; and, the heat wearying me as I walked, I
+sought a place where I could receive shade. This was the forest near
+Ingolstadt; and here I lay by the side of a brook resting from my
+fatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This roused me
+from my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which I found
+hanging on the trees, or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst at the
+brook; and then lying down, was overcome by sleep.
+
+“It was dark when I awoke; I felt cold also, and half-frightened as it
+were instinctively, finding myself so desolate. Before I had quitted
+your apartment, on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with some
+clothes; but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of
+night. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could
+distinguish, nothing; but, feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat
+down and wept.
+
+“Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens, and gave me a sensation of
+pleasure. I started up, and beheld a radiant form rise from among the
+trees. I gazed with a kind of wonder. It moved slowly, but it
+enlightened my path; and I again went out in search of berries. I was
+still cold, when under one of the trees I found a huge cloak, with which
+I covered myself, and sat down upon the ground. No distinct ideas
+occupied my mind; all was confused. I felt light, and hunger, and
+thirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rung in my ears, and on all
+sides various scents saluted me: the only object that I could
+distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with
+pleasure.
+
+“Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had
+greatly lessened when I began to distinguish my sensations from each
+other. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with
+drink, and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delighted
+when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my
+ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had
+often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe, with
+greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me, and to perceive the
+boundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I
+tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds, but was unable.
+Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the
+uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into
+silence again.
+
+“The moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessened
+form, shewed itself, while I still remained in the forest. My sensations
+had, by this time, become distinct, and my mind received every day
+additional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light, and to
+perceive objects in their right forms; I distinguished the insect from
+the herb, and, by degrees, one herb from another. I found that the
+sparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird and
+thrush were sweet and enticing.
+
+“One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been
+left by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the
+warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live
+embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, I
+thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects! I
+examined the materials of the fire, and to my joy found it to be
+composed of wood. I quickly collected some branches; but they were wet,
+and would not burn. I was pained at this, and sat still watching the
+operation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heat
+dried, and itself became inflamed. I reflected on this; and, by touching
+the various branches, I discovered the cause, and busied myself in
+collecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it, and have a
+plentiful supply of fire. When night came on, and brought sleep with it,
+I was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished. I
+covered it carefully with dry wood and leaves, and placed wet branches
+upon it; and then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground, and sunk
+into sleep.
+
+“It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire. I
+uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame. I
+observed this also, and contrived a fan of branches, which roused the
+embers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again, I
+found, with pleasure, that the fire gave light as well as heat; and that
+the discovery of this element was useful to me in my food; for I found
+some of the offals that the travellers had left had been roasted, and
+tasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees. I
+tried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner, placing it on the
+live embers. I found that the berries were spoiled by this operation,
+and the nuts and roots much improved.
+
+“Food, however, became scarce; and I often spent the whole day searching
+in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When I found
+this, I resolved to quit the place that I had hitherto inhabited, to
+seek for one where the few wants I experienced would be more easily
+satisfied. In this emigration, I exceedingly lamented the loss of the
+fire which I had obtained through accident, and knew not how to
+re-produce it. I gave several hours to the serious consideration of
+this difficulty; but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply
+it; and, wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood
+towards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles, and at
+length discovered the open country. A great fall of snow had taken place
+the night before, and the fields were of one uniform white; the
+appearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the cold
+damp substance that covered the ground.
+
+“It was about seven in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and
+shelter; at length I perceived a small hut, on a rising ground, which
+had doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd. This was
+a new sight to me; and I examined the structure with great curiosity.
+Finding the door open, I entered. An old man sat in it, near a fire,
+over which he was preparing his breakfast. He turned on hearing a noise;
+and, perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and, quitting the hut, ran across
+the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared
+capable. His appearance, different from any I had ever before seen, and
+his flight, somewhat surprised me. But I was enchanted by the appearance
+of the hut: here the snow and rain could not penetrate; the ground was
+dry; and it presented to me then as exquisite and divine a retreat as
+Pandæmonium appeared to the dæmons of hell after their sufferings in the
+lake of fire. I greedily devoured the remnants of the shepherd’s
+breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese, milk, and wine; the
+latter, however, I did not like. Then overcome by fatigue, I lay down
+among some straw, and fell asleep.
+
+“It was noon when I awoke; and, allured by the warmth of the sun, which
+shone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my
+travels; and, depositing the remains of the peasant’s breakfast in a
+wallet I found, I proceeded across the fields for several hours, until
+at sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear! the
+huts, the neater cottages, and stately houses, engaged my admiration by
+turns. The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I saw
+placed at the windows of some of the cottages, allured my appetite. One
+of the best of these I entered; but I had hardly placed my foot within
+the door, before the children shrieked, and one of the women fainted.
+The whole village was roused; some fled, some attacked me, until,
+grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons, I
+escaped to the open country, and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel,
+quite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had
+beheld in the village. This hovel, however, joined a cottage of a neat
+and pleasant appearance; but, after my late dearly-bought experience, I
+dared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so
+low, that I could with difficulty sit upright in it. No wood, however,
+was placed on the earth, which formed the floor, but it was dry; and
+although the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it an
+agreeable asylum from the snow and rain.
+
+“Here then I retreated, and lay down, happy to have found a shelter,
+however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more
+from the barbarity of man.
+
+“As soon as morning dawned, I crept from my kennel, that I might view
+the adjacent cottage, and discover if I could remain in the habitation I
+had found. It was situated against the back of the cottage, and
+surrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pig-stye and a clear
+pool of water. One part was open, and by that I had crept in; but now I
+covered every crevice by which I might be perceived with stones and
+wood, yet in such a manner that I might move them on occasion to pass
+out: all the light I enjoyed came through the stye, and that was
+sufficient for me.
+
+“Having thus arranged my dwelling, and carpeted it with clean straw, I
+retired; for I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I remembered
+too well my treatment the night before, to trust myself in his power. I
+had first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day, by a loaf
+of coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drink,
+more conveniently than from my hand, of the pure water which flowed by
+my retreat. The floor was a little raised, so that it was kept perfectly
+dry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it was tolerably
+warm.
+
+“Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel, until
+something should occur which might alter my determination. It was indeed
+a paradise, compared to the bleak forest, my former residence, the
+rain-dropping branches, and dank earth. I ate my breakfast with
+pleasure, and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little
+water, when I heard a step, and, looking through a small chink, I beheld
+a young creature, with a pail on her head, passing before my hovel. The
+girl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since found
+cottagers and farm-house servants to be. Yet she was meanly dressed, a
+coarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb; her fair
+hair was plaited, but not adorned; she looked patient, yet sad. I lost
+sight of her; and in about a quarter of an hour she returned, bearing
+the pail, which was now partly filled with milk. As she walked along,
+seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her, whose
+countenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a few sounds with
+an air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head, and bore it to the
+cottage himself. She followed, and they disappeared. Presently I saw the
+young man again, with some tools in his hand, cross the field behind the
+cottage; and the girl was also busied, sometimes in the house, and
+sometimes in the yard.
+
+“On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the
+cottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had been
+filled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almost
+imperceptible chink, through which the eye could just penetrate. Through
+this crevice, a small room was visible, white-washed and clean, but very
+bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an old man,
+leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. The young girl
+was occupied in arranging the cottage; but presently she took something
+out of a drawer, which employed her hands, and she sat down beside the
+old man, who, taking up an instrument, began to play, and to produce
+sounds, sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the nightingale. It was
+a lovely sight, even to me, poor wretch! who had never beheld aught
+beautiful before. The silver hair and benevolent countenance of the aged
+cottager, won my reverence; while the gentle manners of the girl enticed
+my love. He played a sweet mournful air, which I perceived drew tears
+from the eyes of his amiable companion, of which the old man took no
+notice, until she sobbed audibly; he then pronounced a few sounds, and
+the fair creature, leaving her work, knelt at his feet. He raised her,
+and smiled with such kindness and affection, that I felt sensations of a
+peculiar and over-powering nature: they were a mixture of pain and
+pleasure, such as I had never before experienced, either from hunger or
+cold, warmth or food; and I withdrew from the window, unable to bear
+these emotions.
+
+“Soon after this the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a load
+of wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of his
+burden, and, taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on the
+fire; then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage, and
+he shewed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese. She seemed pleased;
+and went into the garden for some roots and plants, which she placed in
+water, and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued her work, whilst
+the young man went into the garden, and appeared busily employed in
+digging and pulling up roots. After he had been employed thus about an
+hour, the young woman joined him, and they entered the cottage together.
+
+“The old man had, in the mean time, been pensive; but, on the appearance
+of his companions, he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to
+eat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was again occupied
+in arranging the cottage; the old man walked before the cottage in the
+sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth. Nothing could
+exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent creatures. One
+was old, with silver hairs and a countenance beaming with benevolence
+and love: the younger was slight and graceful in his figure, and his
+features were moulded with the finest symmetry; yet his eyes and
+attitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency. The old man
+returned to the cottage; and the youth, with tools different from those
+he had used in the morning, directed his steps across the fields.
+
+“Night quickly shut in; but, to my extreme wonder, I found that the
+cottagers had a means of prolonging light, by the use of tapers, and was
+delighted to find, that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the
+pleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbours. In the evening,
+the young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations
+which I did not understand; and the old man again took up the
+instrument, which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me in
+the morning. So soon as he had finished, the youth began, not to play,
+but to utter sounds that were monotonous, and neither resembling the
+harmony of the old man’s instrument or the songs of the birds; I since
+found that he read aloud, but at that time I knew nothing of the science
+of words or letters.
+
+“The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time,
+extinguished their lights, and retired, as I conjectured, to rest.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+“I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep. I thought of the occurrences
+of the day. What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners of these
+people; and I longed to join them, but dared not. I remembered too well
+the treatment I had suffered the night before from the barbarous
+villagers, and resolved, whatever course of conduct I might hereafter
+think it right to pursue, that for the present I would remain quietly in
+my hovel, watching, and endeavouring to discover the motives which
+influenced their actions.
+
+“The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. The young woman
+arranged the cottage, and prepared the food; and the youth departed
+after the first meal.
+
+“This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it. The
+young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in various
+laborious occupations within. The old man, whom I soon perceived to be
+blind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument, or in
+contemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the
+younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion. They
+performed towards him every little office of affection and duty with
+gentleness; and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles.
+
+“They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often
+went apart, and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness;
+but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were
+miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being,
+should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? They
+possessed a delightful house (for such it was in my eyes), and every
+luxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill, and delicious viands
+when hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more,
+they enjoyed one another’s company and speech, interchanging each day
+looks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did they
+really express pain? I was at first unable to solve these questions; but
+perpetual attention, and time, explained to me many appearances which
+were at first enigmatic.
+
+“A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of
+the uneasiness of this amiable family; it was poverty: and they suffered
+that evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishment consisted
+entirely of the vegetables of their garden, and the milk of one cow, who
+gave very little during the winter, when its masters could scarcely
+procure food to support it. They often, I believe, suffered the pangs of
+hunger very poignantly, especially the two younger cottagers; for
+several times they placed food before the old man, when they reserved
+none for themselves.
+
+“This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed,
+during the night, to steal a part of their store for my own consumption;
+but when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on the cottagers, I
+abstained, and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and roots, which I
+gathered from a neighbouring wood.
+
+“I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assist
+their labours. I found that the youth spent a great part of each day in
+collecting wood for the family fire; and, during the night, I often took
+his tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought home
+firing sufficient for the consumption of several days.
+
+“I remember, the first time that I did this, the young woman, when she
+opened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a
+great pile of wood on the outside. She uttered some words in a loud
+voice, and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise. I
+observed, with pleasure, that he did not go to the forest that day, but
+spent it in repairing the cottage, and cultivating the garden.
+
+“By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that
+these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and
+feelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words
+they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in
+the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike
+science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was
+baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Their pronunciation
+was quick; and the words they uttered, not having any apparent connexion
+with visible objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could
+unravel the mystery of their reference. By great application, however,
+and after having remained during the space of several revolutions of the
+moon in my hovel, I discovered the names that were given to some of the
+most familiar objects of discourse: I learned and applied the words
+_fire_, _milk_, _bread_, and _wood_. I learned also the names of the
+cottagers themselves. The youth and his companion had each of them
+several names, but the old man had only one, which was _father_. The
+girl was called _sister_, or _Agatha_; and the youth _Felix_, _brother_,
+or _son_. I cannot describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas
+appropriated to each of these sounds, and was able to pronounce them. I
+distinguished several other words, without being able as yet to
+understand or apply them; such as _good_, _dearest_, _unhappy_.
+
+“I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of the
+cottagers greatly endeared them to me: when they were unhappy, I felt
+depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys. I saw few
+human beings beside them; and if any other happened to enter the
+cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the
+superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive,
+often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that
+he called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a
+cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure
+even upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled
+with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I
+generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after
+having listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus with
+Felix. He was always the saddest of the groupe; and, even to my
+unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his
+friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more
+cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old
+man.
+
+“I could mention innumerable instances, which, although slight, marked
+the dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty and
+want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little white
+flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early in the
+morning before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that obstructed
+her path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, and brought the
+wood from the out-house, where, to his perpetual astonishment, he found
+his store always replenished by an invisible hand. In the day, I
+believe, he worked sometimes for a neighbouring farmer, because he often
+went forth, and did not return until dinner, yet brought no wood with
+him. At other times he worked in the garden; but, as there was little to
+do in the frosty season, he read to the old man and Agatha.
+
+“This reading had puzzled me extremely at first; but, by degrees, I
+discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when
+he talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs
+for speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend
+these also; but how was that possible, when I did not even understand
+the sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however, sensibly
+in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of
+conversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour: for I
+easily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself to
+the cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become
+master of their language; which knowledge might enable me to make them
+overlook the deformity of my figure; for with this also the contrast
+perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted.
+
+“I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers—their grace, beauty,
+and delicate complexions: but how was I terrified, when I viewed myself
+in a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe that
+it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became fully
+convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with
+the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. Alas! I did
+not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity.
+
+“As the sun became warmer, and the light of day longer, the snow
+vanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth. From this
+time Felix was more employed; and the heart-moving indications of
+impending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found, was
+coarse, but it was wholesome; and they procured a sufficiency of it.
+Several new kinds of plants sprung up in the garden, which they dressed;
+and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season advanced.
+
+“The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did
+not rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth its
+waters. This frequently took place; but a high wind quickly dried the
+earth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been.
+
+“My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning I attended
+the motions of the cottagers; and when they were dispersed in various
+occupations, I slept: the remainder of the day was spent in observing my
+friends. When they had retired to rest, if there was any moon, or the
+night was star-light, I went into the woods, and collected my own food
+and fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as it was necessary,
+I cleared their path from the snow, and performed those offices that I
+had seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that these labours, performed
+by an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; and once or twice I heard
+them, on these occasions, utter the words _good spirit_, _wonderful_;
+but I did not then understand the signification of these terms.
+
+“My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the
+motives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive to
+know why Felix appeared so miserable, and Agatha so sad. I thought
+(foolish wretch!) that it might be in my power to restore happiness to
+these deserving people. When I slept, or was absent, the forms of the
+venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix,
+flitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings, who would be
+the arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination a thousand
+pictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception of me. I
+imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle demeanour and
+conciliating words, I should first win their favour, and afterwards
+their love.
+
+“These thoughts exhilarated me, and led me to apply with fresh ardour to
+the acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but
+supple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their
+tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease.
+It was as the ass and the lap-dog; yet surely the gentle ass, whose
+intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved
+better treatment than blows and execration.
+
+“The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the
+aspect of the earth. Men, who before this change seemed to have been hid
+in caves, dispersed themselves, and were employed in various arts of
+cultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves
+began to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth! fit habitation for
+gods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, and unwholesome.
+My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature; the
+past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the
+future gilded by bright rays of hope, and anticipations of joy.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+“I now hasten to the more moving part of my story. I shall relate events
+that impressed me with feelings which, from what I was, have made me
+what I am.
+
+“Spring advanced rapidly; the weather became fine, and the skies
+cloudless. It surprised me, that what before was desert and gloomy
+should now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. My senses
+were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight, and a
+thousand sights of beauty.
+
+“It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically rested from
+labour—the old man played on his guitar, and the children listened to
+him—I observed that the countenance of Felix was melancholy beyond
+expression: he sighed frequently; and once his father paused in his
+music, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquired the cause of his
+son’s sorrow. Felix replied in a cheerful accent, and the old man was
+recommencing his music, when some one tapped at the door.
+
+“It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a countryman as a guide. The
+lady was dressed in a dark suit, and covered with a thick black veil.
+Agatha asked a question; to which the stranger only replied by
+pronouncing, in a sweet accent, the name of Felix. Her voice was
+musical, but unlike that of either of my friends. On hearing this word,
+Felix came up hastily to the lady; who, when she saw him, threw up her
+veil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression. Her
+hair of a shining raven black, and curiously braided; her eyes were
+dark, but gentle, although animated; her features of a regular
+proportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged with a
+lovely pink.
+
+“Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her, every trait of
+sorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree of
+ecstatic joy, of which I could hardly have believed it capable; his eyes
+sparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment I
+thought him as beautiful as the stranger. She appeared affected by
+different feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she held
+out her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously, and called her, as
+well as I could distinguish, his sweet Arabian. She did not appear to
+understand him, but smiled. He assisted her to dismount, and, dismissing
+her guide, conducted her into the cottage. Some conversation took place
+between him and his father; and the young stranger knelt at the old
+man’s feet, and would have kissed his hand, but he raised her, and
+embraced her affectionately.
+
+“I soon perceived, that although the stranger uttered articulate sounds,
+and appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understood
+by, or herself understood, the cottagers. They made many signs which I
+did not comprehend; but I saw that her presence diffused gladness
+through the cottage, dispelling their sorrow as the sun dissipates the
+morning mists. Felix seemed peculiarly happy, and with smiles of delight
+welcomed his Arabian. Agatha, the ever-gentle Agatha, kissed the hands
+of the lovely stranger; and, pointing to her brother, made signs which
+appeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until she came. Some
+hours passed thus, while they, by their countenances, expressed joy, the
+cause of which I did not comprehend. Presently I found, by the frequent
+recurrence of one sound which the stranger repeated after them, that she
+was endeavouring to learn their language; and the idea instantly
+occurred to me, that I should make use of the same instructions to the
+same end. The stranger learned about twenty words at the first lesson,
+most of them indeed were those which I had before understood, but I
+profited by the others.
+
+“As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early. When they
+separated, Felix kissed the hand of the stranger, and said, ‘Good night,
+sweet Safie.’ He sat up much longer, conversing with his father; and, by
+the frequent repetition of her name, I conjectured that their lovely
+guest was the subject of their conversation. I ardently desired to
+understand them, and bent every faculty towards that purpose, but found
+it utterly impossible.
+
+“The next morning Felix went out to his work; and, after the usual
+occupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the
+old man, and, taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly
+beautiful, that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from my
+eyes. She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or
+dying away, like a nightingale of the woods.
+
+“When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first
+declined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in
+sweet accents, but unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger. The old
+man appeared enraptured, and said some words, which Agatha endeavoured
+to explain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that
+she bestowed on him the greatest delight by her music.
+
+“The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alteration,
+that joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends.
+Safie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in the
+knowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most
+of the words uttered by my protectors.
+
+“In the meanwhile also the black ground was covered with herbage, and
+the green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to the
+scent and the eyes, stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods;
+the sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy; and my nocturnal
+rambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerably
+shortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun; for I never
+ventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the same
+treatment as I had formerly endured in the first village which I
+entered.
+
+“My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedily
+master the language; and I may boast that I improved more rapidly than
+the Arabian, who understood very little, and conversed in broken
+accents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that
+was spoken.
+
+“While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters, as it
+was taught to the stranger; and this opened before me a wide field for
+wonder and delight.
+
+“The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney’s _Ruins of
+Empires_. I should not have understood the purport of this book, had not
+Felix, in reading it, given very minute explanations. He had chosen this
+work, he said, because the declamatory style was framed in imitation of
+the eastern authors. Through this work I obtained a cursory knowledge of
+history, and a view of the several empires at present existing in the
+world; it gave me an insight into the manners, governments, and
+religions of the different nations of the earth. I heard of the slothful
+Asiatics; of the stupendous genius and mental activity of the Grecians;
+of the wars and wonderful virtue of the early Romans—of their
+subsequent degeneration—of the decline of that mighty empire; of
+chivalry, Christianity, and kings. I heard of the discovery of the
+American hemisphere, and wept with Safie over the hapless fate of its
+original inhabitants.
+
+“These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Was man,
+indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous, and magnificent, yet so
+vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil
+principle, and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and
+godlike. To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honour that
+can befall a sensitive being; to be base and vicious, as many on record
+have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more abject than
+that of the blind mole or harmless worm. For a long time I could not
+conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or even why
+there were laws and governments; but when I heard details of vice and
+bloodshed, my wonder ceased, and I turned away with disgust and
+loathing.
+
+“Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me. While
+I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the Arabian,
+the strange system of human society was explained to me. I heard of the
+division of property, of immense wealth and squalid poverty; of rank,
+descent, and noble blood.
+
+“The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the
+possessions most esteemed by your fellow-creatures were, high and
+unsullied descent united with riches. A man might be respected with only
+one of these acquisitions; but without either he was considered, except
+in very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to waste his
+powers for the profit of the chosen few. And what was I? Of my creation
+and creator I was absolutely ignorant; but I knew that I possessed no
+money, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides, endowed with a
+figure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not even of the same
+nature as man. I was more agile than they, and could subsist upon
+coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold with less injury to
+my frame; my stature far exceeded their’s. When I looked around, I saw
+and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth,
+from which all men fled, and whom all men disowned?
+
+“I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted
+upon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with
+knowledge. Oh, that I had for ever remained in my native wood, nor known
+or felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat!
+
+“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it
+has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to
+shake off all thought and feeling; but I learned that there was but one
+means to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death—a state
+which I feared yet did not understand. I admired virtue and good
+feelings, and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my
+cottagers; but I was shut out from intercourse with them, except through
+means which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen and unknown, and
+which rather increased than satisfied the desire I had of becoming one
+among my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha, and the animated smiles of
+the charming Arabian, were not for me. The mild exhortations of the old
+man, and the lively conversation of the loved Felix, were not for me.
+Miserable, unhappy wretch!
+
+“Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of the
+difference of sexes; of the birth and growth of children; how the father
+doated on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies of the older
+child; how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapt up in the
+precious charge; how the mind of youth expanded and gained knowledge; of
+brother, sister, and all the various relationships which bind one human
+being to another in mutual bonds.
+
+“But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my
+infant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if
+they had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I
+distinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as I then
+was in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a being resembling
+me, or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? The question
+again recurred, to be answered only with groans.
+
+“I will soon explain to what these feelings tended; but allow me now to
+return to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various feelings
+of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated in
+additional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in an
+innocent, half painful self-deceit, to call them).”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+“Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It was
+one which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding
+as it did a number of circumstances each interesting and wonderful to
+one so utterly inexperienced as I was.
+
+“The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good
+family in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence,
+respected by his superiors, and beloved by his equals. His son was bred
+in the service of his country; and Agatha had ranked with ladies of the
+highest distinction. A few months before my arrival, they had lived in a
+large and luxurious city, called Paris, surrounded by friends, and
+possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, or
+taste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford.
+
+“The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a Turkish
+merchant, and had inhabited Paris for many years, when, for some reason
+which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government. He was
+seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived from
+Constantinople to join him. He was tried, and condemned to death. The
+injustice of his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant;
+and it was judged that his religion and wealth, rather than the crime
+alleged against him, had been the cause of his condemnation.
+
+“Felix had been present at the trial; his horror and indignation were
+uncontrollable, when he heard the decision of the court. He made, at
+that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him, and then looked around for the
+means. After many fruitless attempts to gain admittance to the prison,
+he found a strongly grated window in an unguarded part of the building,
+which lighted the dungeon of the unfortunate Mahometan; who, loaded with
+chains, waited in despair the execution of the barbarous sentence. Felix
+visited the grate at night, and made known to the prisoner his
+intentions in his favour. The Turk, amazed and delighted, endeavoured to
+kindle the zeal of his deliverer by promises of reward and wealth. Felix
+rejected his offers with contempt; yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who
+was allowed to visit her father, and who, by her gestures, expressed her
+lively gratitude, the youth could not help owning to his own mind, that
+the captive possessed a treasure which would fully reward his toil and
+hazard.
+
+“The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made on
+the heart of Felix, and endeavoured to secure him more entirely in his
+interests by the promise of her hand in marriage, so soon as he should
+be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate to accept this
+offer; yet he looked forward to the probability of that event as to the
+consummation of his happiness.
+
+“During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for
+the escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several
+letters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means to
+express her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an old
+man, a servant of her father’s, who understood French. She thanked him
+in the most ardent terms for his intended services towards her father;
+and at the same time she gently deplored her own fate.
+
+“I have copies of these letters; for I found means, during my residence
+in the hovel, to procure the implements of writing; and the letters were
+often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart, I will give them
+to you, they will prove the truth of my tale; but at present, as the
+sun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat the
+substance of them to you.
+
+“Safie related, that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a
+slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of
+the father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high and
+enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom spurned the
+bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in the
+tenets of her religion, and taught her to aspire to higher powers of
+intellect, and an independence of spirit, forbidden to the female
+followers of Mahomet. This lady died; but her lessons were indelibly
+impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again
+returning to Asia, and the being immured within the walls of a harem,
+allowed only to occupy herself with puerile amusements, ill suited to
+the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble
+emulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian, and
+remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in
+society, was enchanting to her.
+
+“The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed; but, on the night
+previous to it, he had quitted prison, and before morning was distant
+many leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name of his
+father, sister, and himself. He had previously communicated his plan to
+the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under the
+pretence of a journey, and concealed himself, with his daughter, in an
+obscure part of Paris.
+
+“Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons, and across Mont
+Cenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to wait a favourable
+opportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions.
+
+“Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his
+departure, before which time the Turk renewed his promise that she
+should be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them in
+expectation of that event; and in the mean time he enjoyed the society
+of the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest
+affection. They conversed with one another through the means of an
+interpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safie
+sang to him the divine airs of her native country.
+
+“The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place, and encouraged the hopes
+of the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed far other
+plans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a
+Christian; but he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appear
+lukewarm; for he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer,
+if he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which they
+inhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled to
+prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, and secretly
+to take his daughter with him when he departed. His plans were greatly
+facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris.
+
+“The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their
+victim, and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer. The plot
+of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha were thrown
+into prison. The news reached Felix, and roused him from his dream of
+pleasure. His blind and aged father, and his gentle sister, lay in a
+noisome dungeon, while he enjoyed the free air, and the society of her
+whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arranged with
+the Turk, that if the latter should find a favourable opportunity for
+escape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as a
+boarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian,
+he hastened to Paris, and delivered himself up to the vengeance of the
+law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding.
+
+“He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the
+trial took place; the result of which deprived them of their fortune,
+and condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country.
+
+“They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I
+discovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, for whom
+he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on discovering
+that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and impotence, became a
+traitor to good feeling and honour, and had quitted Italy with his
+daughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him, as
+he said, in some plan of future maintenance.
+
+“Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix, and rendered
+him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He could
+have endured poverty, and when this distress had been the meed of his
+virtue, he would have gloried in it: but the ingratitude of the Turk,
+and the loss of his beloved Safie, were misfortunes more bitter and
+irreparable. The arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his
+soul.
+
+“When the news reached Leghorn, that Felix was deprived of his wealth
+and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of her
+lover, but to prepare to return with him to her native country. The
+generous nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to
+expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his
+tyrannical mandate.
+
+“A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter’s apartment, and told
+her hastily, that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn
+had been divulged, and that he should speedily be delivered up to the
+French government; he had, consequently, hired a vessel to convey him
+to Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He
+intended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential servant,
+to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his property, which
+had not yet arrived at Leghorn.
+
+“When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it
+would become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey was
+abhorrent to her; her religion and feelings were alike adverse to it. By
+some papers of her father’s, which fell into her hands, she heard of the
+exile of her lover, and learnt the name of the spot where he then
+resided. She hesitated some time, but at length she formed her
+determination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her, and a
+small sum of money, she quitted Italy, with an attendant, a native of
+Leghorn, but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed
+for Germany.
+
+“She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage
+of De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed her
+with the most devoted affection; but the poor girl died, and the Arabian
+was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country, and
+utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, into
+good hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for which
+they were bound; and, after her death, the woman of the house in which
+they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at the
+cottage of her lover.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+“Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply. I
+learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire
+their virtues, and to deprecate the vices of mankind.
+
+“As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil; benevolence and
+generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to
+become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities were
+called forth and displayed. But, in giving an account of the progress of
+my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred in the
+beginning of the month of August of the same year.
+
+“One night, during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood, where I
+collected my own food, and brought home firing for my protectors, I
+found on the ground a leathern portmanteau, containing several articles
+of dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize, and returned with
+it to my hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language the
+elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of
+_Paradise Lost_, a volume of _Plutarch’s Lives_, and the _Sorrows of
+Werter_. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I
+now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories,
+whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.
+
+“I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced
+in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me
+to ecstacy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In
+the _Sorrows of Werter_, besides the interest of its simple and
+affecting story, so many opinions are canvassed, and so many lights
+thrown upon what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects, that I found
+in it a never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle
+and domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and
+feelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded
+well with my experience among my protectors, and with the wants which
+were for ever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a more
+divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character contained
+no pretension, but it sunk deep. The disquisitions upon death and
+suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not pretend to
+enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards the opinions
+of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely understanding
+it.
+
+“As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and
+condition. I found myself similar, yet at the same time strangely unlike
+the beings concerning whom I read, and to whose conversation I was a
+listener. I sympathized with, and partly understood them, but I was
+unformed in mind; I was dependent on none, and related to none. ‘The
+path of my departure was free;’ and there was none to lament my
+annihilation. My person was hideous, and my stature gigantic: what did
+this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my
+destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to
+solve them.
+
+“The volume of _Plutarch’s Lives_ which I possessed, contained the
+histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book had
+a far different effect upon me from the _Sorrows of Werter_. I learned
+from Werter’s imaginations despondency and gloom: but Plutarch taught me
+high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my own
+reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many things I
+read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very confused
+knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers, and
+boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns, and large
+assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the only
+school in which I had studied human nature; but this book developed new
+and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in public affairs
+governing or massacring their species. I felt the greatest ardour for
+virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as far as I understood
+the signification of those terms, relative as they were, as I applied
+them, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these feelings, I was of
+course led to admire peaceable law-givers, Numa, Solon, and Lycurgus,
+in preference to Romulus and Theseus. The patriarchal lives of my
+protectors caused these impressions to take a firm hold on my mind;
+perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had been made by a young
+soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should have been imbued with
+different sensations.
+
+“But _Paradise Lost_ excited different and far deeper emotions. I read
+it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as a
+true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe, that the picture
+of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of exciting.
+I often referred the several situations, as their similarity struck me,
+to my own. Like Adam, I was created apparently united by no link to any
+other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in
+every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a perfect
+creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his
+Creator; he was allowed to converse with, and acquire knowledge from
+beings of a superior nature: but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.
+Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for
+often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter
+gall of envy rose within me.
+
+“Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon
+after my arrival in the hovel, I discovered some papers in the pocket of
+the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had
+neglected them; but now that I was able to decypher the characters in
+which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was
+your journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You minutely
+described in these papers every step you took in the progress of your
+work; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic occurrences.
+You, doubtless, recollect these papers. Here they are. Every thing is
+related in them which bears reference to my accursed origin; the whole
+detail of that series of disgusting circumstances which produced it is
+set in view; the minutest description of my odious and loathsome person
+is given, in language which painted your own horrors, and rendered mine
+ineffaceable. I sickened as I read. ‘Hateful day when I received life!’
+I exclaimed in agony. ‘Cursed creator! Why did you form a monster so
+hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God in pity made man
+beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy
+type of your’s, more horrid from its very resemblance. Satan had his
+companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am
+solitary and detested.’
+
+“These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude; but
+when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and
+benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should become
+acquainted with my admiration of their virtues, they would compassionate
+me, and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turn from their door
+one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion and friendship?
+I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way to fit myself for
+an interview with them which would decide my fate. I postponed this
+attempt for some months longer; for the importance attached to its
+success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail. Besides, I found
+that my understanding improved so much with every day’s experience, that
+I was unwilling to commence this undertaking until a few more months
+should have added to my wisdom.
+
+“Several changes, in the mean time, took place in the cottage. The
+presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants; and I also
+found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha
+spent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in
+their labours by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were
+contented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while mine
+became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only discovered
+to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. I cherished hope, it
+is true; but it vanished, when I beheld my person reflected in water, or
+my shadow in the moon-shine, even as that frail image and that
+inconstant shade.
+
+“I endeavoured to crush these fears, and to fortify myself for the trial
+which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my
+thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and
+dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my
+feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed
+smiles of consolation. But it was all a dream: no Eve soothed my
+sorrows, or shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s
+supplication to his Creator; but where was mine? he had abandoned me,
+and, in the bitterness of my heart, I cursed him.
+
+“Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay
+and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it had
+worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did not
+heed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by my
+conformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief delights
+were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay apparel of
+summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention towards the
+cottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by the absence of summer.
+They loved, and sympathized with one another; and their joys, depending
+on each other, were not interrupted by the casualties that took place
+around them. The more I saw of them, the greater became my desire to
+claim their protection and kindness; my heart yearned to be known and
+loved by these amiable creatures: to see their sweet looks turned
+towards me with affection, was the utmost limit of my ambition. I dared
+not think that they would turn them from me with disdain and horror. The
+poor that stopped at their door were never driven away. I asked, it is
+true, for greater treasures than a little food or rest; I required
+kindness and sympathy; but I did not believe myself utterly unworthy of
+it.
+
+“The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken
+place since I awoke into life. My attention, at this time, was solely
+directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my
+protectors. I revolved many projects; but that on which I finally fixed
+was, to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone. I had
+sagacity enough to discover, that the unnatural hideousness of my person
+was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly beheld me. My
+voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I thought, therefore,
+that if, in the absence of his children, I could gain the good-will and
+mediation of the old De Lacy, I might, by his means, be tolerated by my
+younger protectors.
+
+“One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground,
+and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha, and
+Felix, departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own
+desire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed,
+he took up his guitar, and played several mournful, but sweet airs, more
+sweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his
+countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but, as he continued,
+thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the
+instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection.
+
+“My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which
+would decide my hopes, or realize my fears. The servants were gone to a
+neighbouring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage: it was an
+excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, my
+limbs failed me, and I sunk to the ground. Again I rose; and, exerting
+all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had
+placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived me,
+and, with renewed determination, I approached the door of their cottage.
+
+“I knocked. ‘Who is there?’ said the old man—‘Come in.’
+
+“I entered; ‘Pardon this intrusion,’ said I, ‘I am a traveller in want
+of a little rest; you would greatly oblige me, if you would allow me to
+remain a few minutes before the fire.’
+
+“‘Enter,’ said De Lacy; ‘and I will try in what manner I can relieve
+your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from home, and, as I am
+blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food for you.’
+
+“‘Do not trouble yourself, my kind host, I have food; it is warmth and
+rest only that I need.’
+
+“I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was precious
+to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence the
+interview; when the old man addressed me—
+
+“‘By your language, stranger, I suppose you are my countryman;—are you
+French?’
+
+“‘No; but I was educated by a French family, and understand that
+language only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends,
+whom I sincerely love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.’
+
+“‘Are these Germans?’
+
+“‘No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an
+unfortunate and deserted creature; I look around, and I have no relation
+or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen
+me, and know little of me. I am full of fears; for if I fail there, I am
+an outcast in the world for ever.’
+
+“‘Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate; but the
+hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are full
+of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes; and if
+these friends are good and amiable, do not despair.’
+
+“‘They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world;
+but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good
+dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless, and, in some degree,
+beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they
+ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable
+monster.’
+
+“‘That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot
+you undeceive them?’
+
+“‘I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I
+feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I
+have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily
+kindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and
+it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.’
+
+“‘Where do these friends reside?’
+
+“‘Near this spot.’
+
+“The old man paused, and then continued, ‘If you will unreservedly
+confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in
+undeceiving them. I am blind, and cannot judge of your countenance, but
+there is something in your words which persuades me that you are
+sincere. I am poor, and an exile; but it will afford me true pleasure to
+be in any way serviceable to a human creature.’
+
+“‘Excellent man! I thank you, and accept your generous offer. You raise
+me from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid, I
+shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your
+fellow-creatures.’
+
+“‘Heaven forbid! even if you were really criminal; for that can only
+drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also am
+unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent:
+judge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.’
+
+“‘How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? from your lips first
+have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall be for
+ever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success with
+those friends whom I am on the point of meeting.’
+
+“‘May I know the names and residence of those friends?’
+
+“I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to rob
+me of, or bestow happiness on me for ever. I struggled vainly for
+firmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my
+remaining strength; I sank on the chair, and sobbed aloud. At that
+moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment to
+lose; but, seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, ‘Now is the
+time!—save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I
+seek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!’
+
+“‘Great God!’ exclaimed the old man, ‘who are you?’
+
+“At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and
+Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on
+beholding me? Agatha fainted; and Safie, unable to attend to her friend,
+rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with supernatural
+force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung: in a transport of
+fury, he dashed me to the ground, and struck me violently with a stick.
+I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends the antelope.
+But my heart sunk within me as with bitter sickness, and I refrained. I
+saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when, overcome by pain and
+anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general tumult escaped
+unperceived to my hovel.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+“Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not
+extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? I
+know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were
+those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the
+cottage and its inhabitants, and have glutted myself with their shrieks
+and misery.
+
+“When night came, I quitted my retreat, and wandered in the wood; and
+now, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my
+anguish in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had broken the
+toils; destroying the objects that obstructed me, and ranging through
+the wood with a stag-like swiftness. Oh! what a miserable night I
+passed! the cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees waved their
+branches above me: now and then the sweet voice of a bird burst forth
+amidst the universal stillness. All, save I, were at rest or in
+enjoyment: I, like the arch fiend, bore a hell within me; and, finding
+myself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spread havoc and
+destruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyed the ruin.
+
+“But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; I became
+fatigued with excess of bodily exertion, and sank on the damp grass in
+the sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of men
+that existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness
+towards my enemies? No: from that moment I declared everlasting war
+against the species, and, more than all, against him who had formed me,
+and sent me forth to this insupportable misery.
+
+“The sun rose; I heard the voices of men, and knew that it was
+impossible to return to my retreat during that day. Accordingly I hid
+myself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours
+to reflection on my situation.
+
+“The pleasant sunshine, and the pure air of day, restored me to some
+degree of tranquillity; and when I considered what had passed at the
+cottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in my
+conclusions. I had certainly acted imprudently. It was apparent that my
+conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was a fool in
+having exposed my person to the horror of his children. I ought to have
+familiarized the old De Lacy to me, and by degrees have discovered
+myself to the rest of his family, when they should have been prepared
+for my approach. But I did not believe my errors to be irretrievable;
+and, after much consideration, I resolved to return to the cottage, seek
+the old man, and by my representations win him to my party.
+
+“These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profound
+sleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited by
+peaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was for ever
+acting before my eyes; the females were flying, and the enraged Felix
+tearing me from his father’s feet. I awoke exhausted; and, finding that
+it was already night, I crept forth from my hiding-place, and went in
+search of food.
+
+“When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards the well-known
+path that conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace. I crept into
+my hovel, and remained in silent expectation of the accustomed hour when
+the family arose. That hour past, the sun mounted high in the heavens,
+but the cottagers did not appear. I trembled violently, apprehending
+some dreadful misfortune. The inside of the cottage was dark, and I
+heard no motion; I cannot describe the agony of this suspence.
+
+“Presently two countrymen passed by; but, pausing near the cottage, they
+entered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did not
+understand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country,
+which differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, however, Felix
+approached with another man: I was surprised, as I knew that he had not
+quitted the cottage that morning, and waited anxiously to discover, from
+his discourse, the meaning of these unusual appearances.
+
+“‘Do you consider,’ said his companion to him, ‘that you will be obliged
+to pay three months’ rent, and to lose the produce of your garden? I do
+not wish to take any unfair advantage, and I beg therefore that you will
+take some days to consider of your determination.’
+
+“‘It is utterly useless,’ replied Felix, ‘we can never again inhabit
+your cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest danger, owing to
+the dreadful circumstance that I have related. My wife and my sister
+will never recover their horror. I entreat you not to reason with me any
+more. Take possession of your tenement, and let me fly from this place.’
+
+“Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companion entered
+the cottage, in which they remained for a few minutes, and then
+departed. I never saw any of the family of De Lacy more.
+
+“I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of
+utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed, and had broken the
+only link that held me to the world. For the first time the feelings of
+revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to controul
+them; but, allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I bent my
+mind towards injury and death. When I thought of my friends, of the mild
+voice of De Lacy, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the exquisite beauty of
+the Arabian, these thoughts vanished, and a gush of tears somewhat
+soothed me. But again, when I reflected that they had spurned and
+deserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger; and, unable to injure any
+thing human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As night
+advanced, I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage; and,
+after having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden, I
+waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my
+operations.
+
+“As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods, and quickly
+dispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens: the blast tore
+along like a mighty avalanche, and produced a kind of insanity in my
+spirits, that burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted the
+dry branch of a tree, and danced with fury around the devoted cottage,
+my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon
+nearly touched. A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved my
+brand; it sunk, and, with a loud scream, I fired the straw, and heath,
+and bushes, which I had collected. The wind fanned the fire, and the
+cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it, and
+licked it with their forked and destroying tongues.
+
+“As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of
+the habitation, I quitted the scene, and sought for refuge in the woods.
+
+“And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I
+resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated
+and despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length the
+thought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you were
+my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness than
+to him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix had bestowed
+upon Safie geography had not been omitted: I had learned from these the
+relative situations of the different countries of the earth. You had
+mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town; and towards this place
+I resolved to proceed.
+
+“But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a
+south-westerly direction to reach my destination; but the sun was my
+only guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass
+through, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but I
+did not despair. From you only could I hope for succour, although
+towards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling, heartless
+creator! you had endowed me with perceptions and passions, and then cast
+me abroad an object for the scorn and horror of mankind. But on you only
+had I any claim for pity and redress, and from you I determined to seek
+that justice which I vainly attempted to gain from any other being that
+wore the human form.
+
+“My travels were long, and the sufferings I endured intense. It was late
+in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided. I
+travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a human
+being. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless; rain and
+snow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface of the
+earth was hard, and chill, and bare, and I found no shelter. Oh, earth!
+how often did I imprecate curses on the cause of my being! The mildness
+of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall and
+bitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more deeply
+did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snow fell, and
+the waters were hardened, but I rested not. A few incidents now and then
+directed me, and I possessed a map of the country; but I often wandered
+wide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite: no
+incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its
+food; but a circumstance that happened when I arrived on the confines of
+Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth, and the earth again
+began to look green, confirmed in an especial manner the bitterness and
+horror of my feelings.
+
+“I generally rested during the day, and travelled only when I was
+secured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, finding
+that my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey
+after the sun had risen; the day, which was one of the first of spring,
+cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of
+the air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long
+appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these
+sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them; and, forgetting
+my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft tears again bedewed
+my cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes with thankfulness towards the
+blessed sun which bestowed such joy upon me.
+
+“I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its
+boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many
+of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring.
+Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the
+sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a
+cypress. I was scarcely hid, when a young girl came running towards the
+spot where I was concealed, laughing as if she ran from some one in
+sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides of the
+river, when suddenly her foot slipt, and she fell into the rapid stream.
+I rushed from my hiding-place, and, with extreme labour from the force
+of the current, saved her, and dragged her to shore. She was senseless;
+and I endeavoured, by every means in my power, to restore animation,
+when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic, who was
+probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he
+darted towards me, and, tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards
+the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I hardly knew why;
+but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun, which he carried, at
+my body, and fired. I sunk to the ground, and my injurer, with increased
+swiftness, escaped into the wood.
+
+“This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being
+from destruction, and, as a recompense, I now writhed under the
+miserable pain of a wound, which shattered the flesh and bone. The
+feelings of kindness and gentleness, which I had entertained but a few
+moments before, gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth.
+Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind.
+But the agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted.
+
+“For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring to
+cure the wound which I had received. The ball had entered my shoulder,
+and I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through; at any
+rate I had no means of extracting it. My sufferings were augmented also
+by the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of their
+infliction. My daily vows rose for revenge—a deep and deadly revenge,
+such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had
+endured.
+
+“After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey. The
+labours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or
+gentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery, which insulted my
+desolate state, and made me feel more painfully that I was not made for
+the enjoyment of pleasure.
+
+“But my toils now drew near a close; and, two months from this time, I
+reached the environs of Geneva.
+
+“It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place among
+the fields that surround it, to meditate in what manner I should apply
+to you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger, and far too unhappy to
+enjoy the gentle breezes of evening, or the prospect of the sun setting
+behind the stupendous mountains of Jura.
+
+“At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection,
+which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came
+running into the recess I had chosen with all the sportiveness of
+infancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me, that this
+little creature was unprejudiced, and had lived too short a time to have
+imbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him, and
+educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in
+this peopled earth.
+
+“Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed, and drew him
+towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before his
+eyes, and uttered a shrill scream: I drew his hand forcibly from his
+face, and said, ‘Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to
+hurt you; listen to me.’
+
+“He struggled violently; ‘Let me go,’ he cried; ‘monster! ugly wretch!
+you wish to eat me, and tear me to pieces—You are an ogre—Let me go,
+or I will tell my papa.’
+
+“‘Boy, you will never see your father again; you must come with me.’
+
+“‘Hideous monster! let me go; My papa is a Syndic—he is M.
+Frankenstein—he would punish you. You dare not keep me.’
+
+“‘Frankenstein! you belong then to my enemy—to him towards whom I have
+sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.’
+
+“The child still struggled, and loaded me with epithets which carried
+despair to my heart: I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a
+moment he lay dead at my feet.
+
+“I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish
+triumph: clapping my hands, I exclaimed, ‘I, too, can create desolation;
+my enemy is not impregnable; this death will carry despair to him, and a
+thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.’
+
+“As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his
+breast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite of
+my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I gazed
+with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her lovely
+lips; but presently my rage returned: I remembered that I was for ever
+deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could bestow; and
+that she whose resemblance I contemplated would, in regarding me, have
+changed that air of divine benignity to one expressive of disgust and
+affright.
+
+“Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage? I only
+wonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations in
+exclamations and agony, I did not rush among mankind, and perish in the
+attempt to destroy them.
+
+“While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had
+committed the murder, and was seeking a more secluded hiding-place, when
+I perceived a woman passing near me. She was young, not indeed so
+beautiful as her whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect, and
+blooming in the loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one
+of those whose smiles are bestowed on all but me; she shall not escape:
+thanks to the lessons of Felix, and the sanguinary laws of man, I have
+learned how to work mischief. I approached her unperceived, and placed
+the portrait securely in one of the folds of her dress.
+
+“For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place;
+sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and
+its miseries for ever. At length I wandered towards these mountains, and
+have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning
+passion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you have
+promised to comply with my requisition. I am alone, and miserable; man
+will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself
+would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species,
+and have the same defects. This being you must create.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The being finished speaking, and fixed his looks upon me in expectation
+of a reply. But I was bewildered, perplexed, and unable to arrange my
+ideas sufficiently to understand the full extent of his proposition. He
+continued—
+
+“You must create a female for me, with whom I can live in the
+interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone
+can do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse.”
+
+The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had
+died away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, and,
+as he said this, I could no longer suppress the rage that burned within
+me.
+
+“I do refuse it,” I replied; “and no torture shall ever extort a consent
+from me. You may render me the most miserable of men, but you shall
+never make me base in my own eyes. Shall I create another like yourself,
+whose joint wickedness might desolate the world. Begone! I have answered
+you; you may torture me, but I will never consent.”
+
+“You are in the wrong,” replied the fiend; “and, instead of threatening,
+I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable;
+am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear
+me to pieces, and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity
+man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder, if you could
+precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts, and destroy my frame, the
+work of your own hands. Shall I respect man, when he contemns me? Let
+him live with me in the interchange of kindness, and, instead of injury,
+I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude at his
+acceptance. But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable
+barriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject
+slavery. I will revenge my injuries: if I cannot inspire love, I will
+cause fear; and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator,
+do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care: I will work at your
+destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you curse
+the hour of your birth.”
+
+A fiendish rage animated him as he said this; his face was wrinkled into
+contortions too horrible for human eyes to behold; but presently he
+calmed himself, and proceeded—
+
+“I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me; for you do not
+reflect that you are the cause of its excess. If any being felt emotions
+of benevolence towards me, I should return them an hundred and an
+hundred fold; for that one creature’s sake, I would make peace with the
+whole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be
+realized. What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a
+creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself: the gratification is
+small, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me. It is
+true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that
+account we shall be more attached to one another. Our lives will not be
+happy, but they will be harmless, and free from the misery I now feel.
+Oh! my creator, make me happy; let me feel gratitude towards you for one
+benefit! Let me see that I excite the sympathy of some existing thing;
+do not deny me my request!”
+
+I was moved. I shuddered when I thought of the possible consequences of
+my consent; but I felt that there was some justice in his argument. His
+tale, and the feelings he now expressed, proved him to be a creature of
+fine sensations; and did I not, as his maker, owe him all the portion of
+happiness that it was in my power to bestow? He saw my change of
+feeling, and continued—
+
+“If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see us
+again: I will go to the vast wilds of South America. My food is not that
+of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid, to glut my appetite;
+acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment. My companion will
+be of the same nature as myself, and will be content with the same fare.
+We shall make our bed of dried leaves; the sun will shine on us as on
+man, and will ripen our food. The picture I present to you is peaceful
+and human, and you must feel that you could deny it only in the
+wantonness of power and cruelty. Pitiless as you have been towards me, I
+now see compassion in your eyes: let me seize the favourable moment, and
+persuade you to promise what I so ardently desire.”
+
+“You propose,” replied I, “to fly from the habitations of man, to dwell
+in those wilds where the beasts of the field will be your only
+companions. How can you, who long for the love and sympathy of man,
+persevere in this exile? You will return, and again seek their kindness,
+and you will meet with their detestation; your evil passions will be
+renewed, and you will then have a companion to aid you in the task of
+destruction. This may not be; cease to argue the point, for I cannot
+consent.”
+
+“How inconstant are your feelings! but a moment ago you were moved by my
+representations, and why do you again harden yourself to my complaints?
+I swear to you, by the earth which I inhabit, and by you that made me,
+that, with the companion you bestow, I will quit the neighbourhood of
+man, and dwell, as it may chance, in the most savage of places. My evil
+passions will have fled, for I shall meet with sympathy; my life will
+flow quietly away, and, in my dying moments, I shall not curse my
+maker.”
+
+His words had a strange effect upon me. I compassionated him, and
+sometimes felt a wish to console him; but when I looked upon him, when I
+saw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened, and my
+feelings were altered to those of horror and hatred. I tried to stifle
+these sensations; I thought, that as I could not sympathize with him, I
+had no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which
+was yet in my power to bestow.
+
+“You swear,” I said, “to be harmless; but have you not already shewn a
+degree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust you? May not
+even this be a feint that will increase your triumph by affording a
+wider scope for your revenge?”
+
+“How is this? I thought I had moved your compassion, and yet you still
+refuse to bestow on me the only benefit that can soften my heart, and
+render me harmless. If I have no ties and no affections, hatred and vice
+must be my portion; the love of another will destroy the cause of my
+crimes, and I shall become a thing, of whose existence every one will be
+ignorant. My vices are the children of a forced solitude that I abhor;
+and my virtues will necessarily arise when I live in communion with an
+equal. I shall feel the affections of a sensitive being, and become
+linked to the chain of existence and events, from which I am now
+excluded.”
+
+I paused some time to reflect on all he had related, and the various
+arguments which he had employed. I thought of the promise of virtues
+which he had displayed on the opening of his existence, and the
+subsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which
+his protectors had manifested towards him. His power and threats were
+not omitted in my calculations: a creature who could exist in the ice
+caves of the glaciers, and hide himself from pursuit among the ridges of
+inaccessible precipices, was a being possessing faculties it would be
+vain to cope with. After a long pause of reflection, I concluded, that
+the justice due both to him and my fellow-creatures demanded of me that
+I should comply with his request. Turning to him, therefore, I said—
+
+“I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe for ever,
+and every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shall
+deliver into your hands a female who will accompany you in your exile.”
+
+“I swear,” he cried, “by the sun, and by the blue sky of heaven, that if
+you grant my prayer, while they exist you shall never behold me again.
+Depart to your home, and commence your labours: I shall watch their
+progress with unutterable anxiety; and fear not but that when you are
+ready I shall appear.”
+
+Saying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change in
+my sentiments. I saw him descend the mountain with greater speed than
+the flight of an eagle, and quickly lost him among the undulations of
+the sea of ice.
+
+His tale had occupied the whole day; and the sun was upon the verge of
+the horizon when he departed. I knew that I ought to hasten my descent
+towards the valley, as I should soon be encompassed in darkness; but my
+heart was heavy, and my steps slow. The labour of winding among the
+little paths of the mountains, and fixing my feet firmly as I advanced,
+perplexed me, occupied as I was by the emotions which the occurrences of
+the day had produced. Night was far advanced, when I came to the
+half-way resting-place, and seated myself beside the fountain. The stars
+shone at intervals, as the clouds passed from over them; the dark pines
+rose before me, and every here and there a broken tree lay on the
+ground: it was a scene of wonderful solemnity, and stirred strange
+thoughts within me. I wept bitterly; and, clasping my hands in agony, I
+exclaimed, “Oh! stars, and clouds, and winds, ye are all about to mock
+me: if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as
+nought; but if not, depart, depart and leave me in darkness.”
+
+These were wild and miserable thoughts; but I cannot describe to you how
+the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me, and how I listened
+to every blast of wind, as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its way to
+consume me.
+
+Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; but my
+presence, so haggard and strange, hardly calmed the fears of my family,
+who had waited the whole night in anxious expectation of my return.
+
+The following day we returned to Geneva. The intention of my father in
+coming had been to divert my mind, and to restore me to my lost
+tranquillity; but the medicine had been fatal. And, unable to account
+for the excess of misery I appeared to suffer, he hastened to return
+home, hoping the quiet and monotony of a domestic life would by degrees
+alleviate my sufferings from whatsoever cause they might spring.
+
+For myself, I was passive in all their arrangements; and the gentle
+affection of my beloved Elizabeth was inadequate to draw me from the
+depth of my despair. The promise I had made to the dæmon weighed upon my
+mind, like Dante’s iron cowl on the heads of the hellish hypocrites. All
+pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that
+thought only had to me the reality of life. Can you wonder, that
+sometimes a kind of insanity possessed me, or that I saw continually
+about me a multitude of filthy animals inflicting on me incessant
+torture, that often extorted screams and bitter groans?
+
+By degrees, however, these feelings became calmed. I entered again into
+the every-day scene of life, if not with interest, at least with some
+degree of tranquillity.
+
+
+END OF VOL. II.
+
+
+
+
+FRANKENSTEIN;
+
+OR,
+
+THE MODERN PROMETHEUS.
+
+
+    IN THREE VOLUMES.
+    VOL. III.
+
+    London:
+
+    _PRINTED FOR_
+    LACKINGTON, HUGHES, HARDING, MAVOR, & JONES,
+    FINSBURY SQUARE.
+
+    1818.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
+    To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
+    From darkness to promote me?——
+
+    Paradise Lost.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and
+I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the
+vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my
+repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not
+compose a female without again devoting several months to profound study
+and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having been
+made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material to
+my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father’s consent to
+visit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay,
+and could not resolve to interrupt my returning tranquillity. My health,
+which had hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when
+unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My
+father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts towards
+the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy, which
+every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring blackness
+overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in the
+most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake alone in a little
+boat, watching the clouds, and listening to the rippling of the waves,
+silent and listless. But the fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to
+restore me to some degree of composure; and, on my return, I met the
+salutations of my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful
+heart.
+
+It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, calling
+me aside, thus addressed me:—
+
+“I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former
+pleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still
+unhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in
+conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and
+if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point
+would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all.”
+
+I trembled violently at this exordium, and my father continued—
+
+“I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage
+with your cousin as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my
+declining years. You were attached to each other from your earliest
+infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions and tastes,
+entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of man,
+that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have
+entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without
+any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with
+another whom you may love; and, considering yourself as bound in honour
+to your cousin, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you
+appear to feel.”
+
+“My dear father, re-assure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and
+sincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my
+warmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are
+entirely bound up in the expectation of our union.”
+
+“The expression of your sentiments on this subject, my dear Victor,
+gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you
+feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast
+a gloom over us. But it is this gloom, which appears to have taken so
+strong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,
+therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the
+marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us from
+that every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You are
+younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent
+fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future
+plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose,
+however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you, or that a delay on
+your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words
+with candour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and
+sincerity.”
+
+I listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapable
+of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of
+thoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me the
+idea of an immediate union with my cousin was one of horror and dismay.
+I was bound by a solemn promise, which I had not yet fulfilled, and
+dared not break; or, if I did, what manifold miseries might not impend
+over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival with this
+deadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to the ground. I
+must perform my engagement, and let the monster depart with his mate,
+before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union from which I
+expected peace.
+
+I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to
+England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers
+of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable
+use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the
+desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, any
+variation was agreeable to me, and I was delighted with the idea of
+spending a year or two in change of scene and variety of occupation, in
+absence from my family; during which period some event might happen
+which would restore me to them in peace and happiness: my promise might
+be fulfilled, and the monster have departed; or some accident might
+occur to destroy him, and put an end to my slavery for ever.
+
+These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to
+visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I
+clothed my desires under the guise of wishing to travel and see the
+world before I sat down for life within the walls of my native town.
+
+I urged my entreaty with earnestness, and my father was easily induced
+to comply; for a more indulgent and less dictatorial parent did not
+exist upon earth. Our plan was soon arranged. I should travel to
+Strasburgh, where Clerval would join me. Some short time would be spent
+in the towns of Holland, and our principal stay would be in England. We
+should return by France; and it was agreed that the tour should occupy
+the space of two years.
+
+My father pleased himself with the reflection, that my union with
+Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return to Geneva. “These
+two years,” said he, “will pass swiftly, and it will be the last delay
+that will oppose itself to your happiness. And, indeed, I earnestly
+desire that period to arrive, when we shall all be united, and neither
+hopes or fears arise to disturb our domestic calm.”
+
+“I am content,” I replied, “with your arrangement. By that time we shall
+both have become wiser, and I hope happier, than we at present are.” I
+sighed; but my father kindly forbore to question me further concerning
+the cause of my dejection. He hoped that new scenes, and the amusement
+of travelling, would restore my tranquillity.
+
+I now made arrangements for my journey; but one feeling haunted me,
+which filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should
+leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy, and
+unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my
+departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go; and
+would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in
+itself, but soothing, inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.
+I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of this
+might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the slave
+of my creature, I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of the
+moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend
+would follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of his
+machinations.
+
+It was in the latter end of August that I departed, to pass two years of
+exile. Elizabeth approved of the reasons of my departure, and only
+regretted that she had not the same opportunities of enlarging her
+experience, and cultivating her understanding. She wept, however, as she
+bade me farewell, and entreated me to return happy and tranquil. “We
+all,” said she, “depend upon you; and if you are miserable, what must be
+our feelings?”
+
+I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly
+knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. I
+remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on
+it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with
+me: for I resolved to fulfil my promise while abroad, and return, if
+possible, a free man. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through
+many beautiful and majestic scenes; but my eyes were fixed and
+unobserving. I could only think of the bourne of my travels, and the
+work which was to occupy me whilst they endured.
+
+After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed
+many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for
+Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was
+alive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting
+sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He
+pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the
+appearances of the sky. “This is what it is to live;” he cried, “now I
+enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you
+desponding and sorrowful?” In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts,
+and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sun-rise
+reflected in the Rhine.—And you, my friend, would be far more amused
+with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an eye of
+feeling and delight, than to listen to my reflections. I, a miserable
+wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.
+
+We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to
+Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage,
+we passed by many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. We
+staid a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure from
+Strasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayence
+becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and winds
+between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw many
+ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by black
+woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents a
+singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills,
+ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhine
+rushing beneath; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishing
+vineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, and
+populous towns, occupy the scene.
+
+We travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of the
+labourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and
+my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased.
+I lay at the bottom of the boat, and, as I gazed on the cloudless blue
+sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a
+stranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of
+Henry? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairy-land, and enjoyed
+a happiness seldom tasted by man. “I have seen,” he said, “the most
+beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne
+and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the
+water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy
+and mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands that
+relieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitated
+by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you an
+idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean, and the waves
+dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and his
+mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche, and where their dying voices
+are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I have
+seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country,
+Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains of
+Switzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in the
+banks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look at
+that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island,
+almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now that
+group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village
+half-hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that
+inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than
+those who pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the
+mountains of our own country.”
+
+Clerval! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words,
+and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He
+was a being formed in the “very poetry of nature.” His wild and
+enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart.
+His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of
+that devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to
+look for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not
+sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature,
+which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour:
+
+    —— ——“The sounding cataract
+    Haunted _him_ like a passion: the tall rock,
+    The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
+    Their colours and their forms, were then to him
+    An appetite; a feeling, and a love,
+    That had no need of a remoter charm,
+    By thought supplied, or any interest
+    Unborrowed from the eye.”
+
+And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for
+ever? Has this mind so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and
+magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the life
+of its creator; has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in my
+memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beaming
+with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your
+unhappy friend.
+
+Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight
+tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,
+overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will
+proceed with my tale.
+
+Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to
+post the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream
+of the river was too gentle to aid us.
+
+Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but
+we arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to
+England. It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that
+I first saw the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames
+presented a new scene; they were flat, but fertile, and almost every
+town was marked by the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort,
+and remembered the Spanish armada; Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich,
+places which I had heard of even in my country.
+
+At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul’s towering
+above all, and the Tower famed in English history.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several
+months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the
+intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this time;
+but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally occupied with
+the means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of
+my promise, and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction
+that I had brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished natural
+philosophers.
+
+If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness,
+it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come
+over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the
+information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was
+so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could
+fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry
+soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But
+busy uninteresting joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw
+an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this
+barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine; and to reflect
+on the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish.
+
+But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive,
+and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of
+manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of
+instruction and amusement. He was for ever busy; and the only check to
+his enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mien. I tried to conceal
+this as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures
+natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by
+any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him,
+alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began
+to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to
+me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the
+head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme anguish, and
+every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver, and
+my heart to palpitate.
+
+After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person
+in Scotland, who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned
+the beauties of his native country, and asked us if those were not
+sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north
+as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this
+invitation; and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again
+mountains and streams, and all the wondrous works with which Nature
+adorns her chosen dwelling-places.
+
+We had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now
+February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the
+north at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not
+intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor,
+Oxford, Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the
+completion of this tour about the end of July. I packed my chemical
+instruments, and the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my
+labours in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.
+
+We quitted London on the 27th of March, and remained a few days at
+Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us
+mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of
+stately deer, were all novelties to us.
+
+From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city, our minds
+were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted
+there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I.
+had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, after
+the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of
+parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king, and his
+companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Gower, his queen, and
+son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city, which they
+might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a
+dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these
+feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the
+city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. The
+colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost
+magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows
+of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters,
+which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and domes,
+embosomed among aged trees.
+
+I enjoyed this scene; and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the
+memory of the past, and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for
+peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my
+mind; and if I was ever overcome by _ennui_, the sight of what is
+beautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in
+the productions of man, could always interest my heart, and communicate
+elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered
+my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall
+soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to
+others, and abhorrent to myself.
+
+We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs,
+and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most
+animating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discovery were
+often prolonged by the successive objects that presented themselves. We
+visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden, and the field on which that
+patriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevated from its debasing and
+miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas of liberty and
+self-sacrifice, of which these sights were the monuments and the
+remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains, and look
+around me with a free and lofty spirit; but the iron had eaten into my
+flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self.
+
+We left Oxford with regret, and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next
+place of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village
+resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but every
+thing is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of distant
+white Alps, which always attend on the piny mountains of my native
+country. We visited the wondrous cave, and the little cabinets of
+natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same manner
+as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name made me
+tremble, when pronounced by Henry; and I hastened to quit Matlock, with
+which that terrible scene was thus associated.
+
+From Derby still journeying northward, we passed two months in
+Cumberland and Westmoreland. I could now almost fancy myself among the
+Swiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the
+northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the rocky
+streams, were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we made some
+acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into happiness. The
+delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than mine; his mind
+expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found in his own nature
+greater capacities and resources than he could have imagined himself to
+have possessed while he associated with his inferiors. “I could pass my
+life here,” said he to me; “and among these mountains I should scarcely
+regret Switzerland and the Rhine.”
+
+But he found that a traveller’s life is one that includes much pain
+amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and
+when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit
+that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again
+engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.
+
+We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and
+Westmoreland, and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants,
+when the period of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached,
+and we left them to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had
+now neglected my promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the
+dæmon’s disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland, and wreak his
+vengeance on my relatives. This idea pursued me, and tormented me at
+every moment from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and
+peace. I waited for my letters with feverish impatience: if they were
+delayed, I was miserable, and overcome by a thousand fears; and when
+they arrived, and I saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I
+hardly dared to read and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the
+fiend followed me, and might expedite my remissness by murdering my
+companion. When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for
+a moment, but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the
+fancied rage of his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great
+crime, the consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had
+indeed drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of
+crime.
+
+I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might
+have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it so
+well as Oxford; for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing
+to him. But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, its
+romantic castle, and its environs, the most delightful in the world,
+Arthur’s Seat, St. Bernard’s Well, and the Pentland Hills, compensated
+him for the change, and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But
+I was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.
+
+We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrews, and
+along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us. But
+I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers, or enter into their
+feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and
+accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland
+alone. “Do you,” said I, “enjoy yourself, and let this be our
+rendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with my
+motions, I entreat you: leave me to peace and solitude for a short time;
+and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more
+congenial to your own temper.”
+
+Henry wished to dissuade me; but, seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to
+remonstrate. He entreated me to write often. “I had rather be with you,”
+he said, “in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch people, whom
+I do not know: hasten then, my dear friend, to return, that I may again
+feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence.”
+
+Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of
+Scotland, and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the
+monster followed me, and would discover himself to me when I should have
+finished, that he might receive his companion.
+
+With this resolution I traversed the northern highlands, and fixed on
+one of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene labours. It was a place
+fitted for such a work, being hardly more than a rock, whose high sides
+were continually beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely
+affording pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its
+inhabitants, which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy
+limbs gave tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when
+they indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured
+from the main land, which was about five miles distant.
+
+On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of
+these was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two
+rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable
+penury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the
+door was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some
+furniture, and took possession; an incident which would, doubtless, have
+occasioned some surprise, had not all the senses of the cottagers been
+benumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at and
+unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes which I
+gave; so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations of men.
+
+In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening,
+when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea, to
+listen to the waves as they roared, and dashed at my feet. It was a
+monotonous, yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was
+far different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills are
+covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the
+plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky; and, when troubled
+by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively infant, when
+compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.
+
+In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived; but,
+as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and
+irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my
+laboratory for several days; and at other times I toiled day and night
+in order to complete my work. It was indeed a filthy process in which I
+was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of enthusiastic frenzy
+had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my mind was intently
+fixed on the sequel of my labour, and my eyes were shut to the horror of
+my proceedings. But now I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often
+sickened at the work of my hands.
+
+Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in a
+solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the
+actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I grew
+restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor.
+Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them
+lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold.
+I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow-creatures, lest when
+alone he should come to claim his companion.
+
+In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably
+advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager
+hope, which I dared not trust myself to question, but which was
+intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil, that made my heart sicken
+in my bosom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was
+just rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment,
+and I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should
+leave my labour for the night, or hasten its conclusion by an
+unremitting attention to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred to
+me, which led me to consider the effects of what I was now doing. Three
+years before I was engaged in the same manner, and had created a fiend
+whose unparalleled barbarity had desolated my heart, and filled it for
+ever with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to form another being,
+of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become ten
+thousand times more malignant than her mate, and delight, for its own
+sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood
+of man, and hide himself in deserts; but she had not; and she, who in
+all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might
+refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation. They might
+even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed his own
+deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence for it when it
+came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn with
+disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him, and
+he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being
+deserted by one of his own species.
+
+Even if they were to leave Europe, and inhabit the deserts of the new
+world, yet one of the first results of those sympathies for which the
+dæmon thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be
+propagated upon the earth, who might make the very existence of the
+species of man a condition precarious and full of terror. Had I a right,
+for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations?
+I had before been moved by the sophisms of the being I had created; I
+had been struck senseless by his fiendish threats: but now, for the
+first time, the wickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to
+think that future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness
+had not hesitated to buy its own peace at the price perhaps of the
+existence of the whole human race.
+
+I trembled, and my heart failed within me; when, on looking up, I saw,
+by the light of the moon, the dæmon at the casement. A ghastly grin
+wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task
+which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he
+had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide
+and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress, and claim the
+fulfilment of my promise.
+
+As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of
+malice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on my
+promise of creating another like to him, and, trembling with passion,
+tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw me
+destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for
+happiness, and, with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.
+
+I left the room, and, locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own
+heart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I
+sought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate the
+gloom, and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the most terrible
+reveries.
+
+Several hours past, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea; it
+was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature reposed
+under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone specked the
+water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound of voices, as
+the fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence, although I was
+hardly conscious of its extreme profundity until my ear was suddenly
+arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a person landed
+close to my house.
+
+In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one
+endeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt a
+presentiment of who it was, and wished to rouse one of the peasants who
+dwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the
+sensation of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you
+in vain endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to the
+spot.
+
+Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; the door
+opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. Shutting the door, he
+approached me, and said, in a smothered voice—
+
+“You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you
+intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and
+misery: I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the
+Rhine, among its willow islands, and over the summits of its hills. I
+have dwelt many months in the heaths of England, and among the deserts
+of Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger;
+do you dare destroy my hopes?”
+
+“Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like
+yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness.”
+
+“Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself
+unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe
+yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day
+will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your
+master;—obey!”
+
+“The hour of my weakness is past, and the period of your power is
+arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but
+they confirm me in a resolution of not creating you a companion in vice.
+Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a dæmon, whose delight
+is in death and wretchedness. Begone! I am firm, and your words will
+only exasperate my rage.”
+
+The monster saw my determination in my face, and gnashed his teeth in
+the impotence of anger. “Shall each man,” cried he, “find a wife for his
+bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of
+affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man, you may
+hate; but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the
+bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness for ever. Are
+you to be happy, while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You
+can blast my other passions; but revenge remains—revenge, henceforth
+dearer than light or food! I may die; but first you, my tyrant and
+tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware; for I
+am fearless, and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a
+snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the
+injuries you inflict.”
+
+“Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I
+have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath
+words. Leave me; I am inexorable.”
+
+“It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your
+wedding-night.”
+
+I started forward, and exclaimed, “Villain! before you sign my
+death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.”
+
+I would have seized him; but he eluded me, and quitted the house with
+precipitation: in a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across
+the waters with an arrowy swiftness, and was soon lost amidst the waves.
+
+All was again silent; but his words rung in my ears. I burned with rage
+to pursue the murderer of my peace, and precipitate him into the ocean.
+I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination
+conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not
+followed him, and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered
+him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the main land. I
+shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his
+insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words—“_I will be
+with you on your wedding-night._” That then was the period fixed for the
+fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die, and at once satisfy
+and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet
+when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth,—of her tears and endless
+sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously snatched from
+her,—tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my
+eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy without a bitter
+struggle.
+
+The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings
+became calmer, if it may be called calmness, when the violence of rage
+sinks into the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene of
+the last night’s contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which I
+almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my
+fellow-creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole
+across me. I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock,
+wearily it is true, but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If
+I returned, it was to be sacrificed, or to see those whom I most loved
+die under the grasp of a dæmon whom I had myself created.
+
+I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it
+loved, and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and the sun
+rose higher, I lay down on the grass, and was overpowered by a deep
+sleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves were
+agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep into
+which I now sunk refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as if I
+belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to reflect
+upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the words of the
+fiend rung in my ears like a death-knell, they appeared like a dream,
+yet distinct and oppressive as a reality.
+
+The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my
+appetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a
+fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet;
+it contained letters from Geneva, and one from Clerval, entreating me to
+join him. He said that nearly a year had elapsed since we had quitted
+Switzerland, and France was yet unvisited. He entreated me, therefore,
+to leave my solitary isle, and meet him at Perth, in a week from that
+time, when we might arrange the plan of our future proceedings. This
+letter in a degree recalled me to life, and I determined to quit my
+island at the expiration of two days.
+
+Yet, before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I
+shuddered to reflect: I must pack my chemical instruments; and for that
+purpose I must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious
+work, and I must handle those utensils, the sight of which was sickening
+to me. The next morning, at day-break, I summoned sufficient courage,
+and unlocked the door of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished
+creature, whom I had destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost
+felt as if I had mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused to
+collect myself, and then entered the chamber. With trembling hand I
+conveyed the instruments out of the room; but I reflected that I ought
+not to leave the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicion of
+the peasants, and I accordingly put them into a basket, with a great
+quantity of stones, and laying them up, determined to throw them into
+the sea that very night; and in the mean time I sat upon the beach,
+employed in cleaning and arranging my chemical apparatus.
+
+Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place
+in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the dæmon. I had
+before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair, as a thing that, with
+whatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film
+had been taken from before my eyes, and that I, for the first time, saw
+clearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur
+to me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not
+reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in
+my own mind, that to create another like the fiend I had first made
+would be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness; and I
+banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different
+conclusion.
+
+Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting
+my basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the
+shore. The scene was perfectly solitary: a few boats were returning
+towards land, but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was about the
+commission of a dreadful crime, and avoided with shuddering anxiety any
+encounter with my fellow-creatures. At one time the moon, which had
+before been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I took
+advantage of the moment of darkness, and cast my basket into the sea; I
+listened to the gurgling sound as it sunk, and then sailed away from the
+spot. The sky became clouded; but the air was pure, although chilled by
+the north-east breeze that was then rising. But it refreshed me, and
+filled me with such agreeable sensations, that I resolved to prolong my
+stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a direct position, stretched
+myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid the moon, every thing was
+obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat, as its keel cut through
+the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short time I slept soundly.
+
+I do not know how long I remained in this situation, but when I awoke I
+found that the sun had already mounted considerably. The wind was high,
+and the waves continually threatened the safety of my little skiff. I
+found that the wind was north-east, and must have driven me far from the
+coast from which I had embarked. I endeavoured to change my course, but
+quickly found that if I again made the attempt the boat would be
+instantly filled with water. Thus situated, my only resource was to
+drive before the wind. I confess that I felt a few sensations of terror.
+I had no compass with me, and was so little acquainted with the
+geography of this part of the world that the sun was of little benefit
+to me. I might be driven into the wide Atlantic, and feel all the
+tortures of starvation, or be swallowed up in the immeasurable waters
+that roared and buffeted around me. I had already been out many hours,
+and felt the torment of a burning thirst, a prelude to my other
+sufferings. I looked on the heavens, which were covered by clouds that
+flew before the wind only to be replaced by others: I looked upon the
+sea, it was to be my grave. “Fiend,” I exclaimed, “your task is already
+fulfilled!” I thought of Elizabeth, of my father, and of Clerval; and
+sunk into a reverie, so despairing and frightful, that even now, when
+the scene is on the point of closing before me for ever, I shudder to
+reflect on it.
+
+Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the
+horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze, and the sea became
+free from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick,
+and hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high
+land towards the south.
+
+Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue, and the dreadful suspense I endured
+for several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of
+warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.
+
+How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we
+have of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sail
+with a part of my dress, and eagerly steered my course towards the land.
+It had a wild and rocky appearance; but as I approached nearer, I easily
+perceived the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore, and
+found myself suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of civilized
+man. I eagerly traced the windings of the land, and hailed a steeple
+which I at length saw issuing from behind a small promontory. As I was
+in a state of extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly towards the
+town as a place where I could most easily procure nourishment.
+Fortunately I had money with me. As I turned the promontory, I perceived
+a small neat town and a good harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding
+with joy at my unexpected escape.
+
+As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several
+people crowded towards the spot. They seemed very much surprised at my
+appearance; but, instead of offering me any assistance, whispered
+together with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me
+a slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they
+spoke English; and I therefore addressed them in that language: “My good
+friends,” said I, “will you be so kind as to tell me the name of this
+town, and inform me where I am?”
+
+“You will know that soon enough,” replied a man with a gruff voice. “May
+be you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste; but
+you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you.”
+
+I was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a
+stranger; and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and
+angry countenances of his companions. “Why do you answer me so roughly?”
+I replied: “surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to receive
+strangers so inhospitably.”
+
+“I do not know,” said the man, “what the custom of the English may be;
+but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains.”
+
+While this strange dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly
+increase. Their faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which
+annoyed, and in some degree alarmed me. I inquired the way to the inn;
+but no one replied. I then moved forward, and a murmuring sound arose
+from the crowd as they followed and surrounded me; when an ill-looking
+man approaching, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Come, Sir, you
+must follow me to Mr. Kirwin’s, to give an account of yourself.”
+
+“Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not this a
+free country?”
+
+“Aye, Sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate; and
+you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was found
+murdered here last night.”
+
+This answer startled me; but I presently recovered myself. I was
+innocent; that could easily be proved: accordingly I followed my
+conductor in silence, and was led to one of the best houses in the town.
+I was ready to sink from fatigue and hunger; but, being surrounded by a
+crowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physical
+debility might be construed into apprehension or conscious guilt. Little
+did I then expect the calamity that was in a few moments to overwhelm
+me, and extinguish in horror and despair all fear of ignominy or death.
+
+I must pause here; for it requires all my fortitude to recall the memory
+of the frightful events which I am about to relate, in proper detail, to
+my recollection.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+I was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an old
+benevolent man, with calm and mild manners. He looked upon me, however,
+with some degree of severity; and then, turning towards my conductors,
+he asked who appeared as witnesses on this occasion.
+
+About half a dozen men came forward; and one being selected by the
+magistrate, he deposed, that he had been out fishing the night before
+with his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about ten o’clock,
+they observed a strong northerly blast rising, and they accordingly put
+in for port. It was a very dark night, as the moon had not yet risen;
+they did not land at the harbour, but, as they had been accustomed, at a
+creek about two miles below. He walked on first, carrying a part of the
+fishing tackle, and his companions followed him at some distance. As he
+was proceeding along the sands, he struck his foot against something,
+and fell all his length on the ground. His companions came up to assist
+him; and, by the light of their lantern, they found that he had fallen
+on the body of a man, who was to all appearance dead. Their first
+supposition was, that it was the corpse of some person who had been
+drowned, and was thrown on shore by the waves; but, upon examination,
+they found that the clothes were not wet, and even that the body was not
+then cold. They instantly carried it to the cottage of an old woman near
+the spot, and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it to life. He
+appeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years of age.
+He had apparently been strangled; for there was no sign of any violence,
+except the black mark of fingers on his neck.
+
+The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me; but
+when the mark of the fingers was mentioned, I remembered the murder of
+my brother, and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and a
+mist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair for support.
+The magistrate observed me with a keen eye, and of course drew an
+unfavourable augury from my manner.
+
+The son confirmed his father’s account: but when Daniel Nugent was
+called, he swore positively that, just before the fall of his companion,
+he saw a boat, with a single man in it, at a short distance from the
+shore; and, as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it was
+the same boat in which I had just landed.
+
+A woman deposed, that she lived near the beach, and was standing at the
+door of her cottage, waiting for the return of the fishermen, about an
+hour before she heard of the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat,
+with only one man in it, push off from that part of the shore where the
+corpse was afterwards found.
+
+Another woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought the
+body into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed, and rubbed
+it; and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was quite
+gone.
+
+Several other men were examined concerning my landing; and they agreed,
+that, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, it
+was very probable that I had beaten about for many hours, and had been
+obliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed.
+Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body from
+another place, and it was likely, that as I did not appear to know the
+shore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance of the
+town of —— from the place where I had deposited the corpse.
+
+Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be taken
+into the room where the body lay for interment that it might be observed
+what effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This idea was
+probably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when the
+mode of the murder had been described. I was accordingly conducted, by
+the magistrate and several other persons, to the inn. I could not help
+being struck by the strange coincidences that had taken place during
+this eventful night; but, knowing that I had been conversing with
+several persons in the island I had inhabited about the time that the
+body had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to the consequences of
+the affair.
+
+I entered the room where the corpse lay, and was led up to the coffin.
+How can I describe my sensations on beholding it? I feel yet parched
+with horror, nor can I reflect on that terrible moment without
+shuddering and agony, that faintly reminds me of the anguish of the
+recognition. The trial, the presence of the magistrate and witnesses,
+passed like a dream from my memory, when I saw the lifeless form of
+Henry Clerval stretched before me. I gasped for breath; and, throwing
+myself on the body, I exclaimed, “Have my murderous machinations
+deprived you also, my dearest Henry, of life? Two I have already
+destroyed; other victims await their destiny: but you, Clerval, my
+friend, my benefactor”——
+
+The human frame could no longer support the agonizing suffering that I
+endured, and I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions.
+
+A fever succeeded to this. I lay for two months on the point of death:
+my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the
+murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval. Sometimes I entreated
+my attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was
+tormented; and, at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already
+grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror. Fortunately,
+as I spoke my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understood me; but my
+gestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright the other
+witnesses.
+
+Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I
+not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many blooming
+children, the only hopes of their doating parents: how many brides and
+youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, and
+the next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materials
+was I made, that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like the
+turning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture.
+
+But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking
+from a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded by
+gaolers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon.
+It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had
+forgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some
+great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around,
+and saw the barred windows, and the squalidness of the room in which I
+was, all flashed across my memory, and I groaned bitterly.
+
+This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside me.
+She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her
+countenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterize
+that class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of
+persons accustomed to see without sympathizing in sights of misery. Her
+tone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English, and
+the voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings:
+
+“Are you better now, Sir?” said she.
+
+I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, “I believe I am;
+but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am
+still alive to feel this misery and horror.”
+
+“For that matter,” replied the old woman, “if you mean about the
+gentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you
+were dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you; but you will be hung
+when the next sessions come on. However, that’s none of my business, I
+am sent to nurse you, and get you well; I do my duty with a safe
+conscience, it were well if every body did the same.”
+
+I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a
+speech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt
+languid, and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole series
+of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it
+were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force
+of reality.
+
+As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grew
+feverish; a darkness pressed around me; no one was near me who soothed
+me with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. The
+physician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared them
+for me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and the
+expression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the second.
+Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer, but the hangman who
+would gain his fee?
+
+These were my first reflections; but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin had
+shewn me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prison to
+be prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who had
+provided a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came to see me;
+for, although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of every
+human creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies and
+miserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes to see
+that I was not neglected; but his visits were short, and at long
+intervals.
+
+One day, when I was gradually recovering, I was seated in a chair, my
+eyes half open, and my cheeks livid like those in death, I was overcome
+by gloom and misery, and often reflected I had better seek death than
+remain miserably pent up only to be let loose in a world replete with
+wretchedness. At one time I considered whether I should not declare
+myself guilty, and suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than
+poor Justine had been. Such were my thoughts, when the door of my
+apartment was opened, and Mr. Kirwin entered. His countenance expressed
+sympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine, and addressed me
+in French—
+
+“I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do any thing to
+make you more comfortable?”
+
+“I thank you; but all that you mention is nothing to me: on the whole
+earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.”
+
+“I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to
+one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I
+hope, soon quit this melancholy abode; for, doubtless, evidence can
+easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge.”
+
+“That is my least concern: I am, by a course of strange events, become
+the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and have
+been, can death be any evil to me?”
+
+“Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonizing than the strange
+chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some surprising
+accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality: seized
+immediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was presented
+to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so unaccountable a
+manner, and placed, as it were, by some fiend across your path.”
+
+As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on this
+retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at the
+knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose some
+astonishment was exhibited in my countenance; for Mr. Kirwin hastened to
+say—
+
+“It was not until a day or two after your illness that I thought of
+examining your dress, that I might discover some trace by which I could
+send to your relations an account of your misfortune and illness. I
+found several letters, and, among others, one which I discovered from
+its commencement to be from your father. I instantly wrote to Geneva:
+nearly two months have elapsed since the departure of my letter.—But
+you are ill; even now you tremble: you are unfit for agitation of any
+kind.”
+
+“This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event:
+tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am
+now to lament.”
+
+“Your family is perfectly well,” said Mr. Kirwin, with gentleness; “and
+some one, a friend, is come to visit you.”
+
+I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it
+instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my
+misery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for
+me to comply with his hellish desires. I put my hand before my eyes, and
+cried out in agony—
+
+“Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God’s sake, do not let him
+enter!”
+
+Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not help
+regarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt, and said, in
+rather a severe tone—
+
+“I should have thought, young man, that the presence of your father
+would have been welcome, instead of inspiring such violent repugnance.”
+
+“My father!” cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxed
+from anguish to pleasure. “Is my father, indeed, come? How kind, how
+very kind. But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?”
+
+My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps he
+thought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium,
+and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose, and
+quitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it.
+
+Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than the
+arrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him, and cried—
+
+“Are you then safe—and Elizabeth—and Ernest?”
+
+My father calmed me with assurances of their welfare, and endeavoured,
+by dwelling on these subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise my
+desponding spirits; but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abode
+of cheerfulness. “What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!” said
+he, looking mournfully at the barred windows, and wretched appearance of
+the room. “You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems to
+pursue you. And poor Clerval—”
+
+The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation too
+great to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears.
+
+“Alas! yes, my father,” replied I; “some destiny of the most horrible
+kind hangs over me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should
+have died on the coffin of Henry.”
+
+We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the
+precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that
+could insure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in, and insisted that my
+strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But the
+appearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I
+gradually recovered my health.
+
+As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black
+melancholy, that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was for
+ever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation into
+which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous
+relapse. Alas! why did they preserve so miserable and detested a life?
+It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now drawing to a
+close. Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish these throbbings, and
+relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears me to the dust;
+and, in executing the award of justice, I shall also sink to rest. Then
+the appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever present
+to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless,
+wishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyer
+in its ruins.
+
+The season of the assizes approached. I had already been three months
+in prison; and although I was still weak, and in continual danger of a
+relapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to the
+county-town, where the court was held. Mr. Kirwin charged himself with
+every care of collecting witnesses, and arranging my defence. I was
+spared the disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case was
+not brought before the court that decides on life and death. The grand
+jury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the Orkney
+Islands at the hour the body of my friend was found, and a fortnight
+after my removal I was liberated from prison.
+
+My father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of a
+criminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the fresh
+atmosphere, and allowed to return to my native country. I did not
+participate in these feelings; for to me the walls of a dungeon or a
+palace were alike hateful. The cup of life was poisoned for ever; and
+although the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, I
+saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by
+no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes they
+were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbs
+nearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them;
+sometimes it was the watery clouded eyes of the monster, as I first saw
+them in my chamber at Ingolstadt.
+
+My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection. He talked of
+Geneva, which I should soon visit—of Elizabeth, and Ernest; but these
+words only drew deep groans from me. Sometimes, indeed, I felt a wish
+for happiness; and thought, with melancholy delight, of my beloved
+cousin; or longed, with a devouring _maladie du pays_, to see once more
+the blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in early
+childhood: but my general state of feeling was a torpor, in which a
+prison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; and
+these fits were seldom interrupted, but by paroxysms of anguish and
+despair. At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to the
+existence I loathed; and it required unceasing attendance and vigilance
+to restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence.
+
+I remember, as I quitted the prison, I heard one of the men say, “He may
+be innocent of the murder, but he has certainly a bad conscience.” These
+words struck me. A bad conscience! yes, surely I had one. William,
+Justine, and Clerval, had died through my infernal machinations; “And
+whose death,” cried I, “is to finish the tragedy? Ah! my father, do not
+remain in this wretched country; take me where I may forget myself, my
+existence, and all the world.”
+
+My father easily acceded to my desire; and, after having taken leave of
+Mr. Kirwin, we hastened to Dublin. I felt as if I was relieved from a
+heavy weight, when the packet sailed with a fair wind from Ireland, and
+I had quitted for ever the country which had been to me the scene of so
+much misery.
+
+It was midnight. My father slept in the cabin; and I lay on the deck,
+looking at the stars, and listening to the dashing of the waves. I
+hailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my sight, and my pulse beat
+with a feverish joy, when I reflected that I should soon see Geneva. The
+past appeared to me in the light of a frightful dream; yet the vessel in
+which I was, the wind that blew me from the detested shore of Ireland,
+and the sea which surrounded me, told me too forcibly that I was
+deceived by no vision, and that Clerval, my friend and dearest
+companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my creation. I
+repassed, in my memory, my whole life; my quiet happiness while residing
+with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my departure for
+Ingolstadt. I remembered shuddering at the mad enthusiasm that hurried
+me on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to mind the
+night during which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the train of
+thought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept bitterly.
+
+Ever since my recovery from the fever I had been in the custom of taking
+every night a small quantity of laudanum; for it was by means of this
+drug only that I was enabled to gain the rest necessary for the
+preservation of life. Oppressed by the recollection of my various
+misfortunes, I now took a double dose, and soon slept profoundly. But
+sleep did not afford me respite from thought and misery; my dreams
+presented a thousand objects that scared me. Towards morning I was
+possessed by a kind of night-mare; I felt the fiend’s grasp in my neck,
+and could not free myself from it; groans and cries rung in my ears. My
+father, who was watching over me, perceiving my restlessness, awoke me,
+and pointed to the port of Holyhead, which we were now entering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+We had resolved not to go to London, but to cross the country to
+Portsmouth, and thence to embark for Havre. I preferred this plan
+principally because I dreaded to see again those places in which I had
+enjoyed a few moments of tranquillity with my beloved Clerval. I thought
+with horror of seeing again those persons whom we had been accustomed to
+visit together, and who might make inquiries concerning an event, the
+very remembrance of which made me again feel the pang I endured when I
+gazed on his lifeless form in the inn at ——.
+
+As for my father, his desires and exertions were bounded to the again
+seeing me restored to health and peace of mind. His tenderness and
+attentions were unremitting; my grief and gloom was obstinate, but he
+would not despair. Sometimes he thought that I felt deeply the
+degradation of being obliged to answer a charge of murder, and he
+endeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride.
+
+“Alas! my father,” said I, “how little do you know me. Human beings,
+their feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded, if such a wretch
+as I felt pride. Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent as I,
+and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause
+of this—I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry—they all died by
+my hands.”
+
+My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same
+assertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an
+explanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as caused by
+delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had
+presented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I preserved
+in my convalescence. I avoided explanation, and maintained a continual
+silence concerning the wretch I had created. I had a feeling that I
+should be supposed mad, and this for ever chained my tongue, when I
+would have given the whole world to have confided the fatal secret.
+
+Upon this occasion my father said, with an expression of unbounded
+wonder, “What do you mean, Victor? are you mad? My dear son, I entreat
+you never to make such an assertion again.”
+
+“I am not mad,” I cried energetically; “the sun and the heavens, who
+have viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am the
+assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations. A
+thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have
+saved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not
+sacrifice the whole human race.”
+
+The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were
+deranged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation, and
+endeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much as
+possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in
+Ireland, and never alluded to them, or suffered me to speak of my
+misfortunes.
+
+As time passed away I became more calm: misery had her dwelling in my
+heart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own
+crimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmost
+self-violence, I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which
+sometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world; and my manners
+were calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey
+to the sea of ice.
+
+We arrived at Havre on the 8th of May, and instantly proceeded to Paris,
+where my father had some business which detained us a few weeks. In this
+city, I received the following letter from Elizabeth:—
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“_To_ VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN.
+
+“MY DEAREST FRIEND,
+
+“It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle
+dated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may
+hope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much you
+must have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill than when
+you quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably, tortured
+as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in your
+countenance, and to find that your heart is not totally devoid of
+comfort and tranquillity.
+
+“Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable
+a year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you at
+this period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you; but a conversation
+that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders some
+explanation necessary before we meet.
+
+“Explanation! you may possibly say; what can Elizabeth have to explain?
+If you really say this, my questions are answered, and I have no more to
+do than to sign myself your affectionate cousin. But you are distant
+from me, and it is possible that you may dread, and yet be pleased with
+this explanation; and, in a probability of this being the case, I dare
+not any longer postpone writing what, during your absence, I have often
+wished to express to you, but have never had the courage to begin.
+
+“You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan of
+your parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, and
+taught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take
+place. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I
+believe, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But as
+brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each
+other, without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our
+case? Tell me, dearest Victor. Answer me, I conjure you, by our mutual
+happiness, with simple truth—Do you not love another?
+
+“You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at
+Ingolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last
+autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude, from the society of every
+creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our
+connexion, and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of
+your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations. But
+this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my cousin, that I love you,
+and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant friend
+and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my own, when
+I declare to you, that our marriage would render me eternally miserable,
+unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now I weep to
+think, that, borne down as you are by the cruelest misfortunes, you may
+stifle, by the word _honour_, all hope of that love and happiness which
+would alone restore you to yourself. I, who have so interested an
+affection for you, may increase your miseries ten-fold, by being an
+obstacle to your wishes. Ah, Victor, be assured that your cousin and
+playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be made miserable by this
+supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you obey me in this one
+request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth will have the power to
+interrupt my tranquillity.
+
+“Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer it to-morrow, or the
+next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle
+will send me news of your health; and if I see but one smile on your
+lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I
+shall need no other happiness.
+
+“ELIZABETH LAVENZA.
+
+“Geneva, May 18th, 17—.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat
+of the fiend—“_I will be with you on your wedding-night!_” Such was my
+sentence, and on that night would the dæmon employ every art to destroy
+me, and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised partly to
+console my sufferings. On that night he had determined to consummate his
+crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly struggle would then
+assuredly take place, in which if he was victorious, I should be at
+peace, and his power over me be at an end. If he were vanquished, I
+should be a free man. Alas! what freedom? such as the peasant enjoys
+when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his cottage burnt,
+his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, pennyless, and
+alone, but free. Such would be my liberty, except that in my Elizabeth I
+possessed a treasure; alas! balanced by those horrors of remorse and
+guilt, which would pursue me until death.
+
+Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and re-read her letter, and some
+softened feelings stole into my heart, and dared to whisper paradisaical
+dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the
+angel’s arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make her
+happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet,
+again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My
+destruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner; but if my torturer
+should suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would
+surely find other, and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. He had
+vowed _to be with me on my wedding-night_, yet he did not consider that
+threat as binding him to peace in the mean time; for, as if to shew me
+that he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval
+immediately after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, therefore,
+that if my immediate union with my cousin would conduce either to her’s
+or my father’s happiness, my adversary’s designs against my life should
+not retard it a single hour.
+
+In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm and
+affectionate. “I fear, my beloved girl,” I said, “little happiness
+remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is concentered
+in you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my
+life, and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, a
+dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with
+horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only
+wonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of
+misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place;
+for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But
+until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most
+earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply.”
+
+In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth’s letter, we returned to
+Geneva. My cousin welcomed me with warm affection; yet tears were in her
+eyes, as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I saw a
+change in her also. She was thinner, and had lost much of that heavenly
+vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness, and soft looks
+of compassion, made her a more fit companion for one blasted and
+miserable as I was.
+
+The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought
+madness with it; and when I thought on what had passed, a real insanity
+possessed me; sometimes I was furious, and burnt with rage, sometimes
+low and despondent. I neither spoke or looked, but sat motionless,
+bewildered by the multitude of miseries that overcame me.
+
+Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle
+voice would soothe me when transported by passion, and inspire me with
+human feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me, and for me. When
+reason returned, she would remonstrate, and endeavour to inspire me with
+resignation. Ah! it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for
+the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury
+there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief.
+
+Soon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriage with my
+cousin. I remained silent.
+
+“Have you, then, some other attachment?”
+
+“None on earth. I love Elizabeth, and look forward to our union with
+delight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate
+myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin.”
+
+“My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen us;
+but let us only cling closer to what remains, and transfer our love for
+those whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will be small,
+but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune. And when
+time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of care will
+be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly deprived.”
+
+Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the
+threat returned: nor can you wonder, that, omnipotent as the fiend had
+yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as
+invincible; and that when he had pronounced the words, “_I shall be with
+you on your wedding-night_,” I should regard the threatened fate as
+unavoidable. But death was no evil to me, if the loss of Elizabeth were
+balanced with it; and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful
+countenance, agreed with my father, that if my cousin would consent, the
+ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined, the
+seal to my fate.
+
+Great God! if for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish
+intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself
+for ever from my native country, and wandered a friendless outcast over
+the earth, than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if
+possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real
+intentions; and when I thought that I prepared only my own death, I
+hastened that of a far dearer victim.
+
+As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from cowardice
+or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But I concealed
+my feelings by an appearance of hilarity, that brought smiles and joy to
+the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the ever-watchful and
+nicer eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to our union with placid
+contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which past misfortunes
+had impressed, that what now appeared certain and tangible happiness,
+might soon dissipate into an airy dream, and leave no trace but deep and
+everlasting regret.
+
+Preparations were made for the event; congratulatory visits were
+received; and all wore a smiling appearance. I shut up, as well as I
+could, in my own heart the anxiety that preyed there, and entered with
+seeming earnestness into the plans of my father, although they might
+only serve as the decorations of my tragedy. A house was purchased for
+us near Cologny, by which we should enjoy the pleasures of the country,
+and yet be so near Geneva as to see my father every day; who would
+still reside within the walls, for the benefit of Ernest, that he might
+follow his studies at the schools.
+
+In the mean time I took every precaution to defend my person, in case
+the fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger
+constantly about me, and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice; and
+by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the
+period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be
+regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for
+in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty, as the day fixed
+for its solemnization drew nearer, and I heard it continually spoken of
+as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent.
+
+Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to
+calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my
+destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her;
+and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret, which I had
+promised to reveal to her the following day. My father was in the mean
+time overjoyed, and, in the bustle of preparation, only observed in the
+melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride.
+
+After the ceremony was performed, a large party assembled at my
+father’s; but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should pass the
+afternoon and night at Evian, and return to Cologny the next morning. As
+the day was fair, and the wind favourable, we resolved to go by water.
+
+Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the
+feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along: the sun was hot, but we
+were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy, while we enjoyed the
+beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw
+Mont Salêve, the pleasant banks of Montalêgre, and at a distance,
+surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blânc, and the assemblage of snowy
+mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the
+opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the
+ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost
+insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it.
+
+I took the hand of Elizabeth: “You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! if you
+knew what I have suffered, and what I may yet endure, you would
+endeavour to let me taste the quiet, and freedom from despair, that this
+one day at least permits me to enjoy.”
+
+“Be happy, my dear Victor,” replied Elizabeth; “there is, I hope,
+nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not
+painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me not
+to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us; but I will
+not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move along, and
+how the clouds which sometimes obscure, and sometimes rise above the
+dome of Mont Blânc, render this scene of beauty still more interesting.
+Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in the clear
+waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at the bottom.
+What a divine day! how happy and serene all nature appears!”
+
+Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all
+reflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating; joy
+for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place to
+distraction and reverie.
+
+The sun sunk lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance, and
+observed its path through the chasms of the higher, and the glens of the
+lower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached
+the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The
+spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it, and the range
+of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung.
+
+The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity,
+sunk at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water,
+and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the shore,
+from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and hay. The
+sun sunk beneath the horizon as we landed; and as I touched the shore, I
+felt those cares and fears revive, which soon were to clasp me, and
+cling to me for ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+It was eight o’clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the
+shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn, and
+contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured
+in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.
+
+The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence in
+the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens, and was
+beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the flight
+of the vulture, and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the scene
+of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves that
+were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.
+
+I had been calm during the day; but so soon as night obscured the shapes
+of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious and
+watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in my
+bosom; every sound terrified me; but I resolved that I would sell my
+life dearly, and not relax the impending conflict until my own life, or
+that of my adversary, were extinguished.
+
+Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful
+silence; at length she said, “What is it that agitates you, my dear
+Victor? What is it you fear?”
+
+“Oh! peace, peace, my love,” replied I, “this night, and all will be
+safe: but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.”
+
+I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how
+dreadful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife,
+and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her until
+I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy.
+
+She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages
+of the house, and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to
+my adversary. But I discovered no trace of him, and was beginning to
+conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the
+execution of his menaces; when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful
+scream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I
+heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the
+motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood
+trickling in my veins, and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This
+state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed
+into the room.
+
+Great God! why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate the
+destruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth. She was
+there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging
+down, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair.
+Every where I turn I see the same figure—her bloodless arms and relaxed
+form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this, and
+live? Alas! life is obstinate, and clings closest where it is most
+hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I fainted.
+
+When I recovered, I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn;
+their countenances expressed a breathless terror: but the horror of
+others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that
+oppressed me. I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of
+Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. She
+had been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her; and
+now, as she lay, her head upon her arm, and a handkerchief thrown across
+her face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towards
+her, and embraced her with ardour; but the deathly languor and coldness
+of the limbs told me, that what I now held in my arms had ceased to be
+the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark of the
+fiend’s grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issue from
+her lips.
+
+While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I happened to look
+up. The windows of the room had before been darkened; and I felt a kind
+of panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon illuminate the
+chamber. The shutters had been thrown back; and, with a sensation of
+horror not to be described, I saw at the open window a figure the most
+hideous and abhorred. A grin was on the face of the monster; he seemed
+to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my
+wife. I rushed towards the window, and drawing a pistol from my bosom,
+shot; but he eluded me, leaped from his station, and, running with the
+swiftness of lightning, plunged into the lake.
+
+The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to the
+spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with boats;
+nets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, we returned
+hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a form
+conjured by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to search the
+country, parties going in different directions among the woods and
+vines.
+
+I did not accompany them; I was exhausted: a film covered my eyes, and
+my skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state I lay on a
+bed, hardly conscious of what had happened; my eyes wandered round the
+room, as if to seek something that I had lost.
+
+At length I remembered that my father would anxiously expect the return
+of Elizabeth and myself, and that I must return alone. This reflection
+brought tears into my eyes, and I wept for a long time; but my thoughts
+rambled to various subjects, reflecting on my misfortunes, and their
+cause. I was bewildered in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death of
+William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly of
+my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining friends
+were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now might be
+writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his feet. This
+idea made me shudder, and recalled me to action. I started up, and
+resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.
+
+There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but
+the wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, it
+was hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. I
+hired men to row, and took an oar myself, for I had always experienced
+relief from mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing
+misery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured, rendered
+me incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar; and, leaning my head
+upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose. If I looked up,
+I saw the scenes which were familiar to me in my happier time, and which
+I had contemplated but the day before in the company of her who was now
+but a shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from my eyes. The rain
+had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the waters as they
+had done a few hours before; they had then been observed by Elizabeth.
+Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.
+The sun might shine, or the clouds might lour; but nothing could appear
+to me as it had done the day before. A fiend had snatched from me every
+hope of future happiness: no creature had ever been so miserable as I
+was; so frightful an event is single in the history of man.
+
+But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed this last
+overwhelming event. Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have reached
+their _acme_, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to you. Know
+that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left desolate. My
+own strength is exhausted; and I must tell, in a few words, what remains
+of my hideous narration.
+
+I arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived; but the former sunk
+under the tidings that I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable
+old man! his eyes wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and
+their delight—his niece, his more than daughter, whom he doated on with
+all that affection which a man feels, who, in the decline of life,
+having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain.
+Cursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs, and
+doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the horrors
+that were accumulated around him; an apoplectic fit was brought on, and
+in a few days he died in my arms.
+
+What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and
+darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes, indeed,
+I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales with the
+friends of my youth; but awoke, and found myself in a dungeon.
+Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear conception of my
+miseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they
+had called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary
+cell had been my habitation.
+
+But liberty had been a useless gift to me had I not, as I awakened to
+reason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As the memory of past
+misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their cause—the
+monster whom I had created, the miserable dæmon whom I had sent abroad
+into the world for my destruction. I was possessed by a maddening rage
+when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed that I might have
+him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal revenge on his cursed
+head.
+
+Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to
+reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about a
+month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town, and
+told him that I had an accusation to make; that I knew the destroyer of
+my family; and that I required him to exert his whole authority for the
+apprehension of the murderer.
+
+The magistrate listened to me with attention and kindness: “Be assured,
+sir,” said he, “no pains or exertions on my part shall be spared to
+discover the villain.”
+
+“I thank you,” replied I; “listen, therefore, to the deposition that I
+have to make. It is indeed a tale so strange, that I should fear you
+would not credit it, were there not something in truth which, however
+wonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to be mistaken
+for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood.” My manner, as I thus
+addressed him, was impressive, but calm; I had formed in my own heart a
+resolution to pursue my destroyer to death; and this purpose quieted my
+agony, and provisionally reconciled me to life. I now related my history
+briefly, but with firmness and precision, marking the dates with
+accuracy, and never deviating into invective or exclamation.
+
+The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I
+continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes
+shudder with horror, at others a lively surprise, unmingled with
+disbelief, was painted on his countenance.
+
+When I had concluded my narration, I said. “This is the being whom I
+accuse, and for whose detection and punishment I call upon you to exert
+your whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and
+hope that your feelings as a man will not revolt from the execution of
+those functions on this occasion.”
+
+This address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my
+auditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is
+given to a tale of spirits and supernatural events; but when he was
+called upon to act officially in consequence, the whole tide of his
+incredulity returned. He, however, answered mildly, “I would willingly
+afford you every aid in your pursuit; but the creature of whom you
+speak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to
+defiance. Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice,
+and inhabit caves and dens, where no man would venture to intrude?
+Besides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his crimes,
+and no one can conjecture to what place he has wandered, or what region
+he may now inhabit.”
+
+“I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit; and if he
+has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois,
+and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts: you do
+not credit my narrative, and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the
+punishment which is his desert.”
+
+As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was intimidated;
+“You are mistaken,” said he, “I will exert myself; and if it is in my
+power to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer punishment
+proportionate to his crimes. But I fear, from what you have yourself
+described to be his properties, that this will prove impracticable, and
+that, while every proper measure is pursued, you should endeavour to
+make up your mind to disappointment.”
+
+“That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My
+revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I
+confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage is
+unspeakable, when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned loose
+upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand: I have but one
+resource; and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to his
+destruction.”
+
+I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a phrenzy
+in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness,
+which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan
+magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of
+devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of
+madness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child, and
+reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium.
+
+“Man,” I cried, “how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease;
+you know not what it is you say.”
+
+I broke from the house angry and disturbed, and retired to meditate on
+some other mode of action.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was
+swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone endowed
+me with strength and composure; it modelled my feelings, and allowed me
+to be calculating and calm, at periods when otherwise delirium or death
+would have been my portion.
+
+My first resolution was to quit Geneva for ever; my country, which, when
+I was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, became
+hateful. I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a few
+jewels which had belonged to my mother, and departed.
+
+And now my wanderings began, which are to cease but with life. I have
+traversed a vast portion of the earth, and have endured all the
+hardships which travellers, in deserts and barbarous countries, are wont
+to meet. How I have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my
+failing limbs upon the sandy plain, and prayed for death. But revenge
+kept me alive; I dared not die, and leave my adversary in being.
+
+When I quitted Geneva, my first labour was to gain some clue by which I
+might trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. But my plan was unsettled;
+and I wandered many hours around the confines of the town, uncertain
+what path I should pursue. As night approached, I found myself at the
+entrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my father,
+reposed. I entered it, and approached the tomb which marked their
+graves. Every thing was silent, except the leaves of the trees, which
+were gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark; and the
+scene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterested
+observer. The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around, and to cast
+a shadow, which was felt but seen not, around the head of the mourner.
+
+The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way to
+rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also
+lived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt on
+the grass, and kissed the earth, and with quivering lips exclaimed, “By
+the sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near me, by
+the deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O Night,
+and by the spirits that preside over thee, I swear to pursue the dæmon,
+who caused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict.
+For this purpose I will preserve my life: to execute this dear revenge,
+will I again behold the sun, and tread the green herbage of earth, which
+otherwise should vanish from my eyes for ever. And I call on you,
+spirits of the dead; and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to
+aid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed and hellish monster drink
+deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me.”
+
+I had begun my adjuration with solemnity, and an awe which almost
+assured me that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved my
+devotion; but the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage choaked
+my utterance.
+
+I was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendish
+laugh. It rung on my ears long and heavily; the mountains re-echoed it,
+and I felt as if all hell surrounded me with mockery and laughter.
+Surely in that moment I should have been possessed by phrenzy, and have
+destroyed my miserable existence, but that my vow was heard, and that I
+was reserved for vengeance. The laughter died away: when a well-known
+and abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me in an
+audible whisper—“I am satisfied: miserable wretch! you have determined
+to live, and I am satisfied.”
+
+I darted towards the spot from which the sound proceeded; but the devil
+eluded my grasp. Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose, and shone
+full upon his ghastly and distorted shape, as he fled with more than
+mortal speed.
+
+I pursued him; and for many months this has been my task. Guided by a
+slight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The blue
+Mediterranean appeared; and, by a strange chance, I saw the fiend enter
+by night, and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. I took
+my passage in the same ship; but he escaped, I know not how.
+
+Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I
+have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared by this
+horrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself, who
+feared that if I lost all trace I should despair and die, often left
+some mark to guide me. The snows descended on my head, and I saw the
+print of his huge step on the white plain. To you first entering on
+life, to whom care is new, and agony unknown, how can you understand
+what I have felt, and still feel? Cold, want, and fatigue, were the least
+pains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil, and
+carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good
+followed and directed my steps, and, when I most murmured, would
+suddenly extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties.
+Sometimes, when nature, overcome by hunger, sunk under the exhaustion, a
+repast was prepared for me in the desert, that restored and inspirited
+me. The fare was indeed coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate;
+but I may not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had
+invoked to aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and I
+was parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the few
+drops that revived me, and vanish.
+
+I followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the dæmon
+generally avoided these, as it was here that the population of the
+country chiefly collected. In other places human beings were seldom
+seen; and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed my
+path. I had money with me, and gained the friendship of the villagers by
+distributing it, or bringing with me some food that I had killed, which,
+after taking a small part, I always presented to those who had provided
+me with fire and utensils for cooking.
+
+My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during
+sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep! often, when most
+miserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture.
+The spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or rather hours,
+of happiness, that I might retain strength to fulfil my pilgrimage.
+Deprived of this respite, I should have sunk under my hardships. During
+the day I was sustained and inspirited by the hope of night: for in
+sleep I saw my friends, my wife, and my beloved country; again I saw the
+benevolent countenance of my father, heard the silver tones of my
+Elizabeth’s voice, and beheld Clerval enjoying health and youth. Often,
+when wearied by a toilsome march, I persuaded myself that I was dreaming
+until night should come, and that I should then enjoy reality in the
+arms of my dearest friends. What agonizing fondness did I feel for them!
+how did I cling to their dear forms, as sometimes they haunted even my
+waking hours, and persuade myself that they still lived! At such
+moments vengeance, that burned within me, died in my heart, and I
+pursued my path towards the destruction of the dæmon, more as a task
+enjoined by heaven, as the mechanical impulse of some power of which I
+was unconscious, than as the ardent desire of my soul.
+
+What his feelings were whom I pursued, I cannot know. Sometimes, indeed,
+he left marks in writing on the barks of the trees, or cut in stone,
+that guided me, and instigated my fury. “My reign is not yet over,”
+(these words were legible in one of these inscriptions); “you live, and
+my power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices of the
+north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost, to which I am
+impassive. You will find near this place, if you follow not too tardily,
+a dead hare; eat, and be refreshed. Come on, my enemy; we have yet to
+wrestle for our lives; but many hard and miserable hours must you
+endure, until that period shall arrive.”
+
+Scoffing devil! Again do I vow vengeance; again do I devote thee,
+miserable fiend, to torture and death. Never will I omit my search,
+until he or I perish; and then with what ecstacy shall I join my
+Elizabeth, and those who even now prepare for me the reward of my
+tedious toil and horrible pilgrimage.
+
+As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened, and
+the cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. The
+peasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy
+ventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced from
+their hiding places to seek for prey. The rivers were covered with ice,
+and no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from my chief
+article of maintenance.
+
+The triumph of my enemy increased with the difficulty of my labours. One
+inscription that he left was in these words: “Prepare! your toils only
+begin: wrap yourself in furs, and provide food, for we shall soon enter
+upon a journey where your sufferings will satisfy my everlasting
+hatred.”
+
+My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I
+resolved not to fail in my purpose; and, calling on heaven to support
+me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, until
+the ocean appeared at a distance, and formed the utmost boundary of the
+horizon. Oh! how unlike it was to the blue seas of the south! Covered
+with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by its superior
+wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when they beheld the
+Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with rapture the
+boundary of their toils. I did not weep; but I knelt down, and, with a
+full heart, thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in safety to the
+place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary’s gibe, to meet and
+grapple with him.
+
+Some weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs, and thus
+traversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether the
+fiend possessed the same advantages; but I found that, as before I had
+daily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him; so much so, that
+when I first saw the ocean, he was but one day’s journey in advance, and
+I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With new
+courage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched
+hamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the
+fiend, and gained accurate information. A gigantic monster, they said,
+had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols; putting
+to flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage, through fear of his
+terrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winter food, and,
+placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a numerous drove
+of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same night, to the joy
+of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his journey across the sea
+in a direction that led to no land; and they conjectured that he must
+speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the ice, or frozen by the
+eternal frosts.
+
+On hearing this information, I suffered a temporary access of despair.
+He had escaped me; and I must commence a destructive and almost endless
+journey across the mountainous ices of the ocean,—amidst cold that few
+of the inhabitants could long endure, and which I, the native of a
+genial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the idea
+that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance
+returned, and, like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling.
+After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered
+round, and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my
+journey.
+
+I exchanged my land sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of the
+frozen ocean; and, purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I
+departed from land.
+
+I cannot guess how many days have passed since then; but I have endured
+misery, which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution
+burning within my heart could have enabled me to support. Immense and
+rugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heard
+the thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction. But
+again the frost came, and made the paths of the sea secure.
+
+By the quantity of provision which I had consumed I should guess that I
+had passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protraction of
+hope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops of
+despondency and grief from my eyes. Despair had indeed almost secured
+her prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery; when once,
+after the poor animals that carried me had with incredible toil gained
+the summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one sinking under his fatigue
+died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye
+caught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I strained my sight to
+discover what it could be, and uttered a wild cry of ecstacy when I
+distinguished a sledge, and the distorted proportions of a well-known
+form within. Oh! with what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart!
+warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might
+not intercept the view I had of the dæmon; but still my sight was dimmed
+by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that oppressed
+me, I wept aloud.
+
+But this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of their
+dead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food; and, after an
+hour’s rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterly
+irksome to me, I continued my route. The sledge was still visible; nor
+did I again lose sight of it, except at the moments when for a short
+time some ice rock concealed it with its intervening crags. I indeed
+perceptibly gained on it; and when, after nearly two days’ journey, I
+beheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded within
+me.
+
+But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my enemy, my hopes were
+suddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I
+had ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its
+progress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every
+moment more ominous and terrific. I pressed on, but in vain. The wind
+arose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake,
+it split, and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound. The work
+was soon finished: in a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolled between me
+and my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered piece of ice, that
+was continually lessening, and thus preparing for me a hideous death.
+
+In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died; and
+I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress, when I
+saw your vessel riding at anchor, and holding forth to me hopes of
+succour and life. I had no conception that vessels ever came so far
+north, and was astounded at the sight. I quickly destroyed part of my
+sledge to construct oars; and by these means was enabled, with infinite
+fatigue, to move my ice-raft in the direction of your ship. I had
+determined, if you were going southward, still to trust myself to the
+mercy of the seas, rather than abandon my purpose. I hoped to induce you
+to grant me a boat with which I could still pursue my enemy. But your
+direction was northward. You took me on board when my vigour was
+exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied hardships
+into a death, which I still dread,—for my task is unfulfilled.
+
+Oh! when will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the dæmon, allow me
+the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? If I do,
+swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape; that you will seek him,
+and satisfy my vengeance in his death. Yet, do I dare ask you to
+undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone?
+No; I am not so selfish. Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear; if
+the ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he
+shall not live—swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated
+woes, and live to make another such a wretch as I am. He is eloquent
+and persuasive; and once his words had even power over my heart: but
+trust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery and
+fiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the manes of William, Justine,
+Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and thrust
+your sword into his heart. I will hover near, and direct the steel
+aright.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WALTON, _in continuation_.
+
+August 26th, 17—.
+
+You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not
+feel your blood congealed with horror, like that which even now curdles
+mine? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his
+tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with difficulty
+the words so replete with agony. His fine and lovely eyes were now
+lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow, and
+quenched in infinite wretchedness. Sometimes he commanded his
+countenance and tones, and related the most horrible incidents with a
+tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a
+volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression
+of the wildest rage, as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor.
+
+His tale is connected, and told with an appearance of the simplest
+truth; yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he
+shewed me, and the apparition of the monster, seen from our ship,
+brought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than
+his asseverations, however earnest and connected. Such a monster has
+then really existence; I cannot doubt it; yet I am lost in surprise and
+admiration. Sometimes I endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein the
+particulars of his creature’s formation; but on this point he was
+impenetrable.
+
+“Are you mad, my friend?” said he, “or whither does your senseless
+curiosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself and the world a
+demoniacal enemy? Or to what do your questions tend? Peace, peace! learn
+my miseries, and do not seek to increase your own.”
+
+Frankenstein discovered that I made notes concerning his history: he
+asked to see them, and then himself corrected and augmented them in many
+places; but principally in giving the life and spirit to the
+conversations he held with his enemy. “Since you have preserved my
+narration,” said he, “I would not that a mutilated one should go down to
+posterity.”
+
+Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest tale
+that ever imagination formed. My thoughts, and every feeling of my soul,
+have been drunk up by the interest for my guest, which this tale, and
+his own elevated and gentle manners have created. I wish to soothe him;
+yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of every
+hope of consolation, to live? Oh, no! the only joy that he can now know
+will be when he composes his shattered feelings to peace and death. Yet
+he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and delirium: he
+believes, that, when in dreams he holds converse with his friends, and
+derives from that communion consolation for his miseries, or excitements
+to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his fancy, but the
+real beings who visit him from the regions of a remote world. This faith
+gives a solemnity to his reveries that render them to me almost as
+imposing and interesting as truth.
+
+Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and
+misfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays unbounded
+knowledge, and a quick and piercing apprehension. His eloquence is
+forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates a pathetic
+incident, or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love, without
+tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days of his
+prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin. He seems to feel
+his own worth, and the greatness of his fall.
+
+“When younger,” said he, “I felt as if I were destined for some great
+enterprise. My feelings are profound; but I possessed a coolness of
+judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of
+the worth of my nature supported me, when others would have been
+oppressed; for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those
+talents that might be useful to my fellow-creatures. When I reflected on
+the work I had completed, no less a one than the creation of a
+sensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of
+common projectors. But this feeling, which supported me in the
+commencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the
+dust. All my speculations and hopes are as nothing; and, like the
+archangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell.
+My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application were
+intense; by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea, and
+executed the creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect, without
+passion, my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod heaven in my
+thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of their
+effects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty
+ambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! my friend, if you had known me as I
+once was, you would not recognize me in this state of degradation.
+Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me
+on, until I fell, never, never again to rise.”
+
+Must I then lose this admirable being? I have longed for a friend; I
+have sought one who would sympathize with and love me. Behold, on these
+desert seas I have found such a one; but, I fear, I have gained him only
+to know his value, and lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he
+repulses the idea.
+
+“I thank you, Walton,” he said, “for your kind intentions towards so
+miserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties, and fresh
+affections, think you that any can replace those who are gone? Can any
+man be to me as Clerval was; or any woman another Elizabeth? Even where
+the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence, the
+companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our
+minds, which hardly any later friend can obtain. They know our infantine
+dispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified, are never
+eradicated; and they can judge of our actions with more certain
+conclusions as to the integrity of our motives. A sister or a brother
+can never, unless indeed such symptoms have been shewn early, suspect
+the other of fraud or false dealing, when another friend, however
+strongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself, be invaded with
+suspicion. But I enjoyed friends, dear not only through habit and
+association, but from their own merits; and, wherever I am, the soothing
+voice of my Elizabeth, and the conversation of Clerval, will be ever
+whispered in my ear. They are dead; and but one feeling in such a
+solitude can persuade me to preserve my life. If I were engaged in any
+high undertaking or design, fraught with extensive utility to my
+fellow-creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. But such is not my
+destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence;
+then my lot on earth will be fulfilled, and I may die.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+September 2d.
+
+MY BELOVED SISTER,
+
+I write to you, encompassed by peril, and ignorant whether I am ever
+doomed to see again dear England, and the dearer friends that inhabit
+it. I am surrounded by mountains of ice, which admit of no escape, and
+threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows, whom I have
+persuaded to be my companions, look towards me for aid; but I have none
+to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our situation, yet
+my courage and hopes do not desert me. We may survive; and if we do not,
+I will repeat the lessons of my Seneca, and die with a good heart.
+
+Yet what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hear of
+my destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years will pass,
+and you will have visitings of despair, and yet be tortured by hope. Oh!
+my beloved sister, the sickening failings of your heart-felt
+expectations are, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death.
+But you have a husband, and lovely children; you may be happy: heaven
+bless you, and make you so!
+
+My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. He
+endeavours to fill me with hope; and talks as if life were a possession
+which he valued. He reminds me how often the same accidents have
+happened to other navigators, who have attempted this sea, and, in spite
+of myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feel the
+power of his eloquence: when he speaks, they no longer despair: he
+rouses their energies, and, while they hear his voice, they believe
+these vast mountains of ice are mole-hills, which will vanish before the
+resolutions of man. These feelings are transitory; each day’s
+expectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutiny
+caused by this despair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+September 5th.
+
+A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest, that although it is
+highly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot
+forbear recording it.
+
+We are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent danger of
+being crushed in their conflict. The cold is excessive, and many of my
+unfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene of
+desolation. Frankenstein has daily declined in health: a feverish fire
+still glimmers in his eyes; but he is exhausted, and, when suddenly
+roused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparent
+lifelessness.
+
+I mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny. This
+morning, as I sat watching the wan countenance of my friend—his eyes
+half closed, and his limbs hanging listlessly,—I was roused by half a
+dozen of the sailors, who desired admission into the cabin. They
+entered; and their leader addressed me. He told me that he and his
+companions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation to
+me, to make me a demand, which, in justice, I could not refuse. We were
+immured in ice, and should probably never escape; but they feared that
+if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate, and a free passage be
+opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage, and lead them
+into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted this. They
+desired, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn promise, that if
+the vessel should be freed, I would instantly direct my coarse
+southward.
+
+This speech troubled me. I had not despaired; nor had I yet conceived
+the idea of returning, if set free. Yet could I, in justice, or even in
+possibility, refuse this demand? I hesitated before I answered; when
+Frankenstein, who had at first been silent, and, indeed, appeared hardly
+to have force enough to attend, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled,
+and his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour. Turning towards the men,
+he said—
+
+“What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you then so
+easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious
+expedition? and wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was
+smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers
+and terror; because, at every new incident, your fortitude was to be
+called forth, and your courage exhibited; because danger and death
+surrounded, and these dangers you were to brave and overcome. For this
+was it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were
+hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species; your name
+adored, as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and
+the benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of
+danger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your
+courage, you shrink away, and are content to be handed down as men who
+had not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls,
+they were chilly, and returned to their warm fire-sides. Why, that
+requires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far, and
+dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat, merely to prove
+yourselves cowards. Oh! be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your
+purposes, and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your
+hearts might be; it is mutable, cannot withstand you, if you say that it
+shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of disgrace
+marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered,
+and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe.”
+
+He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings
+expressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and
+heroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved. They looked at
+one another, and were unable to reply. I spoke; I told them to retire,
+and consider of what had been said: that I would not lead them further
+north, if they strenuously desired the contrary; but that I hoped that,
+with reflection, their courage would return.
+
+They retired, and I turned towards my friend; but he was sunk in
+languor, and almost deprived of life.
+
+How all this will terminate, I know not; but I had rather die, than
+return shamefully,—my purpose unfulfilled. Yet I fear such will be my
+fate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never
+willingly continue to endure their present hardships.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+September 7th.
+
+The die is cast; I have consented to return, if we are not destroyed.
+Thus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back
+ignorant and disappointed. It requires more philosophy than I possess,
+to bear this injustice with patience.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+September 12th.
+
+It is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility
+and glory;—I have lost my friend. But I will endeavour to detail these
+bitter circumstances to you, my dear sister; and, while I am wafted
+towards England, and towards you, I will not despond.
+
+September 19th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were
+heard at a distance, as the islands split and cracked in every
+direction. We were in the most imminent peril; but, as we could only
+remain passive, my chief attention was occupied by my unfortunate guest,
+whose illness increased in such a degree, that he was entirely confined
+to his bed. The ice cracked behind us, and was driven with force towards
+the north; a breeze sprung from the west, and on the 11th the passage
+towards the south became perfectly free. When the sailors saw this, and
+that their return to their native country was apparently assured, a
+shout of tumultuous joy broke from them, loud and long-continued.
+Frankenstein, who was dozing, awoke, and asked the cause of the tumult.
+“They shout,” I said, “because they will soon return to England.”
+
+“Do you then really return?”
+
+“Alas! yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them
+unwillingly to danger, and I must return.”
+
+“Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose; but
+mine is assigned to me by heaven, and I dare not. I am weak; but surely
+the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with sufficient
+strength.” Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the bed, but the
+exertion was too great for him; he fell back, and fainted.
+
+It was long before he was restored; and I often thought that life was
+entirely extinct. At length he opened his eyes, but he breathed with
+difficulty, and was unable to speak. The surgeon gave him a composing
+draught, and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the mean time he
+told me, that my friend had certainly not many hours to live.
+
+His sentence was pronounced; and I could only grieve, and be patient. I
+sat by his bed watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought he
+slept; but presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and, bidding me
+come near, said—“Alas! the strength I relied on is gone; I feel that I
+shall soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be in being.
+Think not, Walton, that in the last moments of my existence I feel that
+burning hatred, and ardent desire of revenge, I once expressed, but I
+feel myself justified in desiring the death of my adversary. During
+these last days I have been occupied in examining my past conduct; nor
+do I find it blameable. In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a
+rational creature, and was bound towards him, to assure, as far as was
+in my power, his happiness and well-being. This was my duty; but there
+was another still paramount to that. My duties towards my
+fellow-creatures had greater claims to my attention, because they
+included a greater proportion of happiness or misery. Urged by this
+view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to create a companion for
+the first creature. He shewed unparalleled malignity and selfishness, in
+evil: he destroyed my friends; he devoted to destruction beings who
+possessed exquisite sensations, happiness, and wisdom; nor do I know
+where this thirst for vengeance may end. Miserable himself, that he may
+render no other wretched, he ought to die. The task of his destruction
+was mine, but I have failed. When actuated by selfish and vicious
+motives, I asked you to undertake my unfinished work; and I renew this
+request now, when I am only induced by reason and virtue.
+
+“Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends, to fulfil
+this task; and now, that you are returning to England, you will have
+little chance of meeting with him. But the consideration of these
+points, and the well-balancing of what you may esteem your duties, I
+leave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the near
+approach of death. I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for I
+may still be misled by passion.
+
+“That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in
+other respects this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the
+only happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms of the
+beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell,
+Walton! Seek happiness in tranquillity, and avoid ambition, even if it
+be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in
+science and discoveries. Yet why do I say this? I have myself been
+blasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed.”
+
+His voice became fainter as he spoke; and at length, exhausted by his
+effort, he sunk into silence. About half an hour afterwards he attempted
+again to speak, but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and his eyes
+closed for ever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed away
+from his lips.
+
+Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this
+glorious spirit? What can I say, that will enable you to understand the
+depth of my sorrow? All that I should express would be inadequate and
+feeble. My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud of
+disappointment. But I journey towards England, and I may there find
+consolation.
+
+I am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? It is midnight; the
+breeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir. Again; there
+is a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin
+where the remains of Frankenstein still lie. I must arise, and examine.
+Good night, my sister.
+
+Great God! what a scene has just taken place! I am yet dizzy with the
+remembrance of it. I hardly know whether I shall have the power to
+detail it; yet the tale which I have recorded would be incomplete
+without this final and wonderful catastrophe.
+
+I entered the cabin, where lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable
+friend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe;
+gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its proportions. As he
+hung over the coffin, his face was concealed by long locks of ragged
+hair; but one vast hand was extended, in colour and apparent texture
+like that of a mummy. When he heard the sound of my approach, he ceased
+to utter exclamations of grief and horror, and sprung towards the
+window. Never did I behold a vision so horrible as his face, of such
+loathsome, yet appalling hideousness. I shut my eyes involuntarily, and
+endeavoured to recollect what were my duties with regard to this
+destroyer. I called on him to stay.
+
+He paused, looking on me with wonder; and, again turning towards the
+lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, and every
+feature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of some
+uncontrollable passion.
+
+“That is also my victim!” he exclaimed; “in his murder my crimes are
+consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! Oh,
+Frankenstein! generous and self-devoted being! what does it avail that I
+now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by
+destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! he is cold; he may not answer me.”
+
+His voice seemed suffocated; and my first impulses, which had suggested
+to me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend, in destroying
+his enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity and compassion.
+I approached this tremendous being; I dared not again raise my looks
+upon his face, there was something so scaring and unearthly in his
+ugliness. I attempted to speak, but the words died away on my lips. The
+monster continued to utter wild and incoherent self-reproaches. At
+length I gathered resolution to address him, in a pause of the tempest
+of his passion: “Your repentance,” I said, “is now superfluous. If you
+had listened to the voice of conscience, and heeded the stings of
+remorse, before you had urged your diabolical vengeance to this
+extremity, Frankenstein would yet have lived.”
+
+“And do you dream?” said the dæmon; “do you think that I was then dead
+to agony and remorse?—He,” he continued, pointing to the corpse, “he
+suffered not more in the consummation of the deed;—oh! not the
+ten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the lingering
+detail of its execution. A frightful selfishness hurried me on, while
+my heart was poisoned with remorse. Think ye that the groans of Clerval
+were music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to be susceptible of love
+and sympathy; and, when wrenched by misery to vice and hatred, it did
+not endure the violence of the change without torture such as you cannot
+even imagine.
+
+“After the murder of Clerval, I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken
+and overcome. I pitied Frankenstein; my pity amounted to horror: I
+abhorred myself. But when I discovered that he, the author at once of my
+existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for happiness;
+that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me, he sought
+his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the indulgence of which
+I was for ever barred, then impotent envy and bitter indignation filled
+me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. I recollected my threat, and
+resolved that it should be accomplished. I knew that I was preparing for
+myself a deadly torture; but I was the slave, not the master of an
+impulse, which I detested, yet could not disobey. Yet when she
+died!—nay, then I was not miserable. I had cast off all feeling,
+subdued all anguish to riot in the excess of my despair. Evil
+thenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had no choice but to adapt
+my nature to an element which I had willingly chosen. The completion of
+my demoniacal design became an insatiable passion. And now it is ended;
+there is my last victim!”
+
+I was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet when I
+called to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers of eloquence and
+persuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form of my
+friend, indignation was re-kindled within me. “Wretch!” I said, “it is
+well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you have made.
+You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are consumed
+you sit among the ruins, and lament the fall. Hypocritical fiend! if he
+whom you mourn still lived, still would he be the object, again would he
+become the prey of your accursed vengeance. It is not pity that you
+feel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn
+from your power.”
+
+“Oh, it is not thus—not thus,” interrupted the being; “yet such must be
+the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport of my
+actions. Yet I seek not a fellow-feeling in my misery. No sympathy may I
+ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, the
+feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being
+overflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now, that virtue has
+become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into
+bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am
+content to suffer alone, while my sufferings shall endure: when I die, I
+am well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory.
+Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of
+enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings, who, pardoning my
+outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was
+capable of bringing forth. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour
+and devotion. But now vice has degraded me beneath the meanest animal.
+No crime, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable
+to mine. When I call over the frightful catalogue of my deeds, I cannot
+believe that I am he whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and
+transcendant visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it
+is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that
+enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am
+quite alone.
+
+“You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my
+crimes and his misfortunes. But, in the detail which he gave you of
+them, he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I
+endured, wasting in impotent passions. For whilst I destroyed his hopes,
+I did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving;
+still I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there
+no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all
+human kind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his
+friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic
+who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuous
+and immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an
+abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now my
+blood boils at the recollection of this injustice.
+
+“But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the
+helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept, and grasped to
+death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing. I have
+devoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy of love
+and admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even to that
+irremediable ruin. There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me;
+but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. I look
+on the hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the
+imagination of it was conceived, and long for the moment when they will
+meet my eyes, when it will haunt my thoughts, no more.
+
+“Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work is
+nearly complete. Neither your’s nor any man’s death is needed to
+consummate the series of my being, and accomplish that which must be
+done; but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow to
+perform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice-raft which
+brought me hither, and shall seek the most northern extremity of the
+globe; I shall collect my funeral pile, and consume to ashes this
+miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious and
+unhallowed wretch, who would create such another as I have been. I shall
+die. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me, or be the
+prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead who called me
+into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of us both
+will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or stars, or feel
+the winds play on my cheeks. Light, feeling, and sense, will pass away;
+and in this condition must I find my happiness. Some years ago, when the
+images which this world affords first opened upon me, when I felt the
+cheering warmth of summer, and heard the rustling of the leaves and the
+chirping of the birds, and these were all to me, I should have wept to
+die; now it is my only consolation. Polluted by crimes, and torn by the
+bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?
+
+“Farewell! I leave you, and in you the last of human kind whom these
+eyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! If thou wert yet alive,
+and yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be better
+satiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thou
+didst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness;
+and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hast not yet ceased to
+think and feel, thou desirest not my life for my own misery. Blasted as
+thou wert, my agony was still superior to thine; for the bitter sting of
+remorse may not cease to rankle in my wounds until death shall close
+them for ever.
+
+“But soon,” he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, “I shall die, and
+what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be
+extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly, and exult in the
+agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade
+away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will
+sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus.
+Farewell.”
+
+He sprung from the cabin-window, as he said this, upon the ice-raft
+which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves, and
+lost in darkness and distance.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANKENSTEIN; OR, THE MODERN PROMETHEUS ***
+
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diff --git a/books/mobydick.txt b/books/mobydick.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bd0487d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/books/mobydick.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,22314 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Moby Dick; Or, The Whale
+    
+This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
+at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
+you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
+before using this eBook.
+
+Title: Moby Dick; Or, The Whale
+
+Author: Herman Melville
+
+Release date: July 1, 2001 [eBook #2701]
+                Most recently updated: September 8, 2025
+
+Language: English
+
+Credits: Daniel Lazarus, Jonesey, and David Widger
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOBY DICK; OR, THE WHALE ***
+
+
+
+
+MOBY-DICK;
+
+or, THE WHALE.
+
+By Herman Melville
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+ETYMOLOGY.
+
+EXTRACTS (Supplied by a Sub-Sub-Librarian).
+
+CHAPTER 1. Loomings.
+
+CHAPTER 2. The Carpet-Bag.
+
+CHAPTER 3. The Spouter-Inn.
+
+CHAPTER 4. The Counterpane.
+
+CHAPTER 5. Breakfast.
+
+CHAPTER 6. The Street.
+
+CHAPTER 7. The Chapel.
+
+CHAPTER 8. The Pulpit.
+
+CHAPTER 9. The Sermon.
+
+CHAPTER 10. A Bosom Friend.
+
+CHAPTER 11. Nightgown.
+
+CHAPTER 12. Biographical.
+
+CHAPTER 13. Wheelbarrow.
+
+CHAPTER 14. Nantucket.
+
+CHAPTER 15. Chowder.
+
+CHAPTER 16. The Ship.
+
+CHAPTER 17. The Ramadan.
+
+CHAPTER 18. His Mark.
+
+CHAPTER 19. The Prophet.
+
+CHAPTER 20. All Astir.
+
+CHAPTER 21. Going Aboard.
+
+CHAPTER 22. Merry Christmas.
+
+CHAPTER 23. The Lee Shore.
+
+CHAPTER 24. The Advocate.
+
+CHAPTER 25. Postscript.
+
+CHAPTER 26. Knights and Squires.
+
+CHAPTER 27. Knights and Squires.
+
+CHAPTER 28. Ahab.
+
+CHAPTER 29. Enter Ahab; to Him, Stubb.
+
+CHAPTER 30. The Pipe.
+
+CHAPTER 31. Queen Mab.
+
+CHAPTER 32. Cetology.
+
+CHAPTER 33. The Specksnyder.
+
+CHAPTER 34. The Cabin-Table.
+
+CHAPTER 35. The Mast-Head.
+
+CHAPTER 36. The Quarter-Deck.
+
+CHAPTER 37. Sunset.
+
+CHAPTER 38. Dusk.
+
+CHAPTER 39. First Night-Watch.
+
+CHAPTER 40. Midnight, Forecastle.
+
+CHAPTER 41. Moby Dick.
+
+CHAPTER 42. The Whiteness of the Whale.
+
+CHAPTER 43. Hark!
+
+CHAPTER 44. The Chart.
+
+CHAPTER 45. The Affidavit.
+
+CHAPTER 46. Surmises.
+
+CHAPTER 47. The Mat-Maker.
+
+CHAPTER 48. The First Lowering.
+
+CHAPTER 49. The Hyena.
+
+CHAPTER 50. Ahab’s Boat and Crew. Fedallah.
+
+CHAPTER 51. The Spirit-Spout.
+
+CHAPTER 52. The Albatross.
+
+CHAPTER 53. The Gam.
+
+CHAPTER 54. The Town-Ho’s Story.
+
+CHAPTER 55. Of the Monstrous Pictures of Whales.
+
+CHAPTER 56. Of the Less Erroneous Pictures of Whales, and the True
+Pictures of Whaling Scenes.
+
+CHAPTER 57. Of Whales in Paint; in Teeth; in Wood; in Sheet-Iron; in
+Stone; in Mountains; in Stars.
+
+CHAPTER 58. Brit.
+
+CHAPTER 59. Squid.
+
+CHAPTER 60. The Line.
+
+CHAPTER 61. Stubb Kills a Whale.
+
+CHAPTER 62. The Dart.
+
+CHAPTER 63. The Crotch.
+
+CHAPTER 64. Stubb’s Supper.
+
+CHAPTER 65. The Whale as a Dish.
+
+CHAPTER 66. The Shark Massacre.
+
+CHAPTER 67. Cutting In.
+
+CHAPTER 68. The Blanket.
+
+CHAPTER 69. The Funeral.
+
+CHAPTER 70. The Sphynx.
+
+CHAPTER 71. The Jeroboam’s Story.
+
+CHAPTER 72. The Monkey-Rope.
+
+CHAPTER 73. Stubb and Flask kill a Right Whale; and Then Have a Talk
+over Him.
+
+CHAPTER 74. The Sperm Whale’s Head—Contrasted View.
+
+CHAPTER 75. The Right Whale’s Head—Contrasted View.
+
+CHAPTER 76. The Battering-Ram.
+
+CHAPTER 77. The Great Heidelburgh Tun.
+
+CHAPTER 78. Cistern and Buckets.
+
+CHAPTER 79. The Prairie.
+
+CHAPTER 80. The Nut.
+
+CHAPTER 81. The Pequod Meets The Virgin.
+
+CHAPTER 82. The Honor and Glory of Whaling.
+
+CHAPTER 83. Jonah Historically Regarded.
+
+CHAPTER 84. Pitchpoling.
+
+CHAPTER 85. The Fountain.
+
+CHAPTER 86. The Tail.
+
+CHAPTER 87. The Grand Armada.
+
+CHAPTER 88. Schools and Schoolmasters.
+
+CHAPTER 89. Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish.
+
+CHAPTER 90. Heads or Tails.
+
+CHAPTER 91. The Pequod Meets The Rose-Bud.
+
+CHAPTER 92. Ambergris.
+
+CHAPTER 93. The Castaway.
+
+CHAPTER 94. A Squeeze of the Hand.
+
+CHAPTER 95. The Cassock.
+
+CHAPTER 96. The Try-Works.
+
+CHAPTER 97. The Lamp.
+
+CHAPTER 98. Stowing Down and Clearing Up.
+
+CHAPTER 99. The Doubloon.
+
+CHAPTER 100. Leg and Arm.
+
+CHAPTER 101. The Decanter.
+
+CHAPTER 102. A Bower in the Arsacides.
+
+CHAPTER 103. Measurement of The Whale’s Skeleton.
+
+CHAPTER 104. The Fossil Whale.
+
+CHAPTER 105. Does the Whale’s Magnitude Diminish?—Will He Perish?
+
+CHAPTER 106. Ahab’s Leg.
+
+CHAPTER 107. The Carpenter.
+
+CHAPTER 108. Ahab and the Carpenter.
+
+CHAPTER 109. Ahab and Starbuck in the Cabin.
+
+CHAPTER 110. Queequeg in His Coffin.
+
+CHAPTER 111. The Pacific.
+
+CHAPTER 112. The Blacksmith.
+
+CHAPTER 113. The Forge.
+
+CHAPTER 114. The Gilder.
+
+CHAPTER 115. The Pequod Meets The Bachelor.
+
+CHAPTER 116. The Dying Whale.
+
+CHAPTER 117. The Whale Watch.
+
+CHAPTER 118. The Quadrant.
+
+CHAPTER 119. The Candles.
+
+CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch.
+
+CHAPTER 121. Midnight.—The Forecastle Bulwarks.
+
+CHAPTER 122. Midnight Aloft.—Thunder and Lightning.
+
+CHAPTER 123. The Musket.
+
+CHAPTER 124. The Needle.
+
+CHAPTER 125. The Log and Line.
+
+CHAPTER 126. The Life-Buoy.
+
+CHAPTER 127. The Deck.
+
+CHAPTER 128. The Pequod Meets The Rachel.
+
+CHAPTER 129. The Cabin.
+
+CHAPTER 130. The Hat.
+
+CHAPTER 131. The Pequod Meets The Delight.
+
+CHAPTER 132. The Symphony.
+
+CHAPTER 133. The Chase—First Day.
+
+CHAPTER 134. The Chase—Second Day.
+
+CHAPTER 135. The Chase.—Third Day.
+
+Epilogue
+
+
+
+
+Original Transcriber’s Notes:
+
+
+
+
+
+This text is a combination of etexts, one from the now-defunct ERIS
+project at Virginia Tech and one from Project Gutenberg’s archives. The
+proofreaders of this version are indebted to The University of Adelaide
+Library for preserving the Virginia Tech version. The resulting etext
+was compared with a public domain hard copy version of the text.
+
+
+
+
+
+  ETYMOLOGY.
+
+
+  (Supplied by a Late Consumptive Usher to a Grammar School.)
+
+  The pale Usher—threadbare in coat, heart, body, and brain; I see him
+  now. He was ever dusting his old lexicons and grammars, with a queer
+  handkerchief, mockingly embellished with all the gay flags of all the
+  known nations of the world. He loved to dust his old grammars; it
+  somehow mildly reminded him of his mortality.
+
+  “While you take in hand to school others, and to teach them by what
+  name a whale-fish is to be called in our tongue, leaving out, through
+  ignorance, the letter H, which almost alone maketh up the
+  signification of the word, you deliver that which is not true.”
+  —_Hackluyt._
+
+  “WHALE. * * * Sw. and Dan. _hval_. This animal is named from
+  roundness or rolling; for in Dan. _hvalt_ is arched or vaulted.”
+  —_Webster’s Dictionary._
+
+  “WHALE. * * * It is more immediately from the Dut. and Ger. _Wallen_;
+  A.S. _Walw-ian_, to roll, to wallow.” —_Richardson’s Dictionary._
+
+
+  חו,                 _Hebrew_.
+  ϰητος,              _Greek_.
+  CETUS,              _Latin_.
+  WHŒL,               _Anglo-Saxon_.
+  HVALT,              _Danish_.
+  WAL,                _Dutch_.
+  HWAL,               _Swedish_.
+  WHALE,              _Icelandic_.
+  WHALE,              _English_.
+  BALLENA,            _Spanish_.
+  PEKEE-NUEE-NUEE,    _Fegee_.
+  PEHEE-NUEE-NUEE,    _Erromangoan_.
+
+
+
+  EXTRACTS. (Supplied by a Sub-Sub-Librarian).
+
+
+
+  It will be seen that this mere painstaking burrower and grub-worm of
+  a poor devil of a Sub-Sub appears to have gone through the long
+  Vaticans and street-stalls of the earth, picking up whatever random
+  allusions to whales he could anyways find in any book whatsoever,
+  sacred or profane. Therefore you must not, in every case at least,
+  take the higgledy-piggledy whale statements, however authentic, in
+  these extracts, for veritable gospel cetology. Far from it. As
+  touching the ancient authors generally, as well as the poets here
+  appearing, these extracts are solely valuable or entertaining, as
+  affording a glancing bird’s eye view of what has been promiscuously
+  said, thought, fancied, and sung of Leviathan, by many nations and
+  generations, including our own.
+
+  So fare thee well, poor devil of a Sub-Sub, whose commentator I am.
+  Thou belongest to that hopeless, sallow tribe which no wine of this
+  world will ever warm; and for whom even Pale Sherry would be too
+  rosy-strong; but with whom one sometimes loves to sit, and feel
+  poor-devilish, too; and grow convivial upon tears; and say to them
+  bluntly, with full eyes and empty glasses, and in not altogether
+  unpleasant sadness—Give it up, Sub-Subs! For by how much the more
+  pains ye take to please the world, by so much the more shall ye for
+  ever go thankless! Would that I could clear out Hampton Court and the
+  Tuileries for ye! But gulp down your tears and hie aloft to the
+  royal-mast with your hearts; for your friends who have gone before
+  are clearing out the seven-storied heavens, and making refugees of
+  long-pampered Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael, against your coming.
+  Here ye strike but splintered hearts together—there, ye shall strike
+  unsplinterable glasses!
+
+EXTRACTS.
+
+  “And God created great whales.” —_Genesis_.
+
+  “Leviathan maketh a path to shine after him; One would think the deep
+  to be hoary.” —_Job_.
+
+  “Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah.”
+  —_Jonah_.
+
+  “There go the ships; there is that Leviathan whom thou hast made to
+  play therein.” —_Psalms_.
+
+  “In that day, the Lord with his sore, and great, and strong sword,
+  shall punish Leviathan the piercing serpent, even Leviathan that
+  crooked serpent; and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea.”
+  —_Isaiah_.
+
+  “And what thing soever besides cometh within the chaos of this
+  monster’s mouth, be it beast, boat, or stone, down it goes all
+  incontinently that foul great swallow of his, and perisheth in the
+  bottomless gulf of his paunch.” —_Holland’s Plutarch’s Morals_.
+
+  “The Indian Sea breedeth the most and the biggest fishes that are:
+  among which the Whales and Whirlpooles called Balaene, take up as
+  much in length as four acres or arpens of land.” —_Holland’s Pliny_.
+
+  “Scarcely had we proceeded two days on the sea, when about sunrise a
+  great many Whales and other monsters of the sea, appeared. Among the
+  former, one was of a most monstrous size.... This came towards us,
+  open-mouthed, raising the waves on all sides, and beating the sea
+  before him into a foam.” —_Tooke’s Lucian_. “_The True History_.”
+
+
+
+
+  “He visited this country also with a view of catching horse-whales,
+  which had bones of very great value for their teeth, of which he
+  brought some to the king.... The best whales were catched in his own
+  country, of which some were forty-eight, some fifty yards long. He
+  said that he was one of six who had killed sixty in two days.”
+  —_Other or Other’s verbal narrative taken down from his mouth by King
+  Alfred, A.D._ 890.
+
+  “And whereas all the other things, whether beast or vessel, that
+  enter into the dreadful gulf of this monster’s (whale’s) mouth, are
+  immediately lost and swallowed up, the sea-gudgeon retires into it in
+  great security, and there sleeps.” —MONTAIGNE. —_Apology for Raimond
+  Sebond_.
+
+  “Let us fly, let us fly! Old Nick take me if it is not Leviathan
+  described by the noble prophet Moses in the life of patient Job.”
+  —_Rabelais_.
+
+  “This whale’s liver was two cartloads.” —_Stowe’s Annals_.
+
+  “The great Leviathan that maketh the seas to seethe like boiling
+  pan.” —_Lord Bacon’s Version of the Psalms_.
+
+  “Touching that monstrous bulk of the whale or ork we have received
+  nothing certain. They grow exceeding fat, insomuch that an incredible
+  quantity of oil will be extracted out of one whale.” —_Ibid_.
+  “_History of Life and Death_.”
+
+
+
+
+  “The sovereignest thing on earth is parmacetti for an inward bruise.”
+  —_King Henry_.
+
+  “Very like a whale.” —_Hamlet_.
+
+
+  “Which to secure, no skill of leach’s art Mote him availle, but to
+  returne againe To his wound’s worker, that with lowly dart, Dinting
+  his breast, had bred his restless paine, Like as the wounded whale to
+  shore flies thro’ the maine.” —_The Fairie Queen_.
+
+
+
+  “Immense as whales, the motion of whose vast bodies can in a peaceful
+  calm trouble the ocean till it boil.” —_Sir William Davenant. Preface
+  to Gondibert_.
+
+  “What spermacetti is, men might justly doubt, since the learned
+  Hosmannus in his work of thirty years, saith plainly, _Nescio quid
+  sit_.” —_Sir T. Browne. Of Sperma Ceti and the Sperma Ceti Whale.
+  Vide his V. E._
+
+
+  “Like Spencer’s Talus with his modern flail He threatens ruin with
+  his ponderous tail. ... Their fixed jav’lins in his side he wears,
+  And on his back a grove of pikes appears.” —_Waller’s Battle of the
+  Summer Islands_.
+
+
+
+  “By art is created that great Leviathan, called a Commonwealth or
+  State—(in Latin, Civitas) which is but an artificial man.” —_Opening
+  sentence of Hobbes’s Leviathan_.
+
+  “Silly Mansoul swallowed it without chewing, as if it had been a
+  sprat in the mouth of a whale.” —_Pilgrim’s Progress_.
+
+
+  “That sea beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest
+  that swim the ocean stream.” —_Paradise Lost_.
+
+  —“There Leviathan, Hugest of living creatures, in the deep Stretched
+  like a promontory sleeps or swims, And seems a moving land; and at
+  his gills Draws in, and at his breath spouts out a sea.” —_Ibid_.
+
+
+
+  “The mighty whales which swim in a sea of water, and have a sea of
+  oil swimming in them.” —_Fuller’s Profane and Holy State_.
+
+
+  “So close behind some promontory lie The huge Leviathan to attend
+  their prey, And give no chance, but swallow in the fry, Which through
+  their gaping jaws mistake the way.” —_Dryden’s Annus Mirabilis_.
+
+
+
+  “While the whale is floating at the stern of the ship, they cut off
+  his head, and tow it with a boat as near the shore as it will come;
+  but it will be aground in twelve or thirteen feet water.” —_Thomas
+  Edge’s Ten Voyages to Spitzbergen, in Purchas_.
+
+  “In their way they saw many whales sporting in the ocean, and in
+  wantonness fuzzing up the water through their pipes and vents, which
+  nature has placed on their shoulders.” —_Sir T. Herbert’s Voyages
+  into Asia and Africa. Harris Coll_.
+
+  “Here they saw such huge troops of whales, that they were forced to
+  proceed with a great deal of caution for fear they should run their
+  ship upon them.” —_Schouten’s Sixth Circumnavigation_.
+
+  “We set sail from the Elbe, wind N.E. in the ship called The
+  Jonas-in-the-Whale.... Some say the whale can’t open his mouth, but
+  that is a fable.... They frequently climb up the masts to see whether
+  they can see a whale, for the first discoverer has a ducat for his
+  pains.... I was told of a whale taken near Shetland, that had above a
+  barrel of herrings in his belly.... One of our harpooneers told me
+  that he caught once a whale in Spitzbergen that was white all over.”
+  —_A Voyage to Greenland, A.D._ 1671. _Harris Coll_.
+
+  “Several whales have come in upon this coast (Fife) Anno 1652, one
+  eighty feet in length of the whale-bone kind came in, which (as I was
+  informed), besides a vast quantity of oil, did afford 500 weight of
+  baleen. The jaws of it stand for a gate in the garden of Pitferren.”
+  —_Sibbald’s Fife and Kinross_.
+
+  “Myself have agreed to try whether I can master and kill this
+  Sperma-ceti whale, for I could never hear of any of that sort that
+  was killed by any man, such is his fierceness and swiftness.”
+  —_Richard Strafford’s Letter from the Bermudas. Phil. Trans. A.D._
+  1668.
+
+  “Whales in the sea God’s voice obey.” —_N. E. Primer_.
+
+  “We saw also abundance of large whales, there being more in those
+  southern seas, as I may say, by a hundred to one; than we have to the
+  northward of us.” —_Captain Cowley’s Voyage round the Globe, A.D._
+  1729.
+
+  “... and the breath of the whale is frequently attended with such an
+  insupportable smell, as to bring on a disorder of the brain.”
+  —_Ulloa’s South America_.
+
+
+  “To fifty chosen sylphs of special note, We trust the important
+  charge, the petticoat. Oft have we known that seven-fold fence to
+  fail, Tho’ stuffed with hoops and armed with ribs of whale.” —_Rape
+  of the Lock_.
+
+
+
+  “If we compare land animals in respect to magnitude, with those that
+  take up their abode in the deep, we shall find they will appear
+  contemptible in the comparison. The whale is doubtless the largest
+  animal in creation.” —_Goldsmith, Nat. Hist_.
+
+  “If you should write a fable for little fishes, you would make them
+  speak like great whales.” —_Goldsmith to Johnson_.
+
+  “In the afternoon we saw what was supposed to be a rock, but it was
+  found to be a dead whale, which some Asiatics had killed, and were
+  then towing ashore. They seemed to endeavor to conceal themselves
+  behind the whale, in order to avoid being seen by us.” —_Cook’s
+  Voyages_.
+
+  “The larger whales, they seldom venture to attack. They stand in so
+  great dread of some of them, that when out at sea they are afraid to
+  mention even their names, and carry dung, lime-stone, juniper-wood,
+  and some other articles of the same nature in their boats, in order
+  to terrify and prevent their too near approach.” —_Uno Von Troil’s
+  Letters on Banks’s and Solander’s Voyage to Iceland in_ 1772.
+
+  “The Spermacetti Whale found by the Nantuckois, is an active, fierce
+  animal, and requires vast address and boldness in the fishermen.”
+  —_Thomas Jefferson’s Whale Memorial to the French minister in_ 1778.
+
+  “And pray, sir, what in the world is equal to it?” —_Edmund Burke’s
+  reference in Parliament to the Nantucket Whale-Fishery_.
+
+  “Spain—a great whale stranded on the shores of Europe.” —_Edmund
+  Burke_. (_somewhere_.)
+
+  “A tenth branch of the king’s ordinary revenue, said to be grounded
+  on the consideration of his guarding and protecting the seas from
+  pirates and robbers, is the right to _royal_ fish, which are whale
+  and sturgeon. And these, when either thrown ashore or caught near the
+  coast, are the property of the king.” —_Blackstone_.
+
+
+  “Soon to the sport of death the crews repair: Rodmond unerring o’er
+  his head suspends The barbed steel, and every turn attends.”
+  —_Falconer’s Shipwreck_.
+
+  “Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires, And rockets blew self
+  driven, To hang their momentary fire Around the vault of heaven.
+
+  “So fire with water to compare, The ocean serves on high, Up-spouted
+  by a whale in air, To express unwieldy joy.” —_Cowper, on the Queen’s
+  Visit to London_.
+
+
+
+  “Ten or fifteen gallons of blood are thrown out of the heart at a
+  stroke, with immense velocity.” —_John Hunter’s account of the
+  dissection of a whale_. (_A small sized one_.)
+
+  “The aorta of a whale is larger in the bore than the main pipe of the
+  water-works at London Bridge, and the water roaring in its passage
+  through that pipe is inferior in impetus and velocity to the blood
+  gushing from the whale’s heart.” —_Paley’s Theology_.
+
+  “The whale is a mammiferous animal without hind feet.” —_Baron
+  Cuvier_.
+
+  “In 40 degrees south, we saw Spermacetti Whales, but did not take any
+  till the first of May, the sea being then covered with them.”
+  —_Colnett’s Voyage for the Purpose of Extending the Spermaceti Whale
+  Fishery_.
+
+
+  “In the free element beneath me swam, Floundered and dived, in play,
+  in chace, in battle, Fishes of every colour, form, and kind; Which
+  language cannot paint, and mariner Had never seen; from dread
+  Leviathan To insect millions peopling every wave: Gather’d in shoals
+  immense, like floating islands, Led by mysterious instincts through
+  that waste And trackless region, though on every side Assaulted by
+  voracious enemies, Whales, sharks, and monsters, arm’d in front or
+  jaw, With swords, saws, spiral horns, or hooked fangs.”
+  —_Montgomery’s World before the Flood_.
+
+  “Io!  Paean!  Io! sing. To the finny people’s king. Not a mightier
+  whale than this In the vast Atlantic is; Not a fatter fish than he,
+  Flounders round the Polar Sea.” —_Charles Lamb’s Triumph of the
+  Whale_.
+
+
+
+  “In the year 1690 some persons were on a high hill observing the
+  whales spouting and sporting with each other, when one observed:
+  there—pointing to the sea—is a green pasture where our children’s
+  grand-children will go for bread.” —_Obed Macy’s History of
+  Nantucket_.
+
+  “I built a cottage for Susan and myself and made a gateway in the
+  form of a Gothic Arch, by setting up a whale’s jaw bones.”
+  —_Hawthorne’s Twice Told Tales_.
+
+  “She came to bespeak a monument for her first love, who had been
+  killed by a whale in the Pacific ocean, no less than forty years
+  ago.” —_Ibid_.
+
+  “No, Sir, ’tis a Right Whale,” answered Tom; “I saw his sprout; he
+  threw up a pair of as pretty rainbows as a Christian would wish to
+  look at. He’s a raal oil-butt, that fellow!” —_Cooper’s Pilot_.
+
+  “The papers were brought in, and we saw in the Berlin Gazette that
+  whales had been introduced on the stage there.” —_Eckermann’s
+  Conversations with Goethe_.
+
+  “My God! Mr. Chace, what is the matter?” I answered, “we have been
+  stove by a whale.” —“_Narrative of the Shipwreck of the Whale Ship
+  Essex of Nantucket, which was attacked and finally destroyed by a
+  large Sperm Whale in the Pacific Ocean_.” _By Owen Chace of
+  Nantucket, first mate of said vessel. New York_, 1821.
+
+
+  “A mariner sat in the shrouds one night, The wind was piping free;
+  Now bright, now dimmed, was the moonlight pale, And the phospher
+  gleamed in the wake of the whale, As it floundered in the sea.”
+  —_Elizabeth Oakes Smith_.
+
+
+
+  “The quantity of line withdrawn from the boats engaged in the capture
+  of this one whale, amounted altogether to 10,440 yards or nearly six
+  English miles....
+
+  “Sometimes the whale shakes its tremendous tail in the air, which,
+  cracking like a whip, resounds to the distance of three or four
+  miles.” —_Scoresby_.
+
+  “Mad with the agonies he endures from these fresh attacks, the
+  infuriated Sperm Whale rolls over and over; he rears his enormous
+  head, and with wide expanded jaws snaps at everything around him; he
+  rushes at the boats with his head; they are propelled before him with
+  vast swiftness, and sometimes utterly destroyed.... It is a matter of
+  great astonishment that the consideration of the habits of so
+  interesting, and, in a commercial point of view, so important an
+  animal (as the Sperm Whale) should have been so entirely neglected,
+  or should have excited so little curiosity among the numerous, and
+  many of them competent observers, that of late years, must have
+  possessed the most abundant and the most convenient opportunities of
+  witnessing their habitudes.” —_Thomas Beale’s History of the Sperm
+  Whale_, 1839.
+
+  “The Cachalot” (Sperm Whale) “is not only better armed than the True
+  Whale” (Greenland or Right Whale) “in possessing a formidable weapon
+  at either extremity of its body, but also more frequently displays a
+  disposition to employ these weapons offensively and in manner at once
+  so artful, bold, and mischievous, as to lead to its being regarded as
+  the most dangerous to attack of all the known species of the whale
+  tribe.” —_Frederick Debell Bennett’s Whaling Voyage Round the Globe_,
+  1840.
+
+
+  October 13.  “There she blows,” was sung out from the mast-head.
+  “Where away?” demanded the captain. “Three points off the lee bow,
+  sir.” “Raise up your wheel.  Steady!”  “Steady, sir.” “Mast-head
+  ahoy! Do you see that whale now?” “Ay ay, sir!  A shoal of Sperm
+  Whales! There she blows!  There she breaches!” “Sing out! sing out
+  every time!” “Ay Ay, sir!  There she blows! there—there—_thar_ she
+  blows—bowes—bo-o-os!” “How far off?” “Two miles and a half.” “Thunder
+  and lightning! so near!  Call all hands.” —_J. Ross Browne’s Etchings
+  of a Whaling Cruize_.  1846.
+
+
+
+  “The Whale-ship Globe, on board of which vessel occurred the horrid
+  transactions we are about to relate, belonged to the island of
+  Nantucket.” —“_Narrative of the Globe Mutiny_,” _by Lay and Hussey
+  survivors. A.D._ 1828.
+
+  Being once pursued by a whale which he had wounded, he parried the
+  assault for some time with a lance; but the furious monster at length
+  rushed on the boat; himself and comrades only being preserved by
+  leaping into the water when they saw the onset was inevitable.”
+  —_Missionary Journal of Tyerman and Bennett_.
+
+  “Nantucket itself,” said Mr. Webster, “is a very striking and
+  peculiar portion of the National interest. There is a population of
+  eight or nine thousand persons living here in the sea, adding largely
+  every year to the National wealth by the boldest and most persevering
+  industry.” —_Report of Daniel Webster’s Speech in the U. S. Senate,
+  on the application for the Erection of a Breakwater at Nantucket_.
+  1828.
+
+  “The whale fell directly over him, and probably killed him in a
+  moment.” —“_The Whale and his Captors, or The Whaleman’s Adventures
+  and the Whale’s Biography, gathered on the Homeward Cruise of the
+  Commodore Preble_.” _By Rev. Henry T. Cheever_.
+
+  “If you make the least damn bit of noise,” replied Samuel, “I will
+  send you to hell.” —_Life of Samuel Comstock_ (_the mutineer_), _by
+  his brother, William Comstock. Another Version of the whale-ship
+  Globe narrative_.
+
+  “The voyages of the Dutch and English to the Northern Ocean, in
+  order, if possible, to discover a passage through it to India, though
+  they failed of their main object, laid-open the haunts of the whale.”
+  —_McCulloch’s Commercial Dictionary_.
+
+  “These things are reciprocal; the ball rebounds, only to bound
+  forward again; for now in laying open the haunts of the whale, the
+  whalemen seem to have indirectly hit upon new clews to that same
+  mystic North-West Passage.” —_From_ “_Something_” _unpublished_.
+
+  “It is impossible to meet a whale-ship on the ocean without being
+  struck by her near appearance. The vessel under short sail, with
+  look-outs at the mast-heads, eagerly scanning the wide expanse around
+  them, has a totally different air from those engaged in regular
+  voyage.” —_Currents and Whaling. U.S. Ex. Ex_.
+
+  “Pedestrians in the vicinity of London and elsewhere may recollect
+  having seen large curved bones set upright in the earth, either to
+  form arches over gateways, or entrances to alcoves, and they may
+  perhaps have been told that these were the ribs of whales.” —_Tales
+  of a Whale Voyager to the Arctic Ocean_.
+
+  “It was not till the boats returned from the pursuit of these whales,
+  that the whites saw their ship in bloody possession of the savages
+  enrolled among the crew.” —_Newspaper Account of the Taking and
+  Retaking of the Whale-Ship Hobomack_.
+
+  “It is generally well known that out of the crews of Whaling vessels
+  (American) few ever return in the ships on board of which they
+  departed.” —_Cruise in a Whale Boat_.
+
+  “Suddenly a mighty mass emerged from the water, and shot up
+  perpendicularly into the air. It was the whale.” —_Miriam Coffin or
+  the Whale Fisherman_.
+
+  “The Whale is harpooned to be sure; but bethink you, how you would
+  manage a powerful unbroken colt, with the mere appliance of a rope
+  tied to the root of his tail.” —_A Chapter on Whaling in Ribs and
+  Trucks_.
+
+  “On one occasion I saw two of these monsters (whales) probably male
+  and female, slowly swimming, one after the other, within less than a
+  stone’s throw of the shore” (Terra Del Fuego), “over which the beech
+  tree extended its branches.” —_Darwin’s Voyage of a Naturalist_.
+
+  “‘Stern all!’ exclaimed the mate, as upon turning his head, he saw
+  the distended jaws of a large Sperm Whale close to the head of the
+  boat, threatening it with instant destruction;—‘Stern all, for your
+  lives!’” —_Wharton the Whale Killer_.
+
+  “So be cheery, my lads, let your hearts never fail, While the bold
+  harpooneer is striking the whale!” —_Nantucket Song_.
+
+
+  “Oh, the rare old Whale, mid storm and gale In his ocean home will be
+  A giant in might, where might is right, And King of the boundless
+  sea.” —_Whale Song_.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 1. Loomings.
+
+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 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 bake-houses the pyramids.
+
+No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast,
+plumb down into the forecastle, 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.
+
+
+CHAPTER 2. The Carpet-Bag.
+
+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 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 monopolising 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 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.
+
+
+CHAPTER 3. The Spouter-Inn.
+
+Entering that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide,
+low, straggling entry with old-fashioned wainscots, reminding one of
+the bulwarks of some condemned old craft. On one side hung a very large
+oilpainting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in the
+unequal crosslights by which you viewed it, it was only by diligent
+study and a series of systematic visits to it, and careful inquiry of
+the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at an understanding of its
+purpose. Such unaccountable masses of shades and shadows, that at first
+you almost thought some ambitious young artist, in the time of the New
+England hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos bewitched. But by dint
+of much and earnest contemplation, and oft repeated ponderings, and
+especially by throwing open the little window towards the back of the
+entry, you at last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however
+wild, might not be altogether unwarranted.
+
+But what most puzzled and confounded you was a long, limber,
+portentous, black mass of something hovering in the centre of the
+picture over three blue, dim, perpendicular lines floating in a
+nameless yeast. A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture truly, enough to drive
+a nervous man distracted. Yet was there a sort of indefinite,
+half-attained, unimaginable sublimity about it that fairly froze you to
+it, till you involuntarily took an oath with yourself to find out what
+that marvellous painting meant. Ever and anon a bright, but, alas,
+deceptive idea would dart you through.—It’s the Black Sea in a midnight
+gale.—It’s the unnatural combat of the four primal elements.—It’s a
+blasted heath.—It’s a Hyperborean winter scene.—It’s the breaking-up of
+the icebound stream of Time. But at last all these fancies yielded to
+that one portentous something in the picture’s midst. _That_ once found
+out, and all the rest were plain. But stop; does it not bear a faint
+resemblance to a gigantic fish? even the great leviathan himself?
+
+In fact, the artist’s design seemed this: a final theory of my own,
+partly based upon the aggregated opinions of many aged persons with
+whom I conversed upon the subject. The picture represents a Cape-Horner
+in a great hurricane; the half-foundered ship weltering there with its
+three dismantled masts alone visible; and an exasperated whale,
+purposing to spring clean over the craft, is in the enormous act of
+impaling himself upon the three mast-heads.
+
+The opposite wall of this entry was hung all over with a heathenish
+array of monstrous clubs and spears. Some were thickly set with
+glittering teeth resembling ivory saws; others were tufted with knots
+of human hair; and one was sickle-shaped, with a vast handle sweeping
+round like the segment made in the new-mown grass by a long-armed
+mower. You shuddered as you gazed, and wondered what monstrous cannibal
+and savage could ever have gone a death-harvesting with such a hacking,
+horrifying implement. Mixed with these were rusty old whaling lances
+and harpoons all broken and deformed. Some were storied weapons. With
+this once long lance, now wildly elbowed, fifty years ago did Nathan
+Swain kill fifteen whales between a sunrise and a sunset. And that
+harpoon—so like a corkscrew now—was flung in Javan seas, and run away
+with by a whale, years afterwards slain off the Cape of Blanco. The
+original iron entered nigh the tail, and, like a restless needle
+sojourning in the body of a man, travelled full forty feet, and at last
+was found imbedded in the hump.
+
+Crossing this dusky entry, and on through yon low-arched way—cut
+through what in old times must have been a great central chimney with
+fireplaces all round—you enter the public room. A still duskier place
+is this, with such low ponderous beams above, and such old wrinkled
+planks beneath, that you would almost fancy you trod some old craft’s
+cockpits, especially of such a howling night, when this corner-anchored
+old ark rocked so furiously. On one side stood a long, low, shelf-like
+table covered with cracked glass cases, filled with dusty rarities
+gathered from this wide world’s remotest nooks. Projecting from the
+further angle of the room stands a dark-looking den—the bar—a rude
+attempt at a right whale’s head. Be that how it may, there stands the
+vast arched bone of the whale’s jaw, so wide, a coach might almost
+drive beneath it. Within are shabby shelves, ranged round with old
+decanters, bottles, flasks; and in those jaws of swift destruction,
+like another cursed Jonah (by which name indeed they called him),
+bustles a little withered old man, who, for their money, dearly sells
+the sailors deliriums and death.
+
+Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. Though true
+cylinders without—within, the villanous green goggling glasses
+deceitfully tapered downwards to a cheating bottom. Parallel meridians
+rudely pecked into the glass, surround these footpads’ goblets. Fill to
+_this_ mark, and your charge is but a penny; to _this_ a penny more;
+and so on to the full glass—the Cape Horn measure, which you may gulp
+down for a shilling.
+
+Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen gathered about
+a table, examining by a dim light divers specimens of _skrimshander_. I
+sought the landlord, and telling him I desired to be accommodated with
+a room, received for answer that his house was full—not a bed
+unoccupied. “But avast,” he added, tapping his forehead, “you haint no
+objections to sharing a harpooneer’s blanket, have ye? I s’pose you are
+goin’ a-whalin’, so you’d better get used to that sort of thing.”
+
+I told him that I never liked to sleep two in a bed; that if I should
+ever do so, it would depend upon who the harpooneer might be, and that
+if he (the landlord) really had no other place for me, and the
+harpooneer was not decidedly objectionable, why rather than wander
+further about a strange town on so bitter a night, I would put up with
+the half of any decent man’s blanket.
+
+“I thought so. All right; take a seat. Supper?—you want supper?
+Supper’ll be ready directly.”
+
+I sat down on an old wooden settle, carved all over like a bench on the
+Battery. At one end a ruminating tar was still further adorning it with
+his jack-knife, stooping over and diligently working away at the space
+between his legs. He was trying his hand at a ship under full sail, but
+he didn’t make much headway, I thought.
+
+At last some four or five of us were summoned to our meal in an
+adjoining room. It was cold as Iceland—no fire at all—the landlord said
+he couldn’t afford it. Nothing but two dismal tallow candles, each in a
+winding sheet. We were fain to button up our monkey jackets, and hold
+to our lips cups of scalding tea with our half frozen fingers. But the
+fare was of the most substantial kind—not only meat and potatoes, but
+dumplings; good heavens! dumplings for supper! One young fellow in a
+green box coat, addressed himself to these dumplings in a most direful
+manner.
+
+“My boy,” said the landlord, “you’ll have the nightmare to a dead
+sartainty.”
+
+“Landlord,” I whispered, “that aint the harpooneer is it?”
+
+“Oh, no,” said he, looking a sort of diabolically funny, “the
+harpooneer is a dark complexioned chap. He never eats dumplings, he
+don’t—he eats nothing but steaks, and he likes ’em rare.”
+
+“The devil he does,” says I. “Where is that harpooneer? Is he here?”
+
+“He’ll be here afore long,” was the answer.
+
+I could not help it, but I began to feel suspicious of this “dark
+complexioned” harpooneer. At any rate, I made up my mind that if it so
+turned out that we should sleep together, he must undress and get into
+bed before I did.
+
+Supper over, the company went back to the bar-room, when, knowing not
+what else to do with myself, I resolved to spend the rest of the
+evening as a looker on.
+
+Presently a rioting noise was heard without. Starting up, the landlord
+cried, “That’s the Grampus’s crew. I seed her reported in the offing
+this morning; a three years’ voyage, and a full ship. Hurrah, boys; now
+we’ll have the latest news from the Feegees.”
+
+A tramping of sea boots was heard in the entry; the door was flung
+open, and in rolled a wild set of mariners enough. Enveloped in their
+shaggy watch coats, and with their heads muffled in woollen comforters,
+all bedarned and ragged, and their beards stiff with icicles, they
+seemed an eruption of bears from Labrador. They had just landed from
+their boat, and this was the first house they entered. No wonder, then,
+that they made a straight wake for the whale’s mouth—the bar—when the
+wrinkled little old Jonah, there officiating, soon poured them out
+brimmers all round. One complained of a bad cold in his head, upon
+which Jonah mixed him a pitch-like potion of gin and molasses, which he
+swore was a sovereign cure for all colds and catarrhs whatsoever, never
+mind of how long standing, or whether caught off the coast of Labrador,
+or on the weather side of an ice-island.
+
+The liquor soon mounted into their heads, as it generally does even
+with the arrantest topers newly landed from sea, and they began
+capering about most obstreperously.
+
+I observed, however, that one of them held somewhat aloof, and though
+he seemed desirous not to spoil the hilarity of his shipmates by his
+own sober face, yet upon the whole he refrained from making as much
+noise as the rest. This man interested me at once; and since the
+sea-gods had ordained that he should soon become my shipmate (though
+but a sleeping-partner one, so far as this narrative is concerned), I
+will here venture upon a little description of him. He stood full six
+feet in height, with noble shoulders, and a chest like a coffer-dam. I
+have seldom seen such brawn in a man. His face was deeply brown and
+burnt, making his white teeth dazzling by the contrast; while in the
+deep shadows of his eyes floated some reminiscences that did not seem
+to give him much joy. His voice at once announced that he was a
+Southerner, and from his fine stature, I thought he must be one of
+those tall mountaineers from the Alleghanian Ridge in Virginia. When
+the revelry of his companions had mounted to its height, this man
+slipped away unobserved, and I saw no more of him till he became my
+comrade on the sea. In a few minutes, however, he was missed by his
+shipmates, and being, it seems, for some reason a huge favourite with
+them, they raised a cry of “Bulkington! Bulkington! where’s
+Bulkington?” and darted out of the house in pursuit of him.
+
+It was now about nine o’clock, and the room seeming almost
+supernaturally quiet after these orgies, I began to congratulate myself
+upon a little plan that had occurred to me just previous to the
+entrance of the seamen.
+
+No man prefers to sleep two in a bed. In fact, you would a good deal
+rather not sleep with your own brother. I don’t know how it is, but
+people like to be private when they are sleeping. And when it comes to
+sleeping with an unknown stranger, in a strange inn, in a strange town,
+and that stranger a harpooneer, then your objections indefinitely
+multiply. Nor was there any earthly reason why I as a sailor should
+sleep two in a bed, more than anybody else; for sailors no more sleep
+two in a bed at sea, than bachelor Kings do ashore. To be sure they all
+sleep together in one apartment, but you have your own hammock, and
+cover yourself with your own blanket, and sleep in your own skin.
+
+The more I pondered over this harpooneer, the more I abominated the
+thought of sleeping with him. It was fair to presume that being a
+harpooneer, his linen or woollen, as the case might be, would not be of
+the tidiest, certainly none of the finest. I began to twitch all over.
+Besides, it was getting late, and my decent harpooneer ought to be home
+and going bedwards. Suppose now, he should tumble in upon me at
+midnight—how could I tell from what vile hole he had been coming?
+
+“Landlord! I’ve changed my mind about that harpooneer.—I shan’t sleep
+with him. I’ll try the bench here.”
+
+“Just as you please; I’m sorry I can’t spare ye a tablecloth for a
+mattress, and it’s a plaguy rough board here”—feeling of the knots and
+notches. “But wait a bit, Skrimshander; I’ve got a carpenter’s plane
+there in the bar—wait, I say, and I’ll make ye snug enough.” So saying
+he procured the plane; and with his old silk handkerchief first dusting
+the bench, vigorously set to planing away at my bed, the while grinning
+like an ape. The shavings flew right and left; till at last the
+plane-iron came bump against an indestructible knot. The landlord was
+near spraining his wrist, and I told him for heaven’s sake to quit—the
+bed was soft enough to suit me, and I did not know how all the planing
+in the world could make eider down of a pine plank. So gathering up the
+shavings with another grin, and throwing them into the great stove in
+the middle of the room, he went about his business, and left me in a
+brown study.
+
+I now took the measure of the bench, and found that it was a foot too
+short; but that could be mended with a chair. But it was a foot too
+narrow, and the other bench in the room was about four inches higher
+than the planed one—so there was no yoking them. I then placed the
+first bench lengthwise along the only clear space against the wall,
+leaving a little interval between, for my back to settle down in. But I
+soon found that there came such a draught of cold air over me from
+under the sill of the window, that this plan would never do at all,
+especially as another current from the rickety door met the one from
+the window, and both together formed a series of small whirlwinds in
+the immediate vicinity of the spot where I had thought to spend the
+night.
+
+The devil fetch that harpooneer, thought I, but stop, couldn’t I steal
+a march on him—bolt his door inside, and jump into his bed, not to be
+wakened by the most violent knockings? It seemed no bad idea; but upon
+second thoughts I dismissed it. For who could tell but what the next
+morning, so soon as I popped out of the room, the harpooneer might be
+standing in the entry, all ready to knock me down!
+
+Still, looking round me again, and seeing no possible chance of
+spending a sufferable night unless in some other person’s bed, I began
+to think that after all I might be cherishing unwarrantable prejudices
+against this unknown harpooneer. Thinks I, I’ll wait awhile; he must be
+dropping in before long. I’ll have a good look at him then, and perhaps
+we may become jolly good bedfellows after all—there’s no telling.
+
+But though the other boarders kept coming in by ones, twos, and threes,
+and going to bed, yet no sign of my harpooneer.
+
+“Landlord!” said I, “what sort of a chap is he—does he always keep such
+late hours?” It was now hard upon twelve o’clock.
+
+The landlord chuckled again with his lean chuckle, and seemed to be
+mightily tickled at something beyond my comprehension. “No,” he
+answered, “generally he’s an early bird—airley to bed and airley to
+rise—yes, he’s the bird what catches the worm. But to-night he went out
+a peddling, you see, and I don’t see what on airth keeps him so late,
+unless, may be, he can’t sell his head.”
+
+“Can’t sell his head?—What sort of a bamboozingly story is this you are
+telling me?” getting into a towering rage. “Do you pretend to say,
+landlord, that this harpooneer is actually engaged this blessed
+Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, in peddling his head around
+this town?”
+
+“That’s precisely it,” said the landlord, “and I told him he couldn’t
+sell it here, the market’s overstocked.”
+
+“With what?” shouted I.
+
+“With heads to be sure; ain’t there too many heads in the world?”
+
+“I tell you what it is, landlord,” said I quite calmly, “you’d better
+stop spinning that yarn to me—I’m not green.”
+
+“May be not,” taking out a stick and whittling a toothpick, “but I
+rayther guess you’ll be done _brown_ if that ere harpooneer hears you a
+slanderin’ his head.”
+
+“I’ll break it for him,” said I, now flying into a passion again at
+this unaccountable farrago of the landlord’s.
+
+“It’s broke a’ready,” said he.
+
+“Broke,” said I—“_broke_, do you mean?”
+
+“Sartain, and that’s the very reason he can’t sell it, I guess.”
+
+“Landlord,” said I, going up to him as cool as Mt. Hecla in a
+snow-storm—“landlord, stop whittling. You and I must understand one
+another, and that too without delay. I come to your house and want a
+bed; you tell me you can only give me half a one; that the other half
+belongs to a certain harpooneer. And about this harpooneer, whom I have
+not yet seen, you persist in telling me the most mystifying and
+exasperating stories tending to beget in me an uncomfortable feeling
+towards the man whom you design for my bedfellow—a sort of connexion,
+landlord, which is an intimate and confidential one in the highest
+degree. I now demand of you to speak out and tell me who and what this
+harpooneer is, and whether I shall be in all respects safe to spend the
+night with him. And in the first place, you will be so good as to unsay
+that story about selling his head, which if true I take to be good
+evidence that this harpooneer is stark mad, and I’ve no idea of
+sleeping with a madman; and you, sir, _you_ I mean, landlord, _you_,
+sir, by trying to induce me to do so knowingly, would thereby render
+yourself liable to a criminal prosecution.”
+
+“Wall,” said the landlord, fetching a long breath, “that’s a purty long
+sarmon for a chap that rips a little now and then. But be easy, be
+easy, this here harpooneer I have been tellin’ you of has just arrived
+from the south seas, where he bought up a lot of ’balmed New Zealand
+heads (great curios, you know), and he’s sold all on ’em but one, and
+that one he’s trying to sell to-night, cause to-morrow’s Sunday, and it
+would not do to be sellin’ human heads about the streets when folks is
+goin’ to churches. He wanted to, last Sunday, but I stopped him just as
+he was goin’ out of the door with four heads strung on a string, for
+all the airth like a string of inions.”
+
+This account cleared up the otherwise unaccountable mystery, and showed
+that the landlord, after all, had had no idea of fooling me—but at the
+same time what could I think of a harpooneer who stayed out of a
+Saturday night clean into the holy Sabbath, engaged in such a cannibal
+business as selling the heads of dead idolators?
+
+“Depend upon it, landlord, that harpooneer is a dangerous man.”
+
+“He pays reg’lar,” was the rejoinder. “But come, it’s getting dreadful
+late, you had better be turning flukes—it’s a nice bed; Sal and me
+slept in that ere bed the night we were spliced. There’s plenty of room
+for two to kick about in that bed; it’s an almighty big bed that. Why,
+afore we give it up, Sal used to put our Sam and little Johnny in the
+foot of it. But I got a dreaming and sprawling about one night, and
+somehow, Sam got pitched on the floor, and came near breaking his arm.
+Arter that, Sal said it wouldn’t do. Come along here, I’ll give ye a
+glim in a jiffy;” and so saying he lighted a candle and held it towards
+me, offering to lead the way. But I stood irresolute; when looking at a
+clock in the corner, he exclaimed “I vum it’s Sunday—you won’t see that
+harpooneer to-night; he’s come to anchor somewhere—come along then;
+_do_ come; _won’t_ ye come?”
+
+I considered the matter a moment, and then up stairs we went, and I was
+ushered into a small room, cold as a clam, and furnished, sure enough,
+with a prodigious bed, almost big enough indeed for any four
+harpooneers to sleep abreast.
+
+“There,” said the landlord, placing the candle on a crazy old sea chest
+that did double duty as a wash-stand and centre table; “there, make
+yourself comfortable now, and good night to ye.” I turned round from
+eyeing the bed, but he had disappeared.
+
+Folding back the counterpane, I stooped over the bed. Though none of
+the most elegant, it yet stood the scrutiny tolerably well. I then
+glanced round the room; and besides the bedstead and centre table,
+could see no other furniture belonging to the place, but a rude shelf,
+the four walls, and a papered fireboard representing a man striking a
+whale. Of things not properly belonging to the room, there was a
+hammock lashed up, and thrown upon the floor in one corner; also a
+large seaman’s bag, containing the harpooneer’s wardrobe, no doubt in
+lieu of a land trunk. Likewise, there was a parcel of outlandish bone
+fish hooks on the shelf over the fire-place, and a tall harpoon
+standing at the head of the bed.
+
+But what is this on the chest? I took it up, and held it close to the
+light, and felt it, and smelt it, and tried every way possible to
+arrive at some satisfactory conclusion concerning it. I can compare it
+to nothing but a large door mat, ornamented at the edges with little
+tinkling tags something like the stained porcupine quills round an
+Indian moccasin. There was a hole or slit in the middle of this mat, as
+you see the same in South American ponchos. But could it be possible
+that any sober harpooneer would get into a door mat, and parade the
+streets of any Christian town in that sort of guise? I put it on, to
+try it, and it weighed me down like a hamper, being uncommonly shaggy
+and thick, and I thought a little damp, as though this mysterious
+harpooneer had been wearing it of a rainy day. I went up in it to a bit
+of glass stuck against the wall, and I never saw such a sight in my
+life. I tore myself out of it in such a hurry that I gave myself a kink
+in the neck.
+
+I sat down on the side of the bed, and commenced thinking about this
+head-peddling harpooneer, and his door mat. After thinking some time on
+the bed-side, I got up and took off my monkey jacket, and then stood in
+the middle of the room thinking. I then took off my coat, and thought a
+little more in my shirt sleeves. But beginning to feel very cold now,
+half undressed as I was, and remembering what the landlord said about
+the harpooneer’s not coming home at all that night, it being so very
+late, I made no more ado, but jumped out of my pantaloons and boots,
+and then blowing out the light tumbled into bed, and commended myself
+to the care of heaven.
+
+Whether that mattress was stuffed with corn-cobs or broken crockery,
+there is no telling, but I rolled about a good deal, and could not
+sleep for a long time. At last I slid off into a light doze, and had
+pretty nearly made a good offing towards the land of Nod, when I heard
+a heavy footfall in the passage, and saw a glimmer of light come into
+the room from under the door.
+
+Lord save me, thinks I, that must be the harpooneer, the infernal
+head-peddler. But I lay perfectly still, and resolved not to say a word
+till spoken to. Holding a light in one hand, and that identical New
+Zealand head in the other, the stranger entered the room, and without
+looking towards the bed, placed his candle a good way off from me on
+the floor in one corner, and then began working away at the knotted
+cords of the large bag I before spoke of as being in the room. I was
+all eagerness to see his face, but he kept it averted for some time
+while employed in unlacing the bag’s mouth. This accomplished, however,
+he turned round—when, good heavens! what a sight! Such a face! It was
+of a dark, purplish, yellow colour, here and there stuck over with
+large blackish looking squares. Yes, it’s just as I thought, he’s a
+terrible bedfellow; he’s been in a fight, got dreadfully cut, and here
+he is, just from the surgeon. But at that moment he chanced to turn his
+face so towards the light, that I plainly saw they could not be
+sticking-plasters at all, those black squares on his cheeks. They were
+stains of some sort or other. At first I knew not what to make of this;
+but soon an inkling of the truth occurred to me. I remembered a story
+of a white man—a whaleman too—who, falling among the cannibals, had
+been tattooed by them. I concluded that this harpooneer, in the course
+of his distant voyages, must have met with a similar adventure. And
+what is it, thought I, after all! It’s only his outside; a man can be
+honest in any sort of skin. But then, what to make of his unearthly
+complexion, that part of it, I mean, lying round about, and completely
+independent of the squares of tattooing. To be sure, it might be
+nothing but a good coat of tropical tanning; but I never heard of a hot
+sun’s tanning a white man into a purplish yellow one. However, I had
+never been in the South Seas; and perhaps the sun there produced these
+extraordinary effects upon the skin. Now, while all these ideas were
+passing through me like lightning, this harpooneer never noticed me at
+all. But, after some difficulty having opened his bag, he commenced
+fumbling in it, and presently pulled out a sort of tomahawk, and a
+seal-skin wallet with the hair on. Placing these on the old chest in
+the middle of the room, he then took the New Zealand head—a ghastly
+thing enough—and crammed it down into the bag. He now took off his
+hat—a new beaver hat—when I came nigh singing out with fresh surprise.
+There was no hair on his head—none to speak of at least—nothing but a
+small scalp-knot twisted up on his forehead. His bald purplish head now
+looked for all the world like a mildewed skull. Had not the stranger
+stood between me and the door, I would have bolted out of it quicker
+than ever I bolted a dinner.
+
+Even as it was, I thought something of slipping out of the window, but
+it was the second floor back. I am no coward, but what to make of this
+head-peddling purple rascal altogether passed my comprehension.
+Ignorance is the parent of fear, and being completely nonplussed and
+confounded about the stranger, I confess I was now as much afraid of
+him as if it was the devil himself who had thus broken into my room at
+the dead of night. In fact, I was so afraid of him that I was not game
+enough just then to address him, and demand a satisfactory answer
+concerning what seemed inexplicable in him.
+
+Meanwhile, he continued the business of undressing, and at last showed
+his chest and arms. As I live, these covered parts of him were
+checkered with the same squares as his face; his back, too, was all
+over the same dark squares; he seemed to have been in a Thirty Years’
+War, and just escaped from it with a sticking-plaster shirt. Still
+more, his very legs were marked, as if a parcel of dark green frogs
+were running up the trunks of young palms. It was now quite plain that
+he must be some abominable savage or other shipped aboard of a whaleman
+in the South Seas, and so landed in this Christian country. I quaked to
+think of it. A peddler of heads too—perhaps the heads of his own
+brothers. He might take a fancy to mine—heavens! look at that tomahawk!
+
+But there was no time for shuddering, for now the savage went about
+something that completely fascinated my attention, and convinced me
+that he must indeed be a heathen. Going to his heavy grego, or wrapall,
+or dreadnaught, which he had previously hung on a chair, he fumbled in
+the pockets, and produced at length a curious little deformed image
+with a hunch on its back, and exactly the colour of a three days’ old
+Congo baby. Remembering the embalmed head, at first I almost thought
+that this black manikin was a real baby preserved in some similar
+manner. But seeing that it was not at all limber, and that it glistened
+a good deal like polished ebony, I concluded that it must be nothing
+but a wooden idol, which indeed it proved to be. For now the savage
+goes up to the empty fire-place, and removing the papered fire-board,
+sets up this little hunch-backed image, like a tenpin, between the
+andirons. The chimney jambs and all the bricks inside were very sooty,
+so that I thought this fire-place made a very appropriate little shrine
+or chapel for his Congo idol.
+
+I now screwed my eyes hard towards the half hidden image, feeling but
+ill at ease meantime—to see what was next to follow. First he takes
+about a double handful of shavings out of his grego pocket, and places
+them carefully before the idol; then laying a bit of ship biscuit on
+top and applying the flame from the lamp, he kindled the shavings into
+a sacrificial blaze. Presently, after many hasty snatches into the
+fire, and still hastier withdrawals of his fingers (whereby he seemed
+to be scorching them badly), he at last succeeded in drawing out the
+biscuit; then blowing off the heat and ashes a little, he made a polite
+offer of it to the little negro. But the little devil did not seem to
+fancy such dry sort of fare at all; he never moved his lips. All these
+strange antics were accompanied by still stranger guttural noises from
+the devotee, who seemed to be praying in a sing-song or else singing
+some pagan psalmody or other, during which his face twitched about in
+the most unnatural manner. At last extinguishing the fire, he took the
+idol up very unceremoniously, and bagged it again in his grego pocket
+as carelessly as if he were a sportsman bagging a dead woodcock.
+
+All these queer proceedings increased my uncomfortableness, and seeing
+him now exhibiting strong symptoms of concluding his business
+operations, and jumping into bed with me, I thought it was high time,
+now or never, before the light was put out, to break the spell in which
+I had so long been bound.
+
+But the interval I spent in deliberating what to say, was a fatal one.
+Taking up his tomahawk from the table, he examined the head of it for
+an instant, and then holding it to the light, with his mouth at the
+handle, he puffed out great clouds of tobacco smoke. The next moment
+the light was extinguished, and this wild cannibal, tomahawk between
+his teeth, sprang into bed with me. I sang out, I could not help it
+now; and giving a sudden grunt of astonishment he began feeling me.
+
+Stammering out something, I knew not what, I rolled away from him
+against the wall, and then conjured him, whoever or whatever he might
+be, to keep quiet, and let me get up and light the lamp again. But his
+guttural responses satisfied me at once that he but ill comprehended my
+meaning.
+
+“Who-e debel you?”—he at last said—“you no speak-e, dam-me, I kill-e.”
+And so saying the lighted tomahawk began flourishing about me in the
+dark.
+
+“Landlord, for God’s sake, Peter Coffin!” shouted I. “Landlord! Watch!
+Coffin! Angels! save me!”
+
+“Speak-e! tell-ee me who-ee be, or dam-me, I kill-e!” again growled the
+cannibal, while his horrid flourishings of the tomahawk scattered the
+hot tobacco ashes about me till I thought my linen would get on fire.
+But thank heaven, at that moment the landlord came into the room light
+in hand, and leaping from the bed I ran up to him.
+
+“Don’t be afraid now,” said he, grinning again, “Queequeg here wouldn’t
+harm a hair of your head.”
+
+“Stop your grinning,” shouted I, “and why didn’t you tell me that that
+infernal harpooneer was a cannibal?”
+
+“I thought ye know’d it;—didn’t I tell ye, he was a peddlin’ heads
+around town?—but turn flukes again and go to sleep. Queequeg, look
+here—you sabbee me, I sabbee—you this man sleepe you—you sabbee?”
+
+“Me sabbee plenty”—grunted Queequeg, puffing away at his pipe and
+sitting up in bed.
+
+“You gettee in,” he added, motioning to me with his tomahawk, and
+throwing the clothes to one side. He really did this in not only a
+civil but a really kind and charitable way. I stood looking at him a
+moment. For all his tattooings he was on the whole a clean, comely
+looking cannibal. What’s all this fuss I have been making about,
+thought I to myself—the man’s a human being just as I am: he has just
+as much reason to fear me, as I have to be afraid of him. Better sleep
+with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.
+
+“Landlord,” said I, “tell him to stash his tomahawk there, or pipe, or
+whatever you call it; tell him to stop smoking, in short, and I will
+turn in with him. But I don’t fancy having a man smoking in bed with
+me. It’s dangerous. Besides, I ain’t insured.”
+
+This being told to Queequeg, he at once complied, and again politely
+motioned me to get into bed—rolling over to one side as much as to
+say—“I won’t touch a leg of ye.”
+
+“Good night, landlord,” said I, “you may go.”
+
+I turned in, and never slept better in my life.
+
+
+CHAPTER 4. The Counterpane.
+
+Upon waking next morning about daylight, I found Queequeg’s arm thrown
+over me in the most loving and affectionate manner. You had almost
+thought I had been his wife. The counterpane was of patchwork, full of
+odd little parti-coloured squares and triangles; and this arm of his
+tattooed all over with an interminable Cretan labyrinth of a figure, no
+two parts of which were of one precise shade—owing I suppose to his
+keeping his arm at sea unmethodically in sun and shade, his shirt
+sleeves irregularly rolled up at various times—this same arm of his, I
+say, looked for all the world like a strip of that same patchwork
+quilt. Indeed, partly lying on it as the arm did when I first awoke, I
+could hardly tell it from the quilt, they so blended their hues
+together; and it was only by the sense of weight and pressure that I
+could tell that Queequeg was hugging me.
+
+My sensations were strange. Let me try to explain them. When I was a
+child, I well remember a somewhat similar circumstance that befell me;
+whether it was a reality or a dream, I never could entirely settle. The
+circumstance was this. I had been cutting up some caper or other—I
+think it was trying to crawl up the chimney, as I had seen a little
+sweep do a few days previous; and my stepmother who, somehow or other,
+was all the time whipping me, or sending me to bed supperless,—my
+mother dragged me by the legs out of the chimney and packed me off to
+bed, though it was only two o’clock in the afternoon of the 21st June,
+the longest day in the year in our hemisphere. I felt dreadfully. But
+there was no help for it, so up stairs I went to my little room in the
+third floor, undressed myself as slowly as possible so as to kill time,
+and with a bitter sigh got between the sheets.
+
+I lay there dismally calculating that sixteen entire hours must elapse
+before I could hope for a resurrection. Sixteen hours in bed! the small
+of my back ached to think of it. And it was so light too; the sun
+shining in at the window, and a great rattling of coaches in the
+streets, and the sound of gay voices all over the house. I felt worse
+and worse—at last I got up, dressed, and softly going down in my
+stockinged feet, sought out my stepmother, and suddenly threw myself at
+her feet, beseeching her as a particular favour to give me a good
+slippering for my misbehaviour; anything indeed but condemning me to
+lie abed such an unendurable length of time. But she was the best and
+most conscientious of stepmothers, and back I had to go to my room. For
+several hours I lay there broad awake, feeling a great deal worse than
+I have ever done since, even from the greatest subsequent misfortunes.
+At last I must have fallen into a troubled nightmare of a doze; and
+slowly waking from it—half steeped in dreams—I opened my eyes, and the
+before sun-lit room was now wrapped in outer darkness. Instantly I felt
+a shock running through all my frame; nothing was to be seen, and
+nothing was to be heard; but a supernatural hand seemed placed in mine.
+My arm hung over the counterpane, and the nameless, unimaginable,
+silent form or phantom, to which the hand belonged, seemed closely
+seated by my bed-side. For what seemed ages piled on ages, I lay there,
+frozen with the most awful fears, not daring to drag away my hand; yet
+ever thinking that if I could but stir it one single inch, the horrid
+spell would be broken. I knew not how this consciousness at last glided
+away from me; but waking in the morning, I shudderingly remembered it
+all, and for days and weeks and months afterwards I lost myself in
+confounding attempts to explain the mystery. Nay, to this very hour, I
+often puzzle myself with it.
+
+Now, take away the awful fear, and my sensations at feeling the
+supernatural hand in mine were very similar, in their strangeness, to
+those which I experienced on waking up and seeing Queequeg’s pagan arm
+thrown round me. But at length all the past night’s events soberly
+recurred, one by one, in fixed reality, and then I lay only alive to
+the comical predicament. For though I tried to move his arm—unlock his
+bridegroom clasp—yet, sleeping as he was, he still hugged me tightly,
+as though naught but death should part us twain. I now strove to rouse
+him—“Queequeg!”—but his only answer was a snore. I then rolled over, my
+neck feeling as if it were in a horse-collar; and suddenly felt a
+slight scratch. Throwing aside the counterpane, there lay the tomahawk
+sleeping by the savage’s side, as if it were a hatchet-faced baby. A
+pretty pickle, truly, thought I; abed here in a strange house in the
+broad day, with a cannibal and a tomahawk! “Queequeg!—in the name of
+goodness, Queequeg, wake!” At length, by dint of much wriggling, and
+loud and incessant expostulations upon the unbecomingness of his
+hugging a fellow male in that matrimonial sort of style, I succeeded in
+extracting a grunt; and presently, he drew back his arm, shook himself
+all over like a Newfoundland dog just from the water, and sat up in
+bed, stiff as a pike-staff, looking at me, and rubbing his eyes as if
+he did not altogether remember how I came to be there, though a dim
+consciousness of knowing something about me seemed slowly dawning over
+him. Meanwhile, I lay quietly eyeing him, having no serious misgivings
+now, and bent upon narrowly observing so curious a creature. When, at
+last, his mind seemed made up touching the character of his bedfellow,
+and he became, as it were, reconciled to the fact; he jumped out upon
+the floor, and by certain signs and sounds gave me to understand that,
+if it pleased me, he would dress first and then leave me to dress
+afterwards, leaving the whole apartment to myself. Thinks I, Queequeg,
+under the circumstances, this is a very civilized overture; but, the
+truth is, these savages have an innate sense of delicacy, say what you
+will; it is marvellous how essentially polite they are. I pay this
+particular compliment to Queequeg, because he treated me with so much
+civility and consideration, while I was guilty of great rudeness;
+staring at him from the bed, and watching all his toilette motions; for
+the time my curiosity getting the better of my breeding. Nevertheless,
+a man like Queequeg you don’t see every day, he and his ways were well
+worth unusual regarding.
+
+He commenced dressing at top by donning his beaver hat, a very tall
+one, by the by, and then—still minus his trowsers—he hunted up his
+boots. What under the heavens he did it for, I cannot tell, but his
+next movement was to crush himself—boots in hand, and hat on—under the
+bed; when, from sundry violent gaspings and strainings, I inferred he
+was hard at work booting himself; though by no law of propriety that I
+ever heard of, is any man required to be private when putting on his
+boots. But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transition
+stage—neither caterpillar nor butterfly. He was just enough civilized
+to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manners. His
+education was not yet completed. He was an undergraduate. If he had not
+been a small degree civilized, he very probably would not have troubled
+himself with boots at all; but then, if he had not been still a savage,
+he never would have dreamt of getting under the bed to put them on. At
+last, he emerged with his hat very much dented and crushed down over
+his eyes, and began creaking and limping about the room, as if, not
+being much accustomed to boots, his pair of damp, wrinkled cowhide
+ones—probably not made to order either—rather pinched and tormented him
+at the first go off of a bitter cold morning.
+
+Seeing, now, that there were no curtains to the window, and that the
+street being very narrow, the house opposite commanded a plain view
+into the room, and observing more and more the indecorous figure that
+Queequeg made, staving about with little else but his hat and boots on;
+I begged him as well as I could, to accelerate his toilet somewhat, and
+particularly to get into his pantaloons as soon as possible. He
+complied, and then proceeded to wash himself. At that time in the
+morning any Christian would have washed his face; but Queequeg, to my
+amazement, contented himself with restricting his ablutions to his
+chest, arms, and hands. He then donned his waistcoat, and taking up a
+piece of hard soap on the wash-stand centre table, dipped it into water
+and commenced lathering his face. I was watching to see where he kept
+his razor, when lo and behold, he takes the harpoon from the bed
+corner, slips out the long wooden stock, unsheathes the head, whets it
+a little on his boot, and striding up to the bit of mirror against the
+wall, begins a vigorous scraping, or rather harpooning of his cheeks.
+Thinks I, Queequeg, this is using Rogers’s best cutlery with a
+vengeance. Afterwards I wondered the less at this operation when I came
+to know of what fine steel the head of a harpoon is made, and how
+exceedingly sharp the long straight edges are always kept.
+
+The rest of his toilet was soon achieved, and he proudly marched out of
+the room, wrapped up in his great pilot monkey jacket, and sporting his
+harpoon like a marshal’s baton.
+
+
+CHAPTER 5. Breakfast.
+
+I quickly followed suit, and descending into the bar-room accosted the
+grinning landlord very pleasantly. I cherished no malice towards him,
+though he had been skylarking with me not a little in the matter of my
+bedfellow.
+
+However, a good laugh is a mighty good thing, and rather too scarce a
+good thing; the more’s the pity. So, if any one man, in his own proper
+person, afford stuff for a good joke to anybody, let him not be
+backward, but let him cheerfully allow himself to spend and be spent in
+that way. And the man that has anything bountifully laughable about
+him, be sure there is more in that man than you perhaps think for.
+
+The bar-room was now full of the boarders who had been dropping in the
+night previous, and whom I had not as yet had a good look at. They were
+nearly all whalemen; chief mates, and second mates, and third mates,
+and sea carpenters, and sea coopers, and sea blacksmiths, and
+harpooneers, and ship keepers; a brown and brawny company, with bosky
+beards; an unshorn, shaggy set, all wearing monkey jackets for morning
+gowns.
+
+You could pretty plainly tell how long each one had been ashore. This
+young fellow’s healthy cheek is like a sun-toasted pear in hue, and
+would seem to smell almost as musky; he cannot have been three days
+landed from his Indian voyage. That man next him looks a few shades
+lighter; you might say a touch of satin wood is in him. In the
+complexion of a third still lingers a tropic tawn, but slightly
+bleached withal; _he_ doubtless has tarried whole weeks ashore. But who
+could show a cheek like Queequeg? which, barred with various tints,
+seemed like the Andes’ western slope, to show forth in one array,
+contrasting climates, zone by zone.
+
+“Grub, ho!” now cried the landlord, flinging open a door, and in we
+went to breakfast.
+
+They say that men who have seen the world, thereby become quite at ease
+in manner, quite self-possessed in company. Not always, though:
+Ledyard, the great New England traveller, and Mungo Park, the Scotch
+one; of all men, they possessed the least assurance in the parlor. But
+perhaps the mere crossing of Siberia in a sledge drawn by dogs as
+Ledyard did, or the taking a long solitary walk on an empty stomach, in
+the negro heart of Africa, which was the sum of poor Mungo’s
+performances—this kind of travel, I say, may not be the very best mode
+of attaining a high social polish. Still, for the most part, that sort
+of thing is to be had anywhere.
+
+These reflections just here are occasioned by the circumstance that
+after we were all seated at the table, and I was preparing to hear some
+good stories about whaling; to my no small surprise, nearly every man
+maintained a profound silence. And not only that, but they looked
+embarrassed. Yes, here were a set of sea-dogs, many of whom without the
+slightest bashfulness had boarded great whales on the high seas—entire
+strangers to them—and duelled them dead without winking; and yet, here
+they sat at a social breakfast table—all of the same calling, all of
+kindred tastes—looking round as sheepishly at each other as though they
+had never been out of sight of some sheepfold among the Green
+Mountains. A curious sight; these bashful bears, these timid warrior
+whalemen!
+
+But as for Queequeg—why, Queequeg sat there among them—at the head of
+the table, too, it so chanced; as cool as an icicle. To be sure I
+cannot say much for his breeding. His greatest admirer could not have
+cordially justified his bringing his harpoon into breakfast with him,
+and using it there without ceremony; reaching over the table with it,
+to the imminent jeopardy of many heads, and grappling the beefsteaks
+towards him. But _that_ was certainly very coolly done by him, and
+every one knows that in most people’s estimation, to do anything coolly
+is to do it genteelly.
+
+We will not speak of all Queequeg’s peculiarities here; how he eschewed
+coffee and hot rolls, and applied his undivided attention to
+beefsteaks, done rare. Enough, that when breakfast was over he withdrew
+like the rest into the public room, lighted his tomahawk-pipe, and was
+sitting there quietly digesting and smoking with his inseparable hat
+on, when I sallied out for a stroll.
+
+
+CHAPTER 6. The Street.
+
+If I had been astonished at first catching a glimpse of so outlandish
+an individual as Queequeg circulating among the polite society of a
+civilized town, that astonishment soon departed upon taking my first
+daylight stroll through the streets of New Bedford.
+
+In thoroughfares nigh the docks, any considerable seaport will
+frequently offer to view the queerest looking nondescripts from foreign
+parts. Even in Broadway and Chestnut streets, Mediterranean mariners
+will sometimes jostle the affrighted ladies. Regent Street is not
+unknown to Lascars and Malays; and at Bombay, in the Apollo Green, live
+Yankees have often scared the natives. But New Bedford beats all Water
+Street and Wapping. In these last-mentioned haunts you see only
+sailors; but in New Bedford, actual cannibals stand chatting at street
+corners; savages outright; many of whom yet carry on their bones unholy
+flesh. It makes a stranger stare.
+
+But, besides the Feegeeans, Tongatobooarrs, Erromanggoans, Pannangians,
+and Brighggians, and, besides the wild specimens of the whaling-craft
+which unheeded reel about the streets, you will see other sights still
+more curious, certainly more comical. There weekly arrive in this town
+scores of green Vermonters and New Hampshire men, all athirst for gain
+and glory in the fishery. They are mostly young, of stalwart frames;
+fellows who have felled forests, and now seek to drop the axe and
+snatch the whale-lance. Many are as green as the Green Mountains whence
+they came. In some things you would think them but a few hours old.
+Look there! that chap strutting round the corner. He wears a beaver hat
+and swallow-tailed coat, girdled with a sailor-belt and sheath-knife.
+Here comes another with a sou’-wester and a bombazine cloak.
+
+No town-bred dandy will compare with a country-bred one—I mean a
+downright bumpkin dandy—a fellow that, in the dog-days, will mow his
+two acres in buckskin gloves for fear of tanning his hands. Now when a
+country dandy like this takes it into his head to make a distinguished
+reputation, and joins the great whale-fishery, you should see the
+comical things he does upon reaching the seaport. In bespeaking his
+sea-outfit, he orders bell-buttons to his waistcoats; straps to his
+canvas trowsers. Ah, poor Hay-Seed! how bitterly will burst those
+straps in the first howling gale, when thou art driven, straps,
+buttons, and all, down the throat of the tempest.
+
+But think not that this famous town has only harpooneers, cannibals,
+and bumpkins to show her visitors. Not at all. Still New Bedford is a
+queer place. Had it not been for us whalemen, that tract of land would
+this day perhaps have been in as howling condition as the coast of
+Labrador. As it is, parts of her back country are enough to frighten
+one, they look so bony. The town itself is perhaps the dearest place to
+live in, in all New England. It is a land of oil, true enough: but not
+like Canaan; a land, also, of corn and wine. The streets do not run
+with milk; nor in the spring-time do they pave them with fresh eggs.
+Yet, in spite of this, nowhere in all America will you find more
+patrician-like houses; parks and gardens more opulent, than in New
+Bedford. Whence came they? how planted upon this once scraggy scoria of
+a country?
+
+Go and gaze upon the iron emblematical harpoons round yonder lofty
+mansion, and your question will be answered. Yes; all these brave
+houses and flowery gardens came from the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian
+oceans. One and all, they were harpooned and dragged up hither from the
+bottom of the sea. Can Herr Alexander perform a feat like that?
+
+In New Bedford, fathers, they say, give whales for dowers to their
+daughters, and portion off their nieces with a few porpoises a-piece.
+You must go to New Bedford to see a brilliant wedding; for, they say,
+they have reservoirs of oil in every house, and every night recklessly
+burn their lengths in spermaceti candles.
+
+In summer time, the town is sweet to see; full of fine maples—long
+avenues of green and gold. And in August, high in air, the beautiful
+and bountiful horse-chestnuts, candelabra-wise, proffer the passer-by
+their tapering upright cones of congregated blossoms. So omnipotent is
+art; which in many a district of New Bedford has superinduced bright
+terraces of flowers upon the barren refuse rocks thrown aside at
+creation’s final day.
+
+And the women of New Bedford, they bloom like their own red roses. But
+roses only bloom in summer; whereas the fine carnation of their cheeks
+is perennial as sunlight in the seventh heavens. Elsewhere match that
+bloom of theirs, ye cannot, save in Salem, where they tell me the young
+girls breathe such musk, their sailor sweethearts smell them miles off
+shore, as though they were drawing nigh the odorous Moluccas instead of
+the Puritanic sands.
+
+
+CHAPTER 7. The Chapel.
+
+In this same New Bedford there stands a Whaleman’s Chapel, and few are
+the moody fishermen, shortly bound for the Indian Ocean or Pacific, who
+fail to make a Sunday visit to the spot. I am sure that I did not.
+
+Returning from my first morning stroll, I again sallied out upon this
+special errand. The sky had changed from clear, sunny cold, to driving
+sleet and mist. Wrapping myself in my shaggy jacket of the cloth called
+bearskin, I fought my way against the stubborn storm. Entering, I found
+a small scattered congregation of sailors, and sailors’ wives and
+widows. A muffled silence reigned, only broken at times by the shrieks
+of the storm. Each silent worshipper seemed purposely sitting apart
+from the other, as if each silent grief were insular and
+incommunicable. The chaplain had not yet arrived; and there these
+silent islands of men and women sat steadfastly eyeing several marble
+tablets, with black borders, masoned into the wall on either side the
+pulpit. Three of them ran something like the following, but I do not
+pretend to quote:—
+
+SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN TALBOT, Who, at the age of eighteen, was
+lost overboard, Near the Isle of Desolation, off Patagonia, _November_
+1_st_, 1836. THIS TABLET Is erected to his Memory BY HIS SISTER.
+
+SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT LONG, WILLIS ELLERY, NATHAN COLEMAN,
+WALTER CANNY, SETH MACY, AND SAMUEL GLEIG, Forming one of the boats’
+crews OF THE SHIP ELIZA Who were towed out of sight by a Whale, On the
+Off-shore Ground in the PACIFIC, _December_ 31_st_, 1839. THIS MARBLE
+Is here placed by their surviving SHIPMATES.
+
+SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF The late CAPTAIN EZEKIEL HARDY, Who in the bows
+of his boat was killed by a Sperm Whale on the coast of Japan, _August_
+3_d_, 1833. THIS TABLET Is erected to his Memory BY HIS WIDOW.
+
+Shaking off the sleet from my ice-glazed hat and jacket, I seated
+myself near the door, and turning sideways was surprised to see
+Queequeg near me. Affected by the solemnity of the scene, there was a
+wondering gaze of incredulous curiosity in his countenance. This savage
+was the only person present who seemed to notice my entrance; because
+he was the only one who could not read, and, therefore, was not reading
+those frigid inscriptions on the wall. Whether any of the relatives of
+the seamen whose names appeared there were now among the congregation,
+I knew not; but so many are the unrecorded accidents in the fishery,
+and so plainly did several women present wear the countenance if not
+the trappings of some unceasing grief, that I feel sure that here
+before me were assembled those, in whose unhealing hearts the sight of
+those bleak tablets sympathetically caused the old wounds to bleed
+afresh.
+
+Oh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing
+among flowers can say—here, _here_ lies my beloved; ye know not the
+desolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in
+those black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in
+those immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden
+infidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse
+resurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a
+grave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta as
+here.
+
+In what census of living creatures, the dead of mankind are included;
+why it is that a universal proverb says of them, that they tell no
+tales, though containing more secrets than the Goodwin Sands; how it is
+that to his name who yesterday departed for the other world, we prefix
+so significant and infidel a word, and yet do not thus entitle him, if
+he but embarks for the remotest Indies of this living earth; why the
+Life Insurance Companies pay death-forfeitures upon immortals; in what
+eternal, unstirring paralysis, and deadly, hopeless trance, yet lies
+antique Adam who died sixty round centuries ago; how it is that we
+still refuse to be comforted for those who we nevertheless maintain are
+dwelling in unspeakable bliss; why all the living so strive to hush all
+the dead; wherefore but the rumor of a knocking in a tomb will terrify
+a whole city. All these things are not without their meanings.
+
+But Faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these
+dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.
+
+It needs scarcely to be told, with what feelings, on the eve of a
+Nantucket voyage, I regarded those marble tablets, and by the murky
+light of that darkened, doleful day read the fate of the whalemen who
+had gone before me. Yes, Ishmael, the same fate may be thine. But
+somehow I grew merry again. Delightful inducements to embark, fine
+chance for promotion, it seems—aye, a stove boat will make me an
+immortal by brevet. Yes, there is death in this business of whaling—a
+speechlessly quick chaotic bundling of a man into Eternity. But what
+then? Methinks we have hugely mistaken this matter of Life and Death.
+Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true
+substance. Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too
+much like oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking
+that thick water the thinnest of air. Methinks my body is but the lees
+of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is
+not me. And therefore three cheers for Nantucket; and come a stove boat
+and stove body when they will, for stave my soul, Jove himself cannot.
+
+
+CHAPTER 8. The Pulpit.
+
+I had not been seated very long ere a man of a certain venerable
+robustness entered; immediately as the storm-pelted door flew back upon
+admitting him, a quick regardful eyeing of him by all the congregation,
+sufficiently attested that this fine old man was the chaplain. Yes, it
+was the famous Father Mapple, so called by the whalemen, among whom he
+was a very great favourite. He had been a sailor and a harpooneer in
+his youth, but for many years past had dedicated his life to the
+ministry. At the time I now write of, Father Mapple was in the hardy
+winter of a healthy old age; that sort of old age which seems merging
+into a second flowering youth, for among all the fissures of his
+wrinkles, there shone certain mild gleams of a newly developing
+bloom—the spring verdure peeping forth even beneath February’s snow. No
+one having previously heard his history, could for the first time
+behold Father Mapple without the utmost interest, because there were
+certain engrafted clerical peculiarities about him, imputable to that
+adventurous maritime life he had led. When he entered I observed that
+he carried no umbrella, and certainly had not come in his carriage, for
+his tarpaulin hat ran down with melting sleet, and his great pilot
+cloth jacket seemed almost to drag him to the floor with the weight of
+the water it had absorbed. However, hat and coat and overshoes were one
+by one removed, and hung up in a little space in an adjacent corner;
+when, arrayed in a decent suit, he quietly approached the pulpit.
+
+Like most old fashioned pulpits, it was a very lofty one, and since a
+regular stairs to such a height would, by its long angle with the
+floor, seriously contract the already small area of the chapel, the
+architect, it seemed, had acted upon the hint of Father Mapple, and
+finished the pulpit without a stairs, substituting a perpendicular side
+ladder, like those used in mounting a ship from a boat at sea. The wife
+of a whaling captain had provided the chapel with a handsome pair of
+red worsted man-ropes for this ladder, which, being itself nicely
+headed, and stained with a mahogany colour, the whole contrivance,
+considering what manner of chapel it was, seemed by no means in bad
+taste. Halting for an instant at the foot of the ladder, and with both
+hands grasping the ornamental knobs of the man-ropes, Father Mapple
+cast a look upwards, and then with a truly sailor-like but still
+reverential dexterity, hand over hand, mounted the steps as if
+ascending the main-top of his vessel.
+
+The perpendicular parts of this side ladder, as is usually the case
+with swinging ones, were of cloth-covered rope, only the rounds were of
+wood, so that at every step there was a joint. At my first glimpse of
+the pulpit, it had not escaped me that however convenient for a ship,
+these joints in the present instance seemed unnecessary. For I was not
+prepared to see Father Mapple after gaining the height, slowly turn
+round, and stooping over the pulpit, deliberately drag up the ladder
+step by step, till the whole was deposited within, leaving him
+impregnable in his little Quebec.
+
+I pondered some time without fully comprehending the reason for this.
+Father Mapple enjoyed such a wide reputation for sincerity and
+sanctity, that I could not suspect him of courting notoriety by any
+mere tricks of the stage. No, thought I, there must be some sober
+reason for this thing; furthermore, it must symbolize something unseen.
+Can it be, then, that by that act of physical isolation, he signifies
+his spiritual withdrawal for the time, from all outward worldly ties
+and connexions? Yes, for replenished with the meat and wine of the
+word, to the faithful man of God, this pulpit, I see, is a
+self-containing stronghold—a lofty Ehrenbreitstein, with a perennial
+well of water within the walls.
+
+But the side ladder was not the only strange feature of the place,
+borrowed from the chaplain’s former sea-farings. Between the marble
+cenotaphs on either hand of the pulpit, the wall which formed its back
+was adorned with a large painting representing a gallant ship beating
+against a terrible storm off a lee coast of black rocks and snowy
+breakers. But high above the flying scud and dark-rolling clouds, there
+floated a little isle of sunlight, from which beamed forth an angel’s
+face; and this bright face shed a distinct spot of radiance upon the
+ship’s tossed deck, something like that silver plate now inserted into
+the Victory’s plank where Nelson fell. “Ah, noble ship,” the angel
+seemed to say, “beat on, beat on, thou noble ship, and bear a hardy
+helm; for lo! the sun is breaking through; the clouds are rolling
+off—serenest azure is at hand.”
+
+Nor was the pulpit itself without a trace of the same sea-taste that
+had achieved the ladder and the picture. Its panelled front was in the
+likeness of a ship’s bluff bows, and the Holy Bible rested on a
+projecting piece of scroll work, fashioned after a ship’s fiddle-headed
+beak.
+
+What could be more full of meaning?—for the pulpit is ever this earth’s
+foremost part; all the rest comes in its rear; the pulpit leads the
+world. From thence it is the storm of God’s quick wrath is first
+descried, and the bow must bear the earliest brunt. From thence it is
+the God of breezes fair or foul is first invoked for favourable winds.
+Yes, the world’s a ship on its passage out, and not a voyage complete;
+and the pulpit is its prow.
+
+
+CHAPTER 9. The Sermon.
+
+Father Mapple rose, and in a mild voice of unassuming authority ordered
+the scattered people to condense. “Starboard gangway, there! side away
+to larboard—larboard gangway to starboard! Midships! midships!”
+
+There was a low rumbling of heavy sea-boots among the benches, and a
+still slighter shuffling of women’s shoes, and all was quiet again, and
+every eye on the preacher.
+
+He paused a little; then kneeling in the pulpit’s bows, folded his
+large brown hands across his chest, uplifted his closed eyes, and
+offered a prayer so deeply devout that he seemed kneeling and praying
+at the bottom of the sea.
+
+This ended, in prolonged solemn tones, like the continual tolling of a
+bell in a ship that is foundering at sea in a fog—in such tones he
+commenced reading the following hymn; but changing his manner towards
+the concluding stanzas, burst forth with a pealing exultation and joy—
+
+
+  “The ribs and terrors in the whale, Arched over me a dismal gloom,
+  While all God’s sun-lit waves rolled by, And lift me deepening down
+  to doom.
+
+  “I saw the opening maw of hell, With endless pains and sorrows there;
+  Which none but they that feel can tell— Oh, I was plunging to
+  despair.
+
+  “In black distress, I called my God, When I could scarce believe him
+  mine, He bowed his ear to my complaints— No more the whale did me
+  confine.
+
+  “With speed he flew to my relief, As on a radiant dolphin borne;
+  Awful, yet bright, as lightning shone The face of my Deliverer God.
+
+  “My song for ever shall record That terrible, that joyful hour; I
+  give the glory to my God, His all the mercy and the power.”
+
+
+
+
+Nearly all joined in singing this hymn, which swelled high above the
+howling of the storm. A brief pause ensued; the preacher slowly turned
+over the leaves of the Bible, and at last, folding his hand down upon
+the proper page, said: “Beloved shipmates, clinch the last verse of the
+first chapter of Jonah—‘And God had prepared a great fish to swallow up
+Jonah.’”
+
+“Shipmates, this book, containing only four chapters—four yarns—is one
+of the smallest strands in the mighty cable of the Scriptures. Yet what
+depths of the soul does Jonah’s deep sealine sound! what a pregnant
+lesson to us is this prophet! What a noble thing is that canticle in
+the fish’s belly! How billow-like and boisterously grand! We feel the
+floods surging over us; we sound with him to the kelpy bottom of the
+waters; sea-weed and all the slime of the sea is about us! But _what_
+is this lesson that the book of Jonah teaches? Shipmates, it is a
+two-stranded lesson; a lesson to us all as sinful men, and a lesson to
+me as a pilot of the living God. As sinful men, it is a lesson to us
+all, because it is a story of the sin, hard-heartedness, suddenly
+awakened fears, the swift punishment, repentance, prayers, and finally
+the deliverance and joy of Jonah. As with all sinners among men, the
+sin of this son of Amittai was in his wilful disobedience of the
+command of God—never mind now what that command was, or how
+conveyed—which he found a hard command. But all the things that God
+would have us do are hard for us to do—remember that—and hence, he
+oftener commands us than endeavors to persuade. And if we obey God, we
+must disobey ourselves; and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein
+the hardness of obeying God consists.
+
+“With this sin of disobedience in him, Jonah still further flouts at
+God, by seeking to flee from Him. He thinks that a ship made by men
+will carry him into countries where God does not reign, but only the
+Captains of this earth. He skulks about the wharves of Joppa, and seeks
+a ship that’s bound for Tarshish. There lurks, perhaps, a hitherto
+unheeded meaning here. By all accounts Tarshish could have been no
+other city than the modern Cadiz. That’s the opinion of learned men.
+And where is Cadiz, shipmates? Cadiz is in Spain; as far by water, from
+Joppa, as Jonah could possibly have sailed in those ancient days, when
+the Atlantic was an almost unknown sea. Because Joppa, the modern
+Jaffa, shipmates, is on the most easterly coast of the Mediterranean,
+the Syrian; and Tarshish or Cadiz more than two thousand miles to the
+westward from that, just outside the Straits of Gibraltar. See ye not
+then, shipmates, that Jonah sought to flee world-wide from God?
+Miserable man! Oh! most contemptible and worthy of all scorn; with
+slouched hat and guilty eye, skulking from his God; prowling among the
+shipping like a vile burglar hastening to cross the seas. So
+disordered, self-condemning is his look, that had there been policemen
+in those days, Jonah, on the mere suspicion of something wrong, had
+been arrested ere he touched a deck. How plainly he’s a fugitive! no
+baggage, not a hat-box, valise, or carpet-bag,—no friends accompany him
+to the wharf with their adieux. At last, after much dodging search, he
+finds the Tarshish ship receiving the last items of her cargo; and as
+he steps on board to see its Captain in the cabin, all the sailors for
+the moment desist from hoisting in the goods, to mark the stranger’s
+evil eye. Jonah sees this; but in vain he tries to look all ease and
+confidence; in vain essays his wretched smile. Strong intuitions of the
+man assure the mariners he can be no innocent. In their gamesome but
+still serious way, one whispers to the other—“Jack, he’s robbed a
+widow;” or, “Joe, do you mark him; he’s a bigamist;” or, “Harry lad, I
+guess he’s the adulterer that broke jail in old Gomorrah, or belike,
+one of the missing murderers from Sodom.” Another runs to read the bill
+that’s stuck against the spile upon the wharf to which the ship is
+moored, offering five hundred gold coins for the apprehension of a
+parricide, and containing a description of his person. He reads, and
+looks from Jonah to the bill; while all his sympathetic shipmates now
+crowd round Jonah, prepared to lay their hands upon him. Frighted Jonah
+trembles, and summoning all his boldness to his face, only looks so
+much the more a coward. He will not confess himself suspected; but that
+itself is strong suspicion. So he makes the best of it; and when the
+sailors find him not to be the man that is advertised, they let him
+pass, and he descends into the cabin.
+
+“‘Who’s there?’ cries the Captain at his busy desk, hurriedly making
+out his papers for the Customs—‘Who’s there?’ Oh! how that harmless
+question mangles Jonah! For the instant he almost turns to flee again.
+But he rallies. ‘I seek a passage in this ship to Tarshish; how soon
+sail ye, sir?’ Thus far the busy Captain had not looked up to Jonah,
+though the man now stands before him; but no sooner does he hear that
+hollow voice, than he darts a scrutinizing glance. ‘We sail with the
+next coming tide,’ at last he slowly answered, still intently eyeing
+him. ‘No sooner, sir?’—‘Soon enough for any honest man that goes a
+passenger.’ Ha! Jonah, that’s another stab. But he swiftly calls away
+the Captain from that scent. ‘I’ll sail with ye,’—he says,—‘the passage
+money how much is that?—I’ll pay now.’ For it is particularly written,
+shipmates, as if it were a thing not to be overlooked in this history,
+‘that he paid the fare thereof’ ere the craft did sail. And taken with
+the context, this is full of meaning.
+
+“Now Jonah’s Captain, shipmates, was one whose discernment detects
+crime in any, but whose cupidity exposes it only in the penniless. In
+this world, shipmates, sin that pays its way can travel freely, and
+without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all
+frontiers. So Jonah’s Captain prepares to test the length of Jonah’s
+purse, ere he judge him openly. He charges him thrice the usual sum;
+and it’s assented to. Then the Captain knows that Jonah is a fugitive;
+but at the same time resolves to help a flight that paves its rear with
+gold. Yet when Jonah fairly takes out his purse, prudent suspicions
+still molest the Captain. He rings every coin to find a counterfeit.
+Not a forger, any way, he mutters; and Jonah is put down for his
+passage. ‘Point out my state-room, Sir,’ says Jonah now, ‘I’m
+travel-weary; I need sleep.’ ‘Thou lookest like it,’ says the Captain,
+‘there’s thy room.’ Jonah enters, and would lock the door, but the lock
+contains no key. Hearing him foolishly fumbling there, the Captain
+laughs lowly to himself, and mutters something about the doors of
+convicts’ cells being never allowed to be locked within. All dressed
+and dusty as he is, Jonah throws himself into his berth, and finds the
+little state-room ceiling almost resting on his forehead. The air is
+close, and Jonah gasps. Then, in that contracted hole, sunk, too,
+beneath the ship’s water-line, Jonah feels the heralding presentiment
+of that stifling hour, when the whale shall hold him in the smallest of
+his bowels’ wards.
+
+“Screwed at its axis against the side, a swinging lamp slightly
+oscillates in Jonah’s room; and the ship, heeling over towards the
+wharf with the weight of the last bales received, the lamp, flame and
+all, though in slight motion, still maintains a permanent obliquity
+with reference to the room; though, in truth, infallibly straight
+itself, it but made obvious the false, lying levels among which it
+hung. The lamp alarms and frightens Jonah; as lying in his berth his
+tormented eyes roll round the place, and this thus far successful
+fugitive finds no refuge for his restless glance. But that
+contradiction in the lamp more and more appals him. The floor, the
+ceiling, and the side, are all awry. ‘Oh! so my conscience hangs in
+me!’ he groans, ‘straight upwards, so it burns; but the chambers of my
+soul are all in crookedness!’
+
+“Like one who after a night of drunken revelry hies to his bed, still
+reeling, but with conscience yet pricking him, as the plungings of the
+Roman race-horse but so much the more strike his steel tags into him;
+as one who in that miserable plight still turns and turns in giddy
+anguish, praying God for annihilation until the fit be passed; and at
+last amid the whirl of woe he feels, a deep stupor steals over him, as
+over the man who bleeds to death, for conscience is the wound, and
+there’s naught to staunch it; so, after sore wrestlings in his berth,
+Jonah’s prodigy of ponderous misery drags him drowning down to sleep.
+
+“And now the time of tide has come; the ship casts off her cables; and
+from the deserted wharf the uncheered ship for Tarshish, all careening,
+glides to sea. That ship, my friends, was the first of recorded
+smugglers! the contraband was Jonah. But the sea rebels; he will not
+bear the wicked burden. A dreadful storm comes on, the ship is like to
+break. But now when the boatswain calls all hands to lighten her; when
+boxes, bales, and jars are clattering overboard; when the wind is
+shrieking, and the men are yelling, and every plank thunders with
+trampling feet right over Jonah’s head; in all this raging tumult,
+Jonah sleeps his hideous sleep. He sees no black sky and raging sea,
+feels not the reeling timbers, and little hears he or heeds he the far
+rush of the mighty whale, which even now with open mouth is cleaving
+the seas after him. Aye, shipmates, Jonah was gone down into the sides
+of the ship—a berth in the cabin as I have taken it, and was fast
+asleep. But the frightened master comes to him, and shrieks in his dead
+ear, ‘What meanest thou, O, sleeper! arise!’ Startled from his lethargy
+by that direful cry, Jonah staggers to his feet, and stumbling to the
+deck, grasps a shroud, to look out upon the sea. But at that moment he
+is sprung upon by a panther billow leaping over the bulwarks. Wave
+after wave thus leaps into the ship, and finding no speedy vent runs
+roaring fore and aft, till the mariners come nigh to drowning while yet
+afloat. And ever, as the white moon shows her affrighted face from the
+steep gullies in the blackness overhead, aghast Jonah sees the rearing
+bowsprit pointing high upward, but soon beat downward again towards the
+tormented deep.
+
+“Terrors upon terrors run shouting through his soul. In all his
+cringing attitudes, the God-fugitive is now too plainly known. The
+sailors mark him; more and more certain grow their suspicions of him,
+and at last, fully to test the truth, by referring the whole matter to
+high Heaven, they fall to casting lots, to see for whose cause this
+great tempest was upon them. The lot is Jonah’s; that discovered, then
+how furiously they mob him with their questions. ‘What is thine
+occupation? Whence comest thou? Thy country? What people? But mark now,
+my shipmates, the behavior of poor Jonah. The eager mariners but ask
+him who he is, and where from; whereas, they not only receive an answer
+to those questions, but likewise another answer to a question not put
+by them, but the unsolicited answer is forced from Jonah by the hard
+hand of God that is upon him.
+
+“‘I am a Hebrew,’ he cries—and then—‘I fear the Lord the God of Heaven
+who hath made the sea and the dry land!’ Fear him, O Jonah? Aye, well
+mightest thou fear the Lord God _then!_ Straightway, he now goes on to
+make a full confession; whereupon the mariners became more and more
+appalled, but still are pitiful. For when Jonah, not yet supplicating
+God for mercy, since he but too well knew the darkness of his
+deserts,—when wretched Jonah cries out to them to take him and cast him
+forth into the sea, for he knew that for _his_ sake this great tempest
+was upon them; they mercifully turn from him, and seek by other means
+to save the ship. But all in vain; the indignant gale howls louder;
+then, with one hand raised invokingly to God, with the other they not
+unreluctantly lay hold of Jonah.
+
+“And now behold Jonah taken up as an anchor and dropped into the sea;
+when instantly an oily calmness floats out from the east, and the sea
+is still, as Jonah carries down the gale with him, leaving smooth water
+behind. He goes down in the whirling heart of such a masterless
+commotion that he scarce heeds the moment when he drops seething into
+the yawning jaws awaiting him; and the whale shoots-to all his ivory
+teeth, like so many white bolts, upon his prison. Then Jonah prayed
+unto the Lord out of the fish’s belly. But observe his prayer, and
+learn a weighty lesson. For sinful as he is, Jonah does not weep and
+wail for direct deliverance. He feels that his dreadful punishment is
+just. He leaves all his deliverance to God, contenting himself with
+this, that spite of all his pains and pangs, he will still look towards
+His holy temple. And here, shipmates, is true and faithful repentance;
+not clamorous for pardon, but grateful for punishment. And how pleasing
+to God was this conduct in Jonah, is shown in the eventual deliverance
+of him from the sea and the whale. Shipmates, I do not place Jonah
+before you to be copied for his sin but I do place him before you as a
+model for repentance. Sin not; but if you do, take heed to repent of it
+like Jonah.”
+
+While he was speaking these words, the howling of the shrieking,
+slanting storm without seemed to add new power to the preacher, who,
+when describing Jonah’s sea-storm, seemed tossed by a storm himself.
+His deep chest heaved as with a ground-swell; his tossed arms seemed
+the warring elements at work; and the thunders that rolled away from
+off his swarthy brow, and the light leaping from his eye, made all his
+simple hearers look on him with a quick fear that was strange to them.
+
+There now came a lull in his look, as he silently turned over the
+leaves of the Book once more; and, at last, standing motionless, with
+closed eyes, for the moment, seemed communing with God and himself.
+
+But again he leaned over towards the people, and bowing his head lowly,
+with an aspect of the deepest yet manliest humility, he spake these
+words:
+
+“Shipmates, God has laid but one hand upon you; both his hands press
+upon me. I have read ye by what murky light may be mine the lesson that
+Jonah teaches to all sinners; and therefore to ye, and still more to
+me, for I am a greater sinner than ye. And now how gladly would I come
+down from this mast-head and sit on the hatches there where you sit,
+and listen as you listen, while some one of you reads _me_ that other
+and more awful lesson which Jonah teaches to _me_, as a pilot of the
+living God. How being an anointed pilot-prophet, or speaker of true
+things, and bidden by the Lord to sound those unwelcome truths in the
+ears of a wicked Nineveh, Jonah, appalled at the hostility he should
+raise, fled from his mission, and sought to escape his duty and his God
+by taking ship at Joppa. But God is everywhere; Tarshish he never
+reached. As we have seen, God came upon him in the whale, and swallowed
+him down to living gulfs of doom, and with swift slantings tore him
+along ‘into the midst of the seas,’ where the eddying depths sucked him
+ten thousand fathoms down, and ‘the weeds were wrapped about his head,’
+and all the watery world of woe bowled over him. Yet even then beyond
+the reach of any plummet—‘out of the belly of hell’—when the whale
+grounded upon the ocean’s utmost bones, even then, God heard the
+engulphed, repenting prophet when he cried. Then God spake unto the
+fish; and from the shuddering cold and blackness of the sea, the whale
+came breeching up towards the warm and pleasant sun, and all the
+delights of air and earth; and ‘vomited out Jonah upon the dry land;’
+when the word of the Lord came a second time; and Jonah, bruised and
+beaten—his ears, like two sea-shells, still multitudinously murmuring
+of the ocean—Jonah did the Almighty’s bidding. And what was that,
+shipmates? To preach the Truth to the face of Falsehood! That was it!
+
+“This, shipmates, this is that other lesson; and woe to that pilot of
+the living God who slights it. Woe to him whom this world charms from
+Gospel duty! Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God
+has brewed them into a gale! Woe to him who seeks to please rather than
+to appal! Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness! Woe
+to him who, in this world, courts not dishonor! Woe to him who would
+not be true, even though to be false were salvation! Yea, woe to him
+who, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is
+himself a castaway!”
+
+He dropped and fell away from himself for a moment; then lifting his
+face to them again, showed a deep joy in his eyes, as he cried out with
+a heavenly enthusiasm,—“But oh! shipmates! on the starboard hand of
+every woe, there is a sure delight; and higher the top of that delight,
+than the bottom of the woe is deep. Is not the main-truck higher than
+the kelson is low? Delight is to him—a far, far upward, and inward
+delight—who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever
+stands forth his own inexorable self. Delight is to him whose strong
+arms yet support him, when the ship of this base treacherous world has
+gone down beneath him. Delight is to him, who gives no quarter in the
+truth, and kills, burns, and destroys all sin though he pluck it out
+from under the robes of Senators and Judges. Delight,—top-gallant
+delight is to him, who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his
+God, and is only a patriot to heaven. Delight is to him, whom all the
+waves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake
+from this sure Keel of the Ages. And eternal delight and deliciousness
+will be his, who coming to lay him down, can say with his final
+breath—O Father!—chiefly known to me by Thy rod—mortal or immortal,
+here I die. I have striven to be Thine, more than to be this world’s,
+or mine own. Yet this is nothing: I leave eternity to Thee; for what is
+man that he should live out the lifetime of his God?”
+
+He said no more, but slowly waving a benediction, covered his face with
+his hands, and so remained kneeling, till all the people had departed,
+and he was left alone in the place.
+
+
+CHAPTER 10. A Bosom Friend.
+
+Returning to the Spouter-Inn from the Chapel, I found Queequeg there
+quite alone; he having left the Chapel before the benediction some
+time. He was sitting on a bench before the fire, with his feet on the
+stove hearth, and in one hand was holding close up to his face that
+little negro idol of his; peering hard into its face, and with a
+jack-knife gently whittling away at its nose, meanwhile humming to
+himself in his heathenish way.
+
+But being now interrupted, he put up the image; and pretty soon, going
+to the table, took up a large book there, and placing it on his lap
+began counting the pages with deliberate regularity; at every fiftieth
+page—as I fancied—stopping a moment, looking vacantly around him, and
+giving utterance to a long-drawn gurgling whistle of astonishment. He
+would then begin again at the next fifty; seeming to commence at number
+one each time, as though he could not count more than fifty, and it was
+only by such a large number of fifties being found together, that his
+astonishment at the multitude of pages was excited.
+
+With much interest I sat watching him. Savage though he was, and
+hideously marred about the face—at least to my taste—his countenance
+yet had a something in it which was by no means disagreeable. You
+cannot hide the soul. Through all his unearthly tattooings, I thought I
+saw the traces of a simple honest heart; and in his large, deep eyes,
+fiery black and bold, there seemed tokens of a spirit that would dare a
+thousand devils. And besides all this, there was a certain lofty
+bearing about the Pagan, which even his uncouthness could not
+altogether maim. He looked like a man who had never cringed and never
+had had a creditor. Whether it was, too, that his head being shaved,
+his forehead was drawn out in freer and brighter relief, and looked
+more expansive than it otherwise would, this I will not venture to
+decide; but certain it was his head was phrenologically an excellent
+one. It may seem ridiculous, but it reminded me of General Washington’s
+head, as seen in the popular busts of him. It had the same long
+regularly graded retreating slope from above the brows, which were
+likewise very projecting, like two long promontories thickly wooded on
+top. Queequeg was George Washington cannibalistically developed.
+
+Whilst I was thus closely scanning him, half-pretending meanwhile to be
+looking out at the storm from the casement, he never heeded my
+presence, never troubled himself with so much as a single glance; but
+appeared wholly occupied with counting the pages of the marvellous
+book. Considering how sociably we had been sleeping together the night
+previous, and especially considering the affectionate arm I had found
+thrown over me upon waking in the morning, I thought this indifference
+of his very strange. But savages are strange beings; at times you do
+not know exactly how to take them. At first they are overawing; their
+calm self-collectedness of simplicity seems a Socratic wisdom. I had
+noticed also that Queequeg never consorted at all, or but very little,
+with the other seamen in the inn. He made no advances whatever;
+appeared to have no desire to enlarge the circle of his acquaintances.
+All this struck me as mighty singular; yet, upon second thoughts, there
+was something almost sublime in it. Here was a man some twenty thousand
+miles from home, by the way of Cape Horn, that is—which was the only
+way he could get there—thrown among people as strange to him as though
+he were in the planet Jupiter; and yet he seemed entirely at his ease;
+preserving the utmost serenity; content with his own companionship;
+always equal to himself. Surely this was a touch of fine philosophy;
+though no doubt he had never heard there was such a thing as that. But,
+perhaps, to be true philosophers, we mortals should not be conscious of
+so living or so striving. So soon as I hear that such or such a man
+gives himself out for a philosopher, I conclude that, like the
+dyspeptic old woman, he must have “broken his digester.”
+
+As I sat there in that now lonely room; the fire burning low, in that
+mild stage when, after its first intensity has warmed the air, it then
+only glows to be looked at; the evening shades and phantoms gathering
+round the casements, and peering in upon us silent, solitary twain; the
+storm booming without in solemn swells; I began to be sensible of
+strange feelings. I felt a melting in me. No more my splintered heart
+and maddened hand were turned against the wolfish world. This soothing
+savage had redeemed it. There he sat, his very indifference speaking a
+nature in which there lurked no civilized hypocrisies and bland
+deceits. Wild he was; a very sight of sights to see; yet I began to
+feel myself mysteriously drawn towards him. And those same things that
+would have repelled most others, they were the very magnets that thus
+drew me. I’ll try a pagan friend, thought I, since Christian kindness
+has proved but hollow courtesy. I drew my bench near him, and made some
+friendly signs and hints, doing my best to talk with him meanwhile. At
+first he little noticed these advances; but presently, upon my
+referring to his last night’s hospitalities, he made out to ask me
+whether we were again to be bedfellows. I told him yes; whereat I
+thought he looked pleased, perhaps a little complimented.
+
+We then turned over the book together, and I endeavored to explain to
+him the purpose of the printing, and the meaning of the few pictures
+that were in it. Thus I soon engaged his interest; and from that we
+went to jabbering the best we could about the various outer sights to
+be seen in this famous town. Soon I proposed a social smoke; and,
+producing his pouch and tomahawk, he quietly offered me a puff. And
+then we sat exchanging puffs from that wild pipe of his, and keeping it
+regularly passing between us.
+
+If there yet lurked any ice of indifference towards me in the Pagan’s
+breast, this pleasant, genial smoke we had, soon thawed it out, and
+left us cronies. He seemed to take to me quite as naturally and
+unbiddenly as I to him; and when our smoke was over, he pressed his
+forehead against mine, clasped me round the waist, and said that
+henceforth we were married; meaning, in his country’s phrase, that we
+were bosom friends; he would gladly die for me, if need should be. In a
+countryman, this sudden flame of friendship would have seemed far too
+premature, a thing to be much distrusted; but in this simple savage
+those old rules would not apply.
+
+After supper, and another social chat and smoke, we went to our room
+together. He made me a present of his embalmed head; took out his
+enormous tobacco wallet, and groping under the tobacco, drew out some
+thirty dollars in silver; then spreading them on the table, and
+mechanically dividing them into two equal portions, pushed one of them
+towards me, and said it was mine. I was going to remonstrate; but he
+silenced me by pouring them into my trowsers’ pockets. I let them stay.
+He then went about his evening prayers, took out his idol, and removed
+the paper fireboard. By certain signs and symptoms, I thought he seemed
+anxious for me to join him; but well knowing what was to follow, I
+deliberated a moment whether, in case he invited me, I would comply or
+otherwise.
+
+I was a good Christian; born and bred in the bosom of the infallible
+Presbyterian Church. How then could I unite with this wild idolator in
+worshipping his piece of wood? But what is worship? thought I. Do you
+suppose now, Ishmael, that the magnanimous God of heaven and
+earth—pagans and all included—can possibly be jealous of an
+insignificant bit of black wood? Impossible! But what is worship?—to do
+the will of God—_that_ is worship. And what is the will of God?—to do
+to my fellow man what I would have my fellow man to do to me—_that_ is
+the will of God. Now, Queequeg is my fellow man. And what do I wish
+that this Queequeg would do to me? Why, unite with me in my particular
+Presbyterian form of worship. Consequently, I must then unite with him
+in his; ergo, I must turn idolator. So I kindled the shavings; helped
+prop up the innocent little idol; offered him burnt biscuit with
+Queequeg; salamed before him twice or thrice; kissed his nose; and that
+done, we undressed and went to bed, at peace with our own consciences
+and all the world. But we did not go to sleep without some little chat.
+
+How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential
+disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the
+very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often
+lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. Thus, then, in our
+hearts’ honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg—a cosy, loving pair.
+
+
+CHAPTER 11. Nightgown.
+
+We had lain thus in bed, chatting and napping at short intervals, and
+Queequeg now and then affectionately throwing his brown tattooed legs
+over mine, and then drawing them back; so entirely sociable and free
+and easy were we; when, at last, by reason of our confabulations, what
+little nappishness remained in us altogether departed, and we felt like
+getting up again, though day-break was yet some way down the future.
+
+Yes, we became very wakeful; so much so that our recumbent position
+began to grow wearisome, and by little and little we found ourselves
+sitting up; the clothes well tucked around us, leaning against the
+head-board with our four knees drawn up close together, and our two
+noses bending over them, as if our kneepans were warming-pans. We felt
+very nice and snug, the more so since it was so chilly out of doors;
+indeed out of bed-clothes too, seeing that there was no fire in the
+room. The more so, I say, because 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. But
+if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown
+of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general
+consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm. For
+this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire,
+which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height
+of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket
+between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there
+you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.
+
+We had been sitting in this crouching manner for some time, when all at
+once I thought I would open my eyes; for when between sheets, whether
+by day or by night, and whether asleep or awake, I have a way of always
+keeping my eyes shut, in order the more to concentrate the snugness of
+being in bed. Because no man can ever feel his own identity aright
+except his eyes be closed; as if darkness were indeed the proper
+element of our essences, though light be more congenial to our clayey
+part. Upon opening my eyes then, and coming out of my own pleasant and
+self-created darkness into the imposed and coarse outer gloom of the
+unilluminated twelve-o’clock-at-night, I experienced a disagreeable
+revulsion. Nor did I at all object to the hint from Queequeg that
+perhaps it were best to strike a light, seeing that we were so wide
+awake; and besides he felt a strong desire to have a few quiet puffs
+from his Tomahawk. Be it said, that though I had felt such a strong
+repugnance to his smoking in the bed the night before, yet see how
+elastic our stiff prejudices grow when love once comes to bend them.
+For now I liked nothing better than to have Queequeg smoking by me,
+even in bed, because he seemed to be full of such serene household joy
+then. I no more felt unduly concerned for the landlord’s policy of
+insurance. I was only alive to the condensed confidential
+comfortableness of sharing a pipe and a blanket with a real friend.
+With our shaggy jackets drawn about our shoulders, we now passed the
+Tomahawk from one to the other, till slowly there grew over us a blue
+hanging tester of smoke, illuminated by the flame of the new-lit lamp.
+
+Whether it was that this undulating tester rolled the savage away to
+far distant scenes, I know not, but he now spoke of his native island;
+and, eager to hear his history, I begged him to go on and tell it. He
+gladly complied. Though at the time I but ill comprehended not a few of
+his words, yet subsequent disclosures, when I had become more familiar
+with his broken phraseology, now enable me to present the whole story
+such as it may prove in the mere skeleton I give.
+
+
+CHAPTER 12. Biographical.
+
+Queequeg was a native of Rokovoko, an island far away to the West and
+South. It is not down in any map; true places never are.
+
+When a new-hatched savage running wild about his native woodlands in a
+grass clout, followed by the nibbling goats, as if he were a green
+sapling; even then, in Queequeg’s ambitious soul, lurked a strong
+desire to see something more of Christendom than a specimen whaler or
+two. His father was a High Chief, a King; his uncle a High Priest; and
+on the maternal side he boasted aunts who were the wives of
+unconquerable warriors. There was excellent blood in his veins—royal
+stuff; though sadly vitiated, I fear, by the cannibal propensity he
+nourished in his untutored youth.
+
+A Sag Harbor ship visited his father’s bay, and Queequeg sought a
+passage to Christian lands. But the ship, having her full complement of
+seamen, spurned his suit; and not all the King his father’s influence
+could prevail. But Queequeg vowed a vow. Alone in his canoe, he paddled
+off to a distant strait, which he knew the ship must pass through when
+she quitted the island. On one side was a coral reef; on the other a
+low tongue of land, covered with mangrove thickets that grew out into
+the water. Hiding his canoe, still afloat, among these thickets, with
+its prow seaward, he sat down in the stern, paddle low in hand; and
+when the ship was gliding by, like a flash he darted out; gained her
+side; with one backward dash of his foot capsized and sank his canoe;
+climbed up the chains; and throwing himself at full length upon the
+deck, grappled a ring-bolt there, and swore not to let it go, though
+hacked in pieces.
+
+In vain the captain threatened to throw him overboard; suspended a
+cutlass over his naked wrists; Queequeg was the son of a King, and
+Queequeg budged not. Struck by his desperate dauntlessness, and his
+wild desire to visit Christendom, the captain at last relented, and
+told him he might make himself at home. But this fine young savage—this
+sea Prince of Wales, never saw the Captain’s cabin. They put him down
+among the sailors, and made a whaleman of him. But like Czar Peter
+content to toil in the shipyards of foreign cities, Queequeg disdained
+no seeming ignominy, if thereby he might happily gain the power of
+enlightening his untutored countrymen. For at bottom—so he told me—he
+was actuated by a profound desire to learn among the Christians, the
+arts whereby to make his people still happier than they were; and more
+than that, still better than they were. But, alas! the practices of
+whalemen soon convinced him that even Christians could be both
+miserable and wicked; infinitely more so, than all his father’s
+heathens. Arrived at last in old Sag Harbor; and seeing what the
+sailors did there; and then going on to Nantucket, and seeing how they
+spent their wages in _that_ place also, poor Queequeg gave it up for
+lost. Thought he, it’s a wicked world in all meridians; I’ll die a
+pagan.
+
+And thus an old idolator at heart, he yet lived among these Christians,
+wore their clothes, and tried to talk their gibberish. Hence the queer
+ways about him, though now some time from home.
+
+By hints, I asked him whether he did not propose going back, and having
+a coronation; since he might now consider his father dead and gone, he
+being very old and feeble at the last accounts. He answered no, not
+yet; and added that he was fearful Christianity, or rather Christians,
+had unfitted him for ascending the pure and undefiled throne of thirty
+pagan Kings before him. But by and by, he said, he would return,—as
+soon as he felt himself baptized again. For the nonce, however, he
+proposed to sail about, and sow his wild oats in all four oceans. They
+had made a harpooneer of him, and that barbed iron was in lieu of a
+sceptre now.
+
+I asked him what might be his immediate purpose, touching his future
+movements. He answered, to go to sea again, in his old vocation. Upon
+this, I told him that whaling was my own design, and informed him of my
+intention to sail out of Nantucket, as being the most promising port
+for an adventurous whaleman to embark from. He at once resolved to
+accompany me to that island, ship aboard the same vessel, get into the
+same watch, the same boat, the same mess with me, in short to share my
+every hap; with both my hands in his, boldly dip into the Potluck of
+both worlds. To all this I joyously assented; for besides the affection
+I now felt for Queequeg, he was an experienced harpooneer, and as such,
+could not fail to be of great usefulness to one, who, like me, was
+wholly ignorant of the mysteries of whaling, though well acquainted
+with the sea, as known to merchant seamen.
+
+His story being ended with his pipe’s last dying puff, Queequeg
+embraced me, pressed his forehead against mine, and blowing out the
+light, we rolled over from each other, this way and that, and very soon
+were sleeping.
+
+
+CHAPTER 13. Wheelbarrow.
+
+Next morning, Monday, after disposing of the embalmed head to a barber,
+for a block, I settled my own and comrade’s bill; using, however, my
+comrade’s money. The grinning landlord, as well as the boarders, seemed
+amazingly tickled at the sudden friendship which had sprung up between
+me and Queequeg—especially as Peter Coffin’s cock and bull stories
+about him had previously so much alarmed me concerning the very person
+whom I now companied with.
+
+We borrowed a wheelbarrow, and embarking our things, including my own
+poor carpet-bag, and Queequeg’s canvas sack and hammock, away we went
+down to “the Moss,” the little Nantucket packet schooner moored at the
+wharf. As we were going along the people stared; not at Queequeg so
+much—for they were used to seeing cannibals like him in their
+streets,—but at seeing him and me upon such confidential terms. But we
+heeded them not, going along wheeling the barrow by turns, and Queequeg
+now and then stopping to adjust the sheath on his harpoon barbs. I
+asked him why he carried such a troublesome thing with him ashore, and
+whether all whaling ships did not find their own harpoons. To this, in
+substance, he replied, that though what I hinted was true enough, yet
+he had a particular affection for his own harpoon, because it was of
+assured stuff, well tried in many a mortal combat, and deeply intimate
+with the hearts of whales. In short, like many inland reapers and
+mowers, who go into the farmers’ meadows armed with their own
+scythes—though in no wise obliged to furnish them—even so, Queequeg,
+for his own private reasons, preferred his own harpoon.
+
+Shifting the barrow from my hand to his, he told me a funny story about
+the first wheelbarrow he had ever seen. It was in Sag Harbor. The
+owners of his ship, it seems, had lent him one, in which to carry his
+heavy chest to his boarding house. Not to seem ignorant about the
+thing—though in truth he was entirely so, concerning the precise way in
+which to manage the barrow—Queequeg puts his chest upon it; lashes it
+fast; and then shoulders the barrow and marches up the wharf. “Why,”
+said I, “Queequeg, you might have known better than that, one would
+think. Didn’t the people laugh?”
+
+Upon this, he told me another story. The people of his island of
+Rokovoko, it seems, at their wedding feasts express the fragrant water
+of young cocoanuts into a large stained calabash like a punchbowl; and
+this punchbowl always forms the great central ornament on the braided
+mat where the feast is held. Now a certain grand merchant ship once
+touched at Rokovoko, and its commander—from all accounts, a very
+stately punctilious gentleman, at least for a sea captain—this
+commander was invited to the wedding feast of Queequeg’s sister, a
+pretty young princess just turned of ten. Well; when all the wedding
+guests were assembled at the bride’s bamboo cottage, this Captain
+marches in, and being assigned the post of honor, placed himself over
+against the punchbowl, and between the High Priest and his majesty the
+King, Queequeg’s father. Grace being said,—for those people have their
+grace as well as we—though Queequeg told me that unlike us, who at such
+times look downwards to our platters, they, on the contrary, copying
+the ducks, glance upwards to the great Giver of all feasts—Grace, I
+say, being said, the High Priest opens the banquet by the immemorial
+ceremony of the island; that is, dipping his consecrated and
+consecrating fingers into the bowl before the blessed beverage
+circulates. Seeing himself placed next the Priest, and noting the
+ceremony, and thinking himself—being Captain of a ship—as having plain
+precedence over a mere island King, especially in the King’s own
+house—the Captain coolly proceeds to wash his hands in the
+punchbowl;—taking it I suppose for a huge finger-glass. “Now,” said
+Queequeg, “what you tink now?—Didn’t our people laugh?”
+
+At last, passage paid, and luggage safe, we stood on board the
+schooner. Hoisting sail, it glided down the Acushnet river. On one
+side, New Bedford rose in terraces of streets, their ice-covered trees
+all glittering in the clear, cold air. Huge hills and mountains of
+casks on casks were piled upon her wharves, and side by side the
+world-wandering whale ships lay silent and safely moored at last; while
+from others came a sound of carpenters and coopers, with blended noises
+of fires and forges to melt the pitch, all betokening that new cruises
+were on the start; that one most perilous and long voyage ended, only
+begins a second; and a second ended, only begins a third, and so on,
+for ever and for aye. Such is the endlessness, yea, the intolerableness
+of all earthly effort.
+
+Gaining the more open water, the bracing breeze waxed fresh; the little
+Moss tossed the quick foam from her bows, as a young colt his
+snortings. How I snuffed that Tartar air!—how I spurned that turnpike
+earth!—that common highway all over dented with the marks of slavish
+heels and hoofs; and turned me to admire the magnanimity of the sea
+which will permit no records.
+
+At the same foam-fountain, Queequeg seemed to drink and reel with me.
+His dusky nostrils swelled apart; he showed his filed and pointed
+teeth. On, on we flew; and our offing gained, the Moss did homage to
+the blast; ducked and dived her bows as a slave before the Sultan.
+Sideways leaning, we sideways darted; every ropeyarn tingling like a
+wire; the two tall masts buckling like Indian canes in land tornadoes.
+So full of this reeling scene were we, as we stood by the plunging
+bowsprit, that for some time we did not notice the jeering glances of
+the passengers, a lubber-like assembly, who marvelled that two fellow
+beings should be so companionable; as though a white man were anything
+more dignified than a whitewashed negro. But there were some boobies
+and bumpkins there, who, by their intense greenness, must have come
+from the heart and centre of all verdure. Queequeg caught one of these
+young saplings mimicking him behind his back. I thought the bumpkin’s
+hour of doom was come. Dropping his harpoon, the brawny savage caught
+him in his arms, and by an almost miraculous dexterity and strength,
+sent him high up bodily into the air; then slightly tapping his stern
+in mid-somerset, the fellow landed with bursting lungs upon his feet,
+while Queequeg, turning his back upon him, lighted his tomahawk pipe
+and passed it to me for a puff.
+
+“Capting! Capting!” yelled the bumpkin, running towards that officer;
+“Capting, Capting, here’s the devil.”
+
+“Hallo, _you_ sir,” cried the Captain, a gaunt rib of the sea, stalking
+up to Queequeg, “what in thunder do you mean by that? Don’t you know
+you might have killed that chap?”
+
+“What him say?” said Queequeg, as he mildly turned to me.
+
+“He say,” said I, “that you came near kill-e that man there,” pointing
+to the still shivering greenhorn.
+
+“Kill-e,” cried Queequeg, twisting his tattooed face into an unearthly
+expression of disdain, “ah! him bevy small-e fish-e; Queequeg no kill-e
+so small-e fish-e; Queequeg kill-e big whale!”
+
+“Look you,” roared the Captain, “I’ll kill-e _you_, you cannibal, if
+you try any more of your tricks aboard here; so mind your eye.”
+
+But it so happened just then, that it was high time for the Captain to
+mind his own eye. The prodigious strain upon the main-sail had parted
+the weather-sheet, and the tremendous boom was now flying from side to
+side, completely sweeping the entire after part of the deck. The poor
+fellow whom Queequeg had handled so roughly, was swept overboard; all
+hands were in a panic; and to attempt snatching at the boom to stay it,
+seemed madness. It flew from right to left, and back again, almost in
+one ticking of a watch, and every instant seemed on the point of
+snapping into splinters. Nothing was done, and nothing seemed capable
+of being done; those on deck rushed towards the bows, and stood eyeing
+the boom as if it were the lower jaw of an exasperated whale. In the
+midst of this consternation, Queequeg dropped deftly to his knees, and
+crawling under the path of the boom, whipped hold of a rope, secured
+one end to the bulwarks, and then flinging the other like a lasso,
+caught it round the boom as it swept over his head, and at the next
+jerk, the spar was that way trapped, and all was safe. The schooner was
+run into the wind, and while the hands were clearing away the stern
+boat, Queequeg, stripped to the waist, darted from the side with a long
+living arc of a leap. For three minutes or more he was seen swimming
+like a dog, throwing his long arms straight out before him, and by
+turns revealing his brawny shoulders through the freezing foam. I
+looked at the grand and glorious fellow, but saw no one to be saved.
+The greenhorn had gone down. Shooting himself perpendicularly from the
+water, Queequeg, now took an instant’s glance around him, and seeming
+to see just how matters were, dived down and disappeared. A few minutes
+more, and he rose again, one arm still striking out, and with the other
+dragging a lifeless form. The boat soon picked them up. The poor
+bumpkin was restored. All hands voted Queequeg a noble trump; the
+captain begged his pardon. From that hour I clove to Queequeg like a
+barnacle; yea, till poor Queequeg took his last long dive.
+
+Was there ever such unconsciousness? He did not seem to think that he
+at all deserved a medal from the Humane and Magnanimous Societies. He
+only asked for water—fresh water—something to wipe the brine off; that
+done, he put on dry clothes, lighted his pipe, and leaning against the
+bulwarks, and mildly eyeing those around him, seemed to be saying to
+himself—“It’s a mutual, joint-stock world, in all meridians. We
+cannibals must help these Christians.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 14. Nantucket.
+
+Nothing more happened on the passage worthy the mentioning; so, after a
+fine run, we safely arrived in Nantucket.
+
+Nantucket! Take out your map and look at it. See what a real corner of
+the world it occupies; how it stands there, away off shore, more lonely
+than the Eddystone lighthouse. Look at it—a mere hillock, and elbow of
+sand; all beach, without a background. There is more sand there than
+you would use in twenty years as a substitute for blotting paper. Some
+gamesome wights will tell you that they have to plant weeds there, they
+don’t grow naturally; that they import Canada thistles; that they have
+to send beyond seas for a spile to stop a leak in an oil cask; that
+pieces of wood in Nantucket are carried about like bits of the true
+cross in Rome; that people there plant toadstools before their houses,
+to get under the shade in summer time; that one blade of grass makes an
+oasis, three blades in a day’s walk a prairie; that they wear quicksand
+shoes, something like Laplander snow-shoes; that they are so shut up,
+belted about, every way inclosed, surrounded, and made an utter island
+of by the ocean, that to their very chairs and tables small clams will
+sometimes be found adhering, as to the backs of sea turtles. But these
+extravaganzas only show that Nantucket is no Illinois.
+
+Look now at the wondrous traditional story of how this island was
+settled by the red-men. Thus goes the legend. In olden times an eagle
+swooped down upon the New England coast, and carried off an infant
+Indian in his talons. With loud lament the parents saw their child
+borne out of sight over the wide waters. They resolved to follow in the
+same direction. Setting out in their canoes, after a perilous passage
+they discovered the island, and there they found an empty ivory
+casket,—the poor little Indian’s skeleton.
+
+What wonder, then, that these Nantucketers, born on a beach, should
+take to the sea for a livelihood! They first caught crabs and quohogs
+in the sand; grown bolder, they waded out with nets for mackerel; more
+experienced, they pushed off in boats and captured cod; and at last,
+launching a navy of great ships on the sea, explored this watery world;
+put an incessant belt of circumnavigations round it; peeped in at
+Behring’s Straits; and in all seasons and all oceans declared
+everlasting war with the mightiest animated mass that has survived the
+flood; most monstrous and most mountainous! That Himmalehan, salt-sea
+Mastodon, clothed with such portentousness of unconscious power, that
+his very panics are more to be dreaded than his most fearless and
+malicious assaults!
+
+And thus have these naked Nantucketers, these sea hermits, issuing from
+their ant-hill in the sea, overrun and conquered the watery world like
+so many Alexanders; parcelling out among them the Atlantic, Pacific,
+and Indian oceans, as the three pirate powers did Poland. Let America
+add Mexico to Texas, and pile Cuba upon Canada; let the English
+overswarm all India, and hang out their blazing banner from the sun;
+two thirds of this terraqueous globe are the Nantucketer’s. For the sea
+is his; he owns it, as Emperors own empires; other seamen having but a
+right of way through it. Merchant ships are but extension bridges;
+armed ones but floating forts; even pirates and privateers, though
+following the sea as highwaymen the road, they but plunder other ships,
+other fragments of the land like themselves, without seeking to draw
+their living from the bottomless deep itself. The Nantucketer, he alone
+resides and riots on the sea; he alone, in Bible language, goes down to
+it in ships; to and fro ploughing it as his own special plantation.
+_There_ is his home; _there_ lies his business, which a Noah’s flood
+would not interrupt, though it overwhelmed all the millions in China.
+He lives on the sea, as prairie cocks in the prairie; he hides among
+the waves, he climbs them as chamois hunters climb the Alps. For years
+he knows not the land; so that when he comes to it at last, it smells
+like another world, more strangely than the moon would to an Earthsman.
+With the landless gull, that at sunset folds her wings and is rocked to
+sleep between billows; so at nightfall, the Nantucketer, out of sight
+of land, furls his sails, and lays him to his rest, while under his
+very pillow rush herds of walruses and whales.
+
+
+CHAPTER 15. Chowder.
+
+It was quite late in the evening when the little Moss came snugly to
+anchor, and Queequeg and I went ashore; so we could attend to no
+business that day, at least none but a supper and a bed. The landlord
+of the Spouter-Inn had recommended us to his cousin Hosea Hussey of the
+Try Pots, whom he asserted to be the proprietor of one of the best kept
+hotels in all Nantucket, and moreover he had assured us that Cousin
+Hosea, as he called him, was famous for his chowders. In short, he
+plainly hinted that we could not possibly do better than try pot-luck
+at the Try Pots. But the directions he had given us about keeping a
+yellow warehouse on our starboard hand till we opened a white church to
+the larboard, and then keeping that on the larboard hand till we made a
+corner three points to the starboard, and that done, then ask the first
+man we met where the place was: these crooked directions of his very
+much puzzled us at first, especially as, at the outset, Queequeg
+insisted that the yellow warehouse—our first point of departure—must be
+left on the larboard hand, whereas I had understood Peter Coffin to say
+it was on the starboard. However, by dint of beating about a little in
+the dark, and now and then knocking up a peaceable inhabitant to
+inquire the way, we at last came to something which there was no
+mistaking.
+
+Two enormous wooden pots painted black, and suspended by asses’ ears,
+swung from the cross-trees of an old top-mast, planted in front of an
+old doorway. The horns of the cross-trees were sawed off on the other
+side, so that this old top-mast looked not a little like a gallows.
+Perhaps I was over sensitive to such impressions at the time, but I
+could not help staring at this gallows with a vague misgiving. A sort
+of crick was in my neck as I gazed up to the two remaining horns; yes,
+_two_ of them, one for Queequeg, and one for me. It’s ominous, thinks
+I. A Coffin my Innkeeper upon landing in my first whaling port;
+tombstones staring at me in the whalemen’s chapel; and here a gallows!
+and a pair of prodigious black pots too! Are these last throwing out
+oblique hints touching Tophet?
+
+I was called from these reflections by the sight of a freckled woman
+with yellow hair and a yellow gown, standing in the porch of the inn,
+under a dull red lamp swinging there, that looked much like an injured
+eye, and carrying on a brisk scolding with a man in a purple woollen
+shirt.
+
+“Get along with ye,” said she to the man, “or I’ll be combing ye!”
+
+“Come on, Queequeg,” said I, “all right. There’s Mrs. Hussey.”
+
+And so it turned out; Mr. Hosea Hussey being from home, but leaving
+Mrs. Hussey entirely competent to attend to all his affairs. Upon
+making known our desires for a supper and a bed, Mrs. Hussey,
+postponing further scolding for the present, ushered us into a little
+room, and seating us at a table spread with the relics of a recently
+concluded repast, turned round to us and said—“Clam or Cod?”
+
+“What’s that about Cods, ma’am?” said I, with much politeness.
+
+“Clam or Cod?” she repeated.
+
+“A clam for supper? a cold clam; is _that_ what you mean, Mrs. Hussey?”
+says I, “but that’s a rather cold and clammy reception in the winter
+time, ain’t it, Mrs. Hussey?”
+
+But being in a great hurry to resume scolding the man in the purple
+Shirt, who was waiting for it in the entry, and seeming to hear nothing
+but the word “clam,” Mrs. Hussey hurried towards an open door leading
+to the kitchen, and bawling out “clam for two,” disappeared.
+
+“Queequeg,” said I, “do you think that we can make out a supper for us
+both on one clam?”
+
+However, a warm savory steam from the kitchen served to belie the
+apparently cheerless prospect before us. But when that smoking chowder
+came in, the mystery was delightfully explained. Oh, sweet friends!
+hearken to me. It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than
+hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuit, and salted pork cut up
+into little flakes; the whole enriched with butter, and plentifully
+seasoned with pepper and salt. Our appetites being sharpened by the
+frosty voyage, and in particular, Queequeg seeing his favourite fishing
+food before him, and the chowder being surpassingly excellent, we
+despatched it with great expedition: when leaning back a moment and
+bethinking me of Mrs. Hussey’s clam and cod announcement, I thought I
+would try a little experiment. Stepping to the kitchen door, I uttered
+the word “cod” with great emphasis, and resumed my seat. In a few
+moments the savoury steam came forth again, but with a different
+flavor, and in good time a fine cod-chowder was placed before us.
+
+We resumed business; and while plying our spoons in the bowl, thinks I
+to myself, I wonder now if this here has any effect on the head? What’s
+that stultifying saying about chowder-headed people? “But look,
+Queequeg, ain’t that a live eel in your bowl? Where’s your harpoon?”
+
+Fishiest of all fishy places was the Try Pots, which well deserved its
+name; for the pots there were always boiling chowders. Chowder for
+breakfast, and chowder for dinner, and chowder for supper, till you
+began to look for fish-bones coming through your clothes. The area
+before the house was paved with clam-shells. Mrs. Hussey wore a
+polished necklace of codfish vertebra; and Hosea Hussey had his account
+books bound in superior old shark-skin. There was a fishy flavor to the
+milk, too, which I could not at all account for, till one morning
+happening to take a stroll along the beach among some fishermen’s
+boats, I saw Hosea’s brindled cow feeding on fish remnants, and
+marching along the sand with each foot in a cod’s decapitated head,
+looking very slip-shod, I assure ye.
+
+Supper concluded, we received a lamp, and directions from Mrs. Hussey
+concerning the nearest way to bed; but, as Queequeg was about to
+precede me up the stairs, the lady reached forth her arm, and demanded
+his harpoon; she allowed no harpoon in her chambers. “Why not?” said I;
+“every true whaleman sleeps with his harpoon—but why not?” “Because
+it’s dangerous,” says she. “Ever since young Stiggs coming from that
+unfort’nt v’y’ge of his, when he was gone four years and a half, with
+only three barrels of _ile_, was found dead in my first floor back,
+with his harpoon in his side; ever since then I allow no boarders to
+take sich dangerous weepons in their rooms at night. So, Mr. Queequeg”
+(for she had learned his name), “I will just take this here iron, and
+keep it for you till morning. But the chowder; clam or cod to-morrow
+for breakfast, men?”
+
+“Both,” says I; “and let’s have a couple of smoked herring by way of
+variety.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 16. The Ship.
+
+In bed we concocted our plans for the morrow. But to my surprise and no
+small concern, Queequeg now gave me to understand, that he had been
+diligently consulting Yojo—the name of his black little god—and Yojo
+had told him two or three times over, and strongly insisted upon it
+everyway, that instead of our going together among the whaling-fleet in
+harbor, and in concert selecting our craft; instead of this, I say,
+Yojo earnestly enjoined that the selection of the ship should rest
+wholly with me, inasmuch as Yojo purposed befriending us; and, in order
+to do so, had already pitched upon a vessel, which, if left to myself,
+I, Ishmael, should infallibly light upon, for all the world as though
+it had turned out by chance; and in that vessel I must immediately ship
+myself, for the present irrespective of Queequeg.
+
+I have forgotten to mention that, in many things, Queequeg placed great
+confidence in the excellence of Yojo’s judgment and surprising forecast
+of things; and cherished Yojo with considerable esteem, as a rather
+good sort of god, who perhaps meant well enough upon the whole, but in
+all cases did not succeed in his benevolent designs.
+
+Now, this plan of Queequeg’s, or rather Yojo’s, touching the selection
+of our craft; I did not like that plan at all. I had not a little
+relied upon Queequeg’s sagacity to point out the whaler best fitted to
+carry us and our fortunes securely. But as all my remonstrances
+produced no effect upon Queequeg, I was obliged to acquiesce; and
+accordingly prepared to set about this business with a determined
+rushing sort of energy and vigor, that should quickly settle that
+trifling little affair. Next morning early, leaving Queequeg shut up
+with Yojo in our little bedroom—for it seemed that it was some sort of
+Lent or Ramadan, or day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer with
+Queequeg and Yojo that day; _how_ it was I never could find out, for,
+though I applied myself to it several times, I never could master his
+liturgies and XXXIX Articles—leaving Queequeg, then, fasting on his
+tomahawk pipe, and Yojo warming himself at his sacrificial fire of
+shavings, I sallied out among the shipping. After much prolonged
+sauntering and many random inquiries, I learnt that there were three
+ships up for three-years’ voyages—The Devil-dam, the Tit-bit, and the
+Pequod. _Devil-Dam_, I do not know the origin of; _Tit-bit_ is obvious;
+_Pequod_, you will no doubt remember, was the name of a celebrated
+tribe of Massachusetts Indians; now extinct as the ancient Medes. I
+peered and pryed about the Devil-dam; from her, hopped over to the
+Tit-bit; and finally, going on board the Pequod, looked around her for
+a moment, and then decided that this was the very ship for us.
+
+You may have seen many a quaint craft in your day, for aught I
+know;—square-toed luggers; mountainous Japanese junks; butter-box
+galliots, and what not; but take my word for it, you never saw such a
+rare old craft as this same rare old Pequod. She was a ship of the old
+school, rather small if anything; with an old-fashioned claw-footed
+look about her. Long seasoned and weather-stained in the typhoons and
+calms of all four oceans, her old hull’s complexion was darkened like a
+French grenadier’s, who has alike fought in Egypt and Siberia. Her
+venerable bows looked bearded. Her masts—cut somewhere on the coast of
+Japan, where her original ones were lost overboard in a gale—her masts
+stood stiffly up like the spines of the three old kings of Cologne. Her
+ancient decks were worn and wrinkled, like the pilgrim-worshipped
+flag-stone in Canterbury Cathedral where Becket bled. But to all these
+her old antiquities, were added new and marvellous features, pertaining
+to the wild business that for more than half a century she had
+followed. Old Captain Peleg, many years her chief-mate, before he
+commanded another vessel of his own, and now a retired seaman, and one
+of the principal owners of the Pequod,—this old Peleg, during the term
+of his chief-mateship, had built upon her original grotesqueness, and
+inlaid it, all over, with a quaintness both of material and device,
+unmatched by anything except it be Thorkill-Hake’s carved buckler or
+bedstead. She was apparelled like any barbaric Ethiopian emperor, his
+neck heavy with pendants of polished ivory. She was a thing of
+trophies. A cannibal of a craft, tricking herself forth in the chased
+bones of her enemies. All round, her unpanelled, open bulwarks were
+garnished like one continuous jaw, with the long sharp teeth of the
+sperm whale, inserted there for pins, to fasten her old hempen thews
+and tendons to. Those thews ran not through base blocks of land wood,
+but deftly travelled over sheaves of sea-ivory. Scorning a turnstile
+wheel at her reverend helm, she sported there a tiller; and that tiller
+was in one mass, curiously carved from the long narrow lower jaw of her
+hereditary foe. The helmsman who steered by that tiller in a tempest,
+felt like the Tartar, when he holds back his fiery steed by clutching
+its jaw. A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy! All noble things
+are touched with that.
+
+Now when I looked about the quarter-deck, for some one having
+authority, in order to propose myself as a candidate for the voyage, at
+first I saw nobody; but I could not well overlook a strange sort of
+tent, or rather wigwam, pitched a little behind the main-mast. It
+seemed only a temporary erection used in port. It was of a conical
+shape, some ten feet high; consisting of the long, huge slabs of limber
+black bone taken from the middle and highest part of the jaws of the
+right-whale. Planted with their broad ends on the deck, a circle of
+these slabs laced together, mutually sloped towards each other, and at
+the apex united in a tufted point, where the loose hairy fibres waved
+to and fro like the top-knot on some old Pottowottamie Sachem’s head. A
+triangular opening faced towards the bows of the ship, so that the
+insider commanded a complete view forward.
+
+And half concealed in this queer tenement, I at length found one who by
+his aspect seemed to have authority; and who, it being noon, and the
+ship’s work suspended, was now enjoying respite from the burden of
+command. He was seated on an old-fashioned oaken chair, wriggling all
+over with curious carving; and the bottom of which was formed of a
+stout interlacing of the same elastic stuff of which the wigwam was
+constructed.
+
+There was nothing so very particular, perhaps, about the appearance of
+the elderly man I saw; he was brown and brawny, like most old seamen,
+and heavily rolled up in blue pilot-cloth, cut in the Quaker style;
+only there was a fine and almost microscopic net-work of the minutest
+wrinkles interlacing round his eyes, which must have arisen from his
+continual sailings in many hard gales, and always looking to
+windward;—for this causes the muscles about the eyes to become pursed
+together. Such eye-wrinkles are very effectual in a scowl.
+
+“Is this the Captain of the Pequod?” said I, advancing to the door of
+the tent.
+
+“Supposing it be the captain of the Pequod, what dost thou want of
+him?” he demanded.
+
+“I was thinking of shipping.”
+
+“Thou wast, wast thou? I see thou art no Nantucketer—ever been in a
+stove boat?”
+
+“No, Sir, I never have.”
+
+“Dost know nothing at all about whaling, I dare say—eh?
+
+“Nothing, Sir; but I have no doubt I shall soon learn. I’ve been
+several voyages in the merchant service, and I think that—”
+
+“Merchant service be damned. Talk not that lingo to me. Dost see that
+leg?—I’ll take that leg away from thy stern, if ever thou talkest of
+the marchant service to me again. Marchant service indeed! I suppose
+now ye feel considerable proud of having served in those marchant
+ships. But flukes! man, what makes thee want to go a whaling, eh?—it
+looks a little suspicious, don’t it, eh?—Hast not been a pirate, hast
+thou?—Didst not rob thy last Captain, didst thou?—Dost not think of
+murdering the officers when thou gettest to sea?”
+
+I protested my innocence of these things. I saw that under the mask of
+these half humorous innuendoes, this old seaman, as an insulated
+Quakerish Nantucketer, was full of his insular prejudices, and rather
+distrustful of all aliens, unless they hailed from Cape Cod or the
+Vineyard.
+
+“But what takes thee a-whaling? I want to know that before I think of
+shipping ye.”
+
+“Well, sir, I want to see what whaling is. I want to see the world.”
+
+“Want to see what whaling is, eh? Have ye clapped eye on Captain Ahab?”
+
+“Who is Captain Ahab, sir?”
+
+“Aye, aye, I thought so. Captain Ahab is the Captain of this ship.”
+
+“I am mistaken then. I thought I was speaking to the Captain himself.”
+
+“Thou art speaking to Captain Peleg—that’s who ye are speaking to,
+young man. It belongs to me and Captain Bildad to see the Pequod fitted
+out for the voyage, and supplied with all her needs, including crew. We
+are part owners and agents. But as I was going to say, if thou wantest
+to know what whaling is, as thou tellest ye do, I can put ye in a way
+of finding it out before ye bind yourself to it, past backing out. Clap
+eye on Captain Ahab, young man, and thou wilt find that he has only one
+leg.”
+
+“What do you mean, sir? Was the other one lost by a whale?”
+
+“Lost by a whale! Young man, come nearer to me: it was devoured, chewed
+up, crunched by the monstrousest parmacetty that ever chipped a
+boat!—ah, ah!”
+
+I was a little alarmed by his energy, perhaps also a little touched at
+the hearty grief in his concluding exclamation, but said as calmly as I
+could, “What you say is no doubt true enough, sir; but how could I know
+there was any peculiar ferocity in that particular whale, though indeed
+I might have inferred as much from the simple fact of the accident.”
+
+“Look ye now, young man, thy lungs are a sort of soft, d’ye see; thou
+dost not talk shark a bit. _Sure_, ye’ve been to sea before now; sure
+of that?”
+
+“Sir,” said I, “I thought I told you that I had been four voyages in
+the merchant—”
+
+“Hard down out of that! Mind what I said about the marchant
+service—don’t aggravate me—I won’t have it. But let us understand each
+other. I have given thee a hint about what whaling is; do ye yet feel
+inclined for it?”
+
+“I do, sir.”
+
+“Very good. Now, art thou the man to pitch a harpoon down a live
+whale’s throat, and then jump after it? Answer, quick!”
+
+“I am, sir, if it should be positively indispensable to do so; not to
+be got rid of, that is; which I don’t take to be the fact.”
+
+“Good again. Now then, thou not only wantest to go a-whaling, to find
+out by experience what whaling is, but ye also want to go in order to
+see the world? Was not that what ye said? I thought so. Well then, just
+step forward there, and take a peep over the weather-bow, and then back
+to me and tell me what ye see there.”
+
+For a moment I stood a little puzzled by this curious request, not
+knowing exactly how to take it, whether humorously or in earnest. But
+concentrating all his crow’s feet into one scowl, Captain Peleg started
+me on the errand.
+
+Going forward and glancing over the weather bow, I perceived that the
+ship swinging to her anchor with the flood-tide, was now obliquely
+pointing towards the open ocean. The prospect was unlimited, but
+exceedingly monotonous and forbidding; not the slightest variety that I
+could see.
+
+“Well, what’s the report?” said Peleg when I came back; “what did ye
+see?”
+
+“Not much,” I replied—“nothing but water; considerable horizon though,
+and there’s a squall coming up, I think.”
+
+“Well, what does thou think then of seeing the world? Do ye wish to go
+round Cape Horn to see any more of it, eh? Can’t ye see the world where
+you stand?”
+
+I was a little staggered, but go a-whaling I must, and I would; and the
+Pequod was as good a ship as any—I thought the best—and all this I now
+repeated to Peleg. Seeing me so determined, he expressed his
+willingness to ship me.
+
+“And thou mayest as well sign the papers right off,” he added—“come
+along with ye.” And so saying, he led the way below deck into the
+cabin.
+
+Seated on the transom was what seemed to me a most uncommon and
+surprising figure. It turned out to be Captain Bildad, who along with
+Captain Peleg was one of the largest owners of the vessel; the other
+shares, as is sometimes the case in these ports, being held by a crowd
+of old annuitants; widows, fatherless children, and chancery wards;
+each owning about the value of a timber head, or a foot of plank, or a
+nail or two in the ship. People in Nantucket invest their money in
+whaling vessels, the same way that you do yours in approved state
+stocks bringing in good interest.
+
+Now, Bildad, like Peleg, and indeed many other Nantucketers, was a
+Quaker, the island having been originally settled by that sect; and to
+this day its inhabitants in general retain in an uncommon measure the
+peculiarities of the Quaker, only variously and anomalously modified by
+things altogether alien and heterogeneous. For some of these same
+Quakers are the most sanguinary of all sailors and whale-hunters. They
+are fighting Quakers; they are Quakers with a vengeance.
+
+So that there are instances among them of men, who, named with
+Scripture names—a singularly common fashion on the island—and in
+childhood naturally imbibing the stately dramatic thee and thou of the
+Quaker idiom; still, from the audacious, daring, and boundless
+adventure of their subsequent lives, strangely blend with these
+unoutgrown peculiarities, a thousand bold dashes of character, not
+unworthy a Scandinavian sea-king, or a poetical Pagan Roman. And when
+these things unite in a man of greatly superior natural force, with a
+globular brain and a ponderous heart; who has also by the stillness and
+seclusion of many long night-watches in the remotest waters, and
+beneath constellations never seen here at the north, been led to think
+untraditionally and independently; receiving all nature’s sweet or
+savage impressions fresh from her own virgin voluntary and confiding
+breast, and thereby chiefly, but with some help from accidental
+advantages, to learn a bold and nervous lofty language—that man makes
+one in a whole nation’s census—a mighty pageant creature, formed for
+noble tragedies. Nor will it at all detract from him, dramatically
+regarded, if either by birth or other circumstances, he have what seems
+a half wilful overruling morbidness at the bottom of his nature. For
+all men tragically great are made so through a certain morbidness. Be
+sure of this, O young ambition, all mortal greatness is but disease.
+But, as yet we have not to do with such an one, but with quite another;
+and still a man, who, if indeed peculiar, it only results again from
+another phase of the Quaker, modified by individual circumstances.
+
+Like Captain Peleg, Captain Bildad was a well-to-do, retired whaleman.
+But unlike Captain Peleg—who cared not a rush for what are called
+serious things, and indeed deemed those self-same serious things the
+veriest of all trifles—Captain Bildad had not only been originally
+educated according to the strictest sect of Nantucket Quakerism, but
+all his subsequent ocean life, and the sight of many unclad, lovely
+island creatures, round the Horn—all that had not moved this native
+born Quaker one single jot, had not so much as altered one angle of his
+vest. Still, for all this immutableness, was there some lack of common
+consistency about worthy Captain Bildad. Though refusing, from
+conscientious scruples, to bear arms against land invaders, yet himself
+had illimitably invaded the Atlantic and Pacific; and though a sworn
+foe to human bloodshed, yet had he in his straight-bodied coat, spilled
+tuns upon tuns of leviathan gore. How now in the contemplative evening
+of his days, the pious Bildad reconciled these things in the
+reminiscence, I do not know; but it did not seem to concern him much,
+and very probably he had long since come to the sage and sensible
+conclusion that a man’s religion is one thing, and this practical world
+quite another. This world pays dividends. Rising from a little
+cabin-boy in short clothes of the drabbest drab, to a harpooneer in a
+broad shad-bellied waistcoat; from that becoming boat-header,
+chief-mate, and captain, and finally a ship owner; Bildad, as I hinted
+before, had concluded his adventurous career by wholly retiring from
+active life at the goodly age of sixty, and dedicating his remaining
+days to the quiet receiving of his well-earned income.
+
+Now, Bildad, I am sorry to say, had the reputation of being an
+incorrigible old hunks, and in his sea-going days, a bitter, hard
+task-master. They told me in Nantucket, though it certainly seems a
+curious story, that when he sailed the old Categut whaleman, his crew,
+upon arriving home, were mostly all carried ashore to the hospital,
+sore exhausted and worn out. For a pious man, especially for a Quaker,
+he was certainly rather hard-hearted, to say the least. He never used
+to swear, though, at his men, they said; but somehow he got an
+inordinate quantity of cruel, unmitigated hard work out of them. When
+Bildad was a chief-mate, to have his drab-coloured eye intently looking
+at you, made you feel completely nervous, till you could clutch
+something—a hammer or a marling-spike, and go to work like mad, at
+something or other, never mind what. Indolence and idleness perished
+before him. His own person was the exact embodiment of his utilitarian
+character. On his long, gaunt body, he carried no spare flesh, no
+superfluous beard, his chin having a soft, economical nap to it, like
+the worn nap of his broad-brimmed hat.
+
+Such, then, was the person that I saw seated on the transom when I
+followed Captain Peleg down into the cabin. The space between the decks
+was small; and there, bolt-upright, sat old Bildad, who always sat so,
+and never leaned, and this to save his coat tails. His broad-brim was
+placed beside him; his legs were stiffly crossed; his drab vesture was
+buttoned up to his chin; and spectacles on nose, he seemed absorbed in
+reading from a ponderous volume.
+
+“Bildad,” cried Captain Peleg, “at it again, Bildad, eh? Ye have been
+studying those Scriptures, now, for the last thirty years, to my
+certain knowledge. How far ye got, Bildad?”
+
+As if long habituated to such profane talk from his old shipmate,
+Bildad, without noticing his present irreverence, quietly looked up,
+and seeing me, glanced again inquiringly towards Peleg.
+
+“He says he’s our man, Bildad,” said Peleg, “he wants to ship.”
+
+“Dost thee?” said Bildad, in a hollow tone, and turning round to me.
+
+“I _dost_,” said I unconsciously, he was so intense a Quaker.
+
+“What do ye think of him, Bildad?” said Peleg.
+
+“He’ll do,” said Bildad, eyeing me, and then went on spelling away at
+his book in a mumbling tone quite audible.
+
+I thought him the queerest old Quaker I ever saw, especially as Peleg,
+his friend and old shipmate, seemed such a blusterer. But I said
+nothing, only looking round me sharply. Peleg now threw open a chest,
+and drawing forth the ship’s articles, placed pen and ink before him,
+and seated himself at a little table. I began to think it was high time
+to settle with myself at what terms I would be willing to engage for
+the voyage. I was already aware that in the whaling business they paid
+no wages; but all hands, including the captain, received certain shares
+of the profits called _lays_, and that these lays were proportioned to
+the degree of importance pertaining to the respective duties of the
+ship’s company. I was also aware that being a green hand at whaling, my
+own lay would not be very large; but considering that I was used to the
+sea, could steer a ship, splice a rope, and all that, I made no doubt
+that from all I had heard I should be offered at least the 275th
+lay—that is, the 275th part of the clear net proceeds of the voyage,
+whatever that might eventually amount to. And though the 275th lay was
+what they call a rather _long lay_, yet it was better than nothing; and
+if we had a lucky voyage, might pretty nearly pay for the clothing I
+would wear out on it, not to speak of my three years’ beef and board,
+for which I would not have to pay one stiver.
+
+It might be thought that this was a poor way to accumulate a princely
+fortune—and so it was, a very poor way indeed. But I am one of those
+that never take on about princely fortunes, and am quite content if the
+world is ready to board and lodge me, while I am putting up at this
+grim sign of the Thunder Cloud. Upon the whole, I thought that the
+275th lay would be about the fair thing, but would not have been
+surprised had I been offered the 200th, considering I was of a
+broad-shouldered make.
+
+But one thing, nevertheless, that made me a little distrustful about
+receiving a generous share of the profits was this: Ashore, I had heard
+something of both Captain Peleg and his unaccountable old crony Bildad;
+how that they being the principal proprietors of the Pequod, therefore
+the other and more inconsiderable and scattered owners, left nearly the
+whole management of the ship’s affairs to these two. And I did not know
+but what the stingy old Bildad might have a mighty deal to say about
+shipping hands, especially as I now found him on board the Pequod,
+quite at home there in the cabin, and reading his Bible as if at his
+own fireside. Now while Peleg was vainly trying to mend a pen with his
+jack-knife, old Bildad, to my no small surprise, considering that he
+was such an interested party in these proceedings; Bildad never heeded
+us, but went on mumbling to himself out of his book, “_Lay_ not up for
+yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth—”
+
+“Well, Captain Bildad,” interrupted Peleg, “what d’ye say, what lay
+shall we give this young man?”
+
+“Thou knowest best,” was the sepulchral reply, “the seven hundred and
+seventy-seventh wouldn’t be too much, would it?—‘where moth and rust do
+corrupt, but _lay_—’”
+
+_Lay_, indeed, thought I, and such a lay! the seven hundred and
+seventy-seventh! Well, old Bildad, you are determined that I, for one,
+shall not _lay_ up many _lays_ here below, where moth and rust do
+corrupt. It was an exceedingly _long lay_ that, indeed; and though from
+the magnitude of the figure it might at first deceive a landsman, yet
+the slightest consideration will show that though seven hundred and
+seventy-seven is a pretty large number, yet, when you come to make a
+_teenth_ of it, you will then see, I say, that the seven hundred and
+seventy-seventh part of a farthing is a good deal less than seven
+hundred and seventy-seven gold doubloons; and so I thought at the time.
+
+“Why, blast your eyes, Bildad,” cried Peleg, “thou dost not want to
+swindle this young man! he must have more than that.”
+
+“Seven hundred and seventy-seventh,” again said Bildad, without lifting
+his eyes; and then went on mumbling—“for where your treasure is, there
+will your heart be also.”
+
+“I am going to put him down for the three hundredth,” said Peleg, “do
+ye hear that, Bildad! The three hundredth lay, I say.”
+
+Bildad laid down his book, and turning solemnly towards him said,
+“Captain Peleg, thou hast a generous heart; but thou must consider the
+duty thou owest to the other owners of this ship—widows and orphans,
+many of them—and that if we too abundantly reward the labors of this
+young man, we may be taking the bread from those widows and those
+orphans. The seven hundred and seventy-seventh lay, Captain Peleg.”
+
+“Thou Bildad!” roared Peleg, starting up and clattering about the
+cabin. “Blast ye, Captain Bildad, if I had followed thy advice in these
+matters, I would afore now had a conscience to lug about that would be
+heavy enough to founder the largest ship that ever sailed round Cape
+Horn.”
+
+“Captain Peleg,” said Bildad steadily, “thy conscience may be drawing
+ten inches of water, or ten fathoms, I can’t tell; but as thou art
+still an impenitent man, Captain Peleg, I greatly fear lest thy
+conscience be but a leaky one; and will in the end sink thee foundering
+down to the fiery pit, Captain Peleg.”
+
+“Fiery pit! fiery pit! ye insult me, man; past all natural bearing, ye
+insult me. It’s an all-fired outrage to tell any human creature that
+he’s bound to hell. Flukes and flames! Bildad, say that again to me,
+and start my soul-bolts, but I’ll—I’ll—yes, I’ll swallow a live goat
+with all his hair and horns on. Out of the cabin, ye canting,
+drab-coloured son of a wooden gun—a straight wake with ye!”
+
+As he thundered out this he made a rush at Bildad, but with a
+marvellous oblique, sliding celerity, Bildad for that time eluded him.
+
+Alarmed at this terrible outburst between the two principal and
+responsible owners of the ship, and feeling half a mind to give up all
+idea of sailing in a vessel so questionably owned and temporarily
+commanded, I stepped aside from the door to give egress to Bildad, who,
+I made no doubt, was all eagerness to vanish from before the awakened
+wrath of Peleg. But to my astonishment, he sat down again on the
+transom very quietly, and seemed to have not the slightest intention of
+withdrawing. He seemed quite used to impenitent Peleg and his ways. As
+for Peleg, after letting off his rage as he had, there seemed no more
+left in him, and he, too, sat down like a lamb, though he twitched a
+little as if still nervously agitated. “Whew!” he whistled at last—“the
+squall’s gone off to leeward, I think. Bildad, thou used to be good at
+sharpening a lance, mend that pen, will ye. My jack-knife here needs
+the grindstone. That’s he; thank ye, Bildad. Now then, my young man,
+Ishmael’s thy name, didn’t ye say? Well then, down ye go here, Ishmael,
+for the three hundredth lay.”
+
+“Captain Peleg,” said I, “I have a friend with me who wants to ship
+too—shall I bring him down to-morrow?”
+
+“To be sure,” said Peleg. “Fetch him along, and we’ll look at him.”
+
+“What lay does he want?” groaned Bildad, glancing up from the book in
+which he had again been burying himself.
+
+“Oh! never thee mind about that, Bildad,” said Peleg. “Has he ever
+whaled it any?” turning to me.
+
+“Killed more whales than I can count, Captain Peleg.”
+
+“Well, bring him along then.”
+
+And, after signing the papers, off I went; nothing doubting but that I
+had done a good morning’s work, and that the Pequod was the identical
+ship that Yojo had provided to carry Queequeg and me round the Cape.
+
+But I had not proceeded far, when I began to bethink me that the
+Captain with whom I was to sail yet remained unseen by me; though,
+indeed, in many cases, a whale-ship will be completely fitted out, and
+receive all her crew on board, ere the captain makes himself visible by
+arriving to take command; for sometimes these voyages are so prolonged,
+and the shore intervals at home so exceedingly brief, that if the
+captain have a family, or any absorbing concernment of that sort, he
+does not trouble himself much about his ship in port, but leaves her to
+the owners till all is ready for sea. However, it is always as well to
+have a look at him before irrevocably committing yourself into his
+hands. Turning back I accosted Captain Peleg, inquiring where Captain
+Ahab was to be found.
+
+“And what dost thou want of Captain Ahab? It’s all right enough; thou
+art shipped.”
+
+“Yes, but I should like to see him.”
+
+“But I don’t think thou wilt be able to at present. I don’t know
+exactly what’s the matter with him; but he keeps close inside the
+house; a sort of sick, and yet he don’t look so. In fact, he ain’t
+sick; but no, he isn’t well either. Any how, young man, he won’t always
+see me, so I don’t suppose he will thee. He’s a queer man, Captain
+Ahab—so some think—but a good one. Oh, thou’lt like him well enough; no
+fear, no fear. He’s a grand, ungodly, god-like man, Captain Ahab;
+doesn’t speak much; but, when he does speak, then you may well listen.
+Mark ye, be forewarned; Ahab’s above the common; Ahab’s been in
+colleges, as well as ’mong the cannibals; been used to deeper wonders
+than the waves; fixed his fiery lance in mightier, stranger foes than
+whales. His lance! aye, the keenest and the surest that out of all our
+isle! Oh! he ain’t Captain Bildad; no, and he ain’t Captain Peleg;
+_he’s Ahab_, boy; and Ahab of old, thou knowest, was a crowned king!”
+
+“And a very vile one. When that wicked king was slain, the dogs, did
+they not lick his blood?”
+
+“Come hither to me—hither, hither,” said Peleg, with a significance in
+his eye that almost startled me. “Look ye, lad; never say that on board
+the Pequod. Never say it anywhere. Captain Ahab did not name himself.
+’Twas a foolish, ignorant whim of his crazy, widowed mother, who died
+when he was only a twelvemonth old. And yet the old squaw Tistig, at
+Gayhead, said that the name would somehow prove prophetic. And,
+perhaps, other fools like her may tell thee the same. I wish to warn
+thee. It’s a lie. I know Captain Ahab well; I’ve sailed with him as
+mate years ago; I know what he is—a good man—not a pious, good man,
+like Bildad, but a swearing good man—something like me—only there’s a
+good deal more of him. Aye, aye, I know that he was never very jolly;
+and I know that on the passage home, he was a little out of his mind
+for a spell; but it was the sharp shooting pains in his bleeding stump
+that brought that about, as any one might see. I know, too, that ever
+since he lost his leg last voyage by that accursed whale, he’s been a
+kind of moody—desperate moody, and savage sometimes; but that will all
+pass off. And once for all, let me tell thee and assure thee, young
+man, it’s better to sail with a moody good captain than a laughing bad
+one. So good-bye to thee—and wrong not Captain Ahab, because he happens
+to have a wicked name. Besides, my boy, he has a wife—not three voyages
+wedded—a sweet, resigned girl. Think of that; by that sweet girl that
+old man has a child: hold ye then there can be any utter, hopeless harm
+in Ahab? No, no, my lad; stricken, blasted, if he be, Ahab has his
+humanities!”
+
+As I walked away, I was full of thoughtfulness; what had been
+incidentally revealed to me of Captain Ahab, filled me with a certain
+wild vagueness of painfulness concerning him. And somehow, at the time,
+I felt a sympathy and a sorrow for him, but for I don’t know what,
+unless it was the cruel loss of his leg. And yet I also felt a strange
+awe of him; but that sort of awe, which I cannot at all describe, was
+not exactly awe; I do not know what it was. But I felt it; and it did
+not disincline me towards him; though I felt impatience at what seemed
+like mystery in him, so imperfectly as he was known to me then.
+However, my thoughts were at length carried in other directions, so
+that for the present dark Ahab slipped my mind.
+
+
+CHAPTER 17. The Ramadan.
+
+As Queequeg’s Ramadan, or Fasting and Humiliation, was to continue all
+day, I did not choose to disturb him till towards night-fall; for I
+cherish the greatest respect towards everybody’s religious obligations,
+never mind how comical, and could not find it in my heart to undervalue
+even a congregation of ants worshipping a toad-stool; or those other
+creatures in certain parts of our earth, who with a degree of
+footmanism quite unprecedented in other planets, bow down before the
+torso of a deceased landed proprietor merely on account of the
+inordinate possessions yet owned and rented in his name.
+
+I say, we good Presbyterian Christians should be charitable in these
+things, and not fancy ourselves so vastly superior to other mortals,
+pagans and what not, because of their half-crazy conceits on these
+subjects. There was Queequeg, now, certainly entertaining the most
+absurd notions about Yojo and his Ramadan;—but what of that? Queequeg
+thought he knew what he was about, I suppose; he seemed to be content;
+and there let him rest. All our arguing with him would not avail; let
+him be, I say: and Heaven have mercy on us all—Presbyterians and Pagans
+alike—for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and
+sadly need mending.
+
+Towards evening, when I felt assured that all his performances and
+rituals must be over, I went up to his room and knocked at the door;
+but no answer. I tried to open it, but it was fastened inside.
+“Queequeg,” said I softly through the key-hole:—all silent. “I say,
+Queequeg! why don’t you speak? It’s I—Ishmael.” But all remained still
+as before. I began to grow alarmed. I had allowed him such abundant
+time; I thought he might have had an apoplectic fit. I looked through
+the key-hole; but the door opening into an odd corner of the room, the
+key-hole prospect was but a crooked and sinister one. I could only see
+part of the foot-board of the bed and a line of the wall, but nothing
+more. I was surprised to behold resting against the wall the wooden
+shaft of Queequeg’s harpoon, which the landlady the evening previous
+had taken from him, before our mounting to the chamber. That’s strange,
+thought I; but at any rate, since the harpoon stands yonder, and he
+seldom or never goes abroad without it, therefore he must be inside
+here, and no possible mistake.
+
+“Queequeg!—Queequeg!”—all still. Something must have happened.
+Apoplexy! I tried to burst open the door; but it stubbornly resisted.
+Running down stairs, I quickly stated my suspicions to the first person
+I met—the chamber-maid. “La! la!” she cried, “I thought something must
+be the matter. I went to make the bed after breakfast, and the door was
+locked; and not a mouse to be heard; and it’s been just so silent ever
+since. But I thought, may be, you had both gone off and locked your
+baggage in for safe keeping. La! la, ma’am!—Mistress! murder! Mrs.
+Hussey! apoplexy!”—and with these cries, she ran towards the kitchen, I
+following.
+
+Mrs. Hussey soon appeared, with a mustard-pot in one hand and a
+vinegar-cruet in the other, having just broken away from the occupation
+of attending to the castors, and scolding her little black boy
+meantime.
+
+“Wood-house!” cried I, “which way to it? Run for God’s sake, and fetch
+something to pry open the door—the axe!—the axe! he’s had a stroke;
+depend upon it!”—and so saying I was unmethodically rushing up stairs
+again empty-handed, when Mrs. Hussey interposed the mustard-pot and
+vinegar-cruet, and the entire castor of her countenance.
+
+“What’s the matter with you, young man?”
+
+“Get the axe! For God’s sake, run for the doctor, some one, while I pry
+it open!”
+
+“Look here,” said the landlady, quickly putting down the vinegar-cruet,
+so as to have one hand free; “look here; are you talking about prying
+open any of my doors?”—and with that she seized my arm. “What’s the
+matter with you? What’s the matter with you, shipmate?”
+
+In as calm, but rapid a manner as possible, I gave her to understand
+the whole case. Unconsciously clapping the vinegar-cruet to one side of
+her nose, she ruminated for an instant; then exclaimed—“No! I haven’t
+seen it since I put it there.” Running to a little closet under the
+landing of the stairs, she glanced in, and returning, told me that
+Queequeg’s harpoon was missing. “He’s killed himself,” she cried. “It’s
+unfort’nate Stiggs done over again—there goes another counterpane—God
+pity his poor mother!—it will be the ruin of my house. Has the poor lad
+a sister? Where’s that girl?—there, Betty, go to Snarles the Painter,
+and tell him to paint me a sign, with—“no suicides permitted here, and
+no smoking in the parlor;”—might as well kill both birds at once. Kill?
+The Lord be merciful to his ghost! What’s that noise there? You, young
+man, avast there!”
+
+And running up after me, she caught me as I was again trying to force
+open the door.
+
+“I don’t allow it; I won’t have my premises spoiled. Go for the
+locksmith, there’s one about a mile from here. But avast!” putting her
+hand in her side-pocket, “here’s a key that’ll fit, I guess; let’s
+see.” And with that, she turned it in the lock; but, alas! Queequeg’s
+supplemental bolt remained unwithdrawn within.
+
+“Have to burst it open,” said I, and was running down the entry a
+little, for a good start, when the landlady caught at me, again vowing
+I should not break down her premises; but I tore from her, and with a
+sudden bodily rush dashed myself full against the mark.
+
+With a prodigious noise the door flew open, and the knob slamming
+against the wall, sent the plaster to the ceiling; and there, good
+heavens! there sat Queequeg, altogether cool and self-collected; right
+in the middle of the room; squatting on his hams, and holding Yojo on
+top of his head. He looked neither one way nor the other way, but sat
+like a carved image with scarce a sign of active life.
+
+“Queequeg,” said I, going up to him, “Queequeg, what’s the matter with
+you?”
+
+“He hain’t been a sittin’ so all day, has he?” said the landlady.
+
+But all we said, not a word could we drag out of him; I almost felt
+like pushing him over, so as to change his position, for it was almost
+intolerable, it seemed so painfully and unnaturally constrained;
+especially, as in all probability he had been sitting so for upwards of
+eight or ten hours, going too without his regular meals.
+
+“Mrs. Hussey,” said I, “he’s _alive_ at all events; so leave us, if you
+please, and I will see to this strange affair myself.”
+
+Closing the door upon the landlady, I endeavored to prevail upon
+Queequeg to take a chair; but in vain. There he sat; and all he could
+do—for all my polite arts and blandishments—he would not move a peg,
+nor say a single word, nor even look at me, nor notice my presence in
+the slightest way.
+
+I wonder, thought I, if this can possibly be a part of his Ramadan; do
+they fast on their hams that way in his native island. It must be so;
+yes, it’s part of his creed, I suppose; well, then, let him rest; he’ll
+get up sooner or later, no doubt. It can’t last for ever, thank God,
+and his Ramadan only comes once a year; and I don’t believe it’s very
+punctual then.
+
+I went down to supper. After sitting a long time listening to the long
+stories of some sailors who had just come from a plum-pudding voyage,
+as they called it (that is, a short whaling-voyage in a schooner or
+brig, confined to the north of the line, in the Atlantic Ocean only);
+after listening to these plum-puddingers till nearly eleven o’clock, I
+went up stairs to go to bed, feeling quite sure by this time Queequeg
+must certainly have brought his Ramadan to a termination. But no; there
+he was just where I had left him; he had not stirred an inch. I began
+to grow vexed with him; it seemed so downright senseless and insane to
+be sitting there all day and half the night on his hams in a cold room,
+holding a piece of wood on his head.
+
+“For heaven’s sake, Queequeg, get up and shake yourself; get up and
+have some supper. You’ll starve; you’ll kill yourself, Queequeg.” But
+not a word did he reply.
+
+Despairing of him, therefore, I determined to go to bed and to sleep;
+and no doubt, before a great while, he would follow me. But previous to
+turning in, I took my heavy bearskin jacket, and threw it over him, as
+it promised to be a very cold night; and he had nothing but his
+ordinary round jacket on. For some time, do all I would, I could not
+get into the faintest doze. I had blown out the candle; and the mere
+thought of Queequeg—not four feet off—sitting there in that uneasy
+position, stark alone in the cold and dark; this made me really
+wretched. Think of it; sleeping all night in the same room with a wide
+awake pagan on his hams in this dreary, unaccountable Ramadan!
+
+But somehow I dropped off at last, and knew nothing more till break of
+day; when, looking over the bedside, there squatted Queequeg, as if he
+had been screwed down to the floor. But as soon as the first glimpse of
+sun entered the window, up he got, with stiff and grating joints, but
+with a cheerful look; limped towards me where I lay; pressed his
+forehead again against mine; and said his Ramadan was over.
+
+Now, as I before hinted, I have no objection to any person’s religion,
+be it what it may, so long as that person does not kill or insult any
+other person, because that other person don’t believe it also. But when
+a man’s religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment
+to him; and, in fine, makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to
+lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and
+argue the point with him.
+
+And just so I now did with Queequeg. “Queequeg,” said I, “get into bed
+now, and lie and listen to me.” I then went on, beginning with the rise
+and progress of the primitive religions, and coming down to the various
+religions of the present time, during which time I labored to show
+Queequeg that all these Lents, Ramadans, and prolonged ham-squattings
+in cold, cheerless rooms were stark nonsense; bad for the health;
+useless for the soul; opposed, in short, to the obvious laws of Hygiene
+and common sense. I told him, too, that he being in other things such
+an extremely sensible and sagacious savage, it pained me, very badly
+pained me, to see him now so deplorably foolish about this ridiculous
+Ramadan of his. Besides, argued I, fasting makes the body cave in;
+hence the spirit caves in; and all thoughts born of a fast must
+necessarily be half-starved. This is the reason why most dyspeptic
+religionists cherish such melancholy notions about their hereafters. In
+one word, Queequeg, said I, rather digressively; hell is an idea first
+born on an undigested apple-dumpling; and since then perpetuated
+through the hereditary dyspepsias nurtured by Ramadans.
+
+I then asked Queequeg whether he himself was ever troubled with
+dyspepsia; expressing the idea very plainly, so that he could take it
+in. He said no; only upon one memorable occasion. It was after a great
+feast given by his father the king, on the gaining of a great battle
+wherein fifty of the enemy had been killed by about two o’clock in the
+afternoon, and all cooked and eaten that very evening.
+
+“No more, Queequeg,” said I, shuddering; “that will do;” for I knew the
+inferences without his further hinting them. I had seen a sailor who
+had visited that very island, and he told me that it was the custom,
+when a great battle had been gained there, to barbecue all the slain in
+the yard or garden of the victor; and then, one by one, they were
+placed in great wooden trenchers, and garnished round like a pilau,
+with breadfruit and cocoanuts; and with some parsley in their mouths,
+were sent round with the victor’s compliments to all his friends, just
+as though these presents were so many Christmas turkeys.
+
+After all, I do not think that my remarks about religion made much
+impression upon Queequeg. Because, in the first place, he somehow
+seemed dull of hearing on that important subject, unless considered
+from his own point of view; and, in the second place, he did not more
+than one third understand me, couch my ideas simply as I would; and,
+finally, he no doubt thought he knew a good deal more about the true
+religion than I did. He looked at me with a sort of condescending
+concern and compassion, as though he thought it a great pity that such
+a sensible young man should be so hopelessly lost to evangelical pagan
+piety.
+
+At last we rose and dressed; and Queequeg, taking a prodigiously hearty
+breakfast of chowders of all sorts, so that the landlady should not
+make much profit by reason of his Ramadan, we sallied out to board the
+Pequod, sauntering along, and picking our teeth with halibut bones.
+
+
+CHAPTER 18. His Mark.
+
+As we were walking down the end of the wharf towards the ship, Queequeg
+carrying his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his gruff voice loudly hailed us
+from his wigwam, saying he had not suspected my friend was a cannibal,
+and furthermore announcing that he let no cannibals on board that
+craft, unless they previously produced their papers.
+
+“What do you mean by that, Captain Peleg?” said I, now jumping on the
+bulwarks, and leaving my comrade standing on the wharf.
+
+“I mean,” he replied, “he must show his papers.”
+
+“Yes,” said Captain Bildad in his hollow voice, sticking his head from
+behind Peleg’s, out of the wigwam. “He must show that he’s converted.
+Son of darkness,” he added, turning to Queequeg, “art thou at present
+in communion with any Christian church?”
+
+“Why,” said I, “he’s a member of the first Congregational Church.” Here
+be it said, that many tattooed savages sailing in Nantucket ships at
+last come to be converted into the churches.
+
+“First Congregational Church,” cried Bildad, “what! that worships in
+Deacon Deuteronomy Coleman’s meeting-house?” and so saying, taking out
+his spectacles, he rubbed them with his great yellow bandana
+handkerchief, and putting them on very carefully, came out of the
+wigwam, and leaning stiffly over the bulwarks, took a good long look at
+Queequeg.
+
+“How long hath he been a member?” he then said, turning to me; “not
+very long, I rather guess, young man.”
+
+“No,” said Peleg, “and he hasn’t been baptized right either, or it
+would have washed some of that devil’s blue off his face.”
+
+“Do tell, now,” cried Bildad, “is this Philistine a regular member of
+Deacon Deuteronomy’s meeting? I never saw him going there, and I pass
+it every Lord’s day.”
+
+“I don’t know anything about Deacon Deuteronomy or his meeting,” said
+I; “all I know is, that Queequeg here is a born member of the First
+Congregational Church. He is a deacon himself, Queequeg is.”
+
+“Young man,” said Bildad sternly, “thou art skylarking with me—explain
+thyself, thou young Hittite. What church dost thee mean? answer me.”
+
+Finding myself thus hard pushed, I replied. “I mean, sir, the same
+ancient Catholic Church to which you and I, and Captain Peleg there,
+and Queequeg here, and all of us, and every mother’s son and soul of us
+belong; the great and everlasting First Congregation of this whole
+worshipping world; we all belong to that; only some of us cherish some
+queer crotchets no ways touching the grand belief; in _that_ we all
+join hands.”
+
+“Splice, thou mean’st _splice_ hands,” cried Peleg, drawing nearer.
+“Young man, you’d better ship for a missionary, instead of a fore-mast
+hand; I never heard a better sermon. Deacon Deuteronomy—why Father
+Mapple himself couldn’t beat it, and he’s reckoned something. Come
+aboard, come aboard; never mind about the papers. I say, tell Quohog
+there—what’s that you call him? tell Quohog to step along. By the great
+anchor, what a harpoon he’s got there! looks like good stuff that; and
+he handles it about right. I say, Quohog, or whatever your name is, did
+you ever stand in the head of a whale-boat? did you ever strike a
+fish?”
+
+Without saying a word, Queequeg, in his wild sort of way, jumped upon
+the bulwarks, from thence into the bows of one of the whale-boats
+hanging to the side; and then bracing his left knee, and poising his
+harpoon, cried out in some such way as this:—
+
+“Cap’ain, you see him small drop tar on water dere? You see him? well,
+spose him one whale eye, well, den!” and taking sharp aim at it, he
+darted the iron right over old Bildad’s broad brim, clean across the
+ship’s decks, and struck the glistening tar spot out of sight.
+
+“Now,” said Queequeg, quietly hauling in the line, “spos-ee him whale-e
+eye; why, dad whale dead.”
+
+“Quick, Bildad,” said Peleg, his partner, who, aghast at the close
+vicinity of the flying harpoon, had retreated towards the cabin
+gangway. “Quick, I say, you Bildad, and get the ship’s papers. We must
+have Hedgehog there, I mean Quohog, in one of our boats. Look ye,
+Quohog, we’ll give ye the ninetieth lay, and that’s more than ever was
+given a harpooneer yet out of Nantucket.”
+
+So down we went into the cabin, and to my great joy Queequeg was soon
+enrolled among the same ship’s company to which I myself belonged.
+
+When all preliminaries were over and Peleg had got everything ready for
+signing, he turned to me and said, “I guess, Quohog there don’t know
+how to write, does he? I say, Quohog, blast ye! dost thou sign thy name
+or make thy mark?”
+
+But at this question, Queequeg, who had twice or thrice before taken
+part in similar ceremonies, looked no ways abashed; but taking the
+offered pen, copied upon the paper, in the proper place, an exact
+counterpart of a queer round figure which was tattooed upon his arm; so
+that through Captain Peleg’s obstinate mistake touching his
+appellative, it stood something like this:—
+
+Quohog. his X mark.
+
+Meanwhile Captain Bildad sat earnestly and steadfastly eyeing Queequeg,
+and at last rising solemnly and fumbling in the huge pockets of his
+broad-skirted drab coat, took out a bundle of tracts, and selecting one
+entitled “The Latter Day Coming; or No Time to Lose,” placed it in
+Queequeg’s hands, and then grasping them and the book with both his,
+looked earnestly into his eyes, and said, “Son of darkness, I must do
+my duty by thee; I am part owner of this ship, and feel concerned for
+the souls of all its crew; if thou still clingest to thy Pagan ways,
+which I sadly fear, I beseech thee, remain not for aye a Belial
+bondsman. Spurn the idol Bell, and the hideous dragon; turn from the
+wrath to come; mind thine eye, I say; oh! goodness gracious! steer
+clear of the fiery pit!”
+
+Something of the salt sea yet lingered in old Bildad’s language,
+heterogeneously mixed with Scriptural and domestic phrases.
+
+“Avast there, avast there, Bildad, avast now spoiling our harpooneer,”
+cried Peleg. “Pious harpooneers never make good voyagers—it takes the
+shark out of ’em; no harpooneer is worth a straw who aint pretty
+sharkish. There was young Nat Swaine, once the bravest boat-header out
+of all Nantucket and the Vineyard; he joined the meeting, and never
+came to good. He got so frightened about his plaguy soul, that he
+shrinked and sheered away from whales, for fear of after-claps, in case
+he got stove and went to Davy Jones.”
+
+“Peleg! Peleg!” said Bildad, lifting his eyes and hands, “thou thyself,
+as I myself, hast seen many a perilous time; thou knowest, Peleg, what
+it is to have the fear of death; how, then, can’st thou prate in this
+ungodly guise. Thou beliest thine own heart, Peleg. Tell me, when this
+same Pequod here had her three masts overboard in that typhoon on
+Japan, that same voyage when thou went mate with Captain Ahab, did’st
+thou not think of Death and the Judgment then?”
+
+“Hear him, hear him now,” cried Peleg, marching across the cabin, and
+thrusting his hands far down into his pockets,—“hear him, all of ye.
+Think of that! When every moment we thought the ship would sink! Death
+and the Judgment then? What? With all three masts making such an
+everlasting thundering against the side; and every sea breaking over
+us, fore and aft. Think of Death and the Judgment then? No! no time to
+think about Death then. Life was what Captain Ahab and I was thinking
+of; and how to save all hands—how to rig jury-masts—how to get into the
+nearest port; that was what I was thinking of.”
+
+Bildad said no more, but buttoning up his coat, stalked on deck, where
+we followed him. There he stood, very quietly overlooking some
+sailmakers who were mending a top-sail in the waist. Now and then he
+stooped to pick up a patch, or save an end of tarred twine, which
+otherwise might have been wasted.
+
+
+CHAPTER 19. The Prophet.
+
+“Shipmates, have ye shipped in that ship?”
+
+Queequeg and I had just left the Pequod, and were sauntering away from
+the water, for the moment each occupied with his own thoughts, when the
+above words were put to us by a stranger, who, pausing before us,
+levelled his massive forefinger at the vessel in question. He was but
+shabbily apparelled in faded jacket and patched trowsers; a rag of a
+black handkerchief investing his neck. A confluent small-pox had in all
+directions flowed over his face, and left it like the complicated
+ribbed bed of a torrent, when the rushing waters have been dried up.
+
+“Have ye shipped in her?” he repeated.
+
+“You mean the ship Pequod, I suppose,” said I, trying to gain a little
+more time for an uninterrupted look at him.
+
+“Aye, the Pequod—that ship there,” he said, drawing back his whole arm,
+and then rapidly shoving it straight out from him, with the fixed
+bayonet of his pointed finger darted full at the object.
+
+“Yes,” said I, “we have just signed the articles.”
+
+“Anything down there about your souls?”
+
+“About what?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“What are you jabbering about, shipmate?” said I.
+
+“_He’s_ got enough, though, to make up for all deficiencies of that
+sort in other chaps,” abruptly said the stranger, placing a nervous
+emphasis upon the word _he_.
+
+“Queequeg,” said I, “let’s go; this fellow has broken loose from
+somewhere; he’s talking about something and somebody we don’t know.”
+
+“Stop!” cried the stranger. “Ye said true—ye hav’n’t seen Old Thunder
+yet, have ye?”
+
+“Who’s Old Thunder?” said I, again riveted with the insane earnestness
+of his manner.
+
+“Captain Ahab.”
+
+“What! the captain of our ship, the Pequod?”
+
+“Aye, among some of us old sailor chaps, he goes by that name. Ye
+hav’n’t seen him yet, have ye?”
+
+“No, we hav’n’t. He’s sick they say, but is getting better, and will be
+all right again before long.”
+
+“All right again before long!” laughed the stranger, with a solemnly
+derisive sort of laugh. “Look ye; when Captain Ahab is all right, then
+this left arm of mine will be all right; not before.”
+
+“What do you know about him?”
+
+“What did they _tell_ you about him? Say that!”
+
+“They didn’t tell much of anything about him; only I’ve heard that he’s
+a good whale-hunter, and a good captain to his crew.”
+
+“That’s true, that’s true—yes, both true enough. But you must jump when
+he gives an order. Step and growl; growl and go—that’s the word with
+Captain Ahab. But nothing about that thing that happened to him off
+Cape Horn, long ago, when he lay like dead for three days and nights;
+nothing about that deadly skrimmage with the Spaniard afore the altar
+in Santa?—heard nothing about that, eh? Nothing about the silver
+calabash he spat into? And nothing about his losing his leg last
+voyage, according to the prophecy. Didn’t ye hear a word about them
+matters and something more, eh? No, I don’t think ye did; how could ye?
+Who knows it? Not all Nantucket, I guess. But hows’ever, mayhap, ye’ve
+heard tell about the leg, and how he lost it; aye, ye have heard of
+that, I dare say. Oh yes, _that_ every one knows a’most—I mean they
+know he’s only one leg; and that a parmacetti took the other off.”
+
+“My friend,” said I, “what all this gibberish of yours is about, I
+don’t know, and I don’t much care; for it seems to me that you must be
+a little damaged in the head. But if you are speaking of Captain Ahab,
+of that ship there, the Pequod, then let me tell you, that I know all
+about the loss of his leg.”
+
+“_All_ about it, eh—sure you do?—all?”
+
+“Pretty sure.”
+
+With finger pointed and eye levelled at the Pequod, the beggar-like
+stranger stood a moment, as if in a troubled reverie; then starting a
+little, turned and said:—“Ye’ve shipped, have ye? Names down on the
+papers? Well, well, what’s signed, is signed; and what’s to be, will
+be; and then again, perhaps it won’t be, after all. Anyhow, 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.”
+
+“Look here, friend,” said I, “if you have anything important to tell
+us, out with it; but if you are only trying to bamboozle us, you are
+mistaken in your game; that’s all I have to say.”
+
+“And it’s said very well, and I like to hear a chap talk up that way;
+you are just the man for him—the likes of ye. Morning to ye, shipmates,
+morning! Oh! when ye get there, tell ’em I’ve concluded not to make one
+of ’em.”
+
+“Ah, my dear fellow, you can’t fool us that way—you can’t fool us. It
+is the easiest thing in the world for a man to look as if he had a
+great secret in him.”
+
+“Morning to ye, shipmates, morning.”
+
+“Morning it is,” said I. “Come along, Queequeg, let’s leave this crazy
+man. But stop, tell me your name, will you?”
+
+“Elijah.”
+
+Elijah! thought I, and we walked away, both commenting, after each
+other’s fashion, upon this ragged old sailor; and agreed that he was
+nothing but a humbug, trying to be a bugbear. But we had not gone
+perhaps above a hundred yards, when chancing to turn a corner, and
+looking back as I did so, who should be seen but Elijah following us,
+though at a distance. Somehow, the sight of him struck me so, that I
+said nothing to Queequeg of his being behind, but passed on with my
+comrade, anxious to see whether the stranger would turn the same corner
+that we did. He did; and then it seemed to me that he was dogging us,
+but with what intent I could not for the life of me imagine. This
+circumstance, coupled with his ambiguous, half-hinting, half-revealing,
+shrouded sort of talk, now begat in me all kinds of vague wonderments
+and half-apprehensions, and all connected with the Pequod; and Captain
+Ahab; and the leg he had lost; and the Cape Horn fit; and the silver
+calabash; and what Captain Peleg had said of him, when I left the ship
+the day previous; and the prediction of the squaw Tistig; and the
+voyage we had bound ourselves to sail; and a hundred other shadowy
+things.
+
+I was resolved to satisfy myself whether this ragged Elijah was really
+dogging us or not, and with that intent crossed the way with Queequeg,
+and on that side of it retraced our steps. But Elijah passed on,
+without seeming to notice us. This relieved me; and once more, and
+finally as it seemed to me, I pronounced him in my heart, a humbug.
+
+
+CHAPTER 20. All Astir.
+
+A day or two passed, and there was great activity aboard the Pequod.
+Not only were the old sails being mended, but new sails were coming on
+board, and bolts of canvas, and coils of rigging; in short, everything
+betokened that the ship’s preparations were hurrying to a close.
+Captain Peleg seldom or never went ashore, but sat in his wigwam
+keeping a sharp look-out upon the hands: Bildad did all the purchasing
+and providing at the stores; and the men employed in the hold and on
+the rigging were working till long after night-fall.
+
+On the day following Queequeg’s signing the articles, word was given at
+all the inns where the ship’s company were stopping, that their chests
+must be on board before night, for there was no telling how soon the
+vessel might be sailing. So Queequeg and I got down our traps,
+resolving, however, to sleep ashore till the last. But it seems they
+always give very long notice in these cases, and the ship did not sail
+for several days. But no wonder; there was a good deal to be done, and
+there is no telling how many things to be thought of, before the Pequod
+was fully equipped.
+
+Every one knows what a multitude of things—beds, sauce-pans, knives and
+forks, shovels and tongs, napkins, nut-crackers, and what not, are
+indispensable to the business of housekeeping. Just so with whaling,
+which necessitates a three-years’ housekeeping upon the wide ocean, far
+from all grocers, costermongers, doctors, bakers, and bankers. And
+though this also holds true of merchant vessels, yet not by any means
+to the same extent as with whalemen. For besides the great length of
+the whaling voyage, the numerous articles peculiar to the prosecution
+of the fishery, and the impossibility of replacing them at the remote
+harbors usually frequented, it must be remembered, that of all ships,
+whaling vessels are the most exposed to accidents of all kinds, and
+especially to the destruction and loss of the very things upon which
+the success of the voyage most depends. Hence, the spare boats, spare
+spars, and spare lines and harpoons, and spare everythings, almost, but
+a spare Captain and duplicate ship.
+
+At the period of our arrival at the Island, the heaviest storage of the
+Pequod had been almost completed; comprising her beef, bread, water,
+fuel, and iron hoops and staves. But, as before hinted, for some time
+there was a continual fetching and carrying on board of divers odds and
+ends of things, both large and small.
+
+Chief among those who did this fetching and carrying was Captain
+Bildad’s sister, a lean old lady of a most determined and indefatigable
+spirit, but withal very kindhearted, who seemed resolved that, if _she_
+could help it, nothing should be found wanting in the Pequod, after
+once fairly getting to sea. At one time she would come on board with a
+jar of pickles for the steward’s pantry; another time with a bunch of
+quills for the chief mate’s desk, where he kept his log; a third time
+with a roll of flannel for the small of some one’s rheumatic back.
+Never did any woman better deserve her name, which was Charity—Aunt
+Charity, as everybody called her. And like a sister of charity did this
+charitable Aunt Charity bustle about hither and thither, ready to turn
+her hand and heart to anything that promised to yield safety, comfort,
+and consolation to all on board a ship in which her beloved brother
+Bildad was concerned, and in which she herself owned a score or two of
+well-saved dollars.
+
+But it was startling to see this excellent hearted Quakeress coming on
+board, as she did the last day, with a long oil-ladle in one hand, and
+a still longer whaling lance in the other. Nor was Bildad himself nor
+Captain Peleg at all backward. As for Bildad, he carried about with him
+a long list of the articles needed, and at every fresh arrival, down
+went his mark opposite that article upon the paper. Every once in a
+while Peleg came hobbling out of his whalebone den, roaring at the men
+down the hatchways, roaring up to the riggers at the mast-head, and
+then concluded by roaring back into his wigwam.
+
+During these days of preparation, Queequeg and I often visited the
+craft, and as often I asked about Captain Ahab, and how he was, and
+when he was going to come on board his ship. To these questions they
+would answer, that he was getting better and better, and was expected
+aboard every day; meantime, the two captains, Peleg and Bildad, could
+attend to everything necessary to fit the vessel for the voyage. If I
+had been downright honest with myself, I would have seen very plainly
+in my heart that I did but half fancy being committed this way to so
+long a voyage, without once laying my eyes on the man who was to be the
+absolute dictator of it, so soon as the ship sailed out upon the open
+sea. But when a man suspects any wrong, it sometimes happens that if he
+be already involved in the matter, he insensibly strives to cover up
+his suspicions even from himself. And much this way it was with me. I
+said nothing, and tried to think nothing.
+
+At last it was given out that some time next day the ship would
+certainly sail. So next morning, Queequeg and I took a very early
+start.
+
+
+CHAPTER 21. Going Aboard.
+
+It was nearly six o’clock, but only grey imperfect misty dawn, when we
+drew nigh the wharf.
+
+“There are some sailors running ahead there, if I see right,” said I to
+Queequeg, “it can’t be shadows; she’s off by sunrise, I guess; come
+on!”
+
+“Avast!” cried a voice, whose owner at the same time coming close
+behind us, laid a hand upon both our shoulders, and then insinuating
+himself between us, stood stooping forward a little, in the uncertain
+twilight, strangely peering from Queequeg to me. It was Elijah.
+
+“Going aboard?”
+
+“Hands off, will you,” said I.
+
+“Lookee here,” said Queequeg, shaking himself, “go ’way!”
+
+“Ain’t going aboard, then?”
+
+“Yes, we are,” said I, “but what business is that of yours? Do you
+know, Mr. Elijah, that I consider you a little impertinent?”
+
+“No, no, no; I wasn’t aware of that,” said Elijah, slowly and
+wonderingly looking from me to Queequeg, with the most unaccountable
+glances.
+
+“Elijah,” said I, “you will oblige my friend and me by withdrawing. We
+are going to the Indian and Pacific Oceans, and would prefer not to be
+detained.”
+
+“Ye be, be ye? Coming back afore breakfast?”
+
+“He’s cracked, Queequeg,” said I, “come on.”
+
+“Holloa!” cried stationary Elijah, hailing us when we had removed a few
+paces.
+
+“Never mind him,” said I, “Queequeg, come on.”
+
+But he stole up to us again, and suddenly clapping his hand on my
+shoulder, said—“Did ye see anything looking like men going towards that
+ship a while ago?”
+
+Struck by this plain matter-of-fact question, I answered, saying, “Yes,
+I thought I did see four or five men; but it was too dim to be sure.”
+
+“Very dim, very dim,” said Elijah. “Morning to ye.”
+
+Once more we quitted him; but once more he came softly after us; and
+touching my shoulder again, said, “See if you can find ’em now, will
+ye?
+
+“Find who?”
+
+“Morning to ye! morning to ye!” he rejoined, again moving off. “Oh! I
+was going to warn ye against—but never mind, never mind—it’s all one,
+all in the family too;—sharp frost this morning, ain’t it? Good-bye to
+ye. Shan’t see ye again very soon, I guess; unless it’s before the
+Grand Jury.” And with these cracked words he finally departed, leaving
+me, for the moment, in no small wonderment at his frantic impudence.
+
+At last, stepping on board the Pequod, we found everything in profound
+quiet, not a soul moving. The cabin entrance was locked within; the
+hatches were all on, and lumbered with coils of rigging. Going forward
+to the forecastle, we found the slide of the scuttle open. Seeing a
+light, we went down, and found only an old rigger there, wrapped in a
+tattered pea-jacket. He was thrown at whole length upon two chests, his
+face downwards and inclosed in his folded arms. The profoundest slumber
+slept upon him.
+
+“Those sailors we saw, Queequeg, where can they have gone to?” said I,
+looking dubiously at the sleeper. But it seemed that, when on the
+wharf, Queequeg had not at all noticed what I now alluded to; hence I
+would have thought myself to have been optically deceived in that
+matter, were it not for Elijah’s otherwise inexplicable question. But I
+beat the thing down; and again marking the sleeper, jocularly hinted to
+Queequeg that perhaps we had best sit up with the body; telling him to
+establish himself accordingly. He put his hand upon the sleeper’s rear,
+as though feeling if it was soft enough; and then, without more ado,
+sat quietly down there.
+
+“Gracious! Queequeg, don’t sit there,” said I.
+
+“Oh! perry dood seat,” said Queequeg, “my country way; won’t hurt him
+face.”
+
+“Face!” said I, “call that his face? very benevolent countenance then;
+but how hard he breathes, he’s heaving himself; get off, Queequeg, you
+are heavy, it’s grinding the face of the poor. Get off, Queequeg! Look,
+he’ll twitch you off soon. I wonder he don’t wake.”
+
+Queequeg removed himself to just beyond the head of the sleeper, and
+lighted his tomahawk pipe. I sat at the feet. We kept the pipe passing
+over the sleeper, from one to the other. Meanwhile, upon questioning
+him in his broken fashion, Queequeg gave me to understand that, in his
+land, owing to the absence of settees and sofas of all sorts, the king,
+chiefs, and great people generally, were in the custom of fattening
+some of the lower orders for ottomans; and to furnish a house
+comfortably in that respect, you had only to buy up eight or ten lazy
+fellows, and lay them round in the piers and alcoves. Besides, it was
+very convenient on an excursion; much better than those garden-chairs
+which are convertible into walking-sticks; upon occasion, a chief
+calling his attendant, and desiring him to make a settee of himself
+under a spreading tree, perhaps in some damp marshy place.
+
+While narrating these things, every time Queequeg received the tomahawk
+from me, he flourished the hatchet-side of it over the sleeper’s head.
+
+“What’s that for, Queequeg?”
+
+“Perry easy, kill-e; oh! perry easy!”
+
+He was going on with some wild reminiscences about his tomahawk-pipe,
+which, it seemed, had in its two uses both brained his foes and soothed
+his soul, when we were directly attracted to the sleeping rigger. The
+strong vapor now completely filling the contracted hole, it began to
+tell upon him. He breathed with a sort of muffledness; then seemed
+troubled in the nose; then revolved over once or twice; then sat up and
+rubbed his eyes.
+
+“Holloa!” he breathed at last, “who be ye smokers?”
+
+“Shipped men,” answered I, “when does she sail?”
+
+“Aye, aye, ye are going in her, be ye? She sails to-day. The Captain
+came aboard last night.”
+
+“What Captain?—Ahab?”
+
+“Who but him indeed?”
+
+I was going to ask him some further questions concerning Ahab, when we
+heard a noise on deck.
+
+“Holloa! Starbuck’s astir,” said the rigger. “He’s a lively chief mate,
+that; good man, and a pious; but all alive now, I must turn to.” And so
+saying he went on deck, and we followed.
+
+It was now clear sunrise. Soon the crew came on board in twos and
+threes; the riggers bestirred themselves; the mates were actively
+engaged; and several of the shore people were busy in bringing various
+last things on board. Meanwhile Captain Ahab remained invisibly
+enshrined within his cabin.
+
+
+CHAPTER 22. Merry Christmas.
+
+At length, towards noon, upon the final dismissal of the ship’s
+riggers, and after the Pequod had been hauled out from the wharf, and
+after the ever-thoughtful Charity had come off in a whale-boat, with
+her last gift—a night-cap for Stubb, the second mate, her
+brother-in-law, and a spare Bible for the steward—after all this, the
+two Captains, Peleg and Bildad, issued from the cabin, and turning to
+the chief mate, Peleg said:
+
+“Now, Mr. Starbuck, are you sure everything is right? Captain Ahab is
+all ready—just spoke to him—nothing more to be got from shore, eh?
+Well, call all hands, then. Muster ’em aft here—blast ’em!”
+
+“No need of profane words, however great the hurry, Peleg,” said
+Bildad, “but away with thee, friend Starbuck, and do our bidding.”
+
+How now! Here upon the very point of starting for the voyage, Captain
+Peleg and Captain Bildad were going it with a high hand on the
+quarter-deck, just as if they were to be joint-commanders at sea, as
+well as to all appearances in port. And, as for Captain Ahab, no sign
+of him was yet to be seen; only, they said he was in the cabin. But
+then, the idea was, that his presence was by no means necessary in
+getting the ship under weigh, and steering her well out to sea. Indeed,
+as that was not at all his proper business, but the pilot’s; and as he
+was not yet completely recovered—so they said—therefore, Captain Ahab
+stayed below. And all this seemed natural enough; especially as in the
+merchant service many captains never show themselves on deck for a
+considerable time after heaving up the anchor, but remain over the
+cabin table, having a farewell merry-making with their shore friends,
+before they quit the ship for good with the pilot.
+
+But there was not much chance to think over the matter, for Captain
+Peleg was now all alive. He seemed to do most of the talking and
+commanding, and not Bildad.
+
+“Aft here, ye sons of bachelors,” he cried, as the sailors lingered at
+the main-mast. “Mr. Starbuck, drive ’em aft.”
+
+“Strike the tent there!”—was the next order. As I hinted before, this
+whalebone marquee was never pitched except in port; and on board the
+Pequod, for thirty years, the order to strike the tent was well known
+to be the next thing to heaving up the anchor.
+
+“Man the capstan! Blood and thunder!—jump!”—was the next command, and
+the crew sprang for the handspikes.
+
+Now in getting under weigh, the station generally occupied by the pilot
+is the forward part of the ship. And here Bildad, who, with Peleg, be
+it known, in addition to his other officers, was one of the licensed
+pilots of the port—he being suspected to have got himself made a pilot
+in order to save the Nantucket pilot-fee to all the ships he was
+concerned in, for he never piloted any other craft—Bildad, I say, might
+now be seen actively engaged in looking over the bows for the
+approaching anchor, and at intervals singing what seemed a dismal stave
+of psalmody, to cheer the hands at the windlass, who roared forth some
+sort of a chorus about the girls in Booble Alley, with hearty good
+will. Nevertheless, not three days previous, Bildad had told them that
+no profane songs would be allowed on board the Pequod, particularly in
+getting under weigh; and Charity, his sister, had placed a small choice
+copy of Watts in each seaman’s berth.
+
+Meantime, overseeing the other part of the ship, Captain Peleg ripped
+and swore astern in the most frightful manner. I almost thought he
+would sink the ship before the anchor could be got up; involuntarily I
+paused on my handspike, and told Queequeg to do the same, thinking of
+the perils we both ran, in starting on the voyage with such a devil for
+a pilot. I was comforting myself, however, with the thought that in
+pious Bildad might be found some salvation, spite of his seven hundred
+and seventy-seventh lay; when I felt a sudden sharp poke in my rear,
+and turning round, was horrified at the apparition of Captain Peleg in
+the act of withdrawing his leg from my immediate vicinity. That was my
+first kick.
+
+“Is that the way they heave in the marchant service?” he roared.
+“Spring, thou sheep-head; spring, and break thy backbone! Why don’t ye
+spring, I say, all of ye—spring! Quohog! spring, thou chap with the red
+whiskers; spring there, Scotch-cap; spring, thou green pants. Spring, I
+say, all of ye, and spring your eyes out!” And so saying, he moved
+along the windlass, here and there using his leg very freely, while
+imperturbable Bildad kept leading off with his psalmody. Thinks I,
+Captain Peleg must have been drinking something to-day.
+
+At last the anchor was up, the sails were set, and off we glided. It
+was a short, cold Christmas; and as the short northern day merged into
+night, we found ourselves almost broad upon the wintry ocean, whose
+freezing spray cased us in ice, as in polished armor. The long rows of
+teeth on the bulwarks glistened in the moonlight; and like the white
+ivory tusks of some huge elephant, vast curving icicles depended from
+the bows.
+
+Lank Bildad, as pilot, headed the first watch, and ever and anon, as
+the old craft deep dived into the green seas, and sent the shivering
+frost all over her, and the winds howled, and the cordage rang, his
+steady notes were heard,—
+
+
+_“Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, Stand dressed in living
+green. So to the Jews old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between.”_
+
+
+
+Never did those sweet words sound more sweetly to me than then. They
+were full of hope and fruition. Spite of this frigid winter night in
+the boisterous Atlantic, spite of my wet feet and wetter jacket, there
+was yet, it then seemed to me, many a pleasant haven in store; and
+meads and glades so eternally vernal, that the grass shot up by the
+spring, untrodden, unwilted, remains at midsummer.
+
+At last we gained such an offing, that the two pilots were needed no
+longer. The stout sail-boat that had accompanied us began ranging
+alongside.
+
+It was curious and not unpleasing, how Peleg and Bildad were affected
+at this juncture, especially Captain Bildad. For loath to depart, yet;
+very loath to leave, for good, a ship bound on so long and perilous a
+voyage—beyond both stormy Capes; a ship in which some thousands of his
+hard earned dollars were invested; a ship, in which an old shipmate
+sailed as captain; a man almost as old as he, once more starting to
+encounter all the terrors of the pitiless jaw; loath to say good-bye to
+a thing so every way brimful of every interest to him,—poor old Bildad
+lingered long; paced the deck with anxious strides; ran down into the
+cabin to speak another farewell word there; again came on deck, and
+looked to windward; looked towards the wide and endless waters, only
+bounded by the far-off unseen Eastern Continents; looked towards the
+land; looked aloft; looked right and left; looked everywhere and
+nowhere; and at last, mechanically coiling a rope upon its pin,
+convulsively grasped stout Peleg by the hand, and holding up a lantern,
+for a moment stood gazing heroically in his face, as much as to say,
+“Nevertheless, friend Peleg, I can stand it; yes, I can.”
+
+As for Peleg himself, he took it more like a philosopher; but for all
+his philosophy, there was a tear twinkling in his eye, when the lantern
+came too near. And he, too, did not a little run from cabin to deck—now
+a word below, and now a word with Starbuck, the chief mate.
+
+But, at last, he turned to his comrade, with a final sort of look about
+him,—“Captain Bildad—come, old shipmate, we must go. Back the main-yard
+there! Boat ahoy! Stand by to come close alongside, now! Careful,
+careful!—come, Bildad, boy—say your last. Luck to ye, Starbuck—luck to
+ye, Mr. Stubb—luck to ye, Mr. Flask—good-bye and good luck to ye
+all—and this day three years I’ll have a hot supper smoking for ye in
+old Nantucket. Hurrah and away!”
+
+“God bless ye, and have ye in His holy keeping, men,” murmured old
+Bildad, almost incoherently. “I hope ye’ll have fine weather now, so
+that Captain Ahab may soon be moving among ye—a pleasant sun is all he
+needs, and ye’ll have plenty of them in the tropic voyage ye go. Be
+careful in the hunt, ye mates. Don’t stave the boats needlessly, ye
+harpooneers; good white cedar plank is raised full three per cent.
+within the year. Don’t forget your prayers, either. Mr. Starbuck, mind
+that cooper don’t waste the spare staves. Oh! the sail-needles are in
+the green locker! Don’t whale it too much a’ Lord’s days, men; but
+don’t miss a fair chance either, that’s rejecting Heaven’s good gifts.
+Have an eye to the molasses tierce, Mr. Stubb; it was a little leaky, I
+thought. If ye touch at the islands, Mr. Flask, beware of fornication.
+Good-bye, good-bye! Don’t keep that cheese too long down in the hold,
+Mr. Starbuck; it’ll spoil. Be careful with the butter—twenty cents the
+pound it was, and mind ye, if—”
+
+“Come, come, Captain Bildad; stop palavering,—away!” and with that,
+Peleg hurried him over the side, and both dropt into the boat.
+
+Ship and boat diverged; the cold, damp night breeze blew between; a
+screaming gull flew overhead; the two hulls wildly rolled; we gave
+three heavy-hearted cheers, and blindly plunged like fate into the lone
+Atlantic.
+
+
+CHAPTER 23. The Lee Shore.
+
+Some chapters back, one Bulkington was spoken of, a tall, newlanded
+mariner, encountered in New Bedford at the inn.
+
+When on that shivering winter’s night, the Pequod thrust her vindictive
+bows into the cold malicious waves, who should I see standing at her
+helm but Bulkington! I looked with sympathetic awe and fearfulness upon
+the man, who in mid-winter just landed from a four years’ dangerous
+voyage, could so unrestingly push off again for still another
+tempestuous term. The land seemed scorching to his feet. Wonderfullest
+things are ever the unmentionable; deep memories yield no epitaphs;
+this six-inch chapter is the stoneless grave of Bulkington. Let me only
+say that it fared with him as with the storm-tossed ship, that
+miserably drives along the leeward land. The port would fain give
+succor; the port is pitiful; in the port is safety, comfort,
+hearthstone, supper, warm blankets, friends, all that’s kind to our
+mortalities. But in that gale, the port, the land, is that ship’s
+direst jeopardy; she must fly all hospitality; one touch of land,
+though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and
+through. With all her might she crowds all sail off shore; in so doing,
+fights ’gainst the very winds that fain would blow her homeward; seeks
+all the lashed sea’s landlessness again; for refuge’s sake forlornly
+rushing into peril; her only friend her bitterest foe!
+
+Know ye now, Bulkington? Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally
+intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid
+effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; while the
+wildest winds of heaven and earth conspire to cast her on the
+treacherous, slavish shore?
+
+But as in landlessness alone resides highest truth, shoreless,
+indefinite as God—so, better is it to perish in that howling infinite,
+than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For
+worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land! Terrors of the
+terrible! is all this agony so vain? Take heart, take heart, O
+Bulkington! Bear thee grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of thy
+ocean-perishing—straight up, leaps thy apotheosis!
+
+
+CHAPTER 24. The Advocate.
+
+As Queequeg and I are now fairly embarked in this business of whaling;
+and as this business of whaling has somehow come to be regarded among
+landsmen as a rather unpoetical and disreputable pursuit; therefore, I
+am all anxiety to convince ye, ye landsmen, of the injustice hereby
+done to us hunters of whales.
+
+In the first place, it may be deemed almost superfluous to establish
+the fact, that among people at large, the business of whaling is not
+accounted on a level with what are called the liberal professions. If a
+stranger were introduced into any miscellaneous metropolitan society,
+it would but slightly advance the general opinion of his merits, were
+he presented to the company as a harpooneer, say; and if in emulation
+of the naval officers he should append the initials S.W.F. (Sperm Whale
+Fishery) to his visiting card, such a procedure would be deemed
+pre-eminently presuming and ridiculous.
+
+Doubtless one leading reason why the world declines honoring us
+whalemen, is this: they think that, at best, our vocation amounts to a
+butchering sort of business; and that when actively engaged therein, we
+are surrounded by all manner of defilements. Butchers we are, that is
+true. But butchers, also, and butchers of the bloodiest badge have been
+all Martial Commanders whom the world invariably delights to honor. And
+as for the matter of the alleged uncleanliness of our business, ye
+shall soon be initiated into certain facts hitherto pretty generally
+unknown, and which, upon the whole, will triumphantly plant the sperm
+whale-ship at least among the cleanliest things of this tidy earth. But
+even granting the charge in question to be true; what disordered
+slippery decks of a whale-ship are comparable to the unspeakable
+carrion of those battle-fields from which so many soldiers return to
+drink in all ladies’ plaudits? And if the idea of peril so much
+enhances the popular conceit of the soldier’s profession; let me assure
+ye that many a veteran who has freely marched up to a battery, would
+quickly recoil at the apparition of the sperm whale’s vast tail,
+fanning into eddies the air over his head. For what are the
+comprehensible terrors of man compared with the interlinked terrors and
+wonders of God!
+
+But, though the world scouts at us whale hunters, yet does it
+unwittingly pay us the profoundest homage; yea, an all-abounding
+adoration! for almost all the tapers, lamps, and candles that burn
+round the globe, burn, as before so many shrines, to our glory!
+
+But look at this matter in other lights; weigh it in all sorts of
+scales; see what we whalemen are, and have been.
+
+Why did the Dutch in De Witt’s time have admirals of their whaling
+fleets? Why did Louis XVI. of France, at his own personal expense, fit
+out whaling ships from Dunkirk, and politely invite to that town some
+score or two of families from our own island of Nantucket? Why did
+Britain between the years 1750 and 1788 pay to her whalemen in bounties
+upwards of £1,000,000? And lastly, how comes it that we whalemen of
+America now outnumber all the rest of the banded whalemen in the world;
+sail a navy of upwards of seven hundred vessels; manned by eighteen
+thousand men; yearly consuming 4,000,000 of dollars; the ships worth,
+at the time of sailing, $20,000,000! and every year importing into our
+harbors a well reaped harvest of $7,000,000. How comes all this, if
+there be not something puissant in whaling?
+
+But this is not the half; look again.
+
+I freely assert, that the cosmopolite philosopher cannot, for his life,
+point out one single peaceful influence, which within the last sixty
+years has operated more potentially upon the whole broad world, taken
+in one aggregate, than the high and mighty business of whaling. One way
+and another, it has begotten events so remarkable in themselves, and so
+continuously momentous in their sequential issues, that whaling may
+well be regarded as that Egyptian mother, who bore offspring themselves
+pregnant from her womb. It would be a hopeless, endless task to
+catalogue all these things. Let a handful suffice. For many years past
+the whale-ship has been the pioneer in ferreting out the remotest and
+least known parts of the earth. She has explored seas and archipelagoes
+which had no chart, where no Cook or Vancouver had ever sailed. If
+American and European men-of-war now peacefully ride in once savage
+harbors, let them fire salutes to the honor and glory of the
+whale-ship, which originally showed them the way, and first interpreted
+between them and the savages. They may celebrate as they will the
+heroes of Exploring Expeditions, your Cooks, your Krusensterns; but I
+say that scores of anonymous Captains have sailed out of Nantucket,
+that were as great, and greater than your Cook and your Krusenstern.
+For in their succourless empty-handedness, they, in the heathenish
+sharked waters, and by the beaches of unrecorded, javelin islands,
+battled with virgin wonders and terrors that Cook with all his marines
+and muskets would not willingly have dared. All that is made such a
+flourish of in the old South Sea Voyages, those things were but the
+life-time commonplaces of our heroic Nantucketers. Often, adventures
+which Vancouver dedicates three chapters to, these men accounted
+unworthy of being set down in the ship’s common log. Ah, the world! Oh,
+the world!
+
+Until the whale fishery rounded Cape Horn, no commerce but colonial,
+scarcely any intercourse but colonial, was carried on between Europe
+and the long line of the opulent Spanish provinces on the Pacific
+coast. It was the whaleman who first broke through the jealous policy
+of the Spanish crown, touching those colonies; and, if space permitted,
+it might be distinctly shown how from those whalemen at last eventuated
+the liberation of Peru, Chili, and Bolivia from the yoke of Old Spain,
+and the establishment of the eternal democracy in those parts.
+
+That great America on the other side of the sphere, Australia, was
+given to the enlightened world by the whaleman. After its first
+blunder-born discovery by a Dutchman, all other ships long shunned
+those shores as pestiferously barbarous; but the whale-ship touched
+there. The whale-ship is the true mother of that now mighty colony.
+Moreover, in the infancy of the first Australian settlement, the
+emigrants were several times saved from starvation by the benevolent
+biscuit of the whale-ship luckily dropping an anchor in their waters.
+The uncounted isles of all Polynesia confess the same truth, and do
+commercial homage to the whale-ship, that cleared the way for the
+missionary and the merchant, and in many cases carried the primitive
+missionaries to their first destinations. If that double-bolted land,
+Japan, is ever to become hospitable, it is the whale-ship alone to whom
+the credit will be due; for already she is on the threshold.
+
+But if, in the face of all this, you still declare that whaling has no
+æsthetically noble associations connected with it, then am I ready to
+shiver fifty lances with you there, and unhorse you with a split helmet
+every time.
+
+The whale has no famous author, and whaling no famous chronicler, you
+will say.
+
+_The whale no famous author, and whaling no famous chronicler?_ Who
+wrote the first account of our Leviathan? Who but mighty Job! And who
+composed the first narrative of a whaling-voyage? Who, but no less a
+prince than Alfred the Great, who, with his own royal pen, took down
+the words from Other, the Norwegian whale-hunter of those times! And
+who pronounced our glowing eulogy in Parliament? Who, but Edmund Burke!
+
+True enough, but then whalemen themselves are poor devils; they have no
+good blood in their veins.
+
+_No good blood in their veins?_ They have something better than royal
+blood there. The grandmother of Benjamin Franklin was Mary Morrel;
+afterwards, by marriage, Mary Folger, one of the old settlers of
+Nantucket, and the ancestress to a long line of Folgers and
+harpooneers—all kith and kin to noble Benjamin—this day darting the
+barbed iron from one side of the world to the other.
+
+Good again; but then all confess that somehow whaling is not
+respectable.
+
+_Whaling not respectable?_ Whaling is imperial! By old English
+statutory law, the whale is declared “a royal fish.” *
+
+Oh, that’s only nominal! The whale himself has never figured in any
+grand imposing way.
+
+_The whale never figured in any grand imposing way?_ In one of the
+mighty triumphs given to a Roman general upon his entering the world’s
+capital, the bones of a whale, brought all the way from the Syrian
+coast, were the most conspicuous object in the cymballed procession.*
+
+*See subsequent chapters for something more on this head.
+
+Grant it, since you cite it; but, say what you will, there is no real
+dignity in whaling.
+
+_No dignity in whaling?_ The dignity of our calling the very heavens
+attest. Cetus is a constellation in the South! No more! Drive down your
+hat in presence of the Czar, and take it off to Queequeg! No more! I
+know a man that, in his lifetime, has taken three hundred and fifty
+whales. I account that man more honorable than that great captain of
+antiquity who boasted of taking as many walled towns.
+
+And, as for me, if, by any possibility, there be any as yet
+undiscovered prime thing in me; if I shall ever deserve any real repute
+in that small but high hushed world which I might not be unreasonably
+ambitious of; if hereafter I shall do anything that, upon the whole, a
+man might rather have done than to have left undone; if, at my death,
+my executors, or more properly my creditors, find any precious MSS. in
+my desk, then here I prospectively ascribe all the honor and the glory
+to whaling; for a whale-ship was my Yale College and my Harvard.
+
+
+CHAPTER 25. Postscript.
+
+In behalf of the dignity of whaling, I would fain advance naught but
+substantiated facts. But after embattling his facts, an advocate who
+should wholly suppress a not unreasonable surmise, which might tell
+eloquently upon his cause—such an advocate, would he not be
+blameworthy?
+
+It is well known that at the coronation of kings and queens, even
+modern ones, a certain curious process of seasoning them for their
+functions is gone through. There is a saltcellar of state, so called,
+and there may be a castor of state. How they use the salt,
+precisely—who knows? Certain I am, however, that a king’s head is
+solemnly oiled at his coronation, even as a head of salad. Can it be,
+though, that they anoint it with a view of making its interior run
+well, as they anoint machinery? Much might be ruminated here,
+concerning the essential dignity of this regal process, because in
+common life we esteem but meanly and contemptibly a fellow who anoints
+his hair, and palpably smells of that anointing. In truth, a mature man
+who uses hair-oil, unless medicinally, that man has probably got a
+quoggy spot in him somewhere. As a general rule, he can’t amount to
+much in his totality.
+
+But the only thing to be considered here, is this—what kind of oil is
+used at coronations? Certainly it cannot be olive oil, nor macassar
+oil, nor castor oil, nor bear’s oil, nor train oil, nor cod-liver oil.
+What then can it possibly be, but sperm oil in its unmanufactured,
+unpolluted state, the sweetest of all oils?
+
+Think of that, ye loyal Britons! we whalemen supply your kings and
+queens with coronation stuff!
+
+
+CHAPTER 26. Knights and Squires.
+
+The chief mate of the Pequod was Starbuck, a native of Nantucket, and a
+Quaker by descent. He was a long, earnest man, and though born on an
+icy coast, seemed well adapted to endure hot latitudes, his flesh being
+hard as twice-baked biscuit. Transported to the Indies, his live blood
+would not spoil like bottled ale. He must have been born in some time
+of general drought and famine, or upon one of those fast days for which
+his state is famous. Only some thirty arid summers had he seen; those
+summers had dried up all his physical superfluousness. But this, his
+thinness, so to speak, seemed no more the token of wasting anxieties
+and cares, than it seemed the indication of any bodily blight. It was
+merely the condensation of the man. He was by no means ill-looking;
+quite the contrary. His pure tight skin was an excellent fit; and
+closely wrapped up in it, and embalmed with inner health and strength,
+like a revivified Egyptian, this Starbuck seemed prepared to endure for
+long ages to come, and to endure always, as now; for be it Polar snow
+or torrid sun, like a patent chronometer, his interior vitality was
+warranted to do well in all climates. Looking into his eyes, you seemed
+to see there the yet lingering images of those thousand-fold perils he
+had calmly confronted through life. A staid, steadfast man, whose life
+for the most part was a telling pantomime of action, and not a tame
+chapter of sounds. Yet, for all his hardy sobriety and fortitude, there
+were certain qualities in him which at times affected, and in some
+cases seemed well nigh to overbalance all the rest. 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
+organizations seems rather to spring, somehow, from intelligence than
+from ignorance. Outward portents and inward presentiments were his. And
+if at times these things bent the welded iron of his soul, much more
+did his far-away domestic memories of his young Cape wife and child,
+tend to bend him still more 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.
+
+“Aye, aye,” said Stubb, the second mate, “Starbuck, there, is as
+careful a man as you’ll find anywhere in this fishery.” But we shall
+ere long see what that word “careful” precisely means when used by a
+man like Stubb, or almost any other whale hunter.
+
+Starbuck was no crusader after perils; in him courage was not a
+sentiment; but a thing simply useful to him, and always at hand upon
+all mortally practical occasions. Besides, he thought, perhaps, that in
+this business of whaling, courage was one of the great staple outfits
+of the ship, like her beef and her bread, and not to be foolishly
+wasted. Wherefore he had no fancy for lowering for whales after
+sun-down; nor for persisting in fighting a fish that too much persisted
+in fighting him. For, thought Starbuck, I am here in this critical
+ocean to kill whales for my living, and not to be killed by them for
+theirs; and that hundreds of men had been so killed Starbuck well knew.
+What doom was his own father’s? Where, in the bottomless deeps, could
+he find the torn limbs of his brother?
+
+With memories like these in him, and, moreover, given to a certain
+superstitiousness, as has been said; the courage of this Starbuck which
+could, nevertheless, still flourish, must indeed have been extreme. But
+it was not in reasonable nature that a man so organized, and with such
+terrible experiences and remembrances as he had; it was not in nature
+that these things should fail in latently engendering an element in
+him, which, under suitable circumstances, would break out from its
+confinement, and burn all his courage up. And brave as he might be, it
+was that sort of bravery chiefly, visible in some intrepid men, which,
+while generally abiding firm in the conflict with seas, or winds, or
+whales, or any of the ordinary irrational horrors of the world, yet
+cannot withstand those more terrific, because more spiritual terrors,
+which sometimes menace you from the concentrating brow of an enraged
+and mighty man.
+
+But were the coming narrative to reveal in any instance, the complete
+abasement of poor Starbuck’s fortitude, scarce might I have the heart
+to write it; for it is a thing most sorrowful, nay shocking, to expose
+the fall of valour in the soul. Men may seem detestable as joint
+stock-companies and nations; knaves, fools, and murderers there may be;
+men may have mean and meagre faces; but man, in the ideal, is so noble
+and so sparkling, such a grand and glowing creature, that over any
+ignominious blemish in him all his fellows should run to throw their
+costliest robes. That immaculate manliness we feel within ourselves, so
+far within us, that it remains intact though all the outer character
+seem gone; bleeds with keenest anguish at the undraped spectacle of a
+valor-ruined man. Nor can piety itself, at such a shameful sight,
+completely stifle her upbraidings against the permitting stars. But
+this august dignity I treat of, is not the dignity of kings and robes,
+but that abounding dignity which has no robed investiture. Thou shalt
+see it shining in the arm that wields a pick or drives a spike; that
+democratic dignity which, on all hands, radiates without end from God;
+Himself! The great God absolute! The centre and circumference of all
+democracy! His omnipresence, our divine equality!
+
+If, then, to meanest mariners, and renegades and castaways, I shall
+hereafter ascribe high qualities, though dark; weave round them tragic
+graces; if even the most mournful, perchance the most abased, among
+them all, shall at times lift himself to the exalted mounts; if I shall
+touch that workman’s arm with some ethereal light; if I shall spread a
+rainbow over his disastrous set of sun; then against all mortal critics
+bear me out in it, thou just Spirit of Equality, which hast spread one
+royal mantle of humanity over all my kind! Bear me out in it, thou
+great democratic God! who didst not refuse to the swart convict,
+Bunyan, the pale, poetic pearl; Thou who didst clothe with doubly
+hammered leaves of finest gold, the stumped and paupered arm of old
+Cervantes; Thou who didst pick up Andrew Jackson from the pebbles; who
+didst hurl him upon a war-horse; who didst thunder him higher than a
+throne! Thou who, in all Thy mighty, earthly marchings, ever cullest
+Thy selectest champions from the kingly commons; bear me out in it, O
+God!
+
+
+CHAPTER 27. Knights and Squires.
+
+Stubb was the second mate. He was a native of Cape Cod; and hence,
+according to local usage, was called a Cape-Cod-man. A happy-go-lucky;
+neither craven nor valiant; taking perils as they came with an
+indifferent air; and while engaged in the most imminent crisis of the
+chase, toiling away, calm and collected as a journeyman joiner engaged
+for the year. Good-humored, easy, and careless, he presided over his
+whale-boat as if the most deadly encounter were but a dinner, and his
+crew all invited guests. He was as particular about the comfortable
+arrangement of his part of the boat, as an old stage-driver is about
+the snugness of his box. When close to the whale, in the very
+death-lock of the fight, he handled his unpitying lance coolly and
+off-handedly, as a whistling tinker his hammer. He would hum over his
+old rigadig tunes while flank and flank with the most exasperated
+monster. Long usage had, for this Stubb, converted the jaws of death
+into an easy chair. What he thought of death itself, there is no
+telling. Whether he ever thought of it at all, might be a question;
+but, if he ever did chance to cast his mind that way after a
+comfortable dinner, no doubt, like a good sailor, he took it to be a
+sort of call of the watch to tumble aloft, and bestir themselves there,
+about something which he would find out when he obeyed the order, and
+not sooner.
+
+What, perhaps, with other things, made Stubb such an easy-going,
+unfearing man, so cheerily trudging off with the burden of life in a
+world full of grave pedlars, all bowed to the ground with their packs;
+what helped to bring about that almost impious good-humor of his; that
+thing must have been his pipe. For, like his nose, his short, black
+little pipe was one of the regular features of his face. You would
+almost as soon have expected him to turn out of his bunk without his
+nose as without his pipe. He kept a whole row of pipes there ready
+loaded, stuck in a rack, within easy reach of his hand; and, whenever
+he turned in, he smoked them all out in succession, lighting one from
+the other to the end of the chapter; then loading them again to be in
+readiness anew. For, when Stubb dressed, instead of first putting his
+legs into his trowsers, he put his pipe into his mouth.
+
+I say this continual smoking must have been one cause, at least, of his
+peculiar disposition; for every one knows that this earthly air,
+whether ashore or afloat, is terribly infected with the nameless
+miseries of the numberless mortals who have died exhaling it; and as in
+time of the cholera, some people go about with a camphorated
+handkerchief to their mouths; so, likewise, against all mortal
+tribulations, Stubb’s tobacco smoke might have operated as a sort of
+disinfecting agent.
+
+The third mate was Flask, a native of Tisbury, in Martha’s Vineyard. 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. So utterly lost
+was he to all sense of reverence for the many marvels of their majestic
+bulk and mystic ways; and so dead to anything like an apprehension of
+any possible danger from encountering them; that in his poor opinion,
+the wondrous whale was but a species of magnified mouse, or at least
+water-rat, requiring only a little circumvention and some small
+application of time and trouble in order to kill and boil. This
+ignorant, unconscious fearlessness of his made him a little waggish in
+the matter of whales; he followed these fish for the fun of it; and a
+three years’ voyage round Cape Horn was only a jolly joke that lasted
+that length of time. As a carpenter’s nails are divided into wrought
+nails and cut nails; so mankind may be similarly divided. Little Flask
+was one of the wrought ones; made to clinch tight and last long. They
+called him King-Post on board of the Pequod; because, in form, he could
+be well likened to the short, square timber known by that name in
+Arctic whalers; and which by the means of many radiating side timbers
+inserted into it, serves to brace the ship against the icy concussions
+of those battering seas.
+
+Now these three mates—Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask, were momentous men.
+They it was who by universal prescription commanded three of the
+Pequod’s boats as headsmen. In that grand order of battle in which
+Captain Ahab would probably marshal his forces to descend on the
+whales, these three headsmen were as captains of companies. Or, being
+armed with their long keen whaling spears, they were as a picked trio
+of lancers; even as the harpooneers were flingers of javelins.
+
+And since in this famous fishery, each mate or headsman, like a Gothic
+Knight of old, is always accompanied by his boat-steerer or harpooneer,
+who in certain conjunctures provides him with a fresh lance, when the
+former one has been badly twisted, or elbowed in the assault; and
+moreover, as there generally subsists between the two, a close intimacy
+and friendliness; it is therefore but meet, that in this place we set
+down who the Pequod’s harpooneers were, and to what headsman each of
+them belonged.
+
+First of all was Queequeg, whom Starbuck, the chief mate, had selected
+for his squire. But Queequeg is already known.
+
+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. Tashtego’s long, lean, sable hair, his high cheek bones,
+and black rounding eyes—for an Indian, Oriental in their largeness, but
+Antarctic in their glittering expression—all this sufficiently
+proclaimed him an inheritor of the unvitiated blood of those proud
+warrior hunters, who, in quest of the great New England moose, had
+scoured, bow in hand, the aboriginal forests of the main. But no longer
+snuffing in the trail of the wild beasts of the woodland, Tashtego now
+hunted in the wake of the great whales of the sea; the unerring harpoon
+of the son fitly replacing the infallible arrow of the sires. To look
+at the tawny brawn of his lithe snaky limbs, you would almost have
+credited the superstitions of some of the earlier Puritans, and
+half-believed this wild Indian to be a son of the Prince of the Powers
+of the Air. Tashtego was Stubb the second mate’s squire.
+
+Third among the harpooneers was Daggoo, a gigantic, coal-black
+negro-savage, with a lion-like tread—an Ahasuerus to behold. Suspended
+from his ears were two golden hoops, so large that the sailors called
+them ring-bolts, and would talk of securing the top-sail halyards to
+them. In his youth Daggoo had voluntarily shipped on board of a whaler,
+lying in a lonely bay on his native coast. And never having been
+anywhere in the world but in Africa, Nantucket, and the pagan harbors
+most frequented by whalemen; and having now led for many years the bold
+life of the fishery in the ships of owners uncommonly heedful of what
+manner of men they shipped; Daggoo retained all his barbaric virtues,
+and erect as a giraffe, moved about the decks in all the pomp of six
+feet five in his socks. There was a corporeal humility in looking up at
+him; and a white man standing before him seemed a white flag come to
+beg truce of a fortress. Curious to tell, this imperial negro,
+Ahasuerus Daggoo, was the Squire of little Flask, who looked like a
+chess-man beside him. As for the residue of the Pequod’s company, be it
+said, that at the present day not one in two of the many thousand men
+before the mast employed in the American whale fishery, are Americans
+born, though pretty nearly all the officers are. Herein it is the same
+with the American whale fishery as with the American army and military
+and merchant navies, and the engineering forces employed in the
+construction of the American Canals and Railroads. The same, I say,
+because in all these cases the native American liberally provides the
+brains, the rest of the world as generously supplying the muscles. No
+small number of these whaling seamen belong to the Azores, where the
+outward bound Nantucket whalers frequently touch to augment their crews
+from the hardy peasants of those rocky shores. In like manner, the
+Greenland whalers sailing out of Hull or London, put in at the Shetland
+Islands, to receive the full complement of their crew. Upon the passage
+homewards, they drop them there again. How it is, there is no telling,
+but Islanders seem to make the best whalemen. They were nearly all
+Islanders in the Pequod, _Isolatoes_ too, I call such, not
+acknowledging the common continent of men, but each _Isolato_ living on
+a separate continent of his own. Yet now, federated along one keel,
+what a set these Isolatoes were! An Anacharsis Clootz deputation from
+all the isles of the sea, and all the ends of the earth, accompanying
+Old Ahab in the Pequod to lay the world’s grievances before that bar
+from which not very many of them ever come back. Black Little Pip—he
+never did—oh, no! he went before. Poor Alabama boy! On the grim
+Pequod’s forecastle, ye shall ere long see him, beating his tambourine;
+prelusive of the eternal time, when sent for, to the great quarter-deck
+on high, he was bid strike in with angels, and beat his tambourine in
+glory; called a coward here, hailed a hero there!
+
+
+CHAPTER 28. Ahab.
+
+For several days after leaving Nantucket, nothing above hatches was
+seen of Captain Ahab. The mates regularly relieved each other at the
+watches, and for aught that could be seen to the contrary, they seemed
+to be the only commanders of the ship; only they sometimes issued from
+the cabin with orders so sudden and peremptory, that after all it was
+plain they but commanded vicariously. Yes, their supreme lord and
+dictator was there, though hitherto unseen by any eyes not permitted to
+penetrate into the now sacred retreat of the cabin.
+
+Every time I ascended to the deck from my watches below, I instantly
+gazed aft to mark if any strange face were visible; for my first vague
+disquietude touching the unknown captain, now in the seclusion of the
+sea, became almost a perturbation. This was strangely heightened at
+times by the ragged Elijah’s diabolical incoherences uninvitedly
+recurring to me, with a subtle energy I could not have before conceived
+of. But poorly could I withstand them, much as in other moods I was
+almost ready to smile at the solemn whimsicalities of that outlandish
+prophet of the wharves. But whatever it was of apprehensiveness or
+uneasiness—to call it so—which I felt, yet whenever I came to look
+about me in the ship, it seemed against all warrantry to cherish such
+emotions. For though the harpooneers, with the great body of the crew,
+were a far more barbaric, heathenish, and motley set than any of the
+tame merchant-ship companies which my previous experiences had made me
+acquainted with, still I ascribed this—and rightly ascribed it—to the
+fierce uniqueness of the very nature of that wild Scandinavian vocation
+in which I had so abandonedly embarked. But it was especially the
+aspect of the three chief officers of the ship, the mates, which was
+most forcibly calculated to allay these colourless misgivings, and
+induce confidence and cheerfulness in every presentment of the voyage.
+Three better, more likely sea-officers and men, each in his own
+different way, could not readily be found, and they were every one of
+them Americans; a Nantucketer, a Vineyarder, a Cape man. Now, it being
+Christmas when the ship shot from out her harbor, for a space we had
+biting Polar weather, though all the time running away from it to the
+southward; and by every degree and minute of latitude which we sailed,
+gradually leaving that merciless winter, and all its intolerable
+weather behind us. It was one of those less lowering, but still grey
+and gloomy enough mornings of the transition, when with a fair wind the
+ship was rushing through the water with a vindictive sort of leaping
+and melancholy rapidity, that as I mounted to the deck at the call of
+the forenoon watch, so soon as I levelled my glance towards the
+taffrail, foreboding shivers ran over me. Reality outran apprehension;
+Captain Ahab stood upon his quarter-deck.
+
+There seemed no sign of common bodily illness about him, nor of the
+recovery from any. He looked like a man cut away from the stake, when
+the fire has overrunningly wasted all the limbs without consuming them,
+or taking away one particle from their compacted aged robustness. His
+whole high, broad form, seemed made of solid bronze, and shaped in an
+unalterable mould, like Cellini’s cast Perseus. Threading its way out
+from among his grey hairs, and continuing right down one side of his
+tawny scorched face and neck, till it disappeared in his clothing, you
+saw a slender rod-like mark, lividly whitish. It resembled that
+perpendicular seam sometimes made in the straight, lofty trunk of a
+great tree, when the upper lightning tearingly darts down it, and
+without wrenching a single twig, peels and grooves out the bark from
+top to bottom, ere running off into the soil, leaving the tree still
+greenly alive, but branded. Whether that mark was born with him, or
+whether it was the scar left by some desperate wound, no one could
+certainly say. By some tacit consent, throughout the voyage little or
+no allusion was made to it, especially by the mates. But once
+Tashtego’s senior, an old Gay-Head Indian among the crew,
+superstitiously asserted that not till he was full forty years old did
+Ahab become that way branded, and then it came upon him, not in the
+fury of any mortal fray, but in an elemental strife at sea. Yet, this
+wild hint seemed inferentially negatived, by what a grey Manxman
+insinuated, an old sepulchral man, who, having never before sailed out
+of Nantucket, had never ere this laid eye upon wild Ahab. Nevertheless,
+the old sea-traditions, the immemorial credulities, popularly invested
+this old Manxman with preternatural powers of discernment. So that no
+white sailor seriously contradicted him when he said that if ever
+Captain Ahab should be tranquilly laid out—which might hardly come to
+pass, so he muttered—then, whoever should do that last office for the
+dead, would find a birth-mark on him from crown to sole.
+
+So powerfully did the whole grim aspect of Ahab affect me, and the
+livid brand which streaked it, that for the first few moments I hardly
+noted that not a little of this overbearing grimness was owing to the
+barbaric white leg upon which he partly stood. It had previously come
+to me that this ivory leg had at sea been fashioned from the polished
+bone of the sperm whale’s jaw. “Aye, he was dismasted off Japan,” said
+the old Gay-Head Indian once; “but like his dismasted craft, he shipped
+another mast without coming home for it. He has a quiver of ’em.”
+
+I was struck with the singular posture he maintained. Upon each side of
+the Pequod’s quarter deck, and pretty close to the mizzen shrouds,
+there was an auger hole, bored about half an inch or so, into the
+plank. His bone leg steadied in that hole; one arm elevated, and
+holding by a shroud; Captain Ahab stood erect, looking straight out
+beyond the ship’s ever-pitching prow. There was an infinity of firmest
+fortitude, a determinate, unsurrenderable wilfulness, in the fixed and
+fearless, forward dedication of that glance. Not a word he spoke; nor
+did his officers say aught to him; though by all their minutest
+gestures and expressions, they plainly showed the uneasy, if not
+painful, consciousness of being under a troubled master-eye. And not
+only that, but moody stricken Ahab stood before them with a crucifixion
+in his face; in all the nameless regal overbearing dignity of some
+mighty woe.
+
+Ere long, from his first visit in the air, he withdrew into his cabin.
+But after that morning, he was every day visible to the crew; either
+standing in his pivot-hole, or seated upon an ivory stool he had; or
+heavily walking the deck. As the sky grew less gloomy; indeed, began to
+grow a little genial, he became still less and less a recluse; as if,
+when the ship had sailed from home, nothing but the dead wintry
+bleakness of the sea had then kept him so secluded. And, by and by, it
+came to pass, that he was almost continually in the air; but, as yet,
+for all that he said, or perceptibly did, on the at last sunny deck, he
+seemed as unnecessary there as another mast. But the Pequod was only
+making a passage now; not regularly cruising; nearly all whaling
+preparatives needing supervision the mates were fully competent to, so
+that there was little or nothing, out of himself, to employ or excite
+Ahab, now; and thus chase away, for that one interval, the clouds that
+layer upon layer were piled upon his brow, as ever all clouds choose
+the loftiest peaks to pile themselves upon.
+
+Nevertheless, ere long, the warm, warbling persuasiveness of the
+pleasant, holiday weather we came to, seemed gradually to charm him
+from his mood. For, as when the red-cheeked, dancing girls, April and
+May, trip home to the wintry, misanthropic woods; even the barest,
+ruggedest, most thunder-cloven old oak will at least send forth some
+few green sprouts, to welcome such glad-hearted visitants; so Ahab did,
+in the end, a little respond to the playful allurings of that girlish
+air. More than once did he put forth the faint blossom of a look,
+which, in any other man, would have soon flowered out in a smile.
+
+
+CHAPTER 29. Enter Ahab; to Him, Stubb.
+
+Some days elapsed, and ice and icebergs all astern, the Pequod now went
+rolling through the bright Quito spring, which, at sea, almost
+perpetually reigns on the threshold of the eternal August of the
+Tropic. The warmly cool, clear, ringing, perfumed, overflowing,
+redundant days, were as crystal goblets of Persian sherbet, heaped
+up—flaked up, with rose-water snow. The starred and stately nights
+seemed haughty dames in jewelled velvets, nursing at home in lonely
+pride, the memory of their absent conquering Earls, the golden helmeted
+suns! For sleeping man, ’twas hard to choose between such winsome days
+and such seducing nights. But all the witcheries of that unwaning
+weather did not merely lend new spells and potencies to the outward
+world. Inward they turned upon the soul, especially when the still mild
+hours of eve came on; then, memory shot her crystals as the clear ice
+most forms of noiseless twilights. And all these subtle agencies, more
+and more they wrought on Ahab’s texture.
+
+Old age is always wakeful; as if, the longer linked with life, the less
+man has to do with aught that looks like death. Among sea-commanders,
+the old greybeards will oftenest leave their berths to visit the
+night-cloaked deck. It was so with Ahab; only that now, of late, he
+seemed so much to live in the open air, that truly speaking, his visits
+were more to the cabin, than from the cabin to the planks. “It feels
+like going down into one’s tomb,”—he would mutter to himself—“for an
+old captain like me to be descending this narrow scuttle, to go to my
+grave-dug berth.”
+
+So, almost every twenty-four hours, when the watches of the night were
+set, and the band on deck sentinelled the slumbers of the band below;
+and when if a rope was to be hauled upon the forecastle, the sailors
+flung it not rudely down, as by day, but with some cautiousness dropt
+it to its place for fear of disturbing their slumbering shipmates; when
+this sort of steady quietude would begin to prevail, habitually, the
+silent steersman would watch the cabin-scuttle; and ere long the old
+man would emerge, gripping at the iron banister, to help his crippled
+way. Some considering touch of humanity was in him; for at times like
+these, he usually abstained from patrolling the quarter-deck; because
+to his wearied mates, seeking repose within six inches of his ivory
+heel, such would have been the reverberating crack and din of that bony
+step, that their dreams would have been on the crunching teeth of
+sharks. But once, the mood was on him too deep for common regardings;
+and as with heavy, lumber-like pace he was measuring the ship from
+taffrail to mainmast, Stubb, the old second mate, came up from below,
+with a certain unassured, deprecating humorousness, hinted that if
+Captain Ahab was pleased to walk the planks, then, no one could say
+nay; but there might be some way of muffling the noise; hinting
+something indistinctly and hesitatingly about a globe of tow, and the
+insertion into it, of the ivory heel. Ah! Stubb, thou didst not know
+Ahab then.
+
+“Am I a cannon-ball, Stubb,” said Ahab, “that thou wouldst wad me that
+fashion? But go thy ways; I had forgot. Below to thy nightly grave;
+where such as ye sleep between shrouds, to use ye to the filling one at
+last.—Down, dog, and kennel!”
+
+Starting at the unforseen concluding exclamation of the so suddenly
+scornful old man, Stubb was speechless a moment; then said excitedly,
+“I am not used to be spoken to that way, sir; I do but less than half
+like it, sir.”
+
+“Avast! gritted Ahab between his set teeth, and violently moving away,
+as if to avoid some passionate temptation.
+
+“No, sir; not yet,” said Stubb, emboldened, “I will not tamely be
+called a dog, sir.”
+
+“Then be called ten times a donkey, and a mule, and an ass, and begone,
+or I’ll clear the world of thee!”
+
+As he said this, Ahab advanced upon him with such overbearing terrors
+in his aspect, that Stubb involuntarily retreated.
+
+“I was never served so before without giving a hard blow for it,”
+muttered Stubb, as he found himself descending the cabin-scuttle. “It’s
+very queer. Stop, Stubb; somehow, now, I don’t well know whether to go
+back and strike him, or—what’s that?—down here on my knees and pray for
+him? Yes, that was the thought coming up in me; but it would be the
+first time I ever _did_ pray. It’s queer; very queer; and he’s queer
+too; aye, take him fore and aft, he’s about the queerest old man Stubb
+ever sailed with. How he flashed at me!—his eyes like powder-pans! is
+he mad? Anyway there’s something on his mind, as sure as there must be
+something on a deck when it cracks. He aint in his bed now, either,
+more than three hours out of the twenty-four; and he don’t sleep then.
+Didn’t that Dough-Boy, the steward, tell me that of a morning he always
+finds the old man’s hammock clothes all rumpled and tumbled, and the
+sheets down at the foot, and the coverlid almost tied into knots, and
+the pillow a sort of frightful hot, as though a baked brick had been on
+it? A hot old man! I guess he’s got what some folks ashore call a
+conscience; it’s a kind of Tic-Dolly-row they say—worse nor a
+toothache. Well, well; I don’t know what it is, but the Lord keep me
+from catching it. He’s full of riddles; I wonder what he goes into the
+after hold for, every night, as Dough-Boy tells me he suspects; what’s
+that for, I should like to know? Who’s made appointments with him in
+the hold? Ain’t that queer, now? But there’s no telling, it’s the old
+game—Here goes for a snooze. Damn me, it’s worth a fellow’s while to be
+born into the world, if only to fall right asleep. And now that I think
+of it, that’s about the first thing babies do, and that’s a sort of
+queer, too. Damn me, but all things are queer, come to think of ’em.
+But that’s against my principles. Think not, is my eleventh
+commandment; and sleep when you can, is my twelfth—So here goes again.
+But how’s that? didn’t he call me a dog? blazes! he called me ten times
+a donkey, and piled a lot of jackasses on top of _that!_ He might as
+well have kicked me, and done with it. Maybe he _did_ kick me, and I
+didn’t observe it, I was so taken all aback with his brow, somehow. It
+flashed like a bleached bone. What the devil’s the matter with me? I
+don’t stand right on my legs. Coming afoul of that old man has a sort
+of turned me wrong side out. By the Lord, I must have been dreaming,
+though—How? how? how?—but the only way’s to stash it; so here goes to
+hammock again; and in the morning, I’ll see how this plaguey juggling
+thinks over by daylight.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 30. The Pipe.
+
+When Stubb had departed, Ahab stood for a while leaning over the
+bulwarks; and then, as had been usual with him of late, calling a
+sailor of the watch, he sent him below for his ivory stool, and also
+his pipe. Lighting the pipe at the binnacle lamp and planting the stool
+on the weather side of the deck, he sat and smoked.
+
+In old Norse times, the thrones of the sea-loving Danish kings were
+fabricated, saith tradition, of the tusks of the narwhale. How could
+one look at Ahab then, seated on that tripod of bones, without
+bethinking him of the royalty it symbolized? For a Khan of the plank,
+and a king of the sea, and a great lord of Leviathans was Ahab.
+
+Some moments passed, during which the thick vapor came from his mouth
+in quick and constant puffs, which blew back again into his face. “How
+now,” he soliloquized at last, withdrawing the tube, “this smoking no
+longer soothes. Oh, my pipe! hard must it go with me if thy charm be
+gone! Here have I been unconsciously toiling, not pleasuring—aye, and
+ignorantly smoking to windward all the while; to windward, and with
+such nervous whiffs, as if, like the dying whale, my final jets were
+the strongest and fullest of trouble. What business have I with this
+pipe? This thing that is meant for sereneness, to send up mild white
+vapors among mild white hairs, not among torn iron-grey locks like
+mine. I’ll smoke no more—”
+
+He tossed the still lighted pipe into the sea. The fire hissed in the
+waves; the same instant the ship shot by the bubble the sinking pipe
+made. With slouched hat, Ahab lurchingly paced the planks.
+
+
+CHAPTER 31. Queen Mab.
+
+Next morning Stubb accosted Flask.
+
+“Such a queer dream, King-Post, I never had. You know the old man’s
+ivory leg, well I dreamed he kicked me with it; and when I tried to
+kick back, upon my soul, my little man, I kicked my leg right off! And
+then, presto! Ahab seemed a pyramid, and I, like a blazing fool, kept
+kicking at it. But what was still more curious, Flask—you know how
+curious all dreams are—through all this rage that I was in, I somehow
+seemed to be thinking to myself, that after all, it was not much of an
+insult, that kick from Ahab. ‘Why,’ thinks I, ‘what’s the row? It’s not
+a real leg, only a false leg.’ And there’s a mighty difference between
+a living thump and a dead thump. That’s what makes a blow from the
+hand, Flask, fifty times more savage to bear than a blow from a cane.
+The living member—that makes the living insult, my little man. And
+thinks I to myself all the while, mind, while I was stubbing my silly
+toes against that cursed pyramid—so confoundedly contradictory was it
+all, all the while, I say, I was thinking to myself, ‘what’s his leg
+now, but a cane—a whalebone cane. Yes,’ thinks I, ‘it was only a
+playful cudgelling—in fact, only a whaleboning that he gave me—not a
+base kick. Besides,’ thinks I, ‘look at it once; why, the end of it—the
+foot part—what a small sort of end it is; whereas, if a broad footed
+farmer kicked me, _there’s_ a devilish broad insult. But this insult is
+whittled down to a point only.’ But now comes the greatest joke of the
+dream, Flask. While I was battering away at the pyramid, a sort of
+badger-haired old merman, with a hump on his back, takes me by the
+shoulders, and slews me round. ‘What are you ’bout?’ says he. Slid!
+man, but I was frightened. Such a phiz! But, somehow, next moment I was
+over the fright. ‘What am I about?’ says I at last. ‘And what business
+is that of yours, I should like to know, Mr. Humpback? Do _you_ want a
+kick?’ By the lord, Flask, I had no sooner said that, than he turned
+round his stern to me, bent over, and dragging up a lot of seaweed he
+had for a clout—what do you think, I saw?—why thunder alive, man, his
+stern was stuck full of marlinspikes, with the points out. Says I, on
+second thoughts, ‘I guess I won’t kick you, old fellow.’ ‘Wise Stubb,’
+said he, ‘wise Stubb;’ and kept muttering it all the time, a sort of
+eating of his own gums like a chimney hag. Seeing he wasn’t going to
+stop saying over his ‘wise Stubb, wise Stubb,’ I thought I might as
+well fall to kicking the pyramid again. But I had only just lifted my
+foot for it, when he roared out, ‘Stop that kicking!’ ‘Halloa,’ says I,
+‘what’s the matter now, old fellow?’ ‘Look ye here,’ says he; ‘let’s
+argue the insult. Captain Ahab kicked ye, didn’t he?’ ‘Yes, he did,’
+says I—‘right _here_ it was.’ ‘Very good,’ says he—‘he used his ivory
+leg, didn’t he?’ ‘Yes, he did,’ says I. ‘Well then,’ says he, ‘wise
+Stubb, what have you to complain of? Didn’t he kick with right good
+will? it wasn’t a common pitch pine leg he kicked with, was it? No, you
+were kicked by a great man, and with a beautiful ivory leg, Stubb. It’s
+an honor; I consider it an honor. Listen, wise Stubb. In old England
+the greatest lords think it great glory to be slapped by a queen, and
+made garter-knights of; but, be _your_ boast, Stubb, that ye were
+kicked by old Ahab, and made a wise man of. Remember what I say; _be_
+kicked by him; account his kicks honors; and on no account kick back;
+for you can’t help yourself, wise Stubb. Don’t you see that pyramid?’
+With that, he all of a sudden seemed somehow, in some queer fashion, to
+swim off into the air. I snored; rolled over; and there I was in my
+hammock! Now, what do you think of that dream, Flask?”
+
+“I don’t know; it seems a sort of foolish to me, tho.’”
+
+“May be; may be. But it’s made a wise man of me, Flask. D’ye see Ahab
+standing there, sideways looking over the stern? Well, the best thing
+you can do, Flask, is to let the old man alone; never speak to him,
+whatever he says. Halloa! What’s that he shouts? Hark!”
+
+“Mast-head, there! Look sharp, all of ye! There are whales hereabouts!
+
+“If ye see a white one, split your lungs for him!
+
+“What do you think of that now, Flask? ain’t there a small drop of
+something queer about that, eh? A white whale—did ye mark that, man?
+Look ye—there’s something special in the wind. Stand by for it, Flask.
+Ahab has that that’s bloody on his mind. But, mum; he comes this way.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 32. Cetology.
+
+Already we are boldly launched upon the deep; but soon we shall be lost
+in its unshored, harbourless immensities. Ere that come to pass; ere
+the Pequod’s weedy hull rolls side by side with the barnacled hulls of
+the leviathan; at the outset it is but well to attend to a matter
+almost indispensable to a thorough appreciative understanding of the
+more special leviathanic revelations and allusions of all sorts which
+are to follow.
+
+It is some systematized exhibition of the whale in his broad genera,
+that I would now fain put before you. Yet is it no easy task. The
+classification of the constituents of a chaos, nothing less is here
+essayed. Listen to what the best and latest authorities have laid down.
+
+“No branch of Zoology is so much involved as that which is entitled
+Cetology,” says Captain Scoresby, A.D. 1820.
+
+“It is not my intention, were it in my power, to enter into the inquiry
+as to the true method of dividing the cetacea into groups and families.
+* * * Utter confusion exists among the historians of this animal”
+(sperm whale), says Surgeon Beale, A.D. 1839.
+
+“Unfitness to pursue our research in the unfathomable waters.”
+“Impenetrable veil covering our knowledge of the cetacea.” “A field
+strewn with thorns.” “All these incomplete indications but serve to
+torture us naturalists.”
+
+Thus speak of the whale, the great Cuvier, and John Hunter, and Lesson,
+those lights of zoology and anatomy. Nevertheless, though of real
+knowledge there be little, yet of books there are a plenty; and so in
+some small degree, with cetology, or the science of whales. Many are
+the men, small and great, old and new, landsmen and seamen, who have at
+large or in little, written of the whale. Run over a few:—The Authors
+of the Bible; Aristotle; Pliny; Aldrovandi; Sir Thomas Browne; Gesner;
+Ray; Linnæus; Rondeletius; Willoughby; Green; Artedi; Sibbald; Brisson;
+Marten; Lacépède; Bonneterre; Desmarest; Baron Cuvier; Frederick
+Cuvier; John Hunter; Owen; Scoresby; Beale; Bennett; J. Ross Browne;
+the Author of Miriam Coffin; Olmstead; and the Rev. T. Cheever. But to
+what ultimate generalizing purpose all these have written, the above
+cited extracts will show.
+
+Of the names in this list of whale authors, only those following Owen
+ever saw living whales; and but one of them was a real professional
+harpooneer and whaleman. I mean Captain Scoresby. On the separate
+subject of the Greenland or right-whale, he is the best existing
+authority. But Scoresby knew nothing and says nothing of the great
+sperm whale, compared with which the Greenland whale is almost unworthy
+mentioning. And here be it said, that the Greenland whale is an usurper
+upon the throne of the seas. He is not even by any means the largest of
+the whales. Yet, owing to the long priority of his claims, and the
+profound ignorance which, till some seventy years back, invested the
+then fabulous or utterly unknown sperm-whale, and which ignorance to
+this present day still reigns in all but some few scientific retreats
+and whale-ports; this usurpation has been every way complete. Reference
+to nearly all the leviathanic allusions in the great poets of past
+days, will satisfy you that the Greenland whale, without one rival, was
+to them the monarch of the seas. But the time has at last come for a
+new proclamation. This is Charing Cross; hear ye! good people all,—the
+Greenland whale is deposed,—the great sperm whale now reigneth!
+
+There are only two books in being which at all pretend to put the
+living sperm whale before you, and at the same time, in the remotest
+degree succeed in the attempt. Those books are Beale’s and Bennett’s;
+both in their time surgeons to English South-Sea whale-ships, and both
+exact and reliable men. The original matter touching the sperm whale to
+be found in their volumes is necessarily small; but so far as it goes,
+it is of excellent quality, though mostly confined to scientific
+description. As yet, however, the sperm whale, scientific or poetic,
+lives not complete in any literature. Far above all other hunted
+whales, his is an unwritten life.
+
+Now the various species of whales need some sort of popular
+comprehensive classification, if only an easy outline one for the
+present, hereafter to be filled in all its departments by subsequent
+laborers. As no better man advances to take this matter in hand, I
+hereupon offer my own poor endeavors. I promise nothing complete;
+because any human thing supposed to be complete, must for that very
+reason infallibly be faulty. I shall not pretend to a minute anatomical
+description of the various species, or—in this place at least—to much
+of any description. My object here is simply to project the draught of
+a systematization of cetology. I am the architect, not the builder.
+
+But it is a ponderous task; no ordinary letter-sorter in the
+Post-Office is equal to it. To grope down into the bottom of the sea
+after them; to have one’s hands among the unspeakable foundations,
+ribs, and very pelvis of the world; this is a fearful thing. What am I
+that I should essay to hook the nose of this leviathan! The awful
+tauntings in Job might well appal me. Will he (the leviathan) make a
+covenant with thee? Behold the hope of him is vain! But I have swam
+through libraries and sailed through oceans; I have had to do with
+whales with these visible hands; I am in earnest; and I will try. There
+are some preliminaries to settle.
+
+First: The uncertain, unsettled condition of this science of Cetology
+is in the very vestibule attested by the fact, that in some quarters it
+still remains a moot point whether a whale be a fish. In his System of
+Nature, A.D. 1776, Linnæus declares, “I hereby separate the whales from
+the fish.” But of my own knowledge, I know that down to the year 1850,
+sharks and shad, alewives and herring, against Linnæus’s express edict,
+were still found dividing the possession of the same seas with the
+Leviathan.
+
+The grounds upon which Linnæus would fain have banished the whales from
+the waters, he states as follows: “On account of their warm bilocular
+heart, their lungs, their movable eyelids, their hollow ears, penem
+intrantem feminam mammis lactantem,” and finally, “ex lege naturæ jure
+meritoque.” I submitted all this to my friends Simeon Macey and Charley
+Coffin, of Nantucket, both messmates of mine in a certain voyage, and
+they united in the opinion that the reasons set forth were altogether
+insufficient. Charley profanely hinted they were humbug.
+
+Be it known that, waiving all argument, I take the good old fashioned
+ground that the whale is a fish, and call upon holy Jonah to back me.
+This fundamental thing settled, the next point is, in what internal
+respect does the whale differ from other fish. Above, Linnæus has given
+you those items. But in brief, they are these: lungs and warm blood;
+whereas, all other fish are lungless and cold blooded.
+
+Next: how shall we define the whale, by his obvious externals, so as
+conspicuously to label him for all time to come? To be short, then, a
+whale is _a spouting fish with a horizontal tail_. There you have him.
+However contracted, that definition is the result of expanded
+meditation. A walrus spouts much like a whale, but the walrus is not a
+fish, because he is amphibious. But the last term of the definition is
+still more cogent, as coupled with the first. Almost any one must have
+noticed that all the fish familiar to landsmen have not a flat, but a
+vertical, or up-and-down tail. Whereas, among spouting fish the tail,
+though it may be similarly shaped, invariably assumes a horizontal
+position.
+
+By the above definition of what a whale is, I do by no means exclude
+from the leviathanic brotherhood any sea creature hitherto identified
+with the whale by the best informed Nantucketers; nor, on the other
+hand, link with it any fish hitherto authoritatively regarded as
+alien.* Hence, all the smaller, spouting, and horizontal tailed fish
+must be included in this ground-plan of Cetology. Now, then, come the
+grand divisions of the entire whale host.
+
+*I am aware that down to the present time, the fish styled Lamatins and
+Dugongs (Pig-fish and Sow-fish of the Coffins of Nantucket) are
+included by many naturalists among the whales. But as these pig-fish
+are a noisy, contemptible set, mostly lurking in the mouths of rivers,
+and feeding on wet hay, and especially as they do not spout, I deny
+their credentials as whales; and have presented them with their
+passports to quit the Kingdom of Cetology.
+
+First: According to magnitude I divide the whales into three primary
+BOOKS (subdivisible into CHAPTERS), and these shall comprehend them
+all, both small and large.
+
+I. THE FOLIO WHALE; II. the OCTAVO WHALE; III. the DUODECIMO WHALE.
+
+As the type of the FOLIO I present the _Sperm Whale_; of the OCTAVO,
+the _Grampus_; of the DUODECIMO, the _Porpoise_.
+
+FOLIOS. Among these I here include the following chapters:—I. The
+_Sperm Whale_; II. the _Right Whale_; III. the _Fin-Back Whale_; IV.
+the _Hump-backed Whale_; V. the _Razor Back Whale_; VI. the _Sulphur
+Bottom Whale_.
+
+BOOK I. (_Folio_), CHAPTER I. (_Sperm Whale_).—This whale, among the
+English of old vaguely known as the Trumpa whale, and the Physeter
+whale, and the Anvil Headed whale, is the present Cachalot of the
+French, and the Pottsfich of the Germans, and the Macrocephalus of the
+Long Words. He is, without doubt, the largest inhabitant of the globe;
+the most formidable of all whales to encounter; the most majestic in
+aspect; and lastly, by far the most valuable in commerce; he being the
+only creature from which that valuable substance, spermaceti, is
+obtained. All his peculiarities will, in many other places, be enlarged
+upon. It is chiefly with his name that I now have to do. Philologically
+considered, it is absurd. Some centuries ago, when the Sperm whale was
+almost wholly unknown in his own proper individuality, and when his oil
+was only accidentally obtained from the stranded fish; in those days
+spermaceti, it would seem, was popularly supposed to be derived from a
+creature identical with the one then known in England as the Greenland
+or Right Whale. It was the idea also, that this same spermaceti was
+that quickening humor of the Greenland Whale which the first syllable
+of the word literally expresses. In those times, also, spermaceti was
+exceedingly scarce, not being used for light, but only as an ointment
+and medicament. It was only to be had from the druggists as you
+nowadays buy an ounce of rhubarb. When, as I opine, in the course of
+time, the true nature of spermaceti became known, its original name was
+still retained by the dealers; no doubt to enhance its value by a
+notion so strangely significant of its scarcity. And so the appellation
+must at last have come to be bestowed upon the whale from which this
+spermaceti was really derived.
+
+BOOK I. (_Folio_), CHAPTER II. (_Right Whale_).—In one respect this is
+the most venerable of the leviathans, being the one first regularly
+hunted by man. It yields the article commonly known as whalebone or
+baleen; and the oil specially known as “whale oil,” an inferior article
+in commerce. Among the fishermen, he is indiscriminately designated by
+all the following titles: The Whale; the Greenland Whale; the Black
+Whale; the Great Whale; the True Whale; the Right Whale. There is a
+deal of obscurity concerning the identity of the species thus
+multitudinously baptised. What then is the whale, which I include in
+the second species of my Folios? It is the Great Mysticetus of the
+English naturalists; the Greenland Whale of the English whalemen; the
+Baleine Ordinaire of the French whalemen; the Growlands Walfish of the
+Swedes. It is the whale which for more than two centuries past has been
+hunted by the Dutch and English in the Arctic seas; it is the whale
+which the American fishermen have long pursued in the Indian ocean, on
+the Brazil Banks, on the Nor’ West Coast, and various other parts of
+the world, designated by them Right Whale Cruising Grounds.
+
+Some pretend to see a difference between the Greenland whale of the
+English and the right whale of the Americans. But they precisely agree
+in all their grand features; nor has there yet been presented a single
+determinate fact upon which to ground a radical distinction. It is by
+endless subdivisions based upon the most inconclusive differences, that
+some departments of natural history become so repellingly intricate.
+The right whale will be elsewhere treated of at some length, with
+reference to elucidating the sperm whale.
+
+BOOK I. (_Folio_), CHAPTER III. (_Fin-Back_).—Under this head I reckon
+a monster which, by the various names of Fin-Back, Tall-Spout, and
+Long-John, has been seen almost in every sea and is commonly the whale
+whose distant jet is so often descried by passengers crossing the
+Atlantic, in the New York packet-tracks. In the length he attains, and
+in his baleen, the Fin-back resembles the right whale, but is of a less
+portly girth, and a lighter colour, approaching to olive. His great
+lips present a cable-like aspect, formed by the intertwisting, slanting
+folds of large wrinkles. His grand distinguishing feature, the fin,
+from which he derives his name, is often a conspicuous object. This fin
+is some three or four feet long, growing vertically from the hinder
+part of the back, of an angular shape, and with a very sharp pointed
+end. Even if not the slightest other part of the creature be visible,
+this isolated fin will, at times, be seen plainly projecting from the
+surface. When the sea is moderately calm, and slightly marked with
+spherical ripples, and this gnomon-like fin stands up and casts shadows
+upon the wrinkled surface, it may well be supposed that the watery
+circle surrounding it somewhat resembles a dial, with its style and
+wavy hour-lines graved on it. On that Ahaz-dial the shadow often goes
+back. The Fin-Back is not gregarious. He seems a whale-hater, as some
+men are man-haters. Very shy; always going solitary; unexpectedly
+rising to the surface in the remotest and most sullen waters; his
+straight and single lofty jet rising like a tall misanthropic spear
+upon a barren plain; gifted with such wondrous power and velocity in
+swimming, as to defy all present pursuit from man; this leviathan seems
+the banished and unconquerable Cain of his race, bearing for his mark
+that style upon his back. From having the baleen in his mouth, the
+Fin-Back is sometimes included with the right whale, among a theoretic
+species denominated _Whalebone whales_, that is, whales with baleen. Of
+these so called Whalebone whales, there would seem to be several
+varieties, most of which, however, are little known. Broad-nosed whales
+and beaked whales; pike-headed whales; bunched whales; under-jawed
+whales and rostrated whales, are the fishermen’s names for a few sorts.
+
+In connection with this appellative of “Whalebone whales,” it is of
+great importance to mention, that however such a nomenclature may be
+convenient in facilitating allusions to some kind of whales, yet it is
+in vain to attempt a clear classification of the Leviathan, founded
+upon either his baleen, or hump, or fin, or teeth; notwithstanding that
+those marked parts or features very obviously seem better adapted to
+afford the basis for a regular system of Cetology than any other
+detached bodily distinctions, which the whale, in his kinds, presents.
+How then? The baleen, hump, back-fin, and teeth; these are things whose
+peculiarities are indiscriminately dispersed among all sorts of whales,
+without any regard to what may be the nature of their structure in
+other and more essential particulars. Thus, the sperm whale and the
+humpbacked whale, each has a hump; but there the similitude ceases.
+Then, this same humpbacked whale and the Greenland whale, each of these
+has baleen; but there again the similitude ceases. And it is just the
+same with the other parts above mentioned. In various sorts of whales,
+they form such irregular combinations; or, in the case of any one of
+them detached, such an irregular isolation; as utterly to defy all
+general methodization formed upon such a basis. On this rock every one
+of the whale-naturalists has split.
+
+But it may possibly be conceived that, in the internal parts of the
+whale, in his anatomy—there, at least, we shall be able to hit the
+right classification. Nay; what thing, for example, is there in the
+Greenland whale’s anatomy more striking than his baleen? Yet we have
+seen that by his baleen it is impossible correctly to classify the
+Greenland whale. And if you descend into the bowels of the various
+leviathans, why there you will not find distinctions a fiftieth part as
+available to the systematizer as those external ones already
+enumerated. What then remains? nothing but to take hold of the whales
+bodily, in their entire liberal volume, and boldly sort them that way.
+And this is the Bibliographical system here adopted; and it is the only
+one that can possibly succeed, for it alone is practicable. To proceed.
+
+BOOK I. (_Folio_) CHAPTER IV. (_Hump Back_).—This whale is often seen
+on the northern American coast. He has been frequently captured there,
+and towed into harbor. He has a great pack on him like a peddler; or
+you might call him the Elephant and Castle whale. At any rate, the
+popular name for him does not sufficiently distinguish him, since the
+sperm whale also has a hump though a smaller one. His oil is not very
+valuable. He has baleen. He is the most gamesome and light-hearted of
+all the whales, making more gay foam and white water generally than any
+other of them.
+
+BOOK I. (_Folio_), CHAPTER V. (_Razor Back_).—Of this whale little is
+known but his name. I have seen him at a distance off Cape Horn. Of a
+retiring nature, he eludes both hunters and philosophers. Though no
+coward, he has never yet shown any part of him but his back, which
+rises in a long sharp ridge. Let him go. I know little more of him, nor
+does anybody else.
+
+BOOK I. (_Folio_), CHAPTER VI. (_Sulphur Bottom_).—Another retiring
+gentleman, with a brimstone belly, doubtless got by scraping along the
+Tartarian tiles in some of his profounder divings. He is seldom seen;
+at least I have never seen him except in the remoter southern seas, and
+then always at too great a distance to study his countenance. He is
+never chased; he would run away with rope-walks of line. Prodigies are
+told of him. Adieu, Sulphur Bottom! I can say nothing more that is true
+of ye, nor can the oldest Nantucketer.
+
+Thus ends BOOK I. (_Folio_), and now begins BOOK II. (_Octavo_).
+
+OCTAVOES.*—These embrace the whales of middling magnitude, among which
+present may be numbered:—I., the _Grampus_; II., the _Black Fish_;
+III., the _Narwhale_; IV., the _Thrasher_; V., the _Killer_.
+
+*Why this book of whales is not denominated the Quarto is very plain.
+Because, while the whales of this order, though smaller than those of
+the former order, nevertheless retain a proportionate likeness to them
+in figure, yet the bookbinder’s Quarto volume in its dimensioned form
+does not preserve the shape of the Folio volume, but the Octavo volume
+does.
+
+BOOK II. (_Octavo_), CHAPTER I. (_Grampus_).—Though this fish, whose
+loud sonorous breathing, or rather blowing, has furnished a proverb to
+landsmen, is so well known a denizen of the deep, yet is he not
+popularly classed among whales. But possessing all the grand
+distinctive features of the leviathan, most naturalists have recognised
+him for one. He is of moderate octavo size, varying from fifteen to
+twenty-five feet in length, and of corresponding dimensions round the
+waist. He swims in herds; he is never regularly hunted, though his oil
+is considerable in quantity, and pretty good for light. By some
+fishermen his approach is regarded as premonitory of the advance of the
+great sperm whale.
+
+BOOK II. (_Octavo_), CHAPTER II. (_Black Fish_).—I give the popular
+fishermen’s names for all these fish, for generally they are the best.
+Where any name happens to be vague or inexpressive, I shall say so, and
+suggest another. I do so now, touching the Black Fish, so-called,
+because blackness is the rule among almost all whales. So, call him the
+Hyena Whale, if you please. His voracity is well known, and from the
+circumstance that the inner angles of his lips are curved upwards, he
+carries an everlasting Mephistophelean grin on his face. This whale
+averages some sixteen or eighteen feet in length. He is found in almost
+all latitudes. He has a peculiar way of showing his dorsal hooked fin
+in swimming, which looks something like a Roman nose. When not more
+profitably employed, the sperm whale hunters sometimes capture the
+Hyena whale, to keep up the supply of cheap oil for domestic
+employment—as some frugal housekeepers, in the absence of company, and
+quite alone by themselves, burn unsavory tallow instead of odorous wax.
+Though their blubber is very thin, some of these whales will yield you
+upwards of thirty gallons of oil.
+
+BOOK II. (_Octavo_), CHAPTER III. (_Narwhale_), that is, _Nostril
+whale_.—Another instance of a curiously named whale, so named I suppose
+from his peculiar horn being originally mistaken for a peaked nose. The
+creature is some sixteen feet in length, while its horn averages five
+feet, though some exceed ten, and even attain to fifteen feet. Strictly
+speaking, this horn is but a lengthened tusk, growing out from the jaw
+in a line a little depressed from the horizontal. But it is only found
+on the sinister side, which has an ill effect, giving its owner
+something analogous to the aspect of a clumsy left-handed man. What
+precise purpose this ivory horn or lance answers, it would be hard to
+say. It does not seem to be used like the blade of the sword-fish and
+bill-fish; though some sailors tell me that the Narwhale employs it for
+a rake in turning over the bottom of the sea for food. Charley Coffin
+said it was used for an ice-piercer; for the Narwhale, rising to the
+surface of the Polar Sea, and finding it sheeted with ice, thrusts his
+horn up, and so breaks through. But you cannot prove either of these
+surmises to be correct. My own opinion is, that however this one-sided
+horn may really be used by the Narwhale—however that may be—it would
+certainly be very convenient to him for a folder in reading pamphlets.
+The Narwhale I have heard called the Tusked whale, the Horned whale,
+and the Unicorn whale. He is certainly a curious example of the
+Unicornism to be found in almost every kingdom of animated nature. From
+certain cloistered old authors I have gathered that this same
+sea-unicorn’s horn was in ancient days regarded as the great antidote
+against poison, and as such, preparations of it brought immense prices.
+It was also distilled to a volatile salts for fainting ladies, the same
+way that the horns of the male deer are manufactured into hartshorn.
+Originally it was in itself accounted an object of great curiosity.
+Black Letter tells me that Sir Martin Frobisher on his return from that
+voyage, when Queen Bess did gallantly wave her jewelled hand to him
+from a window of Greenwich Palace, as his bold ship sailed down the
+Thames; “when Sir Martin returned from that voyage,” saith Black
+Letter, “on bended knees he presented to her highness a prodigious long
+horn of the Narwhale, which for a long period after hung in the castle
+at Windsor.” An Irish author avers that the Earl of Leicester, on
+bended knees, did likewise present to her highness another horn,
+pertaining to a land beast of the unicorn nature.
+
+The Narwhale has a very picturesque, leopard-like look, being of a
+milk-white ground colour, dotted with round and oblong spots of black.
+His oil is very superior, clear and fine; but there is little of it,
+and he is seldom hunted. He is mostly found in the circumpolar seas.
+
+BOOK II. (_Octavo_), CHAPTER IV. (_Killer_).—Of this whale little is
+precisely known to the Nantucketer, and nothing at all to the professed
+naturalist. From what I have seen of him at a distance, I should say
+that he was about the bigness of a grampus. He is very savage—a sort of
+Feegee fish. He sometimes takes the great Folio whales by the lip, and
+hangs there like a leech, till the mighty brute is worried to death.
+The Killer is never hunted. I never heard what sort of oil he has.
+Exception might be taken to the name bestowed upon this whale, on the
+ground of its indistinctness. For we are all killers, on land and on
+sea; Bonapartes and Sharks included.
+
+BOOK II. (_Octavo_), CHAPTER V. (_Thrasher_).—This gentleman is famous
+for his tail, which he uses for a ferule in thrashing his foes. He
+mounts the Folio whale’s back, and as he swims, he works his passage by
+flogging him; as some schoolmasters get along in the world by a similar
+process. Still less is known of the Thrasher than of the Killer. Both
+are outlaws, even in the lawless seas.
+
+ Thus ends BOOK II. (_Octavo_), and begins BOOK III. (_Duodecimo_).
+
+DUODECIMOES.—These include the smaller whales. I. The Huzza Porpoise.
+II. The Algerine Porpoise. III. The Mealy-mouthed Porpoise.
+
+To those who have not chanced specially to study the subject, it may
+possibly seem strange, that fishes not commonly exceeding four or five
+feet should be marshalled among WHALES—a word, which, in the popular
+sense, always conveys an idea of hugeness. But the creatures set down
+above as Duodecimoes are infallibly whales, by the terms of my
+definition of what a whale is—_i.e._ a spouting fish, with a horizontal
+tail.
+
+BOOK III. (_Duodecimo_), CHAPTER 1. (_Huzza Porpoise_).—This is the
+common porpoise found almost all over the globe. The name is of my own
+bestowal; for there are more than one sort of porpoises, and something
+must be done to distinguish them. I call him thus, because he always
+swims in hilarious shoals, which upon the broad sea keep tossing
+themselves to heaven like caps in a Fourth-of-July crowd. Their
+appearance is generally hailed with delight by the mariner. Full of
+fine spirits, they invariably come from the breezy billows to windward.
+They are the lads that always live before the wind. They are accounted
+a lucky omen. If you yourself can withstand three cheers at beholding
+these vivacious fish, then heaven help ye; the spirit of godly
+gamesomeness is not in ye. A well-fed, plump Huzza Porpoise will yield
+you one good gallon of good oil. But the fine and delicate fluid
+extracted from his jaws is exceedingly valuable. It is in request among
+jewellers and watchmakers. Sailors put it on their hones. Porpoise meat
+is good eating, you know. It may never have occurred to you that a
+porpoise spouts. Indeed, his spout is so small that it is not very
+readily discernible. But the next time you have a chance, watch him;
+and you will then see the great Sperm whale himself in miniature.
+
+BOOK III. (_Duodecimo_), CHAPTER II. (_Algerine Porpoise_).—A pirate.
+Very savage. He is only found, I think, in the Pacific. He is somewhat
+larger than the Huzza Porpoise, but much of the same general make.
+Provoke him, and he will buckle to a shark. I have lowered for him many
+times, but never yet saw him captured.
+
+BOOK III. (_Duodecimo_), CHAPTER III. (_Mealy-mouthed Porpoise_).—The
+largest kind of Porpoise; and only found in the Pacific, so far as it
+is known. The only English name, by which he has hitherto been
+designated, is that of the fishers—Right-Whale Porpoise, from the
+circumstance that he is chiefly found in the vicinity of that Folio. In
+shape, he differs in some degree from the Huzza Porpoise, being of a
+less rotund and jolly girth; indeed, he is of quite a neat and
+gentleman-like figure. He has no fins on his back (most other porpoises
+have), he has a lovely tail, and sentimental Indian eyes of a hazel
+hue. But his mealy-mouth spoils all. Though his entire back down to his
+side fins is of a deep sable, yet a boundary line, distinct as the mark
+in a ship’s hull, called the “bright waist,” that line streaks him from
+stem to stern, with two separate colours, black above and white below.
+The white comprises part of his head, and the whole of his mouth, which
+makes him look as if he had just escaped from a felonious visit to a
+meal-bag. A most mean and mealy aspect! His oil is much like that of
+the common porpoise.
+
+  * * * * * *
+
+Beyond the DUODECIMO, this system does not proceed, inasmuch as the
+Porpoise is the smallest of the whales. Above, you have all the
+Leviathans of note. But there are a rabble of uncertain, fugitive,
+half-fabulous whales, which, as an American whaleman, I know by
+reputation, but not personally. I shall enumerate them by their
+fore-castle appellations; for possibly such a list may be valuable to
+future investigators, who may complete what I have here but begun. If
+any of the following whales, shall hereafter be caught and marked, then
+he can readily be incorporated into this System, according to his
+Folio, Octavo, or Duodecimo magnitude:—The Bottle-Nose Whale; the Junk
+Whale; the Pudding-Headed Whale; the Cape Whale; the Leading Whale; the
+Cannon Whale; the Scragg Whale; the Coppered Whale; the Elephant Whale;
+the Iceberg Whale; the Quog Whale; the Blue Whale; etc. From Icelandic,
+Dutch, and old English authorities, there might be quoted other lists
+of uncertain whales, blessed with all manner of uncouth names. But I
+omit them as altogether obsolete; and can hardly help suspecting them
+for mere sounds, full of Leviathanism, but signifying nothing.
+
+Finally: It was stated at the outset, that this system would not be
+here, and at once, perfected. You cannot but plainly see that I have
+kept my word. But I now leave my cetological System standing thus
+unfinished, even as the great Cathedral of Cologne was left, with the
+crane still standing upon the top of the uncompleted tower. For small
+erections may be finished by their first architects; grand ones, true
+ones, ever leave the copestone to posterity. God keep me from ever
+completing anything. This whole book is but a draught—nay, but the
+draught of a draught. Oh, Time, Strength, Cash, and Patience!
+
+
+CHAPTER 33. The Specksnyder.
+
+Concerning the officers of the whale-craft, this seems as good a place
+as any to set down a little domestic peculiarity on ship-board, arising
+from the existence of the harpooneer class of officers, a class unknown
+of course in any other marine than the whale-fleet.
+
+The large importance attached to the harpooneer’s vocation is evinced
+by the fact, that originally in the old Dutch Fishery, two centuries
+and more ago, the command of a whale ship was not wholly lodged in the
+person now called the captain, but was divided between him and an
+officer called the Specksnyder. Literally this word means Fat-Cutter;
+usage, however, in time made it equivalent to Chief Harpooneer. In
+those days, the captain’s authority was restricted to the navigation
+and general management of the vessel; while over the whale-hunting
+department and all its concerns, the Specksnyder or Chief Harpooneer
+reigned supreme. In the British Greenland Fishery, under the corrupted
+title of Specksioneer, this old Dutch official is still retained, but
+his former dignity is sadly abridged. At present he ranks simply as
+senior Harpooneer; and as such, is but one of the captain’s more
+inferior subalterns. Nevertheless, as upon the good conduct of the
+harpooneers the success of a whaling voyage largely depends, and since
+in the American Fishery he is not only an important officer in the
+boat, but under certain circumstances (night watches on a whaling
+ground) the command of the ship’s deck is also his; therefore the grand
+political maxim of the sea demands, that he should nominally live apart
+from the men before the mast, and be in some way distinguished as their
+professional superior; though always, by them, familiarly regarded as
+their social equal.
+
+Now, the grand distinction drawn between officer and man at sea, is
+this—the first lives aft, the last forward. Hence, in whale-ships and
+merchantmen alike, the mates have their quarters with the captain; and
+so, too, in most of the American whalers the harpooneers are lodged in
+the after part of the ship. That is to say, they take their meals in
+the captain’s cabin, and sleep in a place indirectly communicating with
+it.
+
+Though the long period of a Southern whaling voyage (by far the longest
+of all voyages now or ever made by man), the peculiar perils of it, and
+the community of interest prevailing among a company, all of whom, high
+or low, depend for their profits, not upon fixed wages, but upon their
+common luck, together with their common vigilance, intrepidity, and
+hard work; though all these things do in some cases tend to beget a
+less rigorous discipline than in merchantmen generally; yet, never mind
+how much like an old Mesopotamian family these whalemen may, in some
+primitive instances, live together; for all that, the punctilious
+externals, at least, of the quarter-deck are seldom materially relaxed,
+and in no instance done away. Indeed, many are the Nantucket ships in
+which you will see the skipper parading his quarter-deck with an elated
+grandeur not surpassed in any military navy; nay, extorting almost as
+much outward homage as if he wore the imperial purple, and not the
+shabbiest of pilot-cloth.
+
+And though of all men the moody captain of the Pequod was the least
+given to that sort of shallowest assumption; and though the only homage
+he ever exacted, was implicit, instantaneous obedience; though he
+required no man to remove the shoes from his feet ere stepping upon the
+quarter-deck; and though there were times when, owing to peculiar
+circumstances connected with events hereafter to be detailed, he
+addressed them in unusual terms, whether of condescension or _in
+terrorem_, or otherwise; yet even Captain Ahab was by no means
+unobservant of the paramount forms and usages of the sea.
+
+Nor, perhaps, will it fail to be eventually perceived, that behind
+those forms and usages, as it were, he sometimes masked himself;
+incidentally making use of them for other and more private ends than
+they were legitimately intended to subserve. That certain sultanism of
+his brain, which had otherwise in a good degree remained unmanifested;
+through those forms that same sultanism became incarnate in an
+irresistible dictatorship. For be a man’s intellectual superiority what
+it will, it can never assume the practical, available supremacy over
+other men, without the aid of some sort of external arts and
+entrenchments, always, in themselves, more or less paltry and base.
+This it is, that for ever keeps God’s true princes of the Empire from
+the world’s hustings; and leaves the highest honors that this air can
+give, to those men who become famous more through their infinite
+inferiority to the choice hidden handful of the Divine Inert, than
+through their undoubted superiority over the dead level of the mass.
+Such large virtue lurks in these small things when extreme political
+superstitions invest them, that in some royal instances even to idiot
+imbecility they have imparted potency. But when, as in the case of
+Nicholas the Czar, the ringed crown of geographical empire encircles an
+imperial brain; then, the plebeian herds crouch abased before the
+tremendous centralization. Nor, will the tragic dramatist who would
+depict mortal indomitableness in its fullest sweep and direct swing,
+ever forget a hint, incidentally so important in his art, as the one
+now alluded to.
+
+But Ahab, my Captain, still moves before me in all his Nantucket
+grimness and shagginess; and in this episode touching Emperors and
+Kings, I must not conceal that I have only to do with a poor old
+whale-hunter like him; and, therefore, all outward majestical trappings
+and housings are denied me. Oh, Ahab! what shall be grand in thee, it
+must needs be plucked at from the skies, and dived for in the deep, and
+featured in the unbodied air!
+
+
+CHAPTER 34. The Cabin-Table.
+
+It is noon; and Dough-Boy, the steward, thrusting his pale
+loaf-of-bread face from the cabin-scuttle, announces dinner to his lord
+and master; who, sitting in the lee quarter-boat, has just been taking
+an observation of the sun; and is now mutely reckoning the latitude on
+the smooth, medallion-shaped tablet, reserved for that daily purpose on
+the upper part of his ivory leg. From his complete inattention to the
+tidings, you would think that moody Ahab had not heard his menial. But
+presently, catching hold of the mizen shrouds, he swings himself to the
+deck, and in an even, unexhilarated voice, saying, “Dinner, Mr.
+Starbuck,” disappears into the cabin.
+
+When the last echo of his sultan’s step has died away, and Starbuck,
+the first Emir, has every reason to suppose that he is seated, then
+Starbuck rouses from his quietude, takes a few turns along the planks,
+and, after a grave peep into the binnacle, says, with some touch of
+pleasantness, “Dinner, Mr. Stubb,” and descends the scuttle. The second
+Emir lounges about the rigging awhile, and then slightly shaking the
+main brace, to see whether it will be all right with that important
+rope, he likewise takes up the old burden, and with a rapid “Dinner,
+Mr. Flask,” follows after his predecessors.
+
+But the third Emir, now seeing himself all alone on the quarter-deck,
+seems to feel relieved from some curious restraint; for, tipping all
+sorts of knowing winks in all sorts of directions, and kicking off his
+shoes, he strikes into a sharp but noiseless squall of a hornpipe right
+over the Grand Turk’s head; and then, by a dexterous sleight, pitching
+his cap up into the mizentop for a shelf, he goes down rollicking so
+far at least as he remains visible from the deck, reversing all other
+processions, by bringing up the rear with music. But ere stepping into
+the cabin doorway below, he pauses, ships a new face altogether, and,
+then, independent, hilarious little Flask enters King Ahab’s presence,
+in the character of Abjectus, or the Slave.
+
+It is not the least among the strange things bred by the intense
+artificialness of sea-usages, that while in the open air of the deck
+some officers will, upon provocation, bear themselves boldly and
+defyingly enough towards their commander; yet, ten to one, let those
+very officers the next moment go down to their customary dinner in that
+same commander’s cabin, and straightway their inoffensive, not to say
+deprecatory and humble air towards him, as he sits at the head of the
+table; this is marvellous, sometimes most comical. Wherefore this
+difference? A problem? Perhaps not. To have been Belshazzar, King of
+Babylon; and to have been Belshazzar, not haughtily but courteously,
+therein certainly must have been some touch of mundane grandeur. But he
+who in the rightly regal and intelligent spirit presides over his own
+private dinner-table of invited guests, that man’s unchallenged power
+and dominion of individual influence for the time; that man’s royalty
+of state transcends Belshazzar’s, for Belshazzar was not the greatest.
+Who has but once dined his friends, has tasted what it is to be Cæsar.
+It is a witchery of social czarship which there is no withstanding.
+Now, if to this consideration you superadd the official supremacy of a
+ship-master, then, by inference, you will derive the cause of that
+peculiarity of sea-life just mentioned.
+
+Over his ivory-inlaid table, Ahab presided like a mute, maned sea-lion
+on the white coral beach, surrounded by his warlike but still
+deferential cubs. In his own proper turn, each officer waited to be
+served. They were as little children before Ahab; and yet, in Ahab,
+there seemed not to lurk the smallest social arrogance. With one mind,
+their intent eyes all fastened upon the old man’s knife, as he carved
+the chief dish before him. I do not suppose that for the world they
+would have profaned that moment with the slightest observation, even
+upon so neutral a topic as the weather. No! And when reaching out his
+knife and fork, between which the slice of beef was locked, Ahab
+thereby motioned Starbuck’s plate towards him, the mate received his
+meat as though receiving alms; and cut it tenderly; and a little
+started if, perchance, the knife grazed against the plate; and chewed
+it noiselessly; and swallowed it, not without circumspection. For, like
+the Coronation banquet at Frankfort, where the German Emperor
+profoundly dines with the seven Imperial Electors, so these cabin meals
+were somehow solemn meals, eaten in awful silence; and yet at table old
+Ahab forbade not conversation; only he himself was dumb. What a relief
+it was to choking Stubb, when a rat made a sudden racket in the hold
+below. And poor little Flask, he was the youngest son, and little boy
+of this weary family party. His were the shinbones of the saline beef;
+his would have been the drumsticks. For Flask to have presumed to help
+himself, this must have seemed to him tantamount to larceny in the
+first degree. Had he helped himself at that table, doubtless, never
+more would he have been able to hold his head up in this honest world;
+nevertheless, strange to say, Ahab never forbade him. And had Flask
+helped himself, the chances were Ahab had never so much as noticed it.
+Least of all, did Flask presume to help himself to butter. Whether he
+thought the owners of the ship denied it to him, on account of its
+clotting his clear, sunny complexion; or whether he deemed that, on so
+long a voyage in such marketless waters, butter was at a premium, and
+therefore was not for him, a subaltern; however it was, Flask, alas!
+was a butterless man!
+
+Another thing. Flask was the last person down at the dinner, and Flask
+is the first man up. Consider! For hereby Flask’s dinner was badly
+jammed in point of time. Starbuck and Stubb both had the start of him;
+and yet they also have the privilege of lounging in the rear. If Stubb
+even, who is but a peg higher than Flask, happens to have but a small
+appetite, and soon shows symptoms of concluding his repast, then Flask
+must bestir himself, he will not get more than three mouthfuls that
+day; for it is against holy usage for Stubb to precede Flask to the
+deck. Therefore it was that Flask once admitted in private, that ever
+since he had arisen to the dignity of an officer, from that moment he
+had never known what it was to be otherwise than hungry, more or less.
+For what he ate did not so much relieve his hunger, as keep it immortal
+in him. Peace and satisfaction, thought Flask, have for ever departed
+from my stomach. I am an officer; but, how I wish I could fish a bit of
+old-fashioned beef in the forecastle, as I used to when I was before
+the mast. There’s the fruits of promotion now; there’s the vanity of
+glory: there’s the insanity of life! Besides, if it were so that any
+mere sailor of the Pequod had a grudge against Flask in Flask’s
+official capacity, all that sailor had to do, in order to obtain ample
+vengeance, was to go aft at dinner-time, and get a peep at Flask
+through the cabin sky-light, sitting silly and dumfoundered before
+awful Ahab.
+
+Now, Ahab and his three mates formed what may be called the first table
+in the Pequod’s cabin. After their departure, taking place in inverted
+order to their arrival, the canvas cloth was cleared, or rather was
+restored to some hurried order by the pallid steward. And then the
+three harpooneers were bidden to the feast, they being its residuary
+legatees. They made a sort of temporary servants’ hall of the high and
+mighty cabin.
+
+In strange contrast to the hardly tolerable constraint and nameless
+invisible domineerings of the captain’s table, was the entire care-free
+license and ease, the almost frantic democracy of those inferior
+fellows the harpooneers. While their masters, the mates, seemed afraid
+of the sound of the hinges of their own jaws, the harpooneers chewed
+their food with such a relish that there was a report to it. They dined
+like lords; they filled their bellies like Indian ships all day loading
+with spices. Such portentous appetites had Queequeg and Tashtego, that
+to fill out the vacancies made by the previous repast, often the pale
+Dough-Boy was fain to bring on a great baron of salt-junk, seemingly
+quarried out of the solid ox. And if he were not lively about it, if he
+did not go with a nimble hop-skip-and-jump, then Tashtego had an
+ungentlemanly way of accelerating him by darting a fork at his back,
+harpoon-wise. And once Daggoo, seized with a sudden humor, assisted
+Dough-Boy’s memory by snatching him up bodily, and thrusting his head
+into a great empty wooden trencher, while Tashtego, knife in hand,
+began laying out the circle preliminary to scalping him. He was
+naturally a very nervous, shuddering sort of little fellow, this
+bread-faced steward; the progeny of a bankrupt baker and a hospital
+nurse. And what with the standing spectacle of the black terrific Ahab,
+and the periodical tumultuous visitations of these three savages,
+Dough-Boy’s whole life was one continual lip-quiver. Commonly, after
+seeing the harpooneers furnished with all things they demanded, he
+would escape from their clutches into his little pantry adjoining, and
+fearfully peep out at them through the blinds of its door, till all was
+over.
+
+It was a sight to see Queequeg seated over against Tashtego, opposing
+his filed teeth to the Indian’s: crosswise to them, Daggoo seated on
+the floor, for a bench would have brought his hearse-plumed head to the
+low carlines; at every motion of his colossal limbs, making the low
+cabin framework to shake, as when an African elephant goes passenger in
+a ship. But for all this, the great negro was wonderfully abstemious,
+not to say dainty. It seemed hardly possible that by such comparatively
+small mouthfuls he could keep up the vitality diffused through so
+broad, baronial, and superb a person. But, doubtless, this noble savage
+fed strong and drank deep of the abounding element of air; and through
+his dilated nostrils snuffed in the sublime life of the worlds. Not by
+beef or by bread, are giants made or nourished. But Queequeg, he had a
+mortal, barbaric smack of the lip in eating—an ugly sound enough—so
+much so, that the trembling Dough-Boy almost looked to see whether any
+marks of teeth lurked in his own lean arms. And when he would hear
+Tashtego singing out for him to produce himself, that his bones might
+be picked, the simple-witted steward all but shattered the crockery
+hanging round him in the pantry, by his sudden fits of the palsy. Nor
+did the whetstone which the harpooneers carried in their pockets, for
+their lances and other weapons; and with which whetstones, at dinner,
+they would ostentatiously sharpen their knives; that grating sound did
+not at all tend to tranquillize poor Dough-Boy. How could he forget
+that in his Island days, Queequeg, for one, must certainly have been
+guilty of some murderous, convivial indiscretions. Alas! Dough-Boy!
+hard fares the white waiter who waits upon cannibals. Not a napkin
+should he carry on his arm, but a buckler. In good time, though, to his
+great delight, the three salt-sea warriors would rise and depart; to
+his credulous, fable-mongering ears, all their martial bones jingling
+in them at every step, like Moorish scimetars in scabbards.
+
+But, though these barbarians dined in the cabin, and nominally lived
+there; still, being anything but sedentary in their habits, they were
+scarcely ever in it except at mealtimes, and just before sleeping-time,
+when they passed through it to their own peculiar quarters.
+
+In this one matter, Ahab seemed no exception to most American whale
+captains, who, as a set, rather incline to the opinion that by rights
+the ship’s cabin belongs to them; and that it is by courtesy alone that
+anybody else is, at any time, permitted there. So that, in real truth,
+the mates and harpooneers of the Pequod might more properly be said to
+have lived out of the cabin than in it. For when they did enter it, it
+was something as a street-door enters a house; turning inwards for a
+moment, only to be turned out the next; and, as a permanent thing,
+residing in the open air. Nor did they lose much hereby; in the cabin
+was no companionship; socially, Ahab was inaccessible. Though nominally
+included in the census of Christendom, he was still an alien to it. He
+lived in the world, as the last of the Grisly Bears lived in settled
+Missouri. And as when Spring and Summer had departed, that wild Logan
+of the woods, burying himself in the hollow of a tree, lived out the
+winter there, sucking his own paws; so, in his inclement, howling old
+age, Ahab’s soul, shut up in the caved trunk of his body, there fed
+upon the sullen paws of its gloom!
+
+
+CHAPTER 35. The Mast-Head.
+
+It was during the more pleasant weather, that in due rotation with the
+other seamen my first mast-head came round.
+
+In most American whalemen the mast-heads are manned almost
+simultaneously with the vessel’s leaving her port; even though she may
+have fifteen thousand miles, and more, to sail ere reaching her proper
+cruising ground. And if, after a three, four, or five years’ voyage she
+is drawing nigh home with anything empty in her—say, an empty vial
+even—then, her mast-heads are kept manned to the last; and not till her
+skysail-poles sail in among the spires of the port, does she altogether
+relinquish the hope of capturing one whale more.
+
+Now, as the business of standing mast-heads, ashore or afloat, is a
+very ancient and interesting one, let us in some measure expatiate
+here. I take it, that the earliest standers of mast-heads were the old
+Egyptians; because, in all my researches, I find none prior to them.
+For though their progenitors, the builders of Babel, must doubtless, by
+their tower, have intended to rear the loftiest mast-head in all Asia,
+or Africa either; yet (ere the final truck was put to it) as that great
+stone mast of theirs may be said to have gone by the board, in the
+dread gale of God’s wrath; therefore, we cannot give these Babel
+builders priority over the Egyptians. And that the Egyptians were a
+nation of mast-head standers, is an assertion based upon the general
+belief among archæologists, that the first pyramids were founded for
+astronomical purposes: a theory singularly supported by the peculiar
+stair-like formation of all four sides of those edifices; whereby, with
+prodigious long upliftings of their legs, those old astronomers were
+wont to mount to the apex, and sing out for new stars; even as the
+look-outs of a modern ship sing out for a sail, or a whale just bearing
+in sight. In Saint Stylites, the famous Christian hermit of old times,
+who built him a lofty stone pillar in the desert and spent the whole
+latter portion of his life on its summit, hoisting his food from the
+ground with a tackle; in him we have a remarkable instance of a
+dauntless stander-of-mast-heads; who was not to be driven from his
+place by fogs or frosts, rain, hail, or sleet; but valiantly facing
+everything out to the last, literally died at his post. Of modern
+standers-of-mast-heads we have but a lifeless set; mere stone, iron,
+and bronze men; who, though well capable of facing out a stiff gale,
+are still entirely incompetent to the business of singing out upon
+discovering any strange sight. There is Napoleon; who, upon the top of
+the column of Vendome, stands with arms folded, some one hundred and
+fifty feet in the air; careless, now, who rules the decks below;
+whether Louis Philippe, Louis Blanc, or Louis the Devil. Great
+Washington, too, stands high aloft on his towering main-mast in
+Baltimore, and like one of Hercules’ pillars, his column marks that
+point of human grandeur beyond which few mortals will go. Admiral
+Nelson, also, on a capstan of gun-metal, stands his mast-head in
+Trafalgar Square; and ever when most obscured by that London smoke,
+token is yet given that a hidden hero is there; for where there is
+smoke, must be fire. But neither great Washington, nor Napoleon, nor
+Nelson, will answer a single hail from below, however madly invoked to
+befriend by their counsels the distracted decks upon which they gaze;
+however it may be surmised, that their spirits penetrate through the
+thick haze of the future, and descry what shoals and what rocks must be
+shunned.
+
+It may seem unwarrantable to couple in any respect the mast-head
+standers of the land with those of the sea; but that in truth it is not
+so, is plainly evinced by an item for which Obed Macy, the sole
+historian of Nantucket, stands accountable. The worthy Obed tells us,
+that in the early times of the whale fishery, ere ships were regularly
+launched in pursuit of the game, the people of that island erected
+lofty spars along the sea-coast, to which the look-outs ascended by
+means of nailed cleats, something as fowls go upstairs in a hen-house.
+A few years ago this same plan was adopted by the Bay whalemen of New
+Zealand, who, upon descrying the game, gave notice to the ready-manned
+boats nigh the beach. But this custom has now become obsolete; turn we
+then to the one proper mast-head, that of a whale-ship at sea. The
+three mast-heads are kept manned from sun-rise to sun-set; the seamen
+taking their regular turns (as at the helm), and relieving each other
+every two hours. In the serene weather of the tropics it is exceedingly
+pleasant the mast-head; nay, to a dreamy meditative man it is
+delightful. There you stand, a hundred feet above the silent decks,
+striding along the deep, as if the masts were gigantic stilts, while
+beneath you and between your legs, as it were, swim the hugest monsters
+of the sea, even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous
+Colossus at old Rhodes. There you stand, lost in the infinite series of
+the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship
+indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you
+into languor. For the most part, in this tropic whaling life, a sublime
+uneventfulness invests you; you hear no news; read no gazettes; extras
+with startling accounts of commonplaces never delude you into
+unnecessary excitements; you hear of no domestic afflictions; bankrupt
+securities; fall of stocks; are never troubled with the thought of what
+you shall have for dinner—for all your meals for three years and more
+are snugly stowed in casks, and your bill of fare is immutable.
+
+In one of those southern whalesmen, on a long three or four years’
+voyage, as often happens, the sum of the various hours you spend at the
+mast-head would amount to several entire months. And it is much to be
+deplored that the place to which you devote so considerable a portion
+of the whole term of your natural life, should be so sadly destitute of
+anything approaching to a cosy inhabitiveness, or adapted to breed a
+comfortable localness of feeling, such as pertains to a bed, a hammock,
+a hearse, a sentry box, a pulpit, a coach, or any other of those small
+and snug contrivances in which men temporarily isolate themselves. Your
+most usual point of perch is the head of the t’ gallant-mast, where you
+stand upon two thin parallel sticks (almost peculiar to whalemen)
+called the t’ gallant cross-trees. Here, tossed about by the sea, the
+beginner feels about as cosy as he would standing on a bull’s horns. To
+be sure, in cold weather you may carry your house aloft with you, in
+the shape of a watch-coat; but properly speaking the thickest
+watch-coat is no more of a house than the unclad body; for as the soul
+is glued inside of its fleshy tabernacle, and cannot freely move about
+in it, nor even move out of it, without running great risk of perishing
+(like an ignorant pilgrim crossing the snowy Alps in winter); so a
+watch-coat is not so much of a house as it is a mere envelope, or
+additional skin encasing you. You cannot put a shelf or chest of
+drawers in your body, and no more can you make a convenient closet of
+your watch-coat.
+
+Concerning all this, it is much to be deplored that the mast-heads of a
+southern whale ship are unprovided with those enviable little tents or
+pulpits, called _crow’s-nests_, in which the look-outs of a Greenland
+whaler are protected from the inclement weather of the frozen seas. In
+the fireside narrative of Captain Sleet, entitled “A Voyage among the
+Icebergs, in quest of the Greenland Whale, and incidentally for the
+re-discovery of the Lost Icelandic Colonies of Old Greenland;” in this
+admirable volume, all standers of mast-heads are furnished with a
+charmingly circumstantial account of the then recently invented
+_crow’s-nest_ of the Glacier, which was the name of Captain Sleet’s
+good craft. He called it the _Sleet’s crow’s-nest_, in honor of
+himself; he being the original inventor and patentee, and free from all
+ridiculous false delicacy, and holding that if we call our own children
+after our own names (we fathers being the original inventors and
+patentees), so likewise should we denominate after ourselves any other
+apparatus we may beget. In shape, the Sleet’s crow’s-nest is something
+like a large tierce or pipe; it is open above, however, where it is
+furnished with a movable side-screen to keep to windward of your head
+in a hard gale. Being fixed on the summit of the mast, you ascend into
+it through a little trap-hatch in the bottom. On the after side, or
+side next the stern of the ship, is a comfortable seat, with a locker
+underneath for umbrellas, comforters, and coats. In front is a leather
+rack, in which to keep your speaking trumpet, pipe, telescope, and
+other nautical conveniences. When Captain Sleet in person stood his
+mast-head in this crow’s-nest of his, he tells us that he always had a
+rifle with him (also fixed in the rack), together with a powder flask
+and shot, for the purpose of popping off the stray narwhales, or
+vagrant sea unicorns infesting those waters; for you cannot
+successfully shoot at them from the deck owing to the resistance of the
+water, but to shoot down upon them is a very different thing. Now, it
+was plainly a labor of love for Captain Sleet to describe, as he does,
+all the little detailed conveniences of his crow’s-nest; but though he
+so enlarges upon many of these, and though he treats us to a very
+scientific account of his experiments in this crow’s-nest, with a small
+compass he kept there for the purpose of counteracting the errors
+resulting from what is called the “local attraction” of all binnacle
+magnets; an error ascribable to the horizontal vicinity of the iron in
+the ship’s planks, and in the Glacier’s case, perhaps, to there having
+been so many broken-down blacksmiths among her crew; I say, that though
+the Captain is very discreet and scientific here, yet, for all his
+learned “binnacle deviations,” “azimuth compass observations,” and
+“approximate errors,” he knows very well, Captain Sleet, that he was
+not so much immersed in those profound magnetic meditations, as to fail
+being attracted occasionally towards that well replenished little
+case-bottle, so nicely tucked in on one side of his crow’s nest, within
+easy reach of his hand. Though, upon the whole, I greatly admire and
+even love the brave, the honest, and learned Captain; yet I take it
+very ill of him that he should so utterly ignore that case-bottle,
+seeing what a faithful friend and comforter it must have been, while
+with mittened fingers and hooded head he was studying the mathematics
+aloft there in that bird’s nest within three or four perches of the
+pole.
+
+But if we Southern whale-fishers are not so snugly housed aloft as
+Captain Sleet and his Greenlandmen were; yet that disadvantage is
+greatly counter-balanced by the widely contrasting serenity of those
+seductive seas in which we South fishers mostly float. For one, I used
+to lounge up the rigging very leisurely, resting in the top to have a
+chat with Queequeg, or any one else off duty whom I might find there;
+then ascending a little way further, and throwing a lazy leg over the
+top-sail yard, take a preliminary view of the watery pastures, and so
+at last mount to my ultimate destination.
+
+Let me make a clean breast of it here, and frankly admit that I kept
+but sorry guard. With the problem of the universe revolving in me, how
+could I—being left completely to myself at such a thought-engendering
+altitude—how could I but lightly hold my obligations to observe all
+whale-ships’ standing orders, “Keep your weather eye open, and sing out
+every time.”
+
+And let me in this place movingly admonish you, ye ship-owners of
+Nantucket! Beware of enlisting in your vigilant fisheries any lad with
+lean brow and hollow eye; given to unseasonable meditativeness; and who
+offers to ship with the Phædon instead of Bowditch in his head. Beware
+of such an one, I say; your whales must be seen before they can be
+killed; and this sunken-eyed young Platonist will tow you ten wakes
+round the world, and never make you one pint of sperm the richer. Nor
+are these monitions at all unneeded. For nowadays, the whale-fishery
+furnishes an asylum for many romantic, melancholy, and absent-minded
+young men, disgusted with the carking cares of earth, and seeking
+sentiment in tar and blubber. Childe Harold not unfrequently perches
+himself upon the mast-head of some luckless disappointed whale-ship,
+and in moody phrase ejaculates:—
+
+
+“Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand
+blubber-hunters sweep over thee in vain.”
+
+
+
+Very often do the captains of such ships take those absent-minded young
+philosophers to task, upbraiding them with not feeling sufficient
+“interest” in the voyage; half-hinting that they are so hopelessly lost
+to all honorable ambition, as that in their secret souls they would
+rather not see whales than otherwise. But all in vain; those young
+Platonists have a notion that their vision is imperfect; they are
+short-sighted; what use, then, to strain the visual nerve? They have
+left their opera-glasses at home.
+
+“Why, thou monkey,” said a harpooneer to one of these lads, “we’ve been
+cruising now hard upon three years, and thou hast not raised a whale
+yet. Whales are scarce as hen’s teeth whenever thou art up here.”
+Perhaps they were; or perhaps there might have been shoals of them in
+the far horizon; but lulled into such an opium-like listlessness of
+vacant, unconscious reverie is this absent-minded youth by the blending
+cadence of waves with thoughts, that at last he loses his identity;
+takes the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of that deep,
+blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature; and every strange,
+half-seen, gliding, beautiful thing that eludes him; every
+dimly-discovered, uprising fin of some undiscernible form, seems to him
+the embodiment of those elusive thoughts that only people the soul by
+continually flitting through it. In this enchanted mood, thy spirit
+ebbs away to whence it came; becomes diffused through time and space;
+like Cranmer’s sprinkled Pantheistic ashes, forming at last a part of
+every shore the round globe over.
+
+There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a
+gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from
+the inscrutable tides of God. But while this sleep, this dream is on
+ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your
+identity comes back in horror. Over Descartian vortices you hover. And
+perhaps, at mid-day, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled
+shriek you drop through that transparent air into the summer sea, no
+more to rise for ever. Heed it well, ye Pantheists!
+
+
+CHAPTER 36. The Quarter-Deck.
+
+(_Enter Ahab: Then, all._)
+
+It was not a great while after the affair of the pipe, that one morning
+shortly after breakfast, Ahab, as was his wont, ascended the
+cabin-gangway to the deck. There most sea-captains usually walk at that
+hour, as country gentlemen, after the same meal, take a few turns in
+the garden.
+
+Soon his steady, ivory stride was heard, as to and fro he paced his old
+rounds, upon planks so familiar to his tread, that they were all over
+dented, like geological stones, with the peculiar mark of his walk. Did
+you fixedly gaze, too, upon that ribbed and dented brow; there also,
+you would see still stranger foot-prints—the foot-prints of his one
+unsleeping, ever-pacing thought.
+
+But on the occasion in question, those dents looked deeper, even as his
+nervous step that morning left a deeper mark. And, so full of his
+thought was Ahab, that at every uniform turn that he made, now at the
+main-mast and now at the binnacle, you could almost see that thought
+turn in him as he turned, and pace in him as he paced; so completely
+possessing him, indeed, that it all but seemed the inward mould of
+every outer movement.
+
+“D’ye mark him, Flask?” whispered Stubb; “the chick that’s in him pecks
+the shell. ’Twill soon be out.”
+
+The hours wore on;—Ahab now shut up within his cabin; anon, pacing the
+deck, with the same intense bigotry of purpose in his aspect.
+
+It drew near the close of day. Suddenly he came to a halt by the
+bulwarks, and inserting his bone leg into the auger-hole there, and
+with one hand grasping a shroud, he ordered Starbuck to send everybody
+aft.
+
+“Sir!” said the mate, astonished at an order seldom or never given on
+ship-board except in some extraordinary case.
+
+“Send everybody aft,” repeated Ahab. “Mast-heads, there! come down!”
+
+When the entire ship’s company were assembled, and with curious and not
+wholly unapprehensive faces, were eyeing him, for he looked not unlike
+the weather horizon when a storm is coming up, Ahab, after rapidly
+glancing over the bulwarks, and then darting his eyes among the crew,
+started from his standpoint; and as though not a soul were nigh him
+resumed his heavy turns upon the deck. With bent head and half-slouched
+hat he continued to pace, unmindful of the wondering whispering among
+the men; till Stubb cautiously whispered to Flask, that Ahab must have
+summoned them there for the purpose of witnessing a pedestrian feat.
+But this did not last long. Vehemently pausing, he cried:—
+
+“What do ye do when ye see a whale, men?”
+
+“Sing out for him!” was the impulsive rejoinder from a score of clubbed
+voices.
+
+“Good!” cried Ahab, with a wild approval in his tones; observing the
+hearty animation into which his unexpected question had so magnetically
+thrown them.
+
+“And what do ye next, men?”
+
+“Lower away, and after him!”
+
+“And what tune is it ye pull to, men?”
+
+“A dead whale or a stove boat!”
+
+More and more strangely and fiercely glad and approving, grew the
+countenance of the old man at every shout; while the mariners began to
+gaze curiously at each other, as if marvelling how it was that they
+themselves became so excited at such seemingly purposeless questions.
+
+But, they were all eagerness again, as Ahab, now half-revolving in his
+pivot-hole, with one hand reaching high up a shroud, and tightly,
+almost convulsively grasping it, addressed them thus:—
+
+“All ye mast-headers have before now heard me give orders about a white
+whale. Look ye! d’ye see this Spanish ounce of gold?”—holding up a
+broad bright coin to the sun—“it is a sixteen dollar piece, men. D’ye
+see it? Mr. Starbuck, hand me yon top-maul.”
+
+While the mate was getting the hammer, Ahab, without speaking, was
+slowly rubbing the gold piece against the skirts of his jacket, as if
+to heighten its lustre, and without using any words was meanwhile lowly
+humming to himself, producing a sound so strangely muffled and
+inarticulate that it seemed the mechanical humming of the wheels of his
+vitality in him.
+
+Receiving the top-maul from Starbuck, he advanced towards the main-mast
+with the hammer uplifted in one hand, exhibiting the gold with the
+other, and with a high raised voice exclaiming: “Whosoever of ye raises
+me a white-headed whale with a wrinkled brow and a crooked jaw;
+whosoever of ye raises me that white-headed whale, with three holes
+punctured in his starboard fluke—look ye, whosoever of ye raises me
+that same white whale, he shall have this gold ounce, my boys!”
+
+“Huzza! huzza!” cried the seamen, as with swinging tarpaulins they
+hailed the act of nailing the gold to the mast.
+
+“It’s a white whale, I say,” resumed Ahab, as he threw down the
+topmaul: “a white whale. Skin your eyes for him, men; look sharp for
+white water; if ye see but a bubble, sing out.”
+
+All this while Tashtego, Daggoo, and Queequeg had looked on with even
+more intense interest and surprise than the rest, and at the mention of
+the wrinkled brow and crooked jaw they had started as if each was
+separately touched by some specific recollection.
+
+“Captain Ahab,” said Tashtego, “that white whale must be the same that
+some call Moby Dick.”
+
+“Moby Dick?” shouted Ahab. “Do ye know the white whale then, Tash?”
+
+“Does he fan-tail a little curious, sir, before he goes down?” said the
+Gay-Header deliberately.
+
+“And has he a curious spout, too,” said Daggoo, “very bushy, even for a
+parmacetty, and mighty quick, Captain Ahab?”
+
+“And he have one, two, three—oh! good many iron in him hide, too,
+Captain,” cried Queequeg disjointedly, “all twiske-tee be-twisk, like
+him—him—” faltering hard for a word, and screwing his hand round and
+round as though uncorking a bottle—“like him—him—”
+
+“Corkscrew!” cried Ahab, “aye, Queequeg, the harpoons lie all twisted
+and wrenched in him; aye, Daggoo, his spout is a big one, like a whole
+shock of wheat, and white as a pile of our Nantucket wool after the
+great annual sheep-shearing; aye, Tashtego, and he fan-tails like a
+split jib in a squall. Death and devils! men, it is Moby Dick ye have
+seen—Moby Dick—Moby Dick!”
+
+“Captain Ahab,” said Starbuck, who, with Stubb and Flask, had thus far
+been eyeing his superior with increasing surprise, but at last seemed
+struck with a thought which somewhat explained all the wonder. “Captain
+Ahab, I have heard of Moby Dick—but it was not Moby Dick that took off
+thy leg?”
+
+“Who told thee that?” cried Ahab; then pausing, “Aye, Starbuck; aye, my
+hearties all round; it was Moby Dick that dismasted me; Moby Dick that
+brought me to this dead stump I stand on now. Aye, aye,” he shouted
+with a terrific, loud, animal sob, like that of a heart-stricken moose;
+“Aye, aye! it was that accursed white whale that razeed me; made a poor
+pegging lubber of me for ever and a day!” Then tossing both arms, with
+measureless imprecations he shouted out: “Aye, aye! and I’ll chase him
+round Good Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom,
+and round perdition’s flames before I give him up. And this is what ye
+have shipped for, men! to chase that white whale on both sides of land,
+and over all sides of earth, till he spouts black blood and rolls fin
+out. What say ye, men, will ye splice hands on it, now? I think ye do
+look brave.”
+
+“Aye, aye!” shouted the harpooneers and seamen, running closer to the
+excited old man: “A sharp eye for the white whale; a sharp lance for
+Moby Dick!”
+
+“God bless ye,” he seemed to half sob and half shout. “God bless ye,
+men. Steward! go draw the great measure of grog. But what’s this long
+face about, Mr. Starbuck; wilt thou not chase the white whale? art not
+game for Moby Dick?”
+
+“I am game for his crooked jaw, and for the jaws of Death too, Captain
+Ahab, if it fairly comes in the way of the business we follow; but I
+came here to hunt whales, not my commander’s vengeance. How many
+barrels will thy vengeance yield thee even if thou gettest it, Captain
+Ahab? it will not fetch thee much in our Nantucket market.”
+
+“Nantucket market! Hoot! But come closer, Starbuck; thou requirest a
+little lower layer. If money’s to be the measurer, man, and the
+accountants have computed their great counting-house the globe, by
+girdling it with guineas, one to every three parts of an inch; then,
+let me tell thee, that my vengeance will fetch a great premium _here!_”
+
+“He smites his chest,” whispered Stubb, “what’s that for? methinks it
+rings most vast, but hollow.”
+
+“Vengeance on a dumb brute!” cried Starbuck, “that simply smote thee
+from blindest instinct! Madness! To be enraged with a dumb thing,
+Captain Ahab, seems blasphemous.”
+
+“Hark ye yet again—the little lower layer. All visible objects, man,
+are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event—in the living act, the
+undoubted deed—there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth
+the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man
+will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach
+outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is
+that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond.
+But ’tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous
+strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable
+thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the
+white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me
+of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the
+sun do that, then could I do the other; since there is ever a sort of
+fair play herein, jealousy presiding over all creations. But not my
+master, man, is even that fair play. Who’s over me? Truth hath no
+confines. Take off thine eye! more intolerable than fiends’ glarings is
+a doltish stare! So, so; thou reddenest and palest; my heat has melted
+thee to anger-glow. But look ye, Starbuck, what is said in heat, that
+thing unsays itself. There are men from whom warm words are small
+indignity. I meant not to incense thee. Let it go. Look! see yonder
+Turkish cheeks of spotted tawn—living, breathing pictures painted by
+the sun. The Pagan leopards—the unrecking and unworshipping things,
+that live; and seek, and give no reasons for the torrid life they feel!
+The crew, man, the crew! Are they not one and all with Ahab, in this
+matter of the whale? See Stubb! he laughs! See yonder Chilian! he
+snorts to think of it. Stand up amid the general hurricane, thy one
+tost sapling cannot, Starbuck! And what is it? Reckon it. ’Tis but to
+help strike a fin; no wondrous feat for Starbuck. What is it more? From
+this one poor hunt, then, the best lance out of all Nantucket, surely
+he will not hang back, when every foremast-hand has clutched a
+whetstone? Ah! constrainings seize thee; I see! the billow lifts thee!
+Speak, but speak!—Aye, aye! thy silence, then, _that_ voices thee.
+(_Aside_) Something shot from my dilated nostrils, he has inhaled it in
+his lungs. Starbuck now is mine; cannot oppose me now, without
+rebellion.”
+
+“God keep me!—keep us all!” murmured Starbuck, lowly.
+
+But in his joy at the enchanted, tacit acquiescence of the mate, Ahab
+did not hear his foreboding invocation; nor yet the low laugh from the
+hold; nor yet the presaging vibrations of the winds in the cordage; nor
+yet the hollow flap of the sails against the masts, as for a moment
+their hearts sank in. For again Starbuck’s downcast eyes lighted up
+with the stubbornness of life; the subterranean laugh died away; the
+winds blew on; the sails filled out; the ship heaved and rolled as
+before. Ah, ye admonitions and warnings! why stay ye not when ye come?
+But rather are ye predictions than warnings, ye shadows! Yet not so
+much predictions from without, as verifications of the foregoing things
+within. For with little external to constrain us, the innermost
+necessities in our being, these still drive us on.
+
+“The measure! the measure!” cried Ahab.
+
+Receiving the brimming pewter, and turning to the harpooneers, he
+ordered them to produce their weapons. Then ranging them before him
+near the capstan, with their harpoons in their hands, while his three
+mates stood at his side with their lances, and the rest of the ship’s
+company formed a circle round the group; he stood for an instant
+searchingly eyeing every man of his crew. But those wild eyes met his,
+as the bloodshot eyes of the prairie wolves meet the eye of their
+leader, ere he rushes on at their head in the trail of the bison; but,
+alas! only to fall into the hidden snare of the Indian.
+
+“Drink and pass!” he cried, handing the heavy charged flagon to the
+nearest seaman. “The crew alone now drink. Round with it, round! Short
+draughts—long swallows, men; ’tis hot as Satan’s hoof. So, so; it goes
+round excellently. It spiralizes in ye; forks out at the
+serpent-snapping eye. Well done; almost drained. That way it went, this
+way it comes. Hand it me—here’s a hollow! Men, ye seem the years; so
+brimming life is gulped and gone. Steward, refill!
+
+“Attend now, my braves. I have mustered ye all round this capstan; and
+ye mates, flank me with your lances; and ye harpooneers, stand there
+with your irons; and ye, stout mariners, ring me in, that I may in some
+sort revive a noble custom of my fisherman fathers before me. O men,
+you will yet see that—Ha! boy, come back? bad pennies come not sooner.
+Hand it me. Why, now, this pewter had run brimming again, wer’t not
+thou St. Vitus’ imp—away, thou ague!
+
+“Advance, ye mates! Cross your lances full before me. Well done! Let me
+touch the axis.” So saying, with extended arm, he grasped the three
+level, radiating lances at their crossed centre; while so doing,
+suddenly and nervously twitched them; meanwhile, glancing intently from
+Starbuck to Stubb; from Stubb to Flask. It seemed as though, by some
+nameless, interior volition, he would fain have shocked into them the
+same fiery emotion accumulated within the Leyden jar of his own
+magnetic life. The three mates quailed before his strong, sustained,
+and mystic aspect. Stubb and Flask looked sideways from him; the honest
+eye of Starbuck fell downright.
+
+“In vain!” cried Ahab; “but, maybe, ’tis well. For did ye three but
+once take the full-forced shock, then mine own electric thing, _that_
+had perhaps expired from out me. Perchance, too, it would have dropped
+ye dead. Perchance ye need it not. Down lances! And now, ye mates, I do
+appoint ye three cupbearers to my three pagan kinsmen there—yon three
+most honorable gentlemen and noblemen, my valiant harpooneers. Disdain
+the task? What, when the great Pope washes the feet of beggars, using
+his tiara for ewer? Oh, my sweet cardinals! your own condescension,
+_that_ shall bend ye to it. I do not order ye; ye will it. Cut your
+seizings and draw the poles, ye harpooneers!”
+
+Silently obeying the order, the three harpooneers now stood with the
+detached iron part of their harpoons, some three feet long, held, barbs
+up, before him.
+
+“Stab me not with that keen steel! Cant them; cant them over! know ye
+not the goblet end? Turn up the socket! So, so; now, ye cup-bearers,
+advance. The irons! take them; hold them while I fill!” Forthwith,
+slowly going from one officer to the other, he brimmed the harpoon
+sockets with the fiery waters from the pewter.
+
+“Now, three to three, ye stand. Commend the murderous chalices! Bestow
+them, ye who are now made parties to this indissoluble league. Ha!
+Starbuck! but the deed is done! Yon ratifying sun now waits to sit upon
+it. Drink, ye harpooneers! drink and swear, ye men that man the
+deathful whaleboat’s bow—Death to Moby Dick! God hunt us all, if we do
+not hunt Moby Dick to his death!” The long, barbed steel goblets were
+lifted; and to cries and maledictions against the white whale, the
+spirits were simultaneously quaffed down with a hiss. Starbuck paled,
+and turned, and shivered. Once more, and finally, the replenished
+pewter went the rounds among the frantic crew; when, waving his free
+hand to them, they all dispersed; and Ahab retired within his cabin.
+
+
+CHAPTER 37. Sunset.
+
+_The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone, and gazing out_.
+
+I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where’er I
+sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them;
+but first I pass.
+
+Yonder, by ever-brimming goblet’s rim, the warm waves blush like wine.
+The gold brow plumbs the blue. The diver sun—slow dived from noon—goes
+down; my soul mounts up! she wearies with her endless hill. Is, then,
+the crown too heavy that I wear? this Iron Crown of Lombardy. Yet is it
+bright with many a gem; I the wearer, see not its far flashings; but
+darkly feel that I wear that, that dazzlingly confounds. ’Tis iron—that
+I know—not gold. ’Tis split, too—that I feel; the jagged edge galls me
+so, my brain seems to beat against the solid metal; aye, steel skull,
+mine; the sort that needs no helmet in the most brain-battering fight!
+
+Dry heat upon my brow? Oh! time was, when as the sunrise nobly spurred
+me, so the sunset soothed. No more. This lovely light, it lights not
+me; all loveliness is anguish to me, since I can ne’er enjoy. Gifted
+with the high perception, I lack the low, enjoying power; damned, most
+subtly and most malignantly! damned in the midst of Paradise! Good
+night—good night! (_waving his hand, he moves from the window_.)
+
+’Twas not so hard a task. I thought to find one stubborn, at the least;
+but my one cogged circle fits into all their various wheels, and they
+revolve. Or, if you will, like so many ant-hills of powder, they all
+stand before me; and I their match. Oh, hard! that to fire others, the
+match itself must needs be wasting! What I’ve dared, I’ve willed; and
+what I’ve willed, I’ll do! They think me mad—Starbuck does; but I’m
+demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that’s only calm to
+comprehend itself! The prophecy was that I should be dismembered;
+and—Aye! I lost this leg. I now prophesy that I will dismember my
+dismemberer. Now, then, be the prophet and the fulfiller one. That’s
+more than ye, ye great gods, ever were. I laugh and hoot at ye, ye
+cricket-players, ye pugilists, ye deaf Burkes and blinded Bendigoes! I
+will not say as schoolboys do to bullies—Take some one of your own
+size; don’t pommel _me!_ No, ye’ve knocked me down, and I am up again;
+but _ye_ have run and hidden. Come forth from behind your cotton bags!
+I have no long gun to reach ye. Come, Ahab’s compliments to ye; come
+and see if ye can swerve me. Swerve me? ye cannot swerve me, else ye
+swerve yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me? The path to my fixed
+purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run.
+Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under
+torrents’ beds, unerringly I rush! Naught’s an obstacle, naught’s an
+angle to the iron way!
+
+
+CHAPTER 38. Dusk.
+
+_By the Mainmast; Starbuck leaning against it_.
+
+My soul is more than matched; she’s overmanned; and by a madman!
+Insufferable sting, that sanity should ground arms on such a field! But
+he drilled deep down, and blasted all my reason out of me! I think I
+see his impious end; but feel that I must help him to it. Will I, nill
+I, the ineffable thing has tied me to him; tows me with a cable I have
+no knife to cut. Horrible old man! Who’s over him, he cries;—aye, he
+would be a democrat to all above; look, how he lords it over all below!
+Oh! I plainly see my miserable office,—to obey, rebelling; and worse
+yet, to hate with touch of pity! For in his eyes I read some lurid woe
+would shrivel me up, had I it. Yet is there hope. Time and tide flow
+wide. The hated whale has the round watery world to swim in, as the
+small gold-fish has its glassy globe. His heaven-insulting purpose, God
+may wedge aside. I would up heart, were it not like lead. But my whole
+clock’s run down; my heart the all-controlling weight, I have no key to
+lift again.
+
+[_A burst of revelry from the forecastle_.]
+
+Oh, God! to sail with such a heathen crew that have small touch of
+human mothers in them! Whelped somewhere by the sharkish sea. The white
+whale is their demigorgon. Hark! the infernal orgies! that revelry is
+forward! mark the unfaltering silence aft! Methinks it pictures life.
+Foremost through the sparkling sea shoots on the gay, embattled,
+bantering bow, but only to drag dark Ahab after it, where he broods
+within his sternward cabin, builded over the dead water of the wake,
+and further on, hunted by its wolfish gurglings. The long howl thrills
+me through! Peace! ye revellers, and set the watch! Oh, life! ’tis in
+an hour like this, with soul beat down and held to knowledge,—as wild,
+untutored things are forced to feed—Oh, life! ’tis now that I do feel
+the latent horror in thee! but ’tis not me! that horror’s out of me!
+and with the soft feeling of the human in me, yet will I try to fight
+ye, ye grim, phantom futures! Stand by me, hold me, bind me, O ye
+blessed influences!
+
+
+CHAPTER 39. First Night-Watch.
+
+Fore-Top.
+
+(_Stubb solus, and mending a brace_.)
+
+Ha! ha! ha! ha! hem! clear my throat!—I’ve been thinking over it ever
+since, and that ha, ha’s the final consequence. Why so? Because a
+laugh’s the wisest, easiest answer to all that’s queer; and come what
+will, one comfort’s always left—that unfailing comfort is, it’s all
+predestinated. I heard not all his talk with Starbuck; but to my poor
+eye Starbuck then looked something as I the other evening felt. Be sure
+the old Mogul has fixed him, too. I twigged it, knew it; had had the
+gift, might readily have prophesied it—for when I clapped my eye upon
+his skull I saw it. Well, Stubb, _wise_ Stubb—that’s my title—well,
+Stubb, what of it, Stubb? Here’s a carcase. I know not all that may be
+coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing. Such a waggish
+leering as lurks in all your horribles! I feel funny. Fa, la! lirra,
+skirra! What’s my juicy little pear at home doing now? Crying its eyes
+out?—Giving a party to the last arrived harpooneers, I dare say, gay as
+a frigate’s pennant, and so am I—fa, la! lirra, skirra! Oh—
+
+
+We’ll drink to-night with hearts as light, To love, as gay and fleeting
+As bubbles that swim, on the beaker’s brim, And break on the lips while
+meeting.
+
+
+
+A brave stave that—who calls? Mr. Starbuck? Aye, aye, sir—(_Aside_)
+he’s my superior, he has his too, if I’m not mistaken.—Aye, aye, sir,
+just through with this job—coming.
+
+
+CHAPTER 40. Midnight, Forecastle.
+
+HARPOONEERS AND SAILORS.
+
+(_Foresail rises and discovers the watch standing, lounging, leaning,
+and lying in various attitudes, all singing in chorus_.)
+
+
+  Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies! Farewell and adieu to you,
+  ladies of Spain! Our captain’s commanded.—
+
+
+
+1ST NANTUCKET SAILOR. Oh, boys, don’t be sentimental; it’s bad for the
+digestion! Take a tonic, follow me!
+
+(_Sings, and all follow._)
+
+
+ Our captain stood upon the deck, A spy-glass in his hand, A viewing of
+ those gallant whales That blew at every strand. Oh, your tubs in your
+ boats, my boys, And by your braces stand, And we’ll have one of those
+ fine whales, Hand, boys, over hand! So, be cheery, my lads! may your
+ hearts never fail! While the bold harpooner is striking the whale!
+
+
+
+MATE’S VOICE FROM THE QUARTER-DECK. Eight bells there, forward!
+
+2ND NANTUCKET SAILOR. Avast the chorus! Eight bells there! d’ye hear,
+bell-boy? Strike the bell eight, thou Pip! thou blackling! and let me
+call the watch. I’ve the sort of mouth for that—the hogshead mouth. So,
+so, (_thrusts his head down the scuttle_,) Star-bo-l-e-e-n-s, a-h-o-y!
+Eight bells there below! Tumble up!
+
+DUTCH SAILOR. Grand snoozing to-night, maty; fat night for that. I mark
+this in our old Mogul’s wine; it’s quite as deadening to some as
+filliping to others. We sing; they sleep—aye, lie down there, like
+ground-tier butts. At ’em again! There, take this copper-pump, and hail
+’em through it. Tell ’em to avast dreaming of their lasses. Tell ’em
+it’s the resurrection; they must kiss their last, and come to judgment.
+That’s the way—_that’s_ it; thy throat ain’t spoiled with eating
+Amsterdam butter.
+
+FRENCH SAILOR. Hist, boys! let’s have a jig or two before we ride to
+anchor in Blanket Bay. What say ye? There comes the other watch. Stand
+by all legs! Pip! little Pip! hurrah with your tambourine!
+
+PIP. (_Sulky and sleepy._) Don’t know where it is.
+
+FRENCH SAILOR. Beat thy belly, then, and wag thy ears. Jig it, men, I
+say; merry’s the word; hurrah! Damn me, won’t you dance? Form, now,
+Indian-file, and gallop into the double-shuffle? Throw yourselves!
+Legs! legs!
+
+ICELAND SAILOR. I don’t like your floor, maty; it’s too springy to my
+taste. I’m used to ice-floors. I’m sorry to throw cold water on the
+subject; but excuse me.
+
+MALTESE SAILOR. Me too; where’s your girls? Who but a fool would take
+his left hand by his right, and say to himself, how d’ye do? Partners!
+I must have partners!
+
+SICILIAN SAILOR. Aye; girls and a green!—then I’ll hop with ye; yea,
+turn grasshopper!
+
+LONG-ISLAND SAILOR. Well, well, ye sulkies, there’s plenty more of us.
+Hoe corn when you may, say I. All legs go to harvest soon. Ah! here
+comes the music; now for it!
+
+AZORE SAILOR. (_Ascending, and pitching the tambourine up the
+scuttle_.) Here you are, Pip; and there’s the windlass-bitts; up you
+mount! Now, boys! (_The half of them dance to the tambourine; some go
+below; some sleep or lie among the coils of rigging. Oaths a-plenty_.)
+
+AZORE SAILOR. (_Dancing_) Go it, Pip! Bang it, bell-boy! Rig it, dig
+it, stig it, quig it, bell-boy! Make fire-flies; break the jinglers!
+
+PIP. Jinglers, you say?—there goes another, dropped off; I pound it so.
+
+CHINA SAILOR. Rattle thy teeth, then, and pound away; make a pagoda of
+thyself.
+
+FRENCH SAILOR. Merry-mad! Hold up thy hoop, Pip, till I jump through
+it! Split jibs! tear yourselves!
+
+TASHTEGO. (_Quietly smoking._) That’s a white man; he calls that fun:
+humph! I save my sweat.
+
+OLD MANX SAILOR. I wonder whether those jolly lads bethink them of what
+they are dancing over. I’ll dance over your grave, I will—that’s the
+bitterest threat of your night-women, that beat head-winds round
+corners. O Christ! to think of the green navies and the green-skulled
+crews! Well, well; belike the whole world’s a ball, as you scholars
+have it; and so ’tis right to make one ballroom of it. Dance on, lads,
+you’re young; I was once.
+
+3D NANTUCKET SAILOR. Spell oh!—whew! this is worse than pulling after
+whales in a calm—give us a whiff, Tash.
+
+(_They cease dancing, and gather in clusters. Meantime the sky
+darkens—the wind rises_.)
+
+LASCAR SAILOR. By Brahma! boys, it’ll be douse sail soon. The sky-born,
+high-tide Ganges turned to wind! Thou showest thy black brow, Seeva!
+
+MALTESE SAILOR. (_Reclining and shaking his cap_.) It’s the waves—the
+snow’s caps turn to jig it now. They’ll shake their tassels soon. Now
+would all the waves were women, then I’d go drown, and chassee with
+them evermore! There’s naught so sweet on earth—heaven may not match
+it!—as those swift glances of warm, wild bosoms in the dance, when the
+over-arboring arms hide such ripe, bursting grapes.
+
+SICILIAN SAILOR. (_Reclining_.) Tell me not of it! Hark ye, lad—fleet
+interlacings of the limbs—lithe swayings—coyings—flutterings! lip!
+heart! hip! all graze: unceasing touch and go! not taste, observe ye,
+else come satiety. Eh, Pagan? (_Nudging_.)
+
+TAHITAN SAILOR. (_Reclining on a mat_.) Hail, holy nakedness of our
+dancing girls!—the Heeva-Heeva! Ah! low veiled, high palmed Tahiti! I
+still rest me on thy mat, but the soft soil has slid! I saw thee woven
+in the wood, my mat! green the first day I brought ye thence; now worn
+and wilted quite. Ah me!—not thou nor I can bear the change! How then,
+if so be transplanted to yon sky? Hear I the roaring streams from
+Pirohitee’s peak of spears, when they leap down the crags and drown the
+villages?—The blast! the blast! Up, spine, and meet it! (_Leaps to his
+feet_.)
+
+PORTUGUESE SAILOR. How the sea rolls swashing ’gainst the side! Stand
+by for reefing, hearties! the winds are just crossing swords, pell-mell
+they’ll go lunging presently.
+
+DANISH SAILOR. Crack, crack, old ship! so long as thou crackest, thou
+holdest! Well done! The mate there holds ye to it stiffly. He’s no more
+afraid than the isle fort at Cattegat, put there to fight the Baltic
+with storm-lashed guns, on which the sea-salt cakes!
+
+4TH NANTUCKET SAILOR. He has his orders, mind ye that. I heard old Ahab
+tell him he must always kill a squall, something as they burst a
+waterspout with a pistol—fire your ship right into it!
+
+ENGLISH SAILOR. Blood! but that old man’s a grand old cove! We are the
+lads to hunt him up his whale!
+
+ALL. Aye! aye!
+
+OLD MANX SAILOR. How the three pines shake! Pines are the hardest sort
+of tree to live when shifted to any other soil, and here there’s none
+but the crew’s cursed clay. Steady, helmsman! steady. This is the sort
+of weather when brave hearts snap ashore, and keeled hulls split at
+sea. Our captain has his birthmark; look yonder, boys, there’s another
+in the sky—lurid-like, ye see, all else pitch black.
+
+DAGGOO. What of that? Who’s afraid of black’s afraid of me! I’m
+quarried out of it!
+
+SPANISH SAILOR. (_Aside_.) He wants to bully, ah!—the old grudge makes
+me touchy (_Advancing_.) Aye, harpooneer, thy race is the undeniable
+dark side of mankind—devilish dark at that. No offence.
+
+DAGGOO (_grimly_). None.
+
+ST. JAGO’S SAILOR. That Spaniard’s mad or drunk. But that can’t be, or
+else in his one case our old Mogul’s fire-waters are somewhat long in
+working.
+
+5TH NANTUCKET SAILOR. What’s that I saw—lightning? Yes.
+
+SPANISH SAILOR. No; Daggoo showing his teeth.
+
+DAGGOO (_springing_). Swallow thine, mannikin! White skin, white liver!
+
+SPANISH SAILOR (_meeting him_). Knife thee heartily! big frame, small
+spirit!
+
+ALL. A row! a row! a row!
+
+TASHTEGO (_with a whiff_). A row a’low, and a row aloft—Gods and
+men—both brawlers! Humph!
+
+BELFAST SAILOR. A row! arrah a row! The Virgin be blessed, a row!
+Plunge in with ye!
+
+ENGLISH SAILOR. Fair play! Snatch the Spaniard’s knife! A ring, a ring!
+
+OLD MANX SAILOR. Ready formed. There! the ringed horizon. In that ring
+Cain struck Abel. Sweet work, right work! No? Why then, God, mad’st
+thou the ring?
+
+MATE’S VOICE FROM THE QUARTER-DECK. Hands by the halyards! in
+top-gallant sails! Stand by to reef topsails!
+
+ALL. The squall! the squall! jump, my jollies! (_They scatter_.)
+
+PIP (_shrinking under the windlass_). Jollies? Lord help such jollies!
+Crish, crash! there goes the jib-stay! Blang-whang! God! Duck lower,
+Pip, here comes the royal yard! It’s worse than being in the whirled
+woods, the last day of the year! Who’d go climbing after chestnuts now?
+But there they go, all cursing, and here I don’t. Fine prospects to
+’em; they’re on the road to heaven. Hold on hard! Jimmini, what a
+squall! But those chaps there are worse yet—they are your white
+squalls, they. White squalls? white whale, shirr! shirr! Here have I
+heard all their chat just now, and the white whale—shirr! shirr!—but
+spoken of once! and only this evening—it makes me jingle all over like
+my tambourine—that anaconda of an old man swore ’em in to hunt him! Oh,
+thou big white God aloft there somewhere in yon darkness, have mercy on
+this small black boy down here; preserve him from all men that have no
+bowels to feel fear!
+
+
+CHAPTER 41. Moby Dick.
+
+I, Ishmael, was one of that crew; my shouts had gone up with the rest;
+my oath had been welded with theirs; and stronger I shouted, and more
+did I hammer and clinch my oath, because of the dread in my soul. A
+wild, mystical, sympathetical feeling was in me; Ahab’s quenchless feud
+seemed mine. With greedy ears I learned the history of that murderous
+monster against whom I and all the others had taken our oaths of
+violence and revenge.
+
+For some time past, though at intervals only, the unaccompanied,
+secluded White Whale had haunted those uncivilized seas mostly
+frequented by the Sperm Whale fishermen. But not all of them knew of
+his existence; only a few of them, comparatively, had knowingly seen
+him; while the number who as yet had actually and knowingly given
+battle to him, was small indeed. For, owing to the large number of
+whale-cruisers; the disorderly way they were sprinkled over the entire
+watery circumference, many of them adventurously pushing their quest
+along solitary latitudes, so as seldom or never for a whole twelvemonth
+or more on a stretch, to encounter a single news-telling sail of any
+sort; the inordinate length of each separate voyage; the irregularity
+of the times of sailing from home; all these, with other circumstances,
+direct and indirect, long obstructed the spread through the whole
+world-wide whaling-fleet of the special individualizing tidings
+concerning Moby Dick. It was hardly to be doubted, that several vessels
+reported to have encountered, at such or such a time, or on such or
+such a meridian, a Sperm Whale of uncommon magnitude and malignity,
+which whale, after doing great mischief to his assailants, had
+completely escaped them; to some minds it was not an unfair
+presumption, I say, that the whale in question must have been no other
+than Moby Dick. Yet as of late the Sperm Whale fishery had been marked
+by various and not unfrequent instances of great ferocity, cunning, and
+malice in the monster attacked; therefore it was, that those who by
+accident ignorantly gave battle to Moby Dick; such hunters, perhaps,
+for the most part, were content to ascribe the peculiar terror he bred,
+more, as it were, to the perils of the Sperm Whale fishery at large,
+than to the individual cause. In that way, mostly, the disastrous
+encounter between Ahab and the whale had hitherto been popularly
+regarded.
+
+And as for those who, previously hearing of the White Whale, by chance
+caught sight of him; in the beginning of the thing they had every one
+of them, almost, as boldly and fearlessly lowered for him, as for any
+other whale of that species. But at length, such calamities did ensue
+in these assaults—not restricted to sprained wrists and ankles, broken
+limbs, or devouring amputations—but fatal to the last degree of
+fatality; those repeated disastrous repulses, all accumulating and
+piling their terrors upon Moby Dick; those things had gone far to shake
+the fortitude of many brave hunters, to whom the story of the White
+Whale had eventually come.
+
+Nor did wild rumors of all sorts fail to exaggerate, and still the more
+horrify the true histories of these deadly encounters. For not only do
+fabulous rumors naturally grow out of the very body of all surprising
+terrible events,—as the smitten tree gives birth to its fungi; but, in
+maritime life, far more than in that of terra firma, wild rumors
+abound, wherever there is any adequate reality for them to cling to.
+And as the sea surpasses the land in this matter, so the whale fishery
+surpasses every other sort of maritime life, in the wonderfulness and
+fearfulness of the rumors which sometimes circulate there. For not only
+are whalemen as a body unexempt from that ignorance and
+superstitiousness hereditary to all sailors; but of all sailors, they
+are by all odds the most directly brought into contact with whatever is
+appallingly astonishing in the sea; face to face they not only eye its
+greatest marvels, but, hand to jaw, give battle to them. Alone, in such
+remotest waters, that though you sailed a thousand miles, and passed a
+thousand shores, you would not come to any chiseled hearth-stone, or
+aught hospitable beneath that part of the sun; in such latitudes and
+longitudes, pursuing too such a calling as he does, the whaleman is
+wrapped by influences all tending to make his fancy pregnant with many
+a mighty birth.
+
+No wonder, then, that ever gathering volume from the mere transit over
+the widest watery spaces, the outblown rumors of the White Whale did in
+the end incorporate with themselves all manner of morbid hints, and
+half-formed fœtal suggestions of supernatural agencies, which
+eventually invested Moby Dick with new terrors unborrowed from anything
+that visibly appears. So that in many cases such a panic did he finally
+strike, that few who by those rumors, at least, had heard of the White
+Whale, few of those hunters were willing to encounter the perils of his
+jaw.
+
+But there were still other and more vital practical influences at work.
+Not even at the present day has the original prestige of the Sperm
+Whale, as fearfully distinguished from all other species of the
+leviathan, died out of the minds of the whalemen as a body. There are
+those this day among them, who, though intelligent and courageous
+enough in offering battle to the Greenland or Right whale, would
+perhaps—either from professional inexperience, or incompetency, or
+timidity, decline a contest with the Sperm Whale; at any rate, there
+are plenty of whalemen, especially among those whaling nations not
+sailing under the American flag, who have never hostilely encountered
+the Sperm Whale, but whose sole knowledge of the leviathan is
+restricted to the ignoble monster primitively pursued in the North;
+seated on their hatches, these men will hearken with a childish
+fireside interest and awe, to the wild, strange tales of Southern
+whaling. Nor is the pre-eminent tremendousness of the great Sperm Whale
+anywhere more feelingly comprehended, than on board of those prows
+which stem him.
+
+And as if the now tested reality of his might had in former legendary
+times thrown its shadow before it; we find some book
+naturalists—Olassen and Povelson—declaring the Sperm Whale not only to
+be a consternation to every other creature in the sea, but also to be
+so incredibly ferocious as continually to be athirst for human blood.
+Nor even down to so late a time as Cuvier’s, were these or almost
+similar impressions effaced. For in his Natural History, the Baron
+himself affirms that at sight of the Sperm Whale, all fish (sharks
+included) are “struck with the most lively terrors,” and “often in the
+precipitancy of their flight dash themselves against the rocks with
+such violence as to cause instantaneous death.” And however the general
+experiences in the fishery may amend such reports as these; yet in
+their full terribleness, even to the bloodthirsty item of Povelson, the
+superstitious belief in them is, in some vicissitudes of their
+vocation, revived in the minds of the hunters.
+
+So that overawed by the rumors and portents concerning him, not a few
+of the fishermen recalled, in reference to Moby Dick, the earlier days
+of the Sperm Whale fishery, when it was oftentimes hard to induce long
+practised Right whalemen to embark in the perils of this new and daring
+warfare; such men protesting that although other leviathans might be
+hopefully pursued, yet to chase and point lance at such an apparition
+as the Sperm Whale was not for mortal man. That to attempt it, would be
+inevitably to be torn into a quick eternity. On this head, there are
+some remarkable documents that may be consulted.
+
+Nevertheless, some there were, who even in the face of these things
+were ready to give chase to Moby Dick; and a still greater number who,
+chancing only to hear of him distantly and vaguely, without the
+specific details of any certain calamity, and without superstitious
+accompaniments, were sufficiently hardy not to flee from the battle if
+offered.
+
+One of the wild suggestions referred to, as at last coming to be linked
+with the White Whale in the minds of the superstitiously inclined, was
+the unearthly conceit that Moby Dick was ubiquitous; that he had
+actually been encountered in opposite latitudes at one and the same
+instant of time.
+
+Nor, credulous as such minds must have been, was this conceit
+altogether without some faint show of superstitious probability. For as
+the secrets of the currents in the seas have never yet been divulged,
+even to the most erudite research; so the hidden ways of the Sperm
+Whale when beneath the surface remain, in great part, unaccountable to
+his pursuers; and from time to time have originated the most curious
+and contradictory speculations regarding them, especially concerning
+the mystic modes whereby, after sounding to a great depth, he
+transports himself with such vast swiftness to the most widely distant
+points.
+
+It is a thing well known to both American and English whale-ships, and
+as well a thing placed upon authoritative record years ago by Scoresby,
+that some whales have been captured far north in the Pacific, in whose
+bodies have been found the barbs of harpoons darted in the Greenland
+seas. Nor is it to be gainsaid, that in some of these instances it has
+been declared that the interval of time between the two assaults could
+not have exceeded very many days. Hence, by inference, it has been
+believed by some whalemen, that the Nor’ West Passage, so long a
+problem to man, was never a problem to the whale. So that here, in the
+real living experience of living men, the prodigies related in old
+times of the inland Strello mountain in Portugal (near whose top there
+was said to be a lake in which the wrecks of ships floated up to the
+surface); and that still more wonderful story of the Arethusa fountain
+near Syracuse (whose waters were believed to have come from the Holy
+Land by an underground passage); these fabulous narrations are almost
+fully equalled by the realities of the whalemen.
+
+Forced into familiarity, then, with such prodigies as these; and
+knowing that after repeated, intrepid assaults, the White Whale had
+escaped alive; it cannot be much matter of surprise that some whalemen
+should go still further in their superstitions; declaring Moby Dick not
+only ubiquitous, but immortal (for immortality is but ubiquity in
+time); that though groves of spears should be planted in his flanks, he
+would still swim away unharmed; or if indeed he should ever be made to
+spout thick blood, such a sight would be but a ghastly deception; for
+again in unensanguined billows hundreds of leagues away, his unsullied
+jet would once more be seen.
+
+But even stripped of these supernatural surmisings, there was enough in
+the earthly make and incontestable character of the monster to strike
+the imagination with unwonted power. For, it was not so much his
+uncommon bulk that so much distinguished him from other sperm whales,
+but, as was elsewhere thrown out—a peculiar snow-white wrinkled
+forehead, and a high, pyramidical white hump. These were his prominent
+features; the tokens whereby, even in the limitless, uncharted seas, he
+revealed his identity, at a long distance, to those who knew him.
+
+The rest of his body was so streaked, and spotted, and marbled with the
+same shrouded hue, that, in the end, he had gained his distinctive
+appellation of the White Whale; a name, indeed, literally justified by
+his vivid aspect, when seen gliding at high noon through a dark blue
+sea, leaving a milky-way wake of creamy foam, all spangled with golden
+gleamings.
+
+Nor was it his unwonted magnitude, nor his remarkable hue, nor yet his
+deformed lower jaw, that so much invested the whale with natural
+terror, as that unexampled, intelligent malignity which, according to
+specific accounts, he had over and over again evinced in his assaults.
+More than all, his treacherous retreats struck more of dismay than
+perhaps aught else. For, when swimming before his exulting pursuers,
+with every apparent symptom of alarm, he had several times been known
+to turn round suddenly, and, bearing down upon them, either stave their
+boats to splinters, or drive them back in consternation to their ship.
+
+Already several fatalities had attended his chase. But though similar
+disasters, however little bruited ashore, were by no means unusual in
+the fishery; yet, in most instances, such seemed the White Whale’s
+infernal aforethought of ferocity, that every dismembering or death
+that he caused, was not wholly regarded as having been inflicted by an
+unintelligent agent.
+
+Judge, then, to what pitches of inflamed, distracted fury the minds of
+his more desperate hunters were impelled, when amid the chips of chewed
+boats, and the sinking limbs of torn comrades, they swam out of the
+white curds of the whale’s direful wrath into the serene, exasperating
+sunlight, that smiled on, as if at a birth or a bridal.
+
+His three boats stove around him, and oars and men both whirling in the
+eddies; one captain, seizing the line-knife from his broken prow, had
+dashed at the whale, as an Arkansas duellist at his foe, blindly
+seeking with a six inch blade to reach the fathom-deep life of the
+whale. That captain was Ahab. And then it was, that suddenly sweeping
+his sickle-shaped lower jaw beneath him, Moby Dick had reaped away
+Ahab’s leg, as a mower a blade of grass in the field. No turbaned Turk,
+no hired Venetian or Malay, could have smote him with more seeming
+malice. Small reason was there to doubt, then, that ever since that
+almost fatal encounter, Ahab had cherished a wild vindictiveness
+against the whale, all the more fell for that in his frantic morbidness
+he at last came to identify with him, not only all his bodily woes, but
+all his intellectual and spiritual exasperations. 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.
+
+It is not probable that this monomania in him took its instant rise at
+the precise time of his bodily dismemberment. Then, in darting at the
+monster, knife in hand, he had but given loose to a sudden, passionate,
+corporal animosity; and when he received the stroke that tore him, he
+probably but felt the agonizing bodily laceration, but nothing more.
+Yet, when by this collision forced to turn towards home, and for long
+months of days and weeks, Ahab and anguish lay stretched together in
+one hammock, rounding in mid winter that dreary, howling Patagonian
+Cape; then it was, that his torn body and gashed soul bled into one
+another; and so interfusing, made him mad. That it was only then, on
+the homeward voyage, after the encounter, that the final monomania
+seized him, seems all but certain from the fact that, at intervals
+during the passage, he was a raving lunatic; and, though unlimbed of a
+leg, yet such vital strength yet lurked in his Egyptian chest, and was
+moreover intensified by his delirium, that his mates were forced to
+lace him fast, even there, as he sailed, raving in his hammock. In a
+strait-jacket, he swung to the mad rockings of the gales. And, when
+running into more sufferable latitudes, the ship, with mild stun’sails
+spread, floated across the tranquil tropics, and, to all appearances,
+the old man’s delirium seemed left behind him with the Cape Horn
+swells, and he came forth from his dark den into the blessed light and
+air; even then, when he bore that firm, collected front, however pale,
+and issued his calm orders once again; and his mates thanked God the
+direful madness was now gone; even then, Ahab, in his hidden self,
+raved on. Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing.
+When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some
+still subtler form. Ahab’s full lunacy subsided not, but deepeningly
+contracted; like the unabated Hudson, when that noble Northman flows
+narrowly, but unfathomably through the Highland gorge. But, as in his
+narrow-flowing monomania, not one jot of Ahab’s broad madness had been
+left behind; so in that broad madness, not one jot of his great natural
+intellect had perished. That before living agent, now became the living
+instrument. If such a furious trope may stand, his special lunacy
+stormed his general sanity, and carried it, and turned all its
+concentred cannon upon its own mad mark; so that far from having lost
+his strength, Ahab, to that one end, did now possess a thousand fold
+more potency than ever he had sanely brought to bear upon any one
+reasonable object.
+
+This is much; yet Ahab’s larger, darker, deeper part remains unhinted.
+But vain to popularize profundities, and all truth is profound. Winding
+far down from within the very heart of this spiked Hotel de Cluny where
+we here stand—however grand and wonderful, now quit it;—and take your
+way, ye nobler, sadder souls, to those vast Roman halls of Thermes;
+where far beneath the fantastic towers of man’s upper earth, his root
+of grandeur, his whole awful essence sits in bearded state; an antique
+buried beneath antiquities, and throned on torsoes! So with a broken
+throne, the great gods mock that captive king; so like a Caryatid, he
+patient sits, upholding on his frozen brow the piled entablatures of
+ages. Wind ye down there, ye prouder, sadder souls! question that
+proud, sad king! A family likeness! aye, he did beget ye, ye young
+exiled royalties; and from your grim sire only will the old
+State-secret come.
+
+Now, in his heart, Ahab had some glimpse of this, namely: all my means
+are sane, my motive and my object mad. Yet without power to kill, or
+change, or shun the fact; he likewise knew that to mankind he did long
+dissemble; in some sort, did still. But that thing of his dissembling
+was only subject to his perceptibility, not to his will determinate.
+Nevertheless, so well did he succeed in that dissembling, that when
+with ivory leg he stepped ashore at last, no Nantucketer thought him
+otherwise than but naturally grieved, and that to the quick, with the
+terrible casualty which had overtaken him.
+
+The report of his undeniable delirium at sea was likewise popularly
+ascribed to a kindred cause. And so too, all the added moodiness which
+always afterwards, to the very day of sailing in the Pequod on the
+present voyage, sat brooding on his brow. Nor is it so very unlikely,
+that far from distrusting his fitness for another whaling voyage, on
+account of such dark symptoms, the calculating people of that prudent
+isle were inclined to harbor the conceit, that for those very reasons
+he was all the better qualified and set on edge, for a pursuit so full
+of rage and wildness as the bloody hunt of whales. Gnawed within and
+scorched without, with the infixed, unrelenting fangs of some incurable
+idea; such an one, could he be found, would seem the very man to dart
+his iron and lift his lance against the most appalling of all brutes.
+Or, if for any reason thought to be corporeally incapacitated for that,
+yet such an one would seem superlatively competent to cheer and howl on
+his underlings to the attack. But be all this as it may, certain it is,
+that with the mad secret of his unabated rage bolted up and keyed in
+him, Ahab had purposely sailed upon the present voyage with the one
+only and all-engrossing object of hunting the White Whale. Had any one
+of his old acquaintances on shore but half dreamed of what was lurking
+in him then, how soon would their aghast and righteous souls have
+wrenched the ship from such a fiendish man! They were bent on
+profitable cruises, the profit to be counted down in dollars from the
+mint. He was intent on an audacious, immitigable, and supernatural
+revenge.
+
+Here, then, was this grey-headed, ungodly old man, chasing with curses
+a Job’s whale round the world, at the head of a crew, too, chiefly made
+up of mongrel renegades, and castaways, and cannibals—morally enfeebled
+also, by the incompetence of mere unaided virtue or right-mindedness in
+Starbuck, the invulnerable jollity of indifference and recklessness in
+Stubb, and the pervading mediocrity in Flask. Such a crew, so
+officered, seemed specially picked and packed by some infernal fatality
+to help him to his monomaniac revenge. How it was that they so
+aboundingly responded to the old man’s ire—by what evil magic their
+souls were possessed, that at times his hate seemed almost theirs; the
+White Whale as much their insufferable foe as his; how all this came to
+be—what the White Whale was to them, or how to their unconscious
+understandings, also, in some dim, unsuspected way, he might have
+seemed the gliding great demon of the seas of life,—all this to
+explain, would be to dive deeper than Ishmael can go. The subterranean
+miner that works in us all, how can one tell whither leads his shaft by
+the ever shifting, muffled sound of his pick? Who does not feel the
+irresistible arm drag? What skiff in tow of a seventy-four can stand
+still? For one, I gave myself up to the abandonment of the time and the
+place; but while yet all a-rush to encounter the whale, could see
+naught in that brute but the deadliest ill.
+
+
+CHAPTER 42. The Whiteness of the Whale.
+
+What the white whale was to Ahab, has been hinted; what, at times, he
+was to me, as yet remains unsaid.
+
+Aside from those more obvious considerations touching Moby Dick, which
+could not but occasionally awaken in any man’s soul some alarm, there
+was another thought, or rather vague, nameless horror concerning him,
+which at times by its intensity completely overpowered all the rest;
+and yet so mystical and well nigh ineffable was it, that I almost
+despair of putting it in a comprehensible form. It was the whiteness of
+the whale that above all things appalled me. But how can I hope to
+explain myself here; and yet, in some dim, random way, explain myself I
+must, else all these chapters might be naught.
+
+Though in many natural objects, whiteness refiningly enhances beauty,
+as if imparting some special virtue of its own, as in marbles,
+japonicas, and pearls; and though various nations have in some way
+recognised a certain royal preeminence in this hue; even the barbaric,
+grand old kings of Pegu placing the title “Lord of the White Elephants”
+above all their other magniloquent ascriptions of dominion; and the
+modern kings of Siam unfurling the same snow-white quadruped in the
+royal standard; and the Hanoverian flag bearing the one figure of a
+snow-white charger; and the great Austrian Empire, Cæsarian, heir to
+overlording Rome, having for the imperial colour the same imperial hue;
+and though this pre-eminence in it applies to the human race itself,
+giving the white man ideal mastership over every dusky tribe; and
+though, besides, all this, whiteness has been even made significant of
+gladness, for among the Romans a white stone marked a joyful day; and
+though in other mortal sympathies and symbolizings, this same hue is
+made the emblem of many touching, noble things—the innocence of brides,
+the benignity of age; though among the Red Men of America the giving of
+the white belt of wampum was the deepest pledge of honor; though in
+many climes, whiteness typifies the majesty of Justice in the ermine of
+the Judge, and contributes to the daily state of kings and queens drawn
+by milk-white steeds; though even in the higher mysteries of the most
+august religions it has been made the symbol of the divine spotlessness
+and power; by the Persian fire worshippers, the white forked flame
+being held the holiest on the altar; and in the Greek mythologies,
+Great Jove himself being made incarnate in a snow-white bull; and
+though to the noble Iroquois, the midwinter sacrifice of the sacred
+White Dog was by far the holiest festival of their theology, that
+spotless, faithful creature being held the purest envoy they could send
+to the Great Spirit with the annual tidings of their own fidelity; and
+though directly from the Latin word for white, all Christian priests
+derive the name of one part of their sacred vesture, the alb or tunic,
+worn beneath the cassock; and though among the holy pomps of the Romish
+faith, white is specially employed in the celebration of the Passion of
+our Lord; though in the Vision of St. John, white robes are given to
+the redeemed, and the four-and-twenty elders stand clothed in white
+before the great white throne, and the Holy One that sitteth there
+white like wool; yet for all these accumulated associations, with
+whatever is sweet, and honorable, and sublime, there yet lurks an
+elusive something in the innermost idea of this hue, which strikes more
+of panic to the soul than that redness which affrights in blood.
+
+This elusive quality it is, which causes the thought of whiteness, when
+divorced from more kindly associations, and coupled with any object
+terrible in itself, to heighten that terror to the furthest bounds.
+Witness the white bear of the poles, and the white shark of the
+tropics; what but their smooth, flaky whiteness makes them the
+transcendent horrors they are? That ghastly whiteness it is which
+imparts such an abhorrent mildness, even more loathsome than terrific,
+to the dumb gloating of their aspect. So that not the fierce-fanged
+tiger in his heraldic coat can so stagger courage as the white-shrouded
+bear or shark.*
+
+*With reference to the Polar bear, it may possibly be urged by him who
+would fain go still deeper into this matter, that it is not the
+whiteness, separately regarded, which heightens the intolerable
+hideousness of that brute; for, analysed, that heightened hideousness,
+it might be said, only rises from the circumstance, that the
+irresponsible ferociousness of the creature stands invested in the
+fleece of celestial innocence and love; and hence, by bringing together
+two such opposite emotions in our minds, the Polar bear frightens us
+with so unnatural a contrast. But even assuming all this to be true;
+yet, were it not for the whiteness, you would not have that intensified
+terror.
+
+As for the white shark, the white gliding ghostliness of repose in that
+creature, when beheld in his ordinary moods, strangely tallies with the
+same quality in the Polar quadruped. This peculiarity is most vividly
+hit by the French in the name they bestow upon that fish. The Romish
+mass for the dead begins with “Requiem eternam” (eternal rest), whence
+_Requiem_ denominating the mass itself, and any other funeral music.
+Now, in allusion to the white, silent stillness of death in this shark,
+and the mild deadliness of his habits, the French call him _Requin_.
+
+Bethink thee of the albatross, whence come those clouds of spiritual
+wonderment and pale dread, in which that white phantom sails in all
+imaginations? Not Coleridge first threw that spell; but God’s great,
+unflattering laureate, Nature.*
+
+*I remember the first albatross I ever saw. It was during a prolonged
+gale, in waters hard upon the Antarctic seas. From my forenoon watch
+below, I ascended to the overclouded deck; and there, dashed upon the
+main hatches, I saw a regal, feathery thing of unspotted whiteness, and
+with a hooked, Roman bill sublime. At intervals, it arched forth its
+vast archangel wings, as if to embrace some holy ark. Wondrous
+flutterings and throbbings shook it. Though bodily unharmed, it uttered
+cries, as some king’s ghost in supernatural distress. Through its
+inexpressible, strange eyes, methought I peeped to secrets which took
+hold of God. As Abraham before the angels, I bowed myself; the white
+thing was so white, its wings so wide, and in those for ever exiled
+waters, I had lost the miserable warping memories of traditions and of
+towns. Long I gazed at that prodigy of plumage. I cannot tell, can only
+hint, the things that darted through me then. But at last I awoke; and
+turning, asked a sailor what bird was this. A goney, he replied. Goney!
+never had heard that name before; is it conceivable that this glorious
+thing is utterly unknown to men ashore! never! But some time after, I
+learned that goney was some seaman’s name for albatross. So that by no
+possibility could Coleridge’s wild Rhyme have had aught to do with
+those mystical impressions which were mine, when I saw that bird upon
+our deck. For neither had I then read the Rhyme, nor knew the bird to
+be an albatross. Yet, in saying this, I do but indirectly burnish a
+little brighter the noble merit of the poem and the poet.
+
+I assert, then, that in the wondrous bodily whiteness of the bird
+chiefly lurks the secret of the spell; a truth the more evinced in
+this, that by a solecism of terms there are birds called grey
+albatrosses; and these I have frequently seen, but never with such
+emotions as when I beheld the Antarctic fowl.
+
+But how had the mystic thing been caught? Whisper it not, and I will
+tell; with a treacherous hook and line, as the fowl floated on the sea.
+At last the Captain made a postman of it; tying a lettered, leathern
+tally round its neck, with the ship’s time and place; and then letting
+it escape. But I doubt not, that leathern tally, meant for man, was
+taken off in Heaven, when the white fowl flew to join the wing-folding,
+the invoking, and adoring cherubim!
+
+Most famous in our Western annals and Indian traditions is that of the
+White Steed of the Prairies; a magnificent milk-white charger,
+large-eyed, small-headed, bluff-chested, and with the dignity of a
+thousand monarchs in his lofty, overscorning carriage. He was the
+elected Xerxes of vast herds of wild horses, whose pastures in those
+days were only fenced by the Rocky Mountains and the Alleghanies. At
+their flaming head he westward trooped it like that chosen star which
+every evening leads on the hosts of light. The flashing cascade of his
+mane, the curving comet of his tail, invested him with housings more
+resplendent than gold and silver-beaters could have furnished him. A
+most imperial and archangelical apparition of that unfallen, western
+world, which to the eyes of the old trappers and hunters revived the
+glories of those primeval times when Adam walked majestic as a god,
+bluff-browed and fearless as this mighty steed. Whether marching amid
+his aides and marshals in the van of countless cohorts that endlessly
+streamed it over the plains, like an Ohio; or whether with his
+circumambient subjects browsing all around at the horizon, the White
+Steed gallopingly reviewed them with warm nostrils reddening through
+his cool milkiness; in whatever aspect he presented himself, always to
+the bravest Indians he was the object of trembling reverence and awe.
+Nor can it be questioned from what stands on legendary record of this
+noble horse, that it was his spiritual whiteness chiefly, which so
+clothed him with divineness; and that this divineness had that in it
+which, though commanding worship, at the same time enforced a certain
+nameless terror.
+
+But there are other instances where this whiteness loses all that
+accessory and strange glory which invests it in the White Steed and
+Albatross.
+
+What is it that in the Albino man so peculiarly repels and often shocks
+the eye, as that sometimes he is loathed by his own kith and kin! It is
+that whiteness which invests him, a thing expressed by the name he
+bears. The Albino is as well made as other men—has no substantive
+deformity—and yet this mere aspect of all-pervading whiteness makes him
+more strangely hideous than the ugliest abortion. Why should this be
+so?
+
+Nor, in quite other aspects, does Nature in her least palpable but not
+the less malicious agencies, fail to enlist among her forces this
+crowning attribute of the terrible. From its snowy aspect, the
+gauntleted ghost of the Southern Seas has been denominated the White
+Squall. Nor, in some historic instances, has the art of human malice
+omitted so potent an auxiliary. How wildly it heightens the effect of
+that passage in Froissart, when, masked in the snowy symbol of their
+faction, the desperate White Hoods of Ghent murder their bailiff in the
+market-place!
+
+Nor, in some things, does the common, hereditary experience of all
+mankind fail to bear witness to the supernaturalism of this hue. It
+cannot well be doubted, that the one visible quality in the aspect of
+the dead which most appals the gazer, is the marble pallor lingering
+there; as if indeed that pallor were as much like the badge of
+consternation in the other world, as of mortal trepidation here. And
+from that pallor of the dead, we borrow the expressive hue of the
+shroud in which we wrap them. Nor even in our superstitions do we fail
+to throw the same snowy mantle round our phantoms; all ghosts rising in
+a milk-white fog—Yea, while these terrors seize us, let us add, that
+even the king of terrors, when personified by the evangelist, rides on
+his pallid horse.
+
+Therefore, in his other moods, symbolize whatever grand or gracious
+thing he will by whiteness, no man can deny that in its profoundest
+idealized significance it calls up a peculiar apparition to the soul.
+
+But though without dissent this point be fixed, how is mortal man to
+account for it? To analyse it, would seem impossible. Can we, then, by
+the citation of some of those instances wherein this thing of
+whiteness—though for the time either wholly or in great part stripped
+of all direct associations calculated to impart to it aught fearful,
+but nevertheless, is found to exert over us the same sorcery, however
+modified;—can we thus hope to light upon some chance clue to conduct us
+to the hidden cause we seek?
+
+Let us try. But in a matter like this, subtlety appeals to subtlety,
+and without imagination no man can follow another into these halls. And
+though, doubtless, some at least of the imaginative impressions about
+to be presented may have been shared by most men, yet few perhaps were
+entirely conscious of them at the time, and therefore may not be able
+to recall them now.
+
+Why to the man of untutored ideality, who happens to be but loosely
+acquainted with the peculiar character of the day, does the bare
+mention of Whitsuntide marshal in the fancy such long, dreary,
+speechless processions of slow-pacing pilgrims, down-cast and hooded
+with new-fallen snow? Or, to the unread, unsophisticated Protestant of
+the Middle American States, why does the passing mention of a White
+Friar or a White Nun, evoke such an eyeless statue in the soul?
+
+Or what is there apart from the traditions of dungeoned warriors and
+kings (which will not wholly account for it) that makes the White Tower
+of London tell so much more strongly on the imagination of an
+untravelled American, than those other storied structures, its
+neighbors—the Byward Tower, or even the Bloody? And those sublimer
+towers, the White Mountains of New Hampshire, whence, in peculiar
+moods, comes that gigantic ghostliness over the soul at the bare
+mention of that name, while the thought of Virginia’s Blue Ridge is
+full of a soft, dewy, distant dreaminess? Or why, irrespective of all
+latitudes and longitudes, does the name of the White Sea exert such a
+spectralness over the fancy, while that of the Yellow Sea lulls us with
+mortal thoughts of long lacquered mild afternoons on the waves,
+followed by the gaudiest and yet sleepiest of sunsets? Or, to choose a
+wholly unsubstantial instance, purely addressed to the fancy, why, in
+reading the old fairy tales of Central Europe, does “the tall pale man”
+of the Hartz forests, whose changeless pallor unrustlingly glides
+through the green of the groves—why is this phantom more terrible than
+all the whooping imps of the Blocksburg?
+
+Nor is it, altogether, the remembrance of her cathedral-toppling
+earthquakes; nor the stampedoes of her frantic seas; nor the
+tearlessness of arid skies that never rain; nor the sight of her wide
+field of leaning spires, wrenched cope-stones, and crosses all adroop
+(like canted yards of anchored fleets); and her suburban avenues of
+house-walls lying over upon each other, as a tossed pack of cards;—it
+is not these things alone which make tearless Lima, the strangest,
+saddest city thou can’st see. For Lima has taken the white veil; and
+there is a higher horror in this whiteness of her woe. Old as Pizarro,
+this whiteness keeps her ruins for ever new; admits not the cheerful
+greenness of complete decay; spreads over her broken ramparts the rigid
+pallor of an apoplexy that fixes its own distortions.
+
+I know that, to the common apprehension, this phenomenon of whiteness
+is not confessed to be the prime agent in exaggerating the terror of
+objects otherwise terrible; nor to the unimaginative mind is there
+aught of terror in those appearances whose awfulness to another mind
+almost solely consists in this one phenomenon, especially when
+exhibited under any form at all approaching to muteness or
+universality. What I mean by these two statements may perhaps be
+respectively elucidated by the following examples.
+
+First: The mariner, when drawing nigh the coasts of foreign lands, if
+by night he hear the roar of breakers, starts to vigilance, and feels
+just enough of trepidation to sharpen all his faculties; but under
+precisely similar circumstances, let him be called from his hammock to
+view his ship sailing through a midnight sea of milky whiteness—as if
+from encircling headlands shoals of combed white bears were swimming
+round him, then he feels a silent, superstitious dread; the shrouded
+phantom of the whitened waters is horrible to him as a real ghost; in
+vain the lead assures him he is still off soundings; heart and helm
+they both go down; he never rests till blue water is under him again.
+Yet where is the mariner who will tell thee, “Sir, it was not so much
+the fear of striking hidden rocks, as the fear of that hideous
+whiteness that so stirred me?”
+
+Second: To the native Indian of Peru, the continual sight of the
+snow-howdahed Andes conveys naught of dread, except, perhaps, in the
+mere fancying of the eternal frosted desolateness reigning at such vast
+altitudes, and the natural conceit of what a fearfulness it would be to
+lose oneself in such inhuman solitudes. Much the same is it with the
+backwoodsman of the West, who with comparative indifference views an
+unbounded prairie sheeted with driven snow, no shadow of tree or twig
+to break the fixed trance of whiteness. Not so the sailor, beholding
+the scenery of the Antarctic seas; where at times, by some infernal
+trick of legerdemain in the powers of frost and air, he, shivering and
+half shipwrecked, instead of rainbows speaking hope and solace to his
+misery, views what seems a boundless churchyard grinning upon him with
+its lean ice monuments and splintered crosses.
+
+But thou sayest, methinks that white-lead chapter about whiteness is
+but a white flag hung out from a craven soul; thou surrenderest to a
+hypo, Ishmael.
+
+Tell me, why this strong young colt, foaled in some peaceful valley of
+Vermont, far removed from all beasts of prey—why is it that upon the
+sunniest day, if you but shake a fresh buffalo robe behind him, so that
+he cannot even see it, but only smells its wild animal muskiness—why
+will he start, snort, and with bursting eyes paw the ground in
+phrensies of affright? There is no remembrance in him of any gorings of
+wild creatures in his green northern home, so that the strange
+muskiness he smells cannot recall to him anything associated with the
+experience of former perils; for what knows he, this New England colt,
+of the black bisons of distant Oregon?
+
+No: but here thou beholdest even in a dumb brute, the instinct of the
+knowledge of the demonism in the world. Though thousands of miles from
+Oregon, still when he smells that savage musk, the rending, goring
+bison herds are as present as to the deserted wild foal of the
+prairies, which this instant they may be trampling into dust.
+
+Thus, then, the muffled rollings of a milky sea; the bleak rustlings of
+the festooned frosts of mountains; the desolate shiftings of the
+windrowed snows of prairies; all these, to Ishmael, are as the shaking
+of that buffalo robe to the frightened colt!
+
+Though neither knows where lie the nameless things of which the mystic
+sign gives forth such hints; yet with me, as with the colt, somewhere
+those things must exist. Though in many of its aspects this visible
+world seems formed in love, the invisible spheres were formed in
+fright.
+
+But not yet have we solved the incantation of this whiteness, and
+learned why it appeals with such power to the soul; and more strange
+and far more portentous—why, as we have seen, it is at once the most
+meaning symbol of spiritual things, nay, the very veil of the
+Christian’s Deity; and yet should be as it is, the intensifying agent
+in things the most appalling to mankind.
+
+Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids
+and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us from behind with the
+thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the milky
+way? Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so much a colour as
+the visible absence of colour; and at the same time the concrete of all
+colours; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness,
+full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows—a colourless, all-colour
+of atheism from which we shrink? And when we consider that other theory
+of the natural philosophers, that all other earthly hues—every stately
+or lovely emblazoning—the sweet tinges of sunset skies and woods; yea,
+and the gilded velvets of butterflies, and the butterfly cheeks of
+young girls; all these are but subtile deceits, not actually inherent
+in substances, but only laid on from without; so that all deified
+Nature absolutely paints like the harlot, whose allurements cover
+nothing but the charnel-house within; and when we proceed further, and
+consider that the mystical cosmetic which produces every one of her
+hues, the great principle of light, for ever remains white or colorless
+in itself, and if operating without medium upon matter, would touch all
+objects, even tulips and roses, with its own blank tinge—pondering all
+this, the palsied universe lies before us a leper; and like wilful
+travellers in Lapland, who refuse to wear coloured and colouring
+glasses upon their eyes, so the wretched infidel gazes himself blind at
+the monumental white shroud that wraps all the prospect around him. And
+of all these things the Albino whale was the symbol. Wonder ye then at
+the fiery hunt?
+
+
+CHAPTER 43. Hark!
+
+“HIST! Did you hear that noise, Cabaco?”
+
+It was the middle-watch: a fair moonlight; the seamen were standing in
+a cordon, extending from one of the fresh-water butts in the waist, to
+the scuttle-butt near the taffrail. In this manner, they passed the
+buckets to fill the scuttle-butt. Standing, for the most part, on the
+hallowed precincts of the quarter-deck, they were careful not to speak
+or rustle their feet. From hand to hand, the buckets went in the
+deepest silence, only broken by the occasional flap of a sail, and the
+steady hum of the unceasingly advancing keel.
+
+It was in the midst of this repose, that Archy, one of the cordon,
+whose post was near the after-hatches, whispered to his neighbor, a
+Cholo, the words above.
+
+“Hist! did you hear that noise, Cabaco?”
+
+“Take the bucket, will ye, Archy? what noise d’ye mean?”
+
+“There it is again—under the hatches—don’t you hear it—a cough—it
+sounded like a cough.”
+
+“Cough be damned! Pass along that return bucket.”
+
+“There again—there it is!—it sounds like two or three sleepers turning
+over, now!”
+
+“Caramba! have done, shipmate, will ye? It’s the three soaked biscuits
+ye eat for supper turning over inside of ye—nothing else. Look to the
+bucket!”
+
+“Say what ye will, shipmate; I’ve sharp ears.”
+
+“Aye, you are the chap, ain’t ye, that heard the hum of the old
+Quakeress’s knitting-needles fifty miles at sea from Nantucket; you’re
+the chap.”
+
+“Grin away; we’ll see what turns up. Hark ye, Cabaco, there is somebody
+down in the after-hold that has not yet been seen on deck; and I
+suspect our old Mogul knows something of it too. I heard Stubb tell
+Flask, one morning watch, that there was something of that sort in the
+wind.”
+
+“Tish! the bucket!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 44. The Chart.
+
+Had you followed Captain Ahab down into his cabin after the squall that
+took place on the night succeeding that wild ratification of his
+purpose with his crew, you would have seen him go to a locker in the
+transom, and bringing out a large wrinkled roll of yellowish sea
+charts, spread them before him on his screwed-down table. Then seating
+himself before it, you would have seen him intently study the various
+lines and shadings which there met his eye; and with slow but steady
+pencil trace additional courses over spaces that before were blank. At
+intervals, he would refer to piles of old log-books beside him, wherein
+were set down the seasons and places in which, on various former
+voyages of various ships, sperm whales had been captured or seen.
+
+While thus employed, the heavy pewter lamp suspended in chains over his
+head, continually rocked with the motion of the ship, and for ever
+threw shifting gleams and shadows of lines upon his wrinkled brow, till
+it almost seemed that while he himself was marking out lines and
+courses on the wrinkled charts, some invisible pencil was also tracing
+lines and courses upon the deeply marked chart of his forehead.
+
+But it was not this night in particular that, in the solitude of his
+cabin, Ahab thus pondered over his charts. Almost every night they were
+brought out; almost every night some pencil marks were effaced, and
+others were substituted. For with the charts of all four oceans before
+him, Ahab was threading a maze of currents and eddies, with a view to
+the more certain accomplishment of that monomaniac thought of his soul.
+
+Now, to any one not fully acquainted with the ways of the leviathans,
+it might seem an absurdly hopeless task thus to seek out one solitary
+creature in the unhooped oceans of this planet. But not so did it seem
+to Ahab, who knew the sets of all tides and currents; and thereby
+calculating the driftings of the sperm whale’s food; and, also, calling
+to mind the regular, ascertained seasons for hunting him in particular
+latitudes; could arrive at reasonable surmises, almost approaching to
+certainties, concerning the timeliest day to be upon this or that
+ground in search of his prey.
+
+So assured, indeed, is the fact concerning the periodicalness of the
+sperm whale’s resorting to given waters, that many hunters believe
+that, could he be closely observed and studied throughout the world;
+were the logs for one voyage of the entire whale fleet carefully
+collated, then the migrations of the sperm whale would be found to
+correspond in invariability to those of the herring-shoals or the
+flights of swallows. On this hint, attempts have been made to construct
+elaborate migratory charts of the sperm whale.*
+
+
+  *Since the above was written, the statement is happily borne out by
+  an official circular, issued by Lieutenant Maury, of the National
+  Observatory, Washington, April 16th, 1851. By that circular, it
+  appears that precisely such a chart is in course of completion; and
+  portions of it are presented in the circular. “This chart divides the
+  ocean into districts of five degrees of latitude by five degrees of
+  longitude; perpendicularly through each of which districts are twelve
+  columns for the twelve months; and horizontally through each of which
+  districts are three lines; one to show the number of days that have
+  been spent in each month in every district, and the two others to
+  show the number of days in which whales, sperm or right, have been
+  seen.”
+
+
+
+
+Besides, when making a passage from one feeding-ground to another, the
+sperm whales, guided by some infallible instinct—say, rather, secret
+intelligence from the Deity—mostly swim in _veins_, as they are called;
+continuing their way along a given ocean-line with such undeviating
+exactitude, that no ship ever sailed her course, by any chart, with one
+tithe of such marvellous precision. Though, in these cases, the
+direction taken by any one whale be straight as a surveyor’s parallel,
+and though the line of advance be strictly confined to its own
+unavoidable, straight wake, yet the arbitrary _vein_ in which at these
+times he is said to swim, generally embraces some few miles in width
+(more or less, as the vein is presumed to expand or contract); but
+never exceeds the visual sweep from the whale-ship’s mast-heads, when
+circumspectly gliding along this magic zone. The sum is, that at
+particular seasons within that breadth and along that path, migrating
+whales may with great confidence be looked for.
+
+And hence not only at substantiated times, upon well known separate
+feeding-grounds, could Ahab hope to encounter his prey; but in crossing
+the widest expanses of water between those grounds he could, by his
+art, so place and time himself on his way, as even then not to be
+wholly without prospect of a meeting.
+
+There was a circumstance which at first sight seemed to entangle his
+delirious but still methodical scheme. But not so in the reality,
+perhaps. Though the gregarious sperm whales have their regular seasons
+for particular grounds, yet in general you cannot conclude that the
+herds which haunted such and such a latitude or longitude this year,
+say, will turn out to be identically the same with those that were
+found there the preceding season; though there are peculiar and
+unquestionable instances where the contrary of this has proved true. In
+general, the same remark, only within a less wide limit, applies to the
+solitaries and hermits among the matured, aged sperm whales. So that
+though Moby Dick had in a former year been seen, for example, on what
+is called the Seychelle ground in the Indian ocean, or Volcano Bay on
+the Japanese Coast; yet it did not follow, that were the Pequod to
+visit either of those spots at any subsequent corresponding season, she
+would infallibly encounter him there. So, too, with some other feeding
+grounds, where he had at times revealed himself. But all these seemed
+only his casual stopping-places and ocean-inns, so to speak, not his
+places of prolonged abode. And where Ahab’s chances of accomplishing
+his object have hitherto been spoken of, allusion has only been made to
+whatever way-side, antecedent, extra prospects were his, ere a
+particular set time or place were attained, when all possibilities
+would become probabilities, and, as Ahab fondly thought, every
+possibility the next thing to a certainty. That particular set time and
+place were conjoined in the one technical phrase—the
+Season-on-the-Line. For there and then, for several consecutive years,
+Moby Dick had been periodically descried, lingering in those waters for
+awhile, as the sun, in its annual round, loiters for a predicted
+interval in any one sign of the Zodiac. There it was, too, that most of
+the deadly encounters with the white whale had taken place; there the
+waves were storied with his deeds; there also was that tragic spot
+where the monomaniac old man had found the awful motive to his
+vengeance. But in the cautious comprehensiveness and unloitering
+vigilance with which Ahab threw his brooding soul into this unfaltering
+hunt, he would not permit himself to rest all his hopes upon the one
+crowning fact above mentioned, however flattering it might be to those
+hopes; nor in the sleeplessness of his vow could he so tranquillize his
+unquiet heart as to postpone all intervening quest.
+
+Now, the Pequod had sailed from Nantucket at the very beginning of the
+Season-on-the-Line. No possible endeavor then could enable her
+commander to make the great passage southwards, double Cape Horn, and
+then running down sixty degrees of latitude arrive in the equatorial
+Pacific in time to cruise there. Therefore, he must wait for the next
+ensuing season. Yet the premature hour of the Pequod’s sailing had,
+perhaps, been correctly selected by Ahab, with a view to this very
+complexion of things. Because, an interval of three hundred and
+sixty-five days and nights was before him; an interval which, instead
+of impatiently enduring ashore, he would spend in a miscellaneous hunt;
+if by chance the White Whale, spending his vacation in seas far remote
+from his periodical feeding-grounds, should turn up his wrinkled brow
+off the Persian Gulf, or in the Bengal Bay, or China Seas, or in any
+other waters haunted by his race. So that Monsoons, Pampas,
+Nor’-Westers, Harmattans, Trades; any wind but the Levanter and Simoon,
+might blow Moby Dick into the devious zig-zag world-circle of the
+Pequod’s circumnavigating wake.
+
+But granting all this; yet, regarded discreetly and coolly, seems it
+not but a mad idea, this; that in the broad boundless ocean, one
+solitary whale, even if encountered, should be thought capable of
+individual recognition from his hunter, even as a white-bearded Mufti
+in the thronged thoroughfares of Constantinople? Yes. For the peculiar
+snow-white brow of Moby Dick, and his snow-white hump, could not but be
+unmistakable. And have I not tallied the whale, Ahab would mutter to
+himself, as after poring over his charts till long after midnight he
+would throw himself back in reveries—tallied him, and shall he escape?
+His broad fins are bored, and scalloped out like a lost sheep’s ear!
+And here, his mad mind would run on in a breathless race; till a
+weariness and faintness of pondering came over him; and in the open air
+of the deck he would seek to recover his strength. Ah, God! what
+trances of torments does that man endure who is consumed with one
+unachieved revengeful desire. He sleeps with clenched hands; and wakes
+with his own bloody nails in his palms.
+
+Often, when forced from his hammock by exhausting and intolerably vivid
+dreams of the night, which, resuming his own intense thoughts through
+the day, carried them on amid a clashing of phrensies, and whirled them
+round and round and round in his blazing brain, till the very throbbing
+of his life-spot became insufferable anguish; and when, as was
+sometimes the case, these spiritual throes in him heaved his being up
+from its base, and a chasm seemed opening in him, from which forked
+flames and lightnings shot up, and accursed fiends beckoned him to leap
+down among them; when this hell in himself yawned beneath him, a wild
+cry would be heard through the ship; and with glaring eyes Ahab would
+burst from his state room, as though escaping from a bed that was on
+fire. Yet these, perhaps, instead of being the unsuppressable symptoms
+of some latent weakness, or fright at his own resolve, were but the
+plainest tokens of its intensity. For, at such times, crazy Ahab, the
+scheming, unappeasedly steadfast hunter of the white whale; this Ahab
+that had gone to his hammock, was not the agent that so caused him to
+burst from it in horror again. The latter was the eternal, living
+principle or soul in him; and in sleep, being for the time dissociated
+from the characterizing mind, which at other times employed it for its
+outer vehicle or agent, it spontaneously sought escape from the
+scorching contiguity of the frantic thing, of which, for the time, it
+was no longer an integral. But as the mind does not exist unless
+leagued with the soul, therefore it must have been that, in Ahab’s
+case, yielding up all his thoughts and fancies to his one supreme
+purpose; that purpose, by its own sheer inveteracy of will, forced
+itself against gods and devils into a kind of self-assumed, independent
+being of its own. Nay, could grimly live and burn, while the common
+vitality to which it was conjoined, fled horror-stricken from the
+unbidden and unfathered birth. Therefore, the tormented spirit that
+glared out of bodily eyes, when what seemed Ahab rushed from his room,
+was for the time but a vacated thing, a formless somnambulistic being,
+a ray of living light, to be sure, but without an object to colour, and
+therefore a blankness in itself. God help thee, old man, thy thoughts
+have created a creature in thee; and he whose intense thinking thus
+makes him a Prometheus; a vulture feeds upon that heart for ever; that
+vulture the very creature he creates.
+
+
+CHAPTER 45. The Affidavit.
+
+So far as what there may be of a narrative in this book; and, indeed,
+as indirectly touching one or two very interesting and curious
+particulars in the habits of sperm whales, the foregoing chapter, in
+its earlier part, is as important a one as will be found in this
+volume; but the leading matter of it requires to be still further and
+more familiarly enlarged upon, in order to be adequately understood,
+and moreover to take away any incredulity which a profound ignorance of
+the entire subject may induce in some minds, as to the natural verity
+of the main points of this affair.
+
+I care not to perform this part of my task methodically; but shall be
+content to produce the desired impression by separate citations of
+items, practically or reliably known to me as a whaleman; and from
+these citations, I take it—the conclusion aimed at will naturally
+follow of itself.
+
+First: I have personally known three instances where a whale, after
+receiving a harpoon, has effected a complete escape; and, after an
+interval (in one instance of three years), has been again struck by the
+same hand, and slain; when the two irons, both marked by the same
+private cypher, have been taken from the body. In the instance where
+three years intervened between the flinging of the two harpoons; and I
+think it may have been something more than that; the man who darted
+them happening, in the interval, to go in a trading ship on a voyage to
+Africa, went ashore there, joined a discovery party, and penetrated far
+into the interior, where he travelled for a period of nearly two years,
+often endangered by serpents, savages, tigers, poisonous miasmas, with
+all the other common perils incident to wandering in the heart of
+unknown regions. Meanwhile, the whale he had struck must also have been
+on its travels; no doubt it had thrice circumnavigated the globe,
+brushing with its flanks all the coasts of Africa; but to no purpose.
+This man and this whale again came together, and the one vanquished the
+other. I say I, myself, have known three instances similar to this;
+that is in two of them I saw the whales struck; and, upon the second
+attack, saw the two irons with the respective marks cut in them,
+afterwards taken from the dead fish. In the three-year instance, it so
+fell out that I was in the boat both times, first and last, and the
+last time distinctly recognised a peculiar sort of huge mole under the
+whale’s eye, which I had observed there three years previous. I say
+three years, but I am pretty sure it was more than that. Here are three
+instances, then, which I personally know the truth of; but I have heard
+of many other instances from persons whose veracity in the matter there
+is no good ground to impeach.
+
+Secondly: It is well known in the Sperm Whale Fishery, however ignorant
+the world ashore may be of it, that there have been several memorable
+historical instances where a particular whale in the ocean has been at
+distant times and places popularly cognisable. Why such a whale became
+thus marked was not altogether and originally owing to his bodily
+peculiarities as distinguished from other whales; for however peculiar
+in that respect any chance whale may be, they soon put an end to his
+peculiarities by killing him, and boiling him down into a peculiarly
+valuable oil. No: the reason was this: that from the fatal experiences
+of the fishery there hung a terrible prestige of perilousness about
+such a whale as there did about Rinaldo Rinaldini, insomuch that most
+fishermen were content to recognise him by merely touching their
+tarpaulins when he would be discovered lounging by them on the sea,
+without seeking to cultivate a more intimate acquaintance. Like some
+poor devils ashore that happen to know an irascible great man, they
+make distant unobtrusive salutations to him in the street, lest if they
+pursued the acquaintance further, they might receive a summary thump
+for their presumption.
+
+But not only did each of these famous whales enjoy great individual
+celebrity—Nay, you may call it an ocean-wide renown; not only was he
+famous in life and now is immortal in forecastle stories after death,
+but he was admitted into all the rights, privileges, and distinctions
+of a name; had as much a name indeed as Cambyses or Cæsar. Was it not
+so, O Timor Tom! thou famed leviathan, scarred like an iceberg, who so
+long did’st lurk in the Oriental straits of that name, whose spout was
+oft seen from the palmy beach of Ombay? Was it not so, O New Zealand
+Jack! thou terror of all cruisers that crossed their wakes in the
+vicinity of the Tattoo Land? Was it not so, O Morquan! King of Japan,
+whose lofty jet they say at times assumed the semblance of a snow-white
+cross against the sky? Was it not so, O Don Miguel! thou Chilian whale,
+marked like an old tortoise with mystic hieroglyphics upon the back! In
+plain prose, here are four whales as well known to the students of
+Cetacean History as Marius or Sylla to the classic scholar.
+
+But this is not all. New Zealand Tom and Don Miguel, after at various
+times creating great havoc among the boats of different vessels, were
+finally gone in quest of, systematically hunted out, chased and killed
+by valiant whaling captains, who heaved up their anchors with that
+express object as much in view, as in setting out through the
+Narragansett Woods, Captain Butler of old had it in his mind to capture
+that notorious murderous savage Annawon, the headmost warrior of the
+Indian King Philip.
+
+I do not know where I can find a better place than just here, to make
+mention of one or two other things, which to me seem important, as in
+printed form establishing in all respects the reasonableness of the
+whole story of the White Whale, more especially the catastrophe. For
+this is one of those disheartening instances where truth requires full
+as much bolstering as error. So ignorant are most landsmen of some of
+the plainest and most palpable wonders of the world, that without some
+hints touching the plain facts, historical and otherwise, of the
+fishery, they might scout at Moby Dick as a monstrous fable, or still
+worse and more detestable, a hideous and intolerable allegory.
+
+First: Though most men have some vague flitting ideas of the general
+perils of the grand fishery, yet they have nothing like a fixed, vivid
+conception of those perils, and the frequency with which they recur.
+One reason perhaps is, that not one in fifty of the actual disasters
+and deaths by casualties in the fishery, ever finds a public record at
+home, however transient and immediately forgotten that record. Do you
+suppose that that poor fellow there, who this moment perhaps caught by
+the whale-line off the coast of New Guinea, is being carried down to
+the bottom of the sea by the sounding leviathan—do you suppose that
+that poor fellow’s name will appear in the newspaper obituary you will
+read to-morrow at your breakfast? No: because the mails are very
+irregular between here and New Guinea. In fact, did you ever hear what
+might be called regular news direct or indirect from New Guinea? Yet I
+tell you that upon one particular voyage which I made to the Pacific,
+among many others we spoke thirty different ships, every one of which
+had had a death by a whale, some of them more than one, and three that
+had each lost a boat’s crew. For God’s sake, be economical with your
+lamps and candles! not a gallon you burn, but at least one drop of
+man’s blood was spilled for it.
+
+Secondly: People ashore have indeed some indefinite idea that a whale
+is an enormous creature of enormous power; but I have ever found that
+when narrating to them some specific example of this two-fold
+enormousness, they have significantly complimented me upon my
+facetiousness; when, I declare upon my soul, I had no more idea of
+being facetious than Moses, when he wrote the history of the plagues of
+Egypt.
+
+But fortunately the special point I here seek can be established upon
+testimony entirely independent of my own. That point is this: The Sperm
+Whale is in some cases sufficiently powerful, knowing, and judiciously
+malicious, as with direct aforethought to stave in, utterly destroy,
+and sink a large ship; and what is more, the Sperm Whale _has_ done it.
+
+First: In the year 1820 the ship Essex, Captain Pollard, of Nantucket,
+was cruising in the Pacific Ocean. One day she saw spouts, lowered her
+boats, and gave chase to a shoal of sperm whales. Ere long, several of
+the whales were wounded; when, suddenly, a very large whale escaping
+from the boats, issued from the shoal, and bore directly down upon the
+ship. Dashing his forehead against her hull, he so stove her in, that
+in less than “ten minutes” she settled down and fell over. Not a
+surviving plank of her has been seen since. After the severest
+exposure, part of the crew reached the land in their boats. Being
+returned home at last, Captain Pollard once more sailed for the Pacific
+in command of another ship, but the gods shipwrecked him again upon
+unknown rocks and breakers; for the second time his ship was utterly
+lost, and forthwith forswearing the sea, he has never tempted it since.
+At this day Captain Pollard is a resident of Nantucket. I have seen
+Owen Chace, who was chief mate of the Essex at the time of the tragedy;
+I have read his plain and faithful narrative; I have conversed with his
+son; and all this within a few miles of the scene of the catastrophe.*
+
+*The following are extracts from Chace’s narrative: “Every fact seemed
+to warrant me in concluding that it was anything but chance which
+directed his operations; he made two several attacks upon the ship, at
+a short interval between them, both of which, according to their
+direction, were calculated to do us the most injury, by being made
+ahead, and thereby combining the speed of the two objects for the
+shock; to effect which, the exact manœuvres which he made were
+necessary. His aspect was most horrible, and such as indicated
+resentment and fury. He came directly from the shoal which we had just
+before entered, and in which we had struck three of his companions, as
+if fired with revenge for their sufferings.” Again: “At all events, the
+whole circumstances taken together, all happening before my own eyes,
+and producing, at the time, impressions in my mind of decided,
+calculating mischief, on the part of the whale (many of which
+impressions I cannot now recall), induce me to be satisfied that I am
+correct in my opinion.”
+
+Here are his reflections some time after quitting the ship, during a
+black night in an open boat, when almost despairing of reaching any
+hospitable shore. “The dark ocean and swelling waters were nothing; the
+fears of being swallowed up by some dreadful tempest, or dashed upon
+hidden rocks, with all the other ordinary subjects of fearful
+contemplation, seemed scarcely entitled to a moment’s thought; the
+dismal looking wreck, and _the horrid aspect and revenge of the whale_,
+wholly engrossed my reflections, until day again made its appearance.”
+
+In another place—p. 45,—he speaks of “_the mysterious and mortal attack
+of the animal_.”
+
+Secondly: The ship Union, also of Nantucket, was in the year 1807
+totally lost off the Azores by a similar onset, but the authentic
+particulars of this catastrophe I have never chanced to encounter,
+though from the whale hunters I have now and then heard casual
+allusions to it.
+
+Thirdly: Some eighteen or twenty years ago Commodore J——, then
+commanding an American sloop-of-war of the first class, happened to be
+dining with a party of whaling captains, on board a Nantucket ship in
+the harbor of Oahu, Sandwich Islands. Conversation turning upon whales,
+the Commodore was pleased to be sceptical touching the amazing strength
+ascribed to them by the professional gentlemen present. He peremptorily
+denied for example, that any whale could so smite his stout
+sloop-of-war as to cause her to leak so much as a thimbleful. Very
+good; but there is more coming. Some weeks after, the Commodore set
+sail in this impregnable craft for Valparaiso. But he was stopped on
+the way by a portly sperm whale, that begged a few moments’
+confidential business with him. That business consisted in fetching the
+Commodore’s craft such a thwack, that with all his pumps going he made
+straight for the nearest port to heave down and repair. I am not
+superstitious, but I consider the Commodore’s interview with that whale
+as providential. Was not Saul of Tarsus converted from unbelief by a
+similar fright? I tell you, the sperm whale will stand no nonsense.
+
+I will now refer you to Langsdorff’s Voyages for a little circumstance
+in point, peculiarly interesting to the writer hereof. Langsdorff, you
+must know by the way, was attached to the Russian Admiral Krusenstern’s
+famous Discovery Expedition in the beginning of the present century.
+Captain Langsdorff thus begins his seventeenth chapter:
+
+“By the thirteenth of May our ship was ready to sail, and the next day
+we were out in the open sea, on our way to Ochotsh. The weather was
+very clear and fine, but so intolerably cold that we were obliged to
+keep on our fur clothing. For some days we had very little wind; it was
+not till the nineteenth that a brisk gale from the northwest sprang up.
+An uncommon large whale, the body of which was larger than the ship
+itself, lay almost at the surface of the water, but was not perceived
+by any one on board till the moment when the ship, which was in full
+sail, was almost upon him, so that it was impossible to prevent its
+striking against him. We were thus placed in the most imminent danger,
+as this gigantic creature, setting up its back, raised the ship three
+feet at least out of the water. The masts reeled, and the sails fell
+altogether, while we who were below all sprang instantly upon the deck,
+concluding that we had struck upon some rock; instead of this we saw
+the monster sailing off with the utmost gravity and solemnity. Captain
+D’Wolf applied immediately to the pumps to examine whether or not the
+vessel had received any damage from the shock, but we found that very
+happily it had escaped entirely uninjured.”
+
+Now, the Captain D’Wolf here alluded to as commanding the ship in
+question, is a New Englander, who, after a long life of unusual
+adventures as a sea-captain, this day resides in the village of
+Dorchester near Boston. I have the honor of being a nephew of his. I
+have particularly questioned him concerning this passage in Langsdorff.
+He substantiates every word. The ship, however, was by no means a large
+one: a Russian craft built on the Siberian coast, and purchased by my
+uncle after bartering away the vessel in which he sailed from home.
+
+In that up and down manly book of old-fashioned adventure, so full,
+too, of honest wonders—the voyage of Lionel Wafer, one of ancient
+Dampier’s old chums—I found a little matter set down so like that just
+quoted from Langsdorff, that I cannot forbear inserting it here for a
+corroborative example, if such be needed.
+
+Lionel, it seems, was on his way to “John Ferdinando,” as he calls the
+modern Juan Fernandes. “In our way thither,” he says, “about four
+o’clock in the morning, when we were about one hundred and fifty
+leagues from the Main of America, our ship felt a terrible shock, which
+put our men in such consternation that they could hardly tell where
+they were or what to think; but every one began to prepare for death.
+And, indeed, the shock was so sudden and violent, that we took it for
+granted the ship had struck against a rock; but when the amazement was
+a little over, we cast the lead, and sounded, but found no ground. * *
+* * * The suddenness of the shock made the guns leap in their
+carriages, and several of the men were shaken out of their hammocks.
+Captain Davis, who lay with his head on a gun, was thrown out of his
+cabin!” Lionel then goes on to impute the shock to an earthquake, and
+seems to substantiate the imputation by stating that a great
+earthquake, somewhere about that time, did actually do great mischief
+along the Spanish land. But I should not much wonder if, in the
+darkness of that early hour of the morning, the shock was after all
+caused by an unseen whale vertically bumping the hull from beneath.
+
+I might proceed with several more examples, one way or another known to
+me, of the great power and malice at times of the sperm whale. In more
+than one instance, he has been known, not only to chase the assailing
+boats back to their ships, but to pursue the ship itself, and long
+withstand all the lances hurled at him from its decks. The English ship
+Pusie Hall can tell a story on that head; and, as for his strength, let
+me say, that there have been examples where the lines attached to a
+running sperm whale have, in a calm, been transferred to the ship, and
+secured there; the whale towing her great hull through the water, as a
+horse walks off with a cart. Again, it is very often observed that, if
+the sperm whale, once struck, is allowed time to rally, he then acts,
+not so often with blind rage, as with wilful, deliberate designs of
+destruction to his pursuers; nor is it without conveying some eloquent
+indication of his character, that upon being attacked he will
+frequently open his mouth, and retain it in that dread expansion for
+several consecutive minutes. But I must be content with only one more
+and a concluding illustration; a remarkable and most significant one,
+by which you will not fail to see, that not only is the most marvellous
+event in this book corroborated by plain facts of the present day, but
+that these marvels (like all marvels) are mere repetitions of the ages;
+so that for the millionth time we say amen with Solomon—Verily there is
+nothing new under the sun.
+
+In the sixth Christian century lived Procopius, a Christian magistrate
+of Constantinople, in the days when Justinian was Emperor and
+Belisarius general. As many know, he wrote the history of his own
+times, a work every way of uncommon value. By the best authorities, he
+has always been considered a most trustworthy and unexaggerating
+historian, except in some one or two particulars, not at all affecting
+the matter presently to be mentioned.
+
+Now, in this history of his, Procopius mentions that, during the term
+of his prefecture at Constantinople, a great sea-monster was captured
+in the neighboring Propontis, or Sea of Marmora, after having destroyed
+vessels at intervals in those waters for a period of more than fifty
+years. A fact thus set down in substantial history cannot easily be
+gainsaid. Nor is there any reason it should be. Of what precise species
+this sea-monster was, is not mentioned. But as he destroyed ships, as
+well as for other reasons, he must have been a whale; and I am strongly
+inclined to think a sperm whale. And I will tell you why. For a long
+time I fancied that the sperm whale had been always unknown in the
+Mediterranean and the deep waters connecting with it. Even now I am
+certain that those seas are not, and perhaps never can be, in the
+present constitution of things, a place for his habitual gregarious
+resort. But further investigations have recently proved to me, that in
+modern times there have been isolated instances of the presence of the
+sperm whale in the Mediterranean. I am told, on good authority, that on
+the Barbary coast, a Commodore Davis of the British navy found the
+skeleton of a sperm whale. Now, as a vessel of war readily passes
+through the Dardanelles, hence a sperm whale could, by the same route,
+pass out of the Mediterranean into the Propontis.
+
+In the Propontis, as far as I can learn, none of that peculiar
+substance called _brit_ is to be found, the aliment of the right whale.
+But I have every reason to believe that the food of the sperm
+whale—squid or cuttle-fish—lurks at the bottom of that sea, because
+large creatures, but by no means the largest of that sort, have been
+found at its surface. If, then, you properly put these statements
+together, and reason upon them a bit, you will clearly perceive that,
+according to all human reasoning, Procopius’s sea-monster, that for
+half a century stove the ships of a Roman Emperor, must in all
+probability have been a sperm whale.
+
+
+CHAPTER 46. Surmises.
+
+Though, consumed with the hot fire of his purpose, Ahab in all his
+thoughts and actions ever had in view the ultimate capture of Moby
+Dick; though he seemed ready to sacrifice all mortal interests to that
+one passion; nevertheless it may have been that he was by nature and
+long habituation far too wedded to a fiery whaleman’s ways, altogether
+to abandon the collateral prosecution of the voyage. Or at least if
+this were otherwise, there were not wanting other motives much more
+influential with him. It would be refining too much, perhaps, even
+considering his monomania, to hint that his vindictiveness towards the
+White Whale might have possibly extended itself in some degree to all
+sperm whales, and that the more monsters he slew by so much the more he
+multiplied the chances that each subsequently encountered whale would
+prove to be the hated one he hunted. But if such an hypothesis be
+indeed exceptionable, there were still additional considerations which,
+though not so strictly according with the wildness of his ruling
+passion, yet were by no means incapable of swaying him.
+
+To accomplish his object Ahab must use tools; and of all tools used in
+the shadow of the moon, men are most apt to get out of order. He knew,
+for example, that however magnetic his ascendency in some respects was
+over Starbuck, yet that ascendency did not cover the complete spiritual
+man any more than mere corporeal superiority involves intellectual
+mastership; for to the purely spiritual, the intellectual but stand in
+a sort of corporeal relation. Starbuck’s body and Starbuck’s coerced
+will were Ahab’s, so long as Ahab kept his magnet at Starbuck’s brain;
+still he knew that for all this the chief mate, in his soul, abhorred
+his captain’s quest, and could he, would joyfully disintegrate himself
+from it, or even frustrate it. It might be that a long interval would
+elapse ere the White Whale was seen. During that long interval Starbuck
+would ever be apt to fall into open relapses of rebellion against his
+captain’s leadership, unless some ordinary, prudential, circumstantial
+influences were brought to bear upon him. Not only that, but the subtle
+insanity of Ahab respecting Moby Dick was noways more significantly
+manifested than in his superlative sense and shrewdness in foreseeing
+that, for the present, the hunt should in some way be stripped of that
+strange imaginative impiousness which naturally invested it; that the
+full terror of the voyage must be kept withdrawn into the obscure
+background (for few men’s courage is proof against protracted
+meditation unrelieved by action); that when they stood their long night
+watches, his officers and men must have some nearer things to think of
+than Moby Dick. For however eagerly and impetuously the savage crew had
+hailed the announcement of his quest; yet all sailors of all sorts are
+more or less capricious and unreliable—they live in the varying outer
+weather, and they inhale its fickleness—and when retained for any
+object remote and blank in the pursuit, however promissory of life and
+passion in the end, it is above all things requisite that temporary
+interests and employments should intervene and hold them healthily
+suspended for the final dash.
+
+Nor was Ahab unmindful of another thing. In times of strong emotion
+mankind disdain all base considerations; but such times are evanescent.
+The permanent constitutional condition of the manufactured man, thought
+Ahab, is sordidness. Granting that the White Whale fully incites the
+hearts of this my savage crew, and playing round their savageness even
+breeds a certain generous knight-errantism in them, still, while for
+the love of it they give chase to Moby Dick, they must also have food
+for their more common, daily appetites. For even the high lifted and
+chivalric Crusaders of old times were not content to traverse two
+thousand miles of land to fight for their holy sepulchre, without
+committing burglaries, picking pockets, and gaining other pious
+perquisites by the way. Had they been strictly held to their one final
+and romantic object—that final and romantic object, too many would have
+turned from in disgust. I will not strip these men, thought Ahab, of
+all hopes of cash—aye, cash. They may scorn cash now; but let some
+months go by, and no perspective promise of it to them, and then this
+same quiescent cash all at once mutinying in them, this same cash would
+soon cashier Ahab.
+
+Nor was there wanting still another precautionary motive more related
+to Ahab personally. Having impulsively, it is probable, and perhaps
+somewhat prematurely revealed the prime but private purpose of the
+Pequod’s voyage, Ahab was now entirely conscious that, in so doing, he
+had indirectly laid himself open to the unanswerable charge of
+usurpation; and with perfect impunity, both moral and legal, his crew
+if so disposed, and to that end competent, could refuse all further
+obedience to him, and even violently wrest from him the command. From
+even the barely hinted imputation of usurpation, and the possible
+consequences of such a suppressed impression gaining ground, Ahab must
+of course have been most anxious to protect himself. That protection
+could only consist in his own predominating brain and heart and hand,
+backed by a heedful, closely calculating attention to every minute
+atmospheric influence which it was possible for his crew to be
+subjected to.
+
+For all these reasons then, and others perhaps too analytic to be
+verbally developed here, Ahab plainly saw that he must still in a good
+degree continue true to the natural, nominal purpose of the Pequod’s
+voyage; observe all customary usages; and not only that, but force
+himself to evince all his well known passionate interest in the general
+pursuit of his profession.
+
+Be all this as it may, his voice was now often heard hailing the three
+mast-heads and admonishing them to keep a bright look-out, and not omit
+reporting even a porpoise. This vigilance was not long without reward.
+
+
+CHAPTER 47. The Mat-Maker.
+
+It was a cloudy, sultry afternoon; the seamen were lazily lounging
+about the decks, or vacantly gazing over into the lead-coloured waters.
+Queequeg and I were mildly employed weaving what is called a sword-mat,
+for an additional lashing to our boat. So still and subdued and yet
+somehow preluding was all the scene, and such an incantation of reverie
+lurked in the air, that each silent sailor seemed resolved into his own
+invisible self.
+
+I was the attendant or page of Queequeg, while busy at the mat. As I
+kept passing and repassing the filling or woof of marline between the
+long yarns of the warp, using my own hand for the shuttle, and as
+Queequeg, standing sideways, ever and anon slid his heavy oaken sword
+between the threads, and idly looking off upon the water, carelessly
+and unthinkingly drove home every yarn: I say so strange a dreaminess
+did there then reign all over the ship and all over the sea, only
+broken by the intermitting dull sound of the sword, that it seemed as
+if this were the Loom of Time, and I myself were a shuttle mechanically
+weaving and weaving away at the Fates. There lay the fixed threads of
+the warp subject to but one single, ever returning, unchanging
+vibration, and that vibration merely enough to admit of the crosswise
+interblending of other threads with its own. This warp seemed
+necessity; and here, thought I, with my own hand I ply my own shuttle
+and weave my own destiny into these unalterable threads. Meantime,
+Queequeg’s impulsive, indifferent sword, sometimes hitting the woof
+slantingly, or crookedly, or strongly, or weakly, as the case might be;
+and by this difference in the concluding blow producing a corresponding
+contrast in the final aspect of the completed fabric; this savage’s
+sword, thought I, which thus finally shapes and fashions both warp and
+woof; this easy, indifferent sword must be chance—aye, chance, free
+will, and necessity—nowise incompatible—all interweavingly working
+together. The straight warp of necessity, not to be swerved from its
+ultimate course—its every alternating vibration, indeed, only tending
+to that; free will still free to ply her shuttle between given threads;
+and chance, though restrained in its play within the right lines of
+necessity, and sideways in its motions directed by free will, though
+thus prescribed to by both, chance by turns rules either, and has the
+last featuring blow at events.
+
+Thus we were weaving and weaving away when I started at a sound so
+strange, long drawn, and musically wild and unearthly, that the ball of
+free will dropped from my hand, and I stood gazing up at the clouds
+whence that voice dropped like a wing. High aloft in the cross-trees
+was that mad Gay-Header, Tashtego. His body was reaching eagerly
+forward, his hand stretched out like a wand, and at brief sudden
+intervals he continued his cries. To be sure the same sound was that
+very moment perhaps being heard all over the seas, from hundreds of
+whalemen’s look-outs perched as high in the air; but from few of those
+lungs could that accustomed old cry have derived such a marvellous
+cadence as from Tashtego the Indian’s.
+
+As he stood hovering over you half suspended in air, so wildly and
+eagerly peering towards the horizon, you would have thought him some
+prophet or seer beholding the shadows of Fate, and by those wild cries
+announcing their coming.
+
+“There she blows! there! there! there! she blows! she blows!”
+
+“Where-away?”
+
+“On the lee-beam, about two miles off! a school of them!”
+
+Instantly all was commotion.
+
+The Sperm Whale blows as a clock ticks, with the same undeviating and
+reliable uniformity. And thereby whalemen distinguish this fish from
+other tribes of his genus.
+
+“There go flukes!” was now the cry from Tashtego; and the whales
+disappeared.
+
+“Quick, steward!” cried Ahab. “Time! time!”
+
+Dough-Boy hurried below, glanced at the watch, and reported the exact
+minute to Ahab.
+
+The ship was now kept away from the wind, and she went gently rolling
+before it. Tashtego reporting that the whales had gone down heading to
+leeward, we confidently looked to see them again directly in advance of
+our bows. For that singular craft at times evinced by the Sperm Whale
+when, sounding with his head in one direction, he nevertheless, while
+concealed beneath the surface, mills round, and swiftly swims off in
+the opposite quarter—this deceitfulness of his could not now be in
+action; for there was no reason to suppose that the fish seen by
+Tashtego had been in any way alarmed, or indeed knew at all of our
+vicinity. One of the men selected for shipkeepers—that is, those not
+appointed to the boats, by this time relieved the Indian at the
+main-mast head. The sailors at the fore and mizzen had come down; the
+line tubs were fixed in their places; the cranes were thrust out; the
+mainyard was backed, and the three boats swung over the sea like three
+samphire baskets over high cliffs. Outside of the bulwarks their eager
+crews with one hand clung to the rail, while one foot was expectantly
+poised on the gunwale. So look the long line of man-of-war’s men about
+to throw themselves on board an enemy’s ship.
+
+But at this critical instant a sudden exclamation was heard that took
+every eye from the whale. With a start all glared at dark Ahab, who was
+surrounded by five dusky phantoms that seemed fresh formed out of air.
+
+
+CHAPTER 48. The First Lowering.
+
+The phantoms, for so they then seemed, were flitting on the other side
+of the deck, and, with a noiseless celerity, were casting loose the
+tackles and bands of the boat which swung there. This boat had always
+been deemed one of the spare boats, though technically called the
+captain’s, on account of its hanging from the starboard quarter. 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. Less swart in aspect, the
+companions of this figure were of that vivid, tiger-yellow complexion
+peculiar to some of the aboriginal natives of the Manillas;—a race
+notorious for a certain diabolism of subtilty, and by some honest white
+mariners supposed to be the paid spies and secret confidential agents
+on the water of the devil, their lord, whose counting-room they suppose
+to be elsewhere.
+
+While yet the wondering ship’s company were gazing upon these
+strangers, Ahab cried out to the white-turbaned old man at their head,
+“All ready there, Fedallah?”
+
+“Ready,” was the half-hissed reply.
+
+“Lower away then; d’ye hear?” shouting across the deck. “Lower away
+there, I say.”
+
+Such was the thunder of his voice, that spite of their amazement the
+men sprang over the rail; the sheaves whirled round in the blocks; with
+a wallow, the three boats dropped into the sea; while, with a
+dexterous, off-handed daring, unknown in any other vocation, the
+sailors, goat-like, leaped down the rolling ship’s side into the tossed
+boats below.
+
+Hardly had they pulled out from under the ship’s lee, when a fourth
+keel, coming from the windward side, pulled round under the stern, and
+showed the five strangers rowing Ahab, who, standing erect in the
+stern, loudly hailed Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask, to spread themselves
+widely, so as to cover a large expanse of water. But with all their
+eyes again riveted upon the swart Fedallah and his crew, the inmates of
+the other boats obeyed not the command.
+
+“Captain Ahab?—” said Starbuck.
+
+“Spread yourselves,” cried Ahab; “give way, all four boats. Thou,
+Flask, pull out more to leeward!”
+
+“Aye, aye, sir,” cheerily cried little King-Post, sweeping round his
+great steering oar. “Lay back!” addressing his crew.
+“There!—there!—there again! There she blows right ahead, boys!—lay
+back!”
+
+“Never heed yonder yellow boys, Archy.”
+
+“Oh, I don’t mind ’em, sir,” said Archy; “I knew it all before now.
+Didn’t I hear ’em in the hold? And didn’t I tell Cabaco here of it?
+What say ye, Cabaco? They are stowaways, Mr. Flask.”
+
+“Pull, pull, my fine hearts-alive; pull, my children; pull, my little
+ones,” drawlingly and soothingly sighed Stubb to his crew, some of whom
+still showed signs of uneasiness. “Why don’t you break your backbones,
+my boys? What is it you stare at? Those chaps in yonder boat? Tut! They
+are only five more hands come to help us—never mind from where—the more
+the merrier. Pull, then, do pull; never mind the brimstone—devils are
+good fellows enough. So, so; there you are now; that’s the stroke for a
+thousand pounds; that’s the stroke to sweep the stakes! Hurrah for the
+gold cup of sperm oil, my heroes! Three cheers, men—all hearts alive!
+Easy, easy; don’t be in a hurry—don’t be in a hurry. Why don’t you snap
+your oars, you rascals? Bite something, you dogs! So, so, so,
+then:—softly, softly! That’s it—that’s it! long and strong. Give way
+there, give way! The devil fetch ye, ye ragamuffin rapscallions; ye are
+all asleep. Stop snoring, ye sleepers, and pull. Pull, will ye? pull,
+can’t ye? pull, won’t ye? Why in the name of gudgeons and ginger-cakes
+don’t ye pull?—pull and break something! pull, and start your eyes out!
+Here!” whipping out the sharp knife from his girdle; “every mother’s
+son of ye draw his knife, and pull with the blade between his teeth.
+That’s it—that’s it. Now ye do something; that looks like it, my
+steel-bits. Start her—start her, my silver-spoons! Start her,
+marling-spikes!”
+
+Stubb’s exordium to his crew is given here at large, because he had
+rather a peculiar way of talking to them in general, and especially in
+inculcating the religion of rowing. But you must not suppose from this
+specimen of his sermonizings that he ever flew into downright passions
+with his congregation. Not at all; and therein consisted his chief
+peculiarity. He would say the most terrific things to his crew, in a
+tone so strangely compounded of fun and fury, and the fury seemed so
+calculated merely as a spice to the fun, that no oarsman could hear
+such queer invocations without pulling for dear life, and yet pulling
+for the mere joke of the thing. Besides he all the time looked so easy
+and indolent himself, so loungingly managed his steering-oar, and so
+broadly gaped—open-mouthed at times—that the mere sight of such a
+yawning commander, by sheer force of contrast, acted like a charm upon
+the crew. Then again, Stubb was one of those odd sort of humorists,
+whose jollity is sometimes so curiously ambiguous, as to put all
+inferiors on their guard in the matter of obeying them.
+
+In obedience to a sign from Ahab, Starbuck was now pulling obliquely
+across Stubb’s bow; and when for a minute or so the two boats were
+pretty near to each other, Stubb hailed the mate.
+
+“Mr. Starbuck! larboard boat there, ahoy! a word with ye, sir, if ye
+please!”
+
+“Halloa!” returned Starbuck, turning round not a single inch as he
+spoke; still earnestly but whisperingly urging his crew; his face set
+like a flint from Stubb’s.
+
+“What think ye of those yellow boys, sir!”
+
+“Smuggled on board, somehow, before the ship sailed. (Strong, strong,
+boys!)” in a whisper to his crew, then speaking out loud again: “A sad
+business, Mr. Stubb! (seethe her, seethe her, my lads!) but never mind,
+Mr. Stubb, all for the best. Let all your crew pull strong, come what
+will. (Spring, my men, spring!) There’s hogsheads of sperm ahead, Mr.
+Stubb, and that’s what ye came for. (Pull, my boys!) Sperm, sperm’s the
+play! This at least is duty; duty and profit hand in hand.”
+
+“Aye, aye, I thought as much,” soliloquized Stubb, when the boats
+diverged, “as soon as I clapt eye on ’em, I thought so. Aye, and that’s
+what he went into the after hold for, so often, as Dough-Boy long
+suspected. They were hidden down there. The White Whale’s at the bottom
+of it. Well, well, so be it! Can’t be helped! All right! Give way, men!
+It ain’t the White Whale to-day! Give way!”
+
+Now the advent of these outlandish strangers at such a critical instant
+as the lowering of the boats from the deck, this had not unreasonably
+awakened a sort of superstitious amazement in some of the ship’s
+company; but Archy’s fancied discovery having some time previous got
+abroad among them, though indeed not credited then, this had in some
+small measure prepared them for the event. It took off the extreme edge
+of their wonder; and so what with all this and Stubb’s confident way of
+accounting for their appearance, they were for the time freed from
+superstitious surmisings; though the affair still left abundant room
+for all manner of wild conjectures as to dark Ahab’s precise agency in
+the matter from the beginning. For me, I silently recalled the
+mysterious shadows I had seen creeping on board the Pequod during the
+dim Nantucket dawn, as well as the enigmatical hintings of the
+unaccountable Elijah.
+
+Meantime, Ahab, out of hearing of his officers, having sided the
+furthest to windward, was still ranging ahead of the other boats; a
+circumstance bespeaking how potent a crew was pulling him. Those tiger
+yellow creatures of his seemed all steel and whalebone; like five
+trip-hammers they rose and fell with regular strokes of strength, which
+periodically started the boat along the water like a horizontal burst
+boiler out of a Mississippi steamer. As for Fedallah, who was seen
+pulling the harpooneer oar, he had thrown aside his black jacket, and
+displayed his naked chest with the whole part of his body above the
+gunwale, clearly cut against the alternating depressions of the watery
+horizon; while at the other end of the boat Ahab, with one arm, like a
+fencer’s, thrown half backward into the air, as if to counterbalance
+any tendency to trip; Ahab was seen steadily managing his steering oar
+as in a thousand boat lowerings ere the White Whale had torn him. All
+at once the outstretched arm gave a peculiar motion and then remained
+fixed, while the boat’s five oars were seen simultaneously peaked. Boat
+and crew sat motionless on the sea. Instantly the three spread boats in
+the rear paused on their way. The whales had irregularly settled bodily
+down into the blue, thus giving no distantly discernible token of the
+movement, though from his closer vicinity Ahab had observed it.
+
+“Every man look out along his oars!” cried Starbuck. “Thou, Queequeg,
+stand up!”
+
+Nimbly springing up on the triangular raised box in the bow, the savage
+stood erect there, and with intensely eager eyes gazed off towards the
+spot where the chase had last been descried. Likewise upon the extreme
+stern of the boat where it was also triangularly platformed level with
+the gunwale, Starbuck himself was seen coolly and adroitly balancing
+himself to the jerking tossings of his chip of a craft, and silently
+eyeing the vast blue eye of the sea.
+
+Not very far distant Flask’s boat was also lying breathlessly still;
+its commander recklessly standing upon the top of the loggerhead, a
+stout sort of post rooted in the keel, and rising some two feet above
+the level of the stern platform. It is used for catching turns with the
+whale line. Its top is not more spacious than the palm of a man’s hand,
+and standing upon such a base as that, Flask seemed perched at the
+mast-head of some ship which had sunk to all but her trucks. But little
+King-Post was small and short, and at the same time little King-Post
+was full of a large and tall ambition, so that this loggerhead
+stand-point of his did by no means satisfy King-Post.
+
+“I can’t see three seas off; tip us up an oar there, and let me on to
+that.”
+
+Upon this, Daggoo, with either hand upon the gunwale to steady his way,
+swiftly slid aft, and then erecting himself volunteered his lofty
+shoulders for a pedestal.
+
+“Good a mast-head as any, sir. Will you mount?”
+
+“That I will, and thank ye very much, my fine fellow; only I wish you
+fifty feet taller.”
+
+Whereupon planting his feet firmly against two opposite planks of the
+boat, the gigantic negro, stooping a little, presented his flat palm to
+Flask’s foot, and then putting Flask’s hand on his hearse-plumed head
+and bidding him spring as he himself should toss, with one dexterous
+fling landed the little man high and dry on his shoulders. And here was
+Flask now standing, Daggoo with one lifted arm furnishing him with a
+breastband to lean against and steady himself by.
+
+At any time it is a strange sight to the tyro to see with what wondrous
+habitude of unconscious skill the whaleman will maintain an erect
+posture in his boat, even when pitched about by the most riotously
+perverse and cross-running seas. Still more strange to see him giddily
+perched upon the loggerhead itself, under such circumstances. But the
+sight of little Flask mounted upon gigantic Daggoo was yet more
+curious; for sustaining himself with a cool, indifferent, easy,
+unthought of, barbaric majesty, the noble negro to every roll of the
+sea harmoniously rolled his fine form. On his broad back, flaxen-haired
+Flask seemed a snow-flake. The bearer looked nobler than the rider.
+Though truly vivacious, tumultuous, ostentatious little Flask would now
+and then stamp with impatience; but not one added heave did he thereby
+give to the negro’s lordly chest. So have I seen Passion and Vanity
+stamping the living magnanimous earth, but the earth did not alter her
+tides and her seasons for that.
+
+Meanwhile Stubb, the third mate, betrayed no such far-gazing
+solicitudes. The whales might have made one of their regular soundings,
+not a temporary dive from mere fright; and if that were the case,
+Stubb, as his wont in such cases, it seems, was resolved to solace the
+languishing interval with his pipe. He withdrew it from his hatband,
+where he always wore it aslant like a feather. He loaded it, and rammed
+home the loading with his thumb-end; but hardly had he ignited his
+match across the rough sandpaper of his hand, when Tashtego, his
+harpooneer, whose eyes had been setting to windward like two fixed
+stars, suddenly dropped like light from his erect attitude to his seat,
+crying out in a quick phrensy of hurry, “Down, down all, and give
+way!—there they are!”
+
+To a landsman, no whale, nor any sign of a herring, would have been
+visible at that moment; nothing but a troubled bit of greenish white
+water, and thin scattered puffs of vapor hovering over it, and
+suffusingly blowing off to leeward, like the confused scud from white
+rolling billows. The air around suddenly vibrated and tingled, as it
+were, like the air over intensely heated plates of iron. Beneath this
+atmospheric waving and curling, and partially beneath a thin layer of
+water, also, the whales were swimming. Seen in advance of all the other
+indications, the puffs of vapor they spouted, seemed their forerunning
+couriers and detached flying outriders.
+
+All four boats were now in keen pursuit of that one spot of troubled
+water and air. But it bade fair to outstrip them; it flew on and on, as
+a mass of interblending bubbles borne down a rapid stream from the
+hills.
+
+“Pull, pull, my good boys,” said Starbuck, in the lowest possible but
+intensest concentrated whisper to his men; while the sharp fixed glance
+from his eyes darted straight ahead of the bow, almost seemed as two
+visible needles in two unerring binnacle compasses. He did not say much
+to his crew, though, nor did his crew say anything to him. Only the
+silence of the boat was at intervals startlingly pierced by one of his
+peculiar whispers, now harsh with command, now soft with entreaty.
+
+How different the loud little King-Post. “Sing out and say something,
+my hearties. Roar and pull, my thunderbolts! Beach me, beach me on
+their black backs, boys; only do that for me, and I’ll sign over to you
+my Martha’s Vineyard plantation, boys; including wife and children,
+boys. Lay me on—lay me on! O Lord, Lord! but I shall go stark, staring
+mad! See! see that white water!” And so shouting, he pulled his hat
+from his head, and stamped up and down on it; then picking it up,
+flirted it far off upon the sea; and finally fell to rearing and
+plunging in the boat’s stern like a crazed colt from the prairie.
+
+“Look at that chap now,” philosophically drawled Stubb, who, with his
+unlighted short pipe, mechanically retained between his teeth, at a
+short distance, followed after—“He’s got fits, that Flask has. Fits?
+yes, give him fits—that’s the very word—pitch fits into ’em. Merrily,
+merrily, hearts-alive. Pudding for supper, you know;—merry’s the word.
+Pull, babes—pull, sucklings—pull, all. But what the devil are you
+hurrying about? Softly, softly, and steadily, my men. Only pull, and
+keep pulling; nothing more. Crack all your backbones, and bite your
+knives in two—that’s all. Take it easy—why don’t ye take it easy, I
+say, and burst all your livers and lungs!”
+
+But what it was that inscrutable Ahab said to that tiger-yellow crew of
+his—these were words best omitted here; for you live under the blessed
+light of the evangelical land. Only the infidel sharks in the audacious
+seas may give ear to such words, when, with tornado brow, and eyes of
+red murder, and foam-glued lips, Ahab leaped after his prey.
+
+Meanwhile, all the boats tore on. The repeated specific allusions of
+Flask to “that whale,” as he called the fictitious monster which he
+declared to be incessantly tantalizing his boat’s bow with its
+tail—these allusions of his were at times so vivid and life-like, that
+they would cause some one or two of his men to snatch a fearful look
+over the shoulder. But this was against all rule; for the oarsmen must
+put out their eyes, and ram a skewer through their necks; usage
+pronouncing that they must have no organs but ears, and no limbs but
+arms, in these critical moments.
+
+It was a sight full of quick wonder and awe! The vast swells of the
+omnipotent sea; the surging, hollow roar they made, as they rolled
+along the eight gunwales, like gigantic bowls in a boundless
+bowling-green; the brief suspended agony of the boat, as it would tip
+for an instant on the knife-like edge of the sharper waves, that almost
+seemed threatening to cut it in two; the sudden profound dip into the
+watery glens and hollows; the keen spurrings and goadings to gain the
+top of the opposite hill; the headlong, sled-like slide down its other
+side;—all these, with the cries of the headsmen and harpooneers, and
+the shuddering gasps of the oarsmen, with the wondrous sight of the
+ivory Pequod bearing down upon her boats with outstretched sails, like
+a wild hen after her screaming brood;—all this was thrilling.
+
+Not the raw recruit, marching from the bosom of his wife into the fever
+heat of his first battle; not the dead man’s ghost encountering the
+first unknown phantom in the other world;—neither of these can feel
+stranger and stronger emotions than that man does, who for the first
+time finds himself pulling into the charmed, churned circle of the
+hunted sperm whale.
+
+The dancing white water made by the chase was now becoming more and
+more visible, owing to the increasing darkness of the dun cloud-shadows
+flung upon the sea. The jets of vapor no longer blended, but tilted
+everywhere to right and left; the whales seemed separating their wakes.
+The boats were pulled more apart; Starbuck giving chase to three whales
+running dead to leeward. Our sail was now set, and, with the still
+rising wind, we rushed along; the boat going with such madness through
+the water, that the lee oars could scarcely be worked rapidly enough to
+escape being torn from the row-locks.
+
+Soon we were running through a suffusing wide veil of mist; neither
+ship nor boat to be seen.
+
+“Give way, men,” whispered Starbuck, drawing still further aft the
+sheet of his sail; “there is time to kill a fish yet before the squall
+comes. There’s white water again!—close to! Spring!”
+
+Soon after, two cries in quick succession on each side of us denoted
+that the other boats had got fast; but hardly were they overheard, when
+with a lightning-like hurtling whisper Starbuck said: “Stand up!” and
+Queequeg, harpoon in hand, sprang to his feet.
+
+Though not one of the oarsmen was then facing the life and death peril
+so close to them ahead, yet with their eyes on the intense countenance
+of the mate in the stern of the boat, they knew that the imminent
+instant had come; they heard, too, an enormous wallowing sound as of
+fifty elephants stirring in their litter. Meanwhile the boat was still
+booming through the mist, the waves curling and hissing around us like
+the erected crests of enraged serpents.
+
+“That’s his hump. _There_, _there_, give it to him!” whispered
+Starbuck.
+
+A short rushing sound leaped out of the boat; it was the darted iron of
+Queequeg. Then all in one welded commotion came an invisible push from
+astern, while forward the boat seemed striking on a ledge; the sail
+collapsed and exploded; a gush of scalding vapor shot up near by;
+something rolled and tumbled like an earthquake beneath us. The whole
+crew were half suffocated as they were tossed helter-skelter into the
+white curdling cream of the squall. Squall, whale, and harpoon had all
+blended together; and the whale, merely grazed by the iron, escaped.
+
+Though completely swamped, the boat was nearly unharmed. Swimming round
+it we picked up the floating oars, and lashing them across the gunwale,
+tumbled back to our places. There we sat up to our knees in the sea,
+the water covering every rib and plank, so that to our downward gazing
+eyes the suspended craft seemed a coral boat grown up to us from the
+bottom of the ocean.
+
+The wind increased to a howl; the waves dashed their bucklers together;
+the whole squall roared, forked, and crackled around us like a white
+fire upon the prairie, in which, unconsumed, we were burning; immortal
+in these jaws of death! In vain we hailed the other boats; as well roar
+to the live coals down the chimney of a flaming furnace as hail those
+boats in that storm. Meanwhile the driving scud, rack, and mist, grew
+darker with the shadows of night; no sign of the ship could be seen.
+The rising sea forbade all attempts to bale out the boat. The oars were
+useless as propellers, performing now the office of life-preservers.
+So, cutting the lashing of the waterproof match keg, after many
+failures Starbuck contrived to ignite the lamp in the lantern; then
+stretching it on a waif pole, handed it to Queequeg as the
+standard-bearer of this forlorn hope. There, then, he sat, holding up
+that imbecile candle in the heart of that almighty forlornness. There,
+then, he sat, the sign and symbol of a man without faith, hopelessly
+holding up hope in the midst of despair.
+
+Wet, drenched through, and shivering cold, despairing of ship or boat,
+we lifted up our eyes as the dawn came on. The mist still spread over
+the sea, the empty lantern lay crushed in the bottom of the boat.
+Suddenly Queequeg started to his feet, hollowing his hand to his ear.
+We all heard a faint creaking, as of ropes and yards hitherto muffled
+by the storm. The sound came nearer and nearer; the thick mists were
+dimly parted by a huge, vague form. Affrighted, we all sprang into the
+sea as the ship at last loomed into view, bearing right down upon us
+within a distance of not much more than its length.
+
+Floating on the waves we saw the abandoned boat, as for one instant it
+tossed and gaped beneath the ship’s bows like a chip at the base of a
+cataract; and then the vast hull rolled over it, and it was seen no
+more till it came up weltering astern. Again we swam for it, were
+dashed against it by the seas, and were at last taken up and safely
+landed on board. Ere the squall came close to, the other boats had cut
+loose from their fish and returned to the ship in good time. The ship
+had given us up, but was still cruising, if haply it might light upon
+some token of our perishing,—an oar or a lance pole.
+
+
+CHAPTER 49. The Hyena.
+
+There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed
+affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast
+practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more
+than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own.
+However, nothing dispirits, and nothing seems worth while disputing. He
+bolts down all events, all creeds, and beliefs, and persuasions, all
+hard things visible and invisible, never mind how knobby; as an ostrich
+of potent digestion gobbles down bullets and gun flints. And as for
+small difficulties and worryings, prospects of sudden disaster, peril
+of life and limb; all these, and death itself, seem to him only sly,
+good-natured hits, and jolly punches in the side bestowed by the unseen
+and unaccountable old joker. That odd sort of wayward mood I am
+speaking of, comes over a man only in some time of extreme tribulation;
+it comes in the very midst of his earnestness, so that what just before
+might have seemed to him a thing most momentous, now seems but a part
+of the general joke. There is nothing like the perils of whaling to
+breed this free and easy sort of genial, desperado philosophy; and with
+it I now regarded this whole voyage of the Pequod, and the great White
+Whale its object.
+
+“Queequeg,” said I, when they had dragged me, the last man, to the
+deck, and I was still shaking myself in my jacket to fling off the
+water; “Queequeg, my fine friend, does this sort of thing often
+happen?” Without much emotion, though soaked through just like me, he
+gave me to understand that such things did often happen.
+
+“Mr. Stubb,” said I, turning to that worthy, who, buttoned up in his
+oil-jacket, was now calmly smoking his pipe in the rain; “Mr. Stubb, I
+think I have heard you say that of all whalemen you ever met, our chief
+mate, Mr. Starbuck, is by far the most careful and prudent. I suppose
+then, that going plump on a flying whale with your sail set in a foggy
+squall is the height of a whaleman’s discretion?”
+
+“Certain. I’ve lowered for whales from a leaking ship in a gale off
+Cape Horn.”
+
+“Mr. Flask,” said I, turning to little King-Post, who was standing
+close by; “you are experienced in these things, and I am not. Will you
+tell me whether it is an unalterable law in this fishery, Mr. Flask,
+for an oarsman to break his own back pulling himself back-foremost into
+death’s jaws?”
+
+“Can’t you twist that smaller?” said Flask. “Yes, that’s the law. I
+should like to see a boat’s crew backing water up to a whale face
+foremost. Ha, ha! the whale would give them squint for squint, mind
+that!”
+
+Here then, from three impartial witnesses, I had a deliberate statement
+of the entire case. Considering, therefore, that squalls and capsizings
+in the water and consequent bivouacks on the deep, were matters of
+common occurrence in this kind of life; considering that at the
+superlatively critical instant of going on to the whale I must resign
+my life into the hands of him who steered the boat—oftentimes a fellow
+who at that very moment is in his impetuousness upon the point of
+scuttling the craft with his own frantic stampings; considering that
+the particular disaster to our own particular boat was chiefly to be
+imputed to Starbuck’s driving on to his whale almost in the teeth of a
+squall, and considering that Starbuck, notwithstanding, was famous for
+his great heedfulness in the fishery; considering that I belonged to
+this uncommonly prudent Starbuck’s boat; and finally considering in
+what a devil’s chase I was implicated, touching the White Whale: taking
+all things together, I say, I thought I might as well go below and make
+a rough draft of my will. “Queequeg,” said I, “come along, you shall be
+my lawyer, executor, and legatee.”
+
+It may seem strange that of all men sailors should be tinkering at
+their last wills and testaments, but there are no people in the world
+more fond of that diversion. This was the fourth time in my nautical
+life that I had done the same thing. After the ceremony was concluded
+upon the present occasion, I felt all the easier; a stone was rolled
+away from my heart. Besides, all the days I should now live would be as
+good as the days that Lazarus lived after his resurrection; a
+supplementary clean gain of so many months or weeks as the case might
+be. I survived myself; my death and burial were locked up in my chest.
+I looked round me tranquilly and contentedly, like a quiet ghost with a
+clean conscience sitting inside the bars of a snug family vault.
+
+Now then, thought I, unconsciously rolling up the sleeves of my frock,
+here goes for a cool, collected dive at death and destruction, and the
+devil fetch the hindmost.
+
+
+CHAPTER 50. Ahab’s Boat and Crew. Fedallah.
+
+“Who would have thought it, Flask!” cried Stubb; “if I had but one leg
+you would not catch me in a boat, unless maybe to stop the plug-hole
+with my timber toe. Oh! he’s a wonderful old man!”
+
+“I don’t think it so strange, after all, on that account,” said Flask.
+“If his leg were off at the hip, now, it would be a different thing.
+That would disable him; but he has one knee, and good part of the other
+left, you know.”
+
+“I don’t know that, my little man; I never yet saw him kneel.”
+
+Among whale-wise people it has often been argued whether, considering
+the paramount importance of his life to the success of the voyage, it
+is right for a whaling captain to jeopardize that life in the active
+perils of the chase. So Tamerlane’s soldiers often argued with tears in
+their eyes, whether that invaluable life of his ought to be carried
+into the thickest of the fight.
+
+But with Ahab the question assumed a modified aspect. Considering that
+with two legs man is but a hobbling wight in all times of danger;
+considering that the pursuit of whales is always under great and
+extraordinary difficulties; that every individual moment, indeed, then
+comprises a peril; under these circumstances is it wise for any maimed
+man to enter a whale-boat in the hunt? As a general thing, the
+joint-owners of the Pequod must have plainly thought not.
+
+Ahab well knew that although his friends at home would think little of
+his entering a boat in certain comparatively harmless vicissitudes of
+the chase, for the sake of being near the scene of action and giving
+his orders in person, yet for Captain Ahab to have a boat actually
+apportioned to him as a regular headsman in the hunt—above all for
+Captain Ahab to be supplied with five extra men, as that same boat’s
+crew, he well knew that such generous conceits never entered the heads
+of the owners of the Pequod. Therefore he had not solicited a boat’s
+crew from them, nor had he in any way hinted his desires on that head.
+Nevertheless he had taken private measures of his own touching all that
+matter. Until Cabaco’s published discovery, the sailors had little
+foreseen it, though to be sure when, after being a little while out of
+port, all hands had concluded the customary business of fitting the
+whaleboats for service; when some time after this Ahab was now and then
+found bestirring himself in the matter of making thole-pins with his
+own hands for what was thought to be one of the spare boats, and even
+solicitously cutting the small wooden skewers, which when the line is
+running out are pinned over the groove in the bow: when all this was
+observed in him, and particularly his solicitude in having an extra
+coat of sheathing in the bottom of the boat, as if to make it better
+withstand the pointed pressure of his ivory limb; and also the anxiety
+he evinced in exactly shaping the thigh board, or clumsy cleat, as it
+is sometimes called, the horizontal piece in the boat’s bow for bracing
+the knee against in darting or stabbing at the whale; when it was
+observed how often he stood up in that boat with his solitary knee
+fixed in the semi-circular depression in the cleat, and with the
+carpenter’s chisel gouged out a little here and straightened it a
+little there; all these things, I say, had awakened much interest and
+curiosity at the time. But almost everybody supposed that this
+particular preparative heedfulness in Ahab must only be with a view to
+the ultimate chase of Moby Dick; for he had already revealed his
+intention to hunt that mortal monster in person. But such a supposition
+did by no means involve the remotest suspicion as to any boat’s crew
+being assigned to that boat.
+
+Now, with the subordinate phantoms, what wonder remained soon waned
+away; for in a whaler wonders soon wane. Besides, now and then such
+unaccountable odds and ends of strange nations come up from the unknown
+nooks and ash-holes of the earth to man these floating outlaws of
+whalers; and the ships themselves often pick up such queer castaway
+creatures found tossing about the open sea on planks, bits of wreck,
+oars, whaleboats, canoes, blown-off Japanese junks, and what not; that
+Beelzebub himself might climb up the side and step down into the cabin
+to chat with the captain, and it would not create any unsubduable
+excitement in the forecastle.
+
+But be all this as it may, certain it is that while the subordinate
+phantoms soon found their place among the crew, though still as it were
+somehow distinct from them, yet that hair-turbaned Fedallah remained a
+muffled mystery to the last. Whence he came in a mannerly world like
+this, by what sort of unaccountable tie he soon evinced himself to be
+linked with Ahab’s peculiar fortunes; nay, so far as to have some sort
+of a half-hinted influence; Heaven knows, but it might have been even
+authority over him; all this none knew. But one cannot sustain an
+indifferent air concerning Fedallah. He was such a creature as
+civilized, domestic people in the temperate zone only see in their
+dreams, and that but dimly; but the like of whom now and then glide
+among the unchanging Asiatic communities, especially the Oriental isles
+to the east of the continent—those insulated, immemorial, unalterable
+countries, which even in these modern days still preserve much of the
+ghostly aboriginalness of earth’s primal generations, when the memory
+of the first man was a distinct recollection, and all men his
+descendants, unknowing whence he came, eyed each other as real
+phantoms, and asked of the sun and the moon why they were created and
+to what end; when though, according to Genesis, the angels indeed
+consorted with the daughters of men, the devils also, add the
+uncanonical Rabbins, indulged in mundane amours.
+
+
+CHAPTER 51. The Spirit-Spout.
+
+Days, weeks passed, and under easy sail, the ivory Pequod had slowly
+swept across four several cruising-grounds; that off the Azores; off
+the Cape de Verdes; on the Plate (so called), being off the mouth of
+the Rio de la Plata; and the Carrol Ground, an unstaked, watery
+locality, southerly from St. Helena.
+
+It was while gliding through these latter waters that one serene and
+moonlight night, when all the waves rolled by like scrolls of silver;
+and, by their soft, suffusing seethings, made what seemed a silvery
+silence, not a solitude; on such a silent night a silvery jet was seen
+far in advance of the white bubbles at the bow. Lit up by the moon, it
+looked celestial; seemed some plumed and glittering god uprising from
+the sea. Fedallah first descried this jet. For of these moonlight
+nights, it was his wont to mount to the main-mast head, and stand a
+look-out there, with the same precision as if it had been day. And yet,
+though herds of whales were seen by night, not one whaleman in a
+hundred would venture a lowering for them. You may think with what
+emotions, then, the seamen beheld this old Oriental perched aloft at
+such unusual hours; his turban and the moon, companions in one sky. But
+when, after spending his uniform interval there for several successive
+nights without uttering a single sound; when, after all this silence,
+his unearthly voice was heard announcing that silvery, moon-lit jet,
+every reclining mariner started to his feet as if some winged spirit
+had lighted in the rigging, and hailed the mortal crew. “There she
+blows!” Had the trump of judgment blown, they could not have quivered
+more; yet still they felt no terror; rather pleasure. For though it was
+a most unwonted hour, yet so impressive was the cry, and so deliriously
+exciting, that almost every soul on board instinctively desired a
+lowering.
+
+Walking the deck with quick, side-lunging strides, Ahab commanded the
+t’gallant sails and royals to be set, and every stunsail spread. The
+best man in the ship must take the helm. Then, with every mast-head
+manned, the piled-up craft rolled down before the wind. The strange,
+upheaving, lifting tendency of the taffrail breeze filling the hollows
+of so many sails, made the buoyant, hovering deck to feel like air
+beneath the feet; while still she rushed along, as if two antagonistic
+influences were struggling in her—one to mount direct to heaven, the
+other to drive yawingly to some horizontal goal. And had you watched
+Ahab’s face that night, you would have thought that in him also two
+different things were warring. While his one live leg made lively
+echoes along the deck, every stroke of his dead limb sounded like a
+coffin-tap. On life and death this old man walked. But though the ship
+so swiftly sped, and though from every eye, like arrows, the eager
+glances shot, yet the silvery jet was no more seen that night. Every
+sailor swore he saw it once, but not a second time.
+
+This midnight-spout had almost grown a forgotten thing, when, some days
+after, lo! at the same silent hour, it was again announced: again it
+was descried by all; but upon making sail to overtake it, once more it
+disappeared as if it had never been. And so it served us night after
+night, till no one heeded it but to wonder at it. Mysteriously jetted
+into the clear moonlight, or starlight, as the case might be;
+disappearing again for one whole day, or two days, or three; and
+somehow seeming at every distinct repetition to be advancing still
+further and further in our van, this solitary jet seemed for ever
+alluring us on.
+
+Nor with the immemorial superstition of their race, and in accordance
+with the preternaturalness, as it seemed, which in many things invested
+the Pequod, were there wanting some of the seamen who swore that
+whenever and wherever descried; at however remote times, or in however
+far apart latitudes and longitudes, that unnearable spout was cast by
+one self-same whale; and that whale, Moby Dick. For a time, there
+reigned, too, a sense of peculiar dread at this flitting apparition, as
+if it were treacherously beckoning us on and on, in order that the
+monster might turn round upon us, and rend us at last in the remotest
+and most savage seas.
+
+These temporary apprehensions, so vague but so awful, derived a
+wondrous potency from the contrasting serenity of the weather, in
+which, beneath all its blue blandness, some thought there lurked a
+devilish charm, as for days and days we voyaged along, through seas so
+wearily, lonesomely mild, that all space, in repugnance to our vengeful
+errand, seemed vacating itself of life before our urn-like prow.
+
+But, at last, when turning to the eastward, the Cape winds began
+howling around us, and we rose and fell upon the long, troubled seas
+that are there; when the ivory-tusked Pequod sharply bowed to the
+blast, and gored the dark waves in her madness, till, like showers of
+silver chips, the foam-flakes flew over her bulwarks; then all this
+desolate vacuity of life went away, but gave place to sights more
+dismal than before.
+
+Close to our bows, strange forms in the water darted hither and thither
+before us; while thick in our rear flew the inscrutable sea-ravens. And
+every morning, perched on our stays, rows of these birds were seen; and
+spite of our hootings, for a long time obstinately clung to the hemp,
+as though they deemed our ship some drifting, uninhabited craft; a
+thing appointed to desolation, and therefore fit roosting-place for
+their homeless selves. And heaved and heaved, still unrestingly heaved
+the black sea, as if its vast tides were a conscience; and the great
+mundane soul were in anguish and remorse for the long sin and suffering
+it had bred.
+
+Cape of Good Hope, do they call ye? Rather Cape Tormentoso, as called
+of yore; for long allured by the perfidious silences that before had
+attended us, we found ourselves launched into this tormented sea, where
+guilty beings transformed into those fowls and these fish, seemed
+condemned to swim on everlastingly without any haven in store, or beat
+that black air without any horizon. But calm, snow-white, and
+unvarying; still directing its fountain of feathers to the sky; still
+beckoning us on from before, the solitary jet would at times be
+descried.
+
+During all this blackness of the elements, Ahab, though assuming for
+the time the almost continual command of the drenched and dangerous
+deck, manifested the gloomiest reserve; and more seldom than ever
+addressed his mates. In tempestuous times like these, after everything
+above and aloft has been secured, nothing more can be done but
+passively to await the issue of the gale. Then Captain and crew become
+practical fatalists. So, with his ivory leg inserted into its
+accustomed hole, and with one hand firmly grasping a shroud, Ahab for
+hours and hours would stand gazing dead to windward, while an
+occasional squall of sleet or snow would all but congeal his very
+eyelashes together. Meantime, the crew driven from the forward part of
+the ship by the perilous seas that burstingly broke over its bows,
+stood in a line along the bulwarks in the waist; and the better to
+guard against the leaping waves, each man had slipped himself into a
+sort of bowline secured to the rail, in which he swung as in a loosened
+belt. Few or no words were spoken; and the silent ship, as if manned by
+painted sailors in wax, day after day tore on through all the swift
+madness and gladness of the demoniac waves. By night the same muteness
+of humanity before the shrieks of the ocean prevailed; still in silence
+the men swung in the bowlines; still wordless Ahab stood up to the
+blast. Even when wearied nature seemed demanding repose he would not
+seek that repose in his hammock. Never could Starbuck forget the old
+man’s aspect, when one night going down into the cabin to mark how the
+barometer stood, he saw him with closed eyes sitting straight in his
+floor-screwed chair; the rain and half-melted sleet of the storm from
+which he had some time before emerged, still slowly dripping from the
+unremoved hat and coat. On the table beside him lay unrolled one of
+those charts of tides and currents which have previously been spoken
+of. His lantern swung from his tightly clenched hand. Though the body
+was erect, the head was thrown back so that the closed eyes were
+pointed towards the needle of the tell-tale that swung from a beam in
+the ceiling.*
+
+*The cabin-compass is called the tell-tale, because without going to
+the compass at the helm, the Captain, while below, can inform himself
+of the course of the ship.
+
+Terrible old man! thought Starbuck with a shudder, sleeping in this
+gale, still thou steadfastly eyest thy purpose.
+
+
+CHAPTER 52. The Albatross.
+
+South-eastward from the Cape, off the distant Crozetts, a good cruising
+ground for Right Whalemen, a sail loomed ahead, the Goney (Albatross)
+by name. As she slowly drew nigh, from my lofty perch at the
+fore-mast-head, I had a good view of that sight so remarkable to a tyro
+in the far ocean fisheries—a whaler at sea, and long absent from home.
+
+As if the waves had been fullers, this craft was bleached like the
+skeleton of a stranded walrus. All down her sides, this spectral
+appearance was traced with long channels of reddened rust, while all
+her spars and her rigging were like the thick branches of trees furred
+over with hoar-frost. Only her lower sails were set. A wild sight it
+was to see her long-bearded look-outs at those three mast-heads. They
+seemed clad in the skins of beasts, so torn and bepatched the raiment
+that had survived nearly four years of cruising. Standing in iron hoops
+nailed to the mast, they swayed and swung over a fathomless sea; and
+though, when the ship slowly glided close under our stern, we six men
+in the air came so nigh to each other that we might almost have leaped
+from the mast-heads of one ship to those of the other; yet, those
+forlorn-looking fishermen, mildly eyeing us as they passed, said not
+one word to our own look-outs, while the quarter-deck hail was being
+heard from below.
+
+“Ship ahoy! Have ye seen the White Whale?”
+
+But as the strange captain, leaning over the pallid bulwarks, was in
+the act of putting his trumpet to his mouth, it somehow fell from his
+hand into the sea; and the wind now rising amain, he in vain strove to
+make himself heard without it. Meantime his ship was still increasing
+the distance between. While in various silent ways the seamen of the
+Pequod were evincing their observance of this ominous incident at the
+first mere mention of the White Whale’s name to another ship, Ahab for
+a moment paused; it almost seemed as though he would have lowered a
+boat to board the stranger, had not the threatening wind forbade. But
+taking advantage of his windward position, he again seized his trumpet,
+and knowing by her aspect that the stranger vessel was a Nantucketer
+and shortly bound home, he loudly hailed—“Ahoy there! This is the
+Pequod, bound round the world! Tell them to address all future letters
+to the Pacific ocean! and this time three years, if I am not at home,
+tell them to address them to ——”
+
+At that moment the two wakes were fairly crossed, and instantly, then,
+in accordance with their singular ways, shoals of small harmless fish,
+that for some days before had been placidly swimming by our side,
+darted away with what seemed shuddering fins, and ranged themselves
+fore and aft with the stranger’s flanks. Though in the course of his
+continual voyagings Ahab must often before have noticed a similar
+sight, yet, to any monomaniac man, the veriest trifles capriciously
+carry meanings.
+
+“Swim away from me, do ye?” murmured Ahab, gazing over into the water.
+There seemed but little in the words, but the tone conveyed more of
+deep helpless sadness than the insane old man had ever before evinced.
+But turning to the steersman, who thus far had been holding the ship in
+the wind to diminish her headway, he cried out in his old lion
+voice,—“Up helm! Keep her off round the world!”
+
+Round the world! There is much in that sound to inspire proud feelings;
+but whereto does all that circumnavigation conduct? Only through
+numberless perils to the very point whence we started, where those that
+we left behind secure, were all the time before us.
+
+Were this world an endless plain, and by sailing eastward we could for
+ever reach new distances, and discover sights more sweet and strange
+than any Cyclades or Islands of King Solomon, then there were promise
+in the voyage. But in pursuit of those far mysteries we dream of, or in
+tormented chase of that demon phantom that, some time or other, swims
+before all human hearts; while chasing such over this round globe, they
+either lead us on in barren mazes or midway leave us whelmed.
+
+
+CHAPTER 53. The Gam.
+
+The ostensible reason why Ahab did not go on board of the whaler we had
+spoken was this: the wind and sea betokened storms. But even had this
+not been the case, he would not after all, perhaps, have boarded
+her—judging by his subsequent conduct on similar occasions—if so it had
+been that, by the process of hailing, he had obtained a negative answer
+to the question he put. For, as it eventually turned out, he cared not
+to consort, even for five minutes, with any stranger captain, except he
+could contribute some of that information he so absorbingly sought. But
+all this might remain inadequately estimated, were not something said
+here of the peculiar usages of whaling-vessels when meeting each other
+in foreign seas, and especially on a common cruising-ground.
+
+If two strangers crossing the Pine Barrens in New York State, or the
+equally desolate Salisbury Plain in England; if casually encountering
+each other in such inhospitable wilds, these twain, for the life of
+them, cannot well avoid a mutual salutation; and stopping for a moment
+to interchange the news; and, perhaps, sitting down for a while and
+resting in concert: then, how much more natural that upon the
+illimitable Pine Barrens and Salisbury Plains of the sea, two whaling
+vessels descrying each other at the ends of the earth—off lone
+Fanning’s Island, or the far away King’s Mills; how much more natural,
+I say, that under such circumstances these ships should not only
+interchange hails, but come into still closer, more friendly and
+sociable contact. And especially would this seem to be a matter of
+course, in the case of vessels owned in one seaport, and whose
+captains, officers, and not a few of the men are personally known to
+each other; and consequently, have all sorts of dear domestic things to
+talk about.
+
+For the long absent ship, the outward-bounder, perhaps, has letters on
+board; at any rate, she will be sure to let her have some papers of a
+date a year or two later than the last one on her blurred and
+thumb-worn files. And in return for that courtesy, the outward-bound
+ship would receive the latest whaling intelligence from the
+cruising-ground to which she may be destined, a thing of the utmost
+importance to her. And in degree, all this will hold true concerning
+whaling vessels crossing each other’s track on the cruising-ground
+itself, even though they are equally long absent from home. For one of
+them may have received a transfer of letters from some third, and now
+far remote vessel; and some of those letters may be for the people of
+the ship she now meets. Besides, they would exchange the whaling news,
+and have an agreeable chat. For not only would they meet with all the
+sympathies of sailors, but likewise with all the peculiar
+congenialities arising from a common pursuit and mutually shared
+privations and perils.
+
+Nor would difference of country make any very essential difference;
+that is, so long as both parties speak one language, as is the case
+with Americans and English. Though, to be sure, from the small number
+of English whalers, such meetings do not very often occur, and when
+they do occur there is too apt to be a sort of shyness between them;
+for your Englishman is rather reserved, and your Yankee, he does not
+fancy that sort of thing in anybody but himself. Besides, the English
+whalers sometimes affect a kind of metropolitan superiority over the
+American whalers; regarding the long, lean Nantucketer, with his
+nondescript provincialisms, as a sort of sea-peasant. But where this
+superiority in the English whalemen does really consist, it would be
+hard to say, seeing that the Yankees in one day, collectively, kill
+more whales than all the English, collectively, in ten years. But this
+is a harmless little foible in the English whale-hunters, which the
+Nantucketer does not take much to heart; probably, because he knows
+that he has a few foibles himself.
+
+So, then, we see that of all ships separately sailing the sea, the
+whalers have most reason to be sociable—and they are so. Whereas, some
+merchant ships crossing each other’s wake in the mid-Atlantic, will
+oftentimes pass on without so much as a single word of recognition,
+mutually cutting each other on the high seas, like a brace of dandies
+in Broadway; and all the time indulging, perhaps, in finical criticism
+upon each other’s rig. As for Men-of-War, when they chance to meet at
+sea, they first go through such a string of silly bowings and
+scrapings, such a ducking of ensigns, that there does not seem to be
+much right-down hearty good-will and brotherly love about it at all. As
+touching Slave-ships meeting, why, they are in such a prodigious hurry,
+they run away from each other as soon as possible. And as for Pirates,
+when they chance to cross each other’s cross-bones, the first hail
+is—“How many skulls?”—the same way that whalers hail—“How many
+barrels?” And that question once answered, pirates straightway steer
+apart, for they are infernal villains on both sides, and don’t like to
+see overmuch of each other’s villanous likenesses.
+
+But look at the godly, honest, unostentatious, hospitable, sociable,
+free-and-easy whaler! What does the whaler do when she meets another
+whaler in any sort of decent weather? She has a “_Gam_,” a thing so
+utterly unknown to all other ships that they never heard of the name
+even; and if by chance they should hear of it, they only grin at it,
+and repeat gamesome stuff about “spouters” and “blubber-boilers,” and
+such like pretty exclamations. Why it is that all Merchant-seamen, and
+also all Pirates and Man-of-War’s men, and Slave-ship sailors, cherish
+such a scornful feeling towards Whale-ships; this is a question it
+would be hard to answer. Because, in the case of pirates, say, I should
+like to know whether that profession of theirs has any peculiar glory
+about it. It sometimes ends in uncommon elevation, indeed; but only at
+the gallows. And besides, when a man is elevated in that odd fashion,
+he has no proper foundation for his superior altitude. Hence, I
+conclude, that in boasting himself to be high lifted above a whaleman,
+in that assertion the pirate has no solid basis to stand on.
+
+But what is a _Gam?_ You might wear out your index-finger running up
+and down the columns of dictionaries, and never find the word. Dr.
+Johnson never attained to that erudition; Noah Webster’s ark does not
+hold it. Nevertheless, this same expressive word has now for many years
+been in constant use among some fifteen thousand true born Yankees.
+Certainly, it needs a definition, and should be incorporated into the
+Lexicon. With that view, let me learnedly define it.
+
+GAM. NOUN—_A social meeting of two_ (_or more_) _Whaleships, generally
+on a cruising-ground; when, after exchanging hails, they exchange
+visits by boats’ crews: the two captains remaining, for the time, on
+board of one ship, and the two chief mates on the other._
+
+There is another little item about Gamming which must not be forgotten
+here. All professions have their own little peculiarities of detail; so
+has the whale fishery. In a pirate, man-of-war, or slave ship, when the
+captain is rowed anywhere in his boat, he always sits in the stern
+sheets on a comfortable, sometimes cushioned seat there, and often
+steers himself with a pretty little milliner’s tiller decorated with
+gay cords and ribbons. But the whale-boat has no seat astern, no sofa
+of that sort whatever, and no tiller at all. High times indeed, if
+whaling captains were wheeled about the water on castors like gouty old
+aldermen in patent chairs. And as for a tiller, the whale-boat never
+admits of any such effeminacy; and therefore as in gamming a complete
+boat’s crew must leave the ship, and hence as the boat steerer or
+harpooneer is of the number, that subordinate is the steersman upon the
+occasion, and the captain, having no place to sit in, is pulled off to
+his visit all standing like a pine tree. And often you will notice that
+being conscious of the eyes of the whole visible world resting on him
+from the sides of the two ships, this standing captain is all alive to
+the importance of sustaining his dignity by maintaining his legs. Nor
+is this any very easy matter; for in his rear is the immense projecting
+steering oar hitting him now and then in the small of his back, the
+after-oar reciprocating by rapping his knees in front. He is thus
+completely wedged before and behind, and can only expand himself
+sideways by settling down on his stretched legs; but a sudden, violent
+pitch of the boat will often go far to topple him, because length of
+foundation is nothing without corresponding breadth. Merely make a
+spread angle of two poles, and you cannot stand them up. Then, again,
+it would never do in plain sight of the world’s riveted eyes, it would
+never do, I say, for this straddling captain to be seen steadying
+himself the slightest particle by catching hold of anything with his
+hands; indeed, as token of his entire, buoyant self-command, he
+generally carries his hands in his trowsers’ pockets; but perhaps being
+generally very large, heavy hands, he carries them there for ballast.
+Nevertheless there have occurred instances, well authenticated ones
+too, where the captain has been known for an uncommonly critical moment
+or two, in a sudden squall say—to seize hold of the nearest oarsman’s
+hair, and hold on there like grim death.
+
+
+CHAPTER 54. The Town-Ho’s Story.
+
+(_As told at the Golden Inn._)
+
+The Cape of Good Hope, and all the watery region round about there, is
+much like some noted four corners of a great highway, where you meet
+more travellers than in any other part.
+
+It was not very long after speaking the Goney that another
+homeward-bound whaleman, the Town-Ho,* was encountered. She was manned
+almost wholly by Polynesians. In the short gam that ensued she gave us
+strong news of Moby Dick. To some the general interest in the White
+Whale was now wildly heightened by a circumstance of the Town-Ho’s
+story, which seemed obscurely to involve with the whale a certain
+wondrous, inverted visitation of one of those so called judgments of
+God which at times are said to overtake some men. This latter
+circumstance, with its own particular accompaniments, forming what may
+be called the secret part of the tragedy about to be narrated, never
+reached the ears of Captain Ahab or his mates. For that secret part of
+the story was unknown to the captain of the Town-Ho himself. It was the
+private property of three confederate white seamen of that ship, one of
+whom, it seems, communicated it to Tashtego with Romish injunctions of
+secrecy, but the following night Tashtego rambled in his sleep, and
+revealed so much of it in that way, that when he was wakened he could
+not well withhold the rest. Nevertheless, so potent an influence did
+this thing have on those seamen in the Pequod who came to the full
+knowledge of it, and by such a strange delicacy, to call it so, were
+they governed in this matter, that they kept the secret among
+themselves so that it never transpired abaft the Pequod’s main-mast.
+Interweaving in its proper place this darker thread with the story as
+publicly narrated on the ship, the whole of this strange affair I now
+proceed to put on lasting record.
+
+*The ancient whale-cry upon first sighting a whale from the mast-head,
+still used by whalemen in hunting the famous Gallipagos terrapin.
+
+For my humor’s sake, I shall preserve the style in which I once
+narrated it at Lima, to a lounging circle of my Spanish friends, one
+saint’s eve, smoking upon the thick-gilt tiled piazza of the Golden
+Inn. Of those fine cavaliers, the young Dons, Pedro and Sebastian, were
+on the closer terms with me; and hence the interluding questions they
+occasionally put, and which are duly answered at the time.
+
+“Some two years prior to my first learning the events which I am about
+rehearsing to you, gentlemen, the Town-Ho, Sperm Whaler of Nantucket,
+was cruising in your Pacific here, not very many days’ sail eastward
+from the eaves of this good Golden Inn. She was somewhere to the
+northward of the Line. One morning upon handling the pumps, according
+to daily usage, it was observed that she made more water in her hold
+than common. They supposed a sword-fish had stabbed her, gentlemen. But
+the captain, having some unusual reason for believing that rare good
+luck awaited him in those latitudes; and therefore being very averse to
+quit them, and the leak not being then considered at all dangerous,
+though, indeed, they could not find it after searching the hold as low
+down as was possible in rather heavy weather, the ship still continued
+her cruisings, the mariners working at the pumps at wide and easy
+intervals; but no good luck came; more days went by, and not only was
+the leak yet undiscovered, but it sensibly increased. So much so, that
+now taking some alarm, the captain, making all sail, stood away for the
+nearest harbor among the islands, there to have his hull hove out and
+repaired.
+
+“Though no small passage was before her, yet, if the commonest chance
+favoured, he did not at all fear that his ship would founder by the
+way, because his pumps were of the best, and being periodically
+relieved at them, those six-and-thirty men of his could easily keep the
+ship free; never mind if the leak should double on her. In truth, well
+nigh the whole of this passage being attended by very prosperous
+breezes, the Town-Ho had all but certainly arrived in perfect safety at
+her port without the occurrence of the least fatality, had it not been
+for the brutal overbearing of Radney, the mate, a Vineyarder, and the
+bitterly provoked vengeance of Steelkilt, a Lakeman and desperado from
+Buffalo.
+
+“‘Lakeman!—Buffalo! Pray, what is a Lakeman, and where is Buffalo?’
+said Don Sebastian, rising in his swinging mat of grass.
+
+“On the eastern shore of our Lake Erie, Don; but—I crave your
+courtesy—may be, you shall soon hear further of all that. Now,
+gentlemen, in square-sail brigs and three-masted ships, well-nigh as
+large and stout as any that ever sailed out of your old Callao to far
+Manilla; this Lakeman, in the land-locked heart of our America, had yet
+been nurtured by all those agrarian freebooting impressions popularly
+connected with the open ocean. For in their interflowing aggregate,
+those grand fresh-water seas of ours,—Erie, and Ontario, and Huron, and
+Superior, and Michigan,—possess an ocean-like expansiveness, with many
+of the ocean’s noblest traits; with many of its rimmed varieties of
+races and of climes. They contain round archipelagoes of romantic
+isles, even as the Polynesian waters do; in large part, are shored by
+two great contrasting nations, as the Atlantic is; they furnish long
+maritime approaches to our numerous territorial colonies from the East,
+dotted all round their banks; here and there are frowned upon by
+batteries, and by the goat-like craggy guns of lofty Mackinaw; they
+have heard the fleet thunderings of naval victories; at intervals, they
+yield their beaches to wild barbarians, whose red painted faces flash
+from out their peltry wigwams; for leagues and leagues are flanked by
+ancient and unentered forests, where the gaunt pines stand like serried
+lines of kings in Gothic genealogies; those same woods harboring wild
+Afric beasts of prey, and silken creatures whose exported furs give
+robes to Tartar Emperors; they mirror the paved capitals of Buffalo and
+Cleveland, as well as Winnebago villages; they float alike the
+full-rigged merchant ship, the armed cruiser of the State, the steamer,
+and the beech canoe; they are swept by Borean and dismasting blasts as
+direful as any that lash the salted wave; they know what shipwrecks
+are, for out of sight of land, however inland, they have drowned full
+many a midnight ship with all its shrieking crew. Thus, gentlemen,
+though an inlander, Steelkilt was wild-ocean born, and wild-ocean
+nurtured; as much of an audacious mariner as any. And for Radney,
+though in his infancy he may have laid him down on the lone Nantucket
+beach, to nurse at his maternal sea; though in after life he had long
+followed our austere Atlantic and your contemplative Pacific; yet was
+he quite as vengeful and full of social quarrel as the backwoods
+seaman, fresh from the latitudes of buck-horn handled Bowie-knives. Yet
+was this Nantucketer a man with some good-hearted traits; and this
+Lakeman, a mariner, who though a sort of devil indeed, might yet by
+inflexible firmness, only tempered by that common decency of human
+recognition which is the meanest slave’s right; thus treated, this
+Steelkilt had long been retained harmless and docile. At all events, he
+had proved so thus far; but Radney was doomed and made mad, and
+Steelkilt—but, gentlemen, you shall hear.
+
+“It was not more than a day or two at the furthest after pointing her
+prow for her island haven, that the Town-Ho’s leak seemed again
+increasing, but only so as to require an hour or more at the pumps
+every day. You must know that in a settled and civilized ocean like our
+Atlantic, for example, some skippers think little of pumping their
+whole way across it; though of a still, sleepy night, should the
+officer of the deck happen to forget his duty in that respect, the
+probability would be that he and his shipmates would never again
+remember it, on account of all hands gently subsiding to the bottom.
+Nor in the solitary and savage seas far from you to the westward,
+gentlemen, is it altogether unusual for ships to keep clanging at their
+pump-handles in full chorus even for a voyage of considerable length;
+that is, if it lie along a tolerably accessible coast, or if any other
+reasonable retreat is afforded them. It is only when a leaky vessel is
+in some very out of the way part of those waters, some really landless
+latitude, that her captain begins to feel a little anxious.
+
+“Much this way had it been with the Town-Ho; so when her leak was found
+gaining once more, there was in truth some small concern manifested by
+several of her company; especially by Radney the mate. He commanded the
+upper sails to be well hoisted, sheeted home anew, and every way
+expanded to the breeze. Now this Radney, I suppose, was as little of a
+coward, and as little inclined to any sort of nervous apprehensiveness
+touching his own person as any fearless, unthinking creature on land or
+on sea that you can conveniently imagine, gentlemen. Therefore when he
+betrayed this solicitude about the safety of the ship, some of the
+seamen declared that it was only on account of his being a part owner
+in her. So when they were working that evening at the pumps, there was
+on this head no small gamesomeness slily going on among them, as they
+stood with their feet continually overflowed by the rippling clear
+water; clear as any mountain spring, gentlemen—that bubbling from the
+pumps ran across the deck, and poured itself out in steady spouts at
+the lee scupper-holes.
+
+“Now, as you well know, it is not seldom the case in this conventional
+world of ours—watery or otherwise; that when a person placed in command
+over his fellow-men finds one of them to be very significantly his
+superior in general pride of manhood, straightway against that man he
+conceives an unconquerable dislike and bitterness; and if he have a
+chance he will pull down and pulverize that subaltern’s tower, and make
+a little heap of dust of it. Be this conceit of mine as it may,
+gentlemen, at all events Steelkilt was a tall and noble animal with a
+head like a Roman, and a flowing golden beard like the tasseled
+housings of your last viceroy’s snorting charger; and a brain, and a
+heart, and a soul in him, gentlemen, which had made Steelkilt
+Charlemagne, had he been born son to Charlemagne’s father. But Radney,
+the mate, was ugly as a mule; yet as hardy, as stubborn, as malicious.
+He did not love Steelkilt, and Steelkilt knew it.
+
+“Espying the mate drawing near as he was toiling at the pump with the
+rest, the Lakeman affected not to notice him, but unawed, went on with
+his gay banterings.
+
+“‘Aye, aye, my merry lads, it’s a lively leak this; hold a cannikin,
+one of ye, and let’s have a taste. By the Lord, it’s worth bottling! I
+tell ye what, men, old Rad’s investment must go for it! he had best cut
+away his part of the hull and tow it home. The fact is, boys, that
+sword-fish only began the job; he’s come back again with a gang of
+ship-carpenters, saw-fish, and file-fish, and what not; and the whole
+posse of ’em are now hard at work cutting and slashing at the bottom;
+making improvements, I suppose. If old Rad were here now, I’d tell him
+to jump overboard and scatter ’em. They’re playing the devil with his
+estate, I can tell him. But he’s a simple old soul,—Rad, and a beauty
+too. Boys, they say the rest of his property is invested in
+looking-glasses. I wonder if he’d give a poor devil like me the model
+of his nose.’
+
+“‘Damn your eyes! what’s that pump stopping for?’ roared Radney,
+pretending not to have heard the sailors’ talk. ‘Thunder away at it!’
+
+“‘Aye, aye, sir,’ said Steelkilt, merry as a cricket. ‘Lively, boys,
+lively, now!’ And with that the pump clanged like fifty fire-engines;
+the men tossed their hats off to it, and ere long that peculiar gasping
+of the lungs was heard which denotes the fullest tension of life’s
+utmost energies.
+
+“Quitting the pump at last, with the rest of his band, the Lakeman went
+forward all panting, and sat himself down on the windlass; his face
+fiery red, his eyes bloodshot, and wiping the profuse sweat from his
+brow. Now what cozening fiend it was, gentlemen, that possessed Radney
+to meddle with such a man in that corporeally exasperated state, I know
+not; but so it happened. Intolerably striding along the deck, the mate
+commanded him to get a broom and sweep down the planks, and also a
+shovel, and remove some offensive matters consequent upon allowing a
+pig to run at large.
+
+“Now, gentlemen, sweeping a ship’s deck at sea is a piece of household
+work which in all times but raging gales is regularly attended to every
+evening; it has been known to be done in the case of ships actually
+foundering at the time. Such, gentlemen, is the inflexibility of
+sea-usages and the instinctive love of neatness in seamen; some of whom
+would not willingly drown without first washing their faces. But in all
+vessels this broom business is the prescriptive province of the boys,
+if boys there be aboard. Besides, it was the stronger men in the
+Town-Ho that had been divided into gangs, taking turns at the pumps;
+and being the most athletic seaman of them all, Steelkilt had been
+regularly assigned captain of one of the gangs; consequently he should
+have been freed from any trivial business not connected with truly
+nautical duties, such being the case with his comrades. I mention all
+these particulars so that you may understand exactly how this affair
+stood between the two men.
+
+“But there was more than this: the order about the shovel was almost as
+plainly meant to sting and insult Steelkilt, as though Radney had spat
+in his face. Any man who has gone sailor in a whale-ship will
+understand this; and all this and doubtless much more, the Lakeman
+fully comprehended when the mate uttered his command. But as he sat
+still for a moment, and as he steadfastly looked into the mate’s
+malignant eye and perceived the stacks of powder-casks heaped up in him
+and the slow-match silently burning along towards them; as he
+instinctively saw all this, that strange forbearance and unwillingness
+to stir up the deeper passionateness in any already ireful being—a
+repugnance most felt, when felt at all, by really valiant men even when
+aggrieved—this nameless phantom feeling, gentlemen, stole over
+Steelkilt.
+
+“Therefore, in his ordinary tone, only a little broken by the bodily
+exhaustion he was temporarily in, he answered him saying that sweeping
+the deck was not his business, and he would not do it. And then,
+without at all alluding to the shovel, he pointed to three lads as the
+customary sweepers; who, not being billeted at the pumps, had done
+little or nothing all day. To this, Radney replied with an oath, in a
+most domineering and outrageous manner unconditionally reiterating his
+command; meanwhile advancing upon the still seated Lakeman, with an
+uplifted cooper’s club hammer which he had snatched from a cask near
+by.
+
+“Heated and irritated as he was by his spasmodic toil at the pumps, for
+all his first nameless feeling of forbearance the sweating Steelkilt
+could but ill brook this bearing in the mate; but somehow still
+smothering the conflagration within him, without speaking he remained
+doggedly rooted to his seat, till at last the incensed Radney shook the
+hammer within a few inches of his face, furiously commanding him to do
+his bidding.
+
+“Steelkilt rose, and slowly retreating round the windlass, steadily
+followed by the mate with his menacing hammer, deliberately repeated
+his intention not to obey. Seeing, however, that his forbearance had
+not the slightest effect, by an awful and unspeakable intimation with
+his twisted hand he warned off the foolish and infatuated man; but it
+was to no purpose. And in this way the two went once slowly round the
+windlass; when, resolved at last no longer to retreat, bethinking him
+that he had now forborne as much as comported with his humor, the
+Lakeman paused on the hatches and thus spoke to the officer:
+
+“‘Mr. Radney, I will not obey you. Take that hammer away, or look to
+yourself.’ But the predestinated mate coming still closer to him, where
+the Lakeman stood fixed, now shook the heavy hammer within an inch of
+his teeth; meanwhile repeating a string of insufferable maledictions.
+Retreating not the thousandth part of an inch; stabbing him in the eye
+with the unflinching poniard of his glance, Steelkilt, clenching his
+right hand behind him and creepingly drawing it back, told his
+persecutor that if the hammer but grazed his cheek he (Steelkilt) would
+murder him. But, gentlemen, the fool had been branded for the slaughter
+by the gods. Immediately the hammer touched the cheek; the next instant
+the lower jaw of the mate was stove in his head; he fell on the hatch
+spouting blood like a whale.
+
+“Ere the cry could go aft Steelkilt was shaking one of the backstays
+leading far aloft to where two of his comrades were standing their
+mastheads. They were both Canallers.
+
+“‘Canallers!’ cried Don Pedro. ‘We have seen many whale-ships in our
+harbours, but never heard of your Canallers. Pardon: who and what are
+they?’
+
+“‘Canallers, Don, are the boatmen belonging to our grand Erie Canal.
+You must have heard of it.’
+
+“‘Nay, Senor; hereabouts in this dull, warm, most lazy, and hereditary
+land, we know but little of your vigorous North.’
+
+“‘Aye? Well then, Don, refill my cup. Your chicha’s very fine; and ere
+proceeding further I will tell ye what our Canallers are; for such
+information may throw side-light upon my story.’
+
+“For three hundred and sixty miles, gentlemen, through the entire
+breadth of the state of New York; through numerous populous cities and
+most thriving villages; through long, dismal, uninhabited swamps, and
+affluent, cultivated fields, unrivalled for fertility; by billiard-room
+and bar-room; through the holy-of-holies of great forests; on Roman
+arches over Indian rivers; through sun and shade; by happy hearts or
+broken; through all the wide contrasting scenery of those noble Mohawk
+counties; and especially, by rows of snow-white chapels, whose spires
+stand almost like milestones, flows one continual stream of Venetianly
+corrupt and often lawless life. There’s your true Ashantee, gentlemen;
+there howl your pagans; where you ever find them, next door to you;
+under the long-flung shadow, and the snug patronising lee of churches.
+For by some curious fatality, as it is often noted of your metropolitan
+freebooters that they ever encamp around the halls of justice, so
+sinners, gentlemen, most abound in holiest vicinities.
+
+“‘Is that a friar passing?’ said Don Pedro, looking downwards into the
+crowded plazza, with humorous concern.
+
+“‘Well for our northern friend, Dame Isabella’s Inquisition wanes in
+Lima,’ laughed Don Sebastian. ‘Proceed, Senor.’
+
+“‘A moment! Pardon!’ cried another of the company. ‘In the name of all
+us Limeese, I but desire to express to you, sir sailor, that we have by
+no means overlooked your delicacy in not substituting present Lima for
+distant Venice in your corrupt comparison. Oh! do not bow and look
+surprised; you know the proverb all along this coast—“Corrupt as Lima.”
+It but bears out your saying, too; churches more plentiful than
+billiard-tables, and for ever open—and “Corrupt as Lima.” So, too,
+Venice; I have been there; the holy city of the blessed evangelist, St.
+Mark!—St. Dominic, purge it! Your cup! Thanks: here I refill; now, you
+pour out again.’
+
+“Freely depicted in his own vocation, gentlemen, the Canaller would
+make a fine dramatic hero, so abundantly and picturesquely wicked is
+he. Like Mark Antony, for days and days along his green-turfed, flowery
+Nile, he indolently floats, openly toying with his red-cheeked
+Cleopatra, ripening his apricot thigh upon the sunny deck. But ashore,
+all this effeminacy is dashed. The brigandish guise which the Canaller
+so proudly sports; his slouched and gaily-ribboned hat betoken his
+grand features. A terror to the smiling innocence of the villages
+through which he floats; his swart visage and bold swagger are not
+unshunned in cities. Once a vagabond on his own canal, I have received
+good turns from one of these Canallers; I thank him heartily; would
+fain be not ungrateful; but it is often one of the prime redeeming
+qualities of your man of violence, that at times he has as stiff an arm
+to back a poor stranger in a strait, as to plunder a wealthy one. In
+sum, gentlemen, what the wildness of this canal life is, is
+emphatically evinced by this; that our wild whale-fishery contains so
+many of its most finished graduates, and that scarce any race of
+mankind, except Sydney men, are so much distrusted by our whaling
+captains. Nor does it at all diminish the curiousness of this matter,
+that to many thousands of our rural boys and young men born along its
+line, the probationary life of the Grand Canal furnishes the sole
+transition between quietly reaping in a Christian corn-field, and
+recklessly ploughing the waters of the most barbaric seas.
+
+“‘I see! I see!’ impetuously exclaimed Don Pedro, spilling his chicha
+upon his silvery ruffles. ‘No need to travel! The world’s one Lima. I
+had thought, now, that at your temperate North the generations were
+cold and holy as the hills.—But the story.’
+
+“I left off, gentlemen, where the Lakeman shook the backstay. Hardly
+had he done so, when he was surrounded by the three junior mates and
+the four harpooneers, who all crowded him to the deck. But sliding down
+the ropes like baleful comets, the two Canallers rushed into the
+uproar, and sought to drag their man out of it towards the forecastle.
+Others of the sailors joined with them in this attempt, and a twisted
+turmoil ensued; while standing out of harm’s way, the valiant captain
+danced up and down with a whale-pike, calling upon his officers to
+manhandle that atrocious scoundrel, and smoke him along to the
+quarter-deck. At intervals, he ran close up to the revolving border of
+the confusion, and prying into the heart of it with his pike, sought to
+prick out the object of his resentment. But Steelkilt and his
+desperadoes were too much for them all; they succeeded in gaining the
+forecastle deck, where, hastily slewing about three or four large casks
+in a line with the windlass, these sea-Parisians entrenched themselves
+behind the barricade.
+
+“‘Come out of that, ye pirates!’ roared the captain, now menacing them
+with a pistol in each hand, just brought to him by the steward. ‘Come
+out of that, ye cut-throats!’
+
+“Steelkilt leaped on the barricade, and striding up and down there,
+defied the worst the pistols could do; but gave the captain to
+understand distinctly, that his (Steelkilt’s) death would be the signal
+for a murderous mutiny on the part of all hands. Fearing in his heart
+lest this might prove but too true, the captain a little desisted, but
+still commanded the insurgents instantly to return to their duty.
+
+“‘Will you promise not to touch us, if we do?’ demanded their
+ringleader.
+
+“‘Turn to! turn to!—I make no promise;—to your duty! Do you want to
+sink the ship, by knocking off at a time like this? Turn to!’ and he
+once more raised a pistol.
+
+“‘Sink the ship?’ cried Steelkilt. ‘Aye, let her sink. Not a man of us
+turns to, unless you swear not to raise a rope-yarn against us. What
+say ye, men?’ turning to his comrades. A fierce cheer was their
+response.
+
+“The Lakeman now patrolled the barricade, all the while keeping his eye
+on the Captain, and jerking out such sentences as these:—‘It’s not our
+fault; we didn’t want it; I told him to take his hammer away; it was
+boy’s business; he might have known me before this; I told him not to
+prick the buffalo; I believe I have broken a finger here against his
+cursed jaw; ain’t those mincing knives down in the forecastle there,
+men? look to those handspikes, my hearties. Captain, by God, look to
+yourself; say the word; don’t be a fool; forget it all; we are ready to
+turn to; treat us decently, and we’re your men; but we won’t be
+flogged.’
+
+“‘Turn to! I make no promises, turn to, I say!’
+
+“‘Look ye, now,’ cried the Lakeman, flinging out his arm towards him,
+‘there are a few of us here (and I am one of them) who have shipped for
+the cruise, d’ye see; now as you well know, sir, we can claim our
+discharge as soon as the anchor is down; so we don’t want a row; it’s
+not our interest; we want to be peaceable; we are ready to work, but we
+won’t be flogged.’
+
+“‘Turn to!’ roared the Captain.
+
+“Steelkilt glanced round him a moment, and then said:—‘I tell you what
+it is now, Captain, rather than kill ye, and be hung for such a shabby
+rascal, we won’t lift a hand against ye unless ye attack us; but till
+you say the word about not flogging us, we don’t do a hand’s turn.’
+
+“‘Down into the forecastle then, down with ye, I’ll keep ye there till
+ye’re sick of it. Down ye go.’
+
+“‘Shall we?’ cried the ringleader to his men. Most of them were against
+it; but at length, in obedience to Steelkilt, they preceded him down
+into their dark den, growlingly disappearing, like bears into a cave.
+
+“As the Lakeman’s bare head was just level with the planks, the Captain
+and his posse leaped the barricade, and rapidly drawing over the slide
+of the scuttle, planted their group of hands upon it, and loudly called
+for the steward to bring the heavy brass padlock belonging to the
+companionway. Then opening the slide a little, the Captain whispered
+something down the crack, closed it, and turned the key upon them—ten
+in number—leaving on deck some twenty or more, who thus far had
+remained neutral.
+
+“All night a wide-awake watch was kept by all the officers, forward and
+aft, especially about the forecastle scuttle and fore hatchway; at
+which last place it was feared the insurgents might emerge, after
+breaking through the bulkhead below. But the hours of darkness passed
+in peace; the men who still remained at their duty toiling hard at the
+pumps, whose clinking and clanking at intervals through the dreary
+night dismally resounded through the ship.
+
+“At sunrise the Captain went forward, and knocking on the deck,
+summoned the prisoners to work; but with a yell they refused. Water was
+then lowered down to them, and a couple of handfuls of biscuit were
+tossed after it; when again turning the key upon them and pocketing it,
+the Captain returned to the quarter-deck. Twice every day for three
+days this was repeated; but on the fourth morning a confused wrangling,
+and then a scuffling was heard, as the customary summons was delivered;
+and suddenly four men burst up from the forecastle, saying they were
+ready to turn to. The fetid closeness of the air, and a famishing diet,
+united perhaps to some fears of ultimate retribution, had constrained
+them to surrender at discretion. Emboldened by this, the Captain
+reiterated his demand to the rest, but Steelkilt shouted up to him a
+terrific hint to stop his babbling and betake himself where he
+belonged. On the fifth morning three others of the mutineers bolted up
+into the air from the desperate arms below that sought to restrain
+them. Only three were left.
+
+“‘Better turn to, now?’ said the Captain with a heartless jeer.
+
+“‘Shut us up again, will ye!’ cried Steelkilt.
+
+“‘Oh certainly,’ said the Captain, and the key clicked.
+
+“It was at this point, gentlemen, that enraged by the defection of
+seven of his former associates, and stung by the mocking voice that had
+last hailed him, and maddened by his long entombment in a place as
+black as the bowels of despair; it was then that Steelkilt proposed to
+the two Canallers, thus far apparently of one mind with him, to burst
+out of their hole at the next summoning of the garrison; and armed with
+their keen mincing knives (long, crescentic, heavy implements with a
+handle at each end) run amuck from the bowsprit to the taffrail; and if
+by any devilishness of desperation possible, seize the ship. For
+himself, he would do this, he said, whether they joined him or not.
+That was the last night he should spend in that den. But the scheme met
+with no opposition on the part of the other two; they swore they were
+ready for that, or for any other mad thing, for anything in short but a
+surrender. And what was more, they each insisted upon being the first
+man on deck, when the time to make the rush should come. But to this
+their leader as fiercely objected, reserving that priority for himself;
+particularly as his two comrades would not yield, the one to the other,
+in the matter; and both of them could not be first, for the ladder
+would but admit one man at a time. And here, gentlemen, the foul play
+of these miscreants must come out.
+
+“Upon hearing the frantic project of their leader, each in his own
+separate soul had suddenly lighted, it would seem, upon the same piece
+of treachery, namely: to be foremost in breaking out, in order to be
+the first of the three, though the last of the ten, to surrender; and
+thereby secure whatever small chance of pardon such conduct might
+merit. But when Steelkilt made known his determination still to lead
+them to the last, they in some way, by some subtle chemistry of
+villany, mixed their before secret treacheries together; and when their
+leader fell into a doze, verbally opened their souls to each other in
+three sentences; and bound the sleeper with cords, and gagged him with
+cords; and shrieked out for the Captain at midnight.
+
+“Thinking murder at hand, and smelling in the dark for the blood, he
+and all his armed mates and harpooneers rushed for the forecastle. In a
+few minutes the scuttle was opened, and, bound hand and foot, the still
+struggling ringleader was shoved up into the air by his perfidious
+allies, who at once claimed the honor of securing a man who had been
+fully ripe for murder. But all these were collared, and dragged along
+the deck like dead cattle; and, side by side, were seized up into the
+mizzen rigging, like three quarters of meat, and there they hung till
+morning. ‘Damn ye,’ cried the Captain, pacing to and fro before them,
+‘the vultures would not touch ye, ye villains!’
+
+“At sunrise he summoned all hands; and separating those who had
+rebelled from those who had taken no part in the mutiny, he told the
+former that he had a good mind to flog them all round—thought, upon the
+whole, he would do so—he ought to—justice demanded it; but for the
+present, considering their timely surrender, he would let them go with
+a reprimand, which he accordingly administered in the vernacular.
+
+“‘But as for you, ye carrion rogues,’ turning to the three men in the
+rigging—‘for you, I mean to mince ye up for the try-pots;’ and, seizing
+a rope, he applied it with all his might to the backs of the two
+traitors, till they yelled no more, but lifelessly hung their heads
+sideways, as the two crucified thieves are drawn.
+
+“‘My wrist is sprained with ye!’ he cried, at last; ‘but there is still
+rope enough left for you, my fine bantam, that wouldn’t give up. Take
+that gag from his mouth, and let us hear what he can say for himself.’
+
+“For a moment the exhausted mutineer made a tremulous motion of his
+cramped jaws, and then painfully twisting round his head, said in a
+sort of hiss, ‘What I say is this—and mind it well—if you flog me, I
+murder you!’
+
+“‘Say ye so? then see how ye frighten me’—and the Captain drew off with
+the rope to strike.
+
+“‘Best not,’ hissed the Lakeman.
+
+“‘But I must,’—and the rope was once more drawn back for the stroke.
+
+“Steelkilt here hissed out something, inaudible to all but the Captain;
+who, to the amazement of all hands, started back, paced the deck
+rapidly two or three times, and then suddenly throwing down his rope,
+said, ‘I won’t do it—let him go—cut him down: d’ye hear?’
+
+“But as the junior mates were hurrying to execute the order, a pale
+man, with a bandaged head, arrested them—Radney the chief mate. Ever
+since the blow, he had lain in his berth; but that morning, hearing the
+tumult on the deck, he had crept out, and thus far had watched the
+whole scene. Such was the state of his mouth, that he could hardly
+speak; but mumbling something about _his_ being willing and able to do
+what the captain dared not attempt, he snatched the rope and advanced
+to his pinioned foe.
+
+“‘You are a coward!’ hissed the Lakeman.
+
+“‘So I am, but take that.’ The mate was in the very act of striking,
+when another hiss stayed his uplifted arm. He paused: and then pausing
+no more, made good his word, spite of Steelkilt’s threat, whatever that
+might have been. The three men were then cut down, all hands were
+turned to, and, sullenly worked by the moody seamen, the iron pumps
+clanged as before.
+
+“Just after dark that day, when one watch had retired below, a clamor
+was heard in the forecastle; and the two trembling traitors running up,
+besieged the cabin door, saying they durst not consort with the crew.
+Entreaties, cuffs, and kicks could not drive them back, so at their own
+instance they were put down in the ship’s run for salvation. Still, no
+sign of mutiny reappeared among the rest. On the contrary, it seemed,
+that mainly at Steelkilt’s instigation, they had resolved to maintain
+the strictest peacefulness, obey all orders to the last, and, when the
+ship reached port, desert her in a body. But in order to insure the
+speediest end to the voyage, they all agreed to another thing—namely,
+not to sing out for whales, in case any should be discovered. For,
+spite of her leak, and spite of all her other perils, the Town-Ho still
+maintained her mast-heads, and her captain was just as willing to lower
+for a fish that moment, as on the day his craft first struck the
+cruising ground; and Radney the mate was quite as ready to change his
+berth for a boat, and with his bandaged mouth seek to gag in death the
+vital jaw of the whale.
+
+“But though the Lakeman had induced the seamen to adopt this sort of
+passiveness in their conduct, he kept his own counsel (at least till
+all was over) concerning his own proper and private revenge upon the
+man who had stung him in the ventricles of his heart. He was in Radney
+the chief mate’s watch; and as if the infatuated man sought to run more
+than half way to meet his doom, after the scene at the rigging, he
+insisted, against the express counsel of the captain, upon resuming the
+head of his watch at night. Upon this, and one or two other
+circumstances, Steelkilt systematically built the plan of his revenge.
+
+“During the night, Radney had an unseamanlike way of sitting on the
+bulwarks of the quarter-deck, and leaning his arm upon the gunwale of
+the boat which was hoisted up there, a little above the ship’s side. In
+this attitude, it was well known, he sometimes dozed. There was a
+considerable vacancy between the boat and the ship, and down between
+this was the sea. Steelkilt calculated his time, and found that his
+next trick at the helm would come round at two o’clock, in the morning
+of the third day from that in which he had been betrayed. At his
+leisure, he employed the interval in braiding something very carefully
+in his watches below.
+
+“‘What are you making there?’ said a shipmate.
+
+“‘What do you think? what does it look like?’
+
+“‘Like a lanyard for your bag; but it’s an odd one, seems to me.’
+
+“‘Yes, rather oddish,’ said the Lakeman, holding it at arm’s length
+before him; ‘but I think it will answer. Shipmate, I haven’t enough
+twine,—have you any?’
+
+“But there was none in the forecastle.
+
+“‘Then I must get some from old Rad;’ and he rose to go aft.
+
+“‘You don’t mean to go a begging to _him!_’ said a sailor.
+
+“‘Why not? Do you think he won’t do me a turn, when it’s to help
+himself in the end, shipmate?’ and going to the mate, he looked at him
+quietly, and asked him for some twine to mend his hammock. It was given
+him—neither twine nor lanyard were seen again; but the next night an
+iron ball, closely netted, partly rolled from the pocket of the
+Lakeman’s monkey jacket, as he was tucking the coat into his hammock
+for a pillow. Twenty-four hours after, his trick at the silent
+helm—nigh to the man who was apt to doze over the grave always ready
+dug to the seaman’s hand—that fatal hour was then to come; and in the
+fore-ordaining soul of Steelkilt, the mate was already stark and
+stretched as a corpse, with his forehead crushed in.
+
+“But, gentlemen, a fool saved the would-be murderer from the bloody
+deed he had planned. Yet complete revenge he had, and without being the
+avenger. For by a mysterious fatality, Heaven itself seemed to step in
+to take out of his hands into its own the damning thing he would have
+done.
+
+“It was just between daybreak and sunrise of the morning of the second
+day, when they were washing down the decks, that a stupid Teneriffe
+man, drawing water in the main-chains, all at once shouted out, ‘There
+she rolls! there she rolls!’ Jesu, what a whale! It was Moby Dick.
+
+“‘Moby Dick!’ cried Don Sebastian; ‘St. Dominic! Sir sailor, but do
+whales have christenings? Whom call you Moby Dick?’
+
+“‘A very white, and famous, and most deadly immortal monster, Don;—but
+that would be too long a story.’
+
+“‘How? how?’ cried all the young Spaniards, crowding.
+
+“‘Nay, Dons, Dons—nay, nay! I cannot rehearse that now. Let me get more
+into the air, Sirs.’
+
+“‘The chicha! the chicha!’ cried Don Pedro; ‘our vigorous friend looks
+faint;—fill up his empty glass!’
+
+“No need, gentlemen; one moment, and I proceed.—Now, gentlemen, so
+suddenly perceiving the snowy whale within fifty yards of the
+ship—forgetful of the compact among the crew—in the excitement of the
+moment, the Teneriffe man had instinctively and involuntarily lifted
+his voice for the monster, though for some little time past it had been
+plainly beheld from the three sullen mast-heads. All was now a phrensy.
+‘The White Whale—the White Whale!’ was the cry from captain, mates, and
+harpooneers, who, undeterred by fearful rumours, were all anxious to
+capture so famous and precious a fish; while the dogged crew eyed
+askance, and with curses, the appalling beauty of the vast milky mass,
+that lit up by a horizontal spangling sun, shifted and glistened like a
+living opal in the blue morning sea. Gentlemen, a strange fatality
+pervades the whole career of these events, as if verily mapped out
+before the world itself was charted. The mutineer was the bowsman of
+the mate, and when fast to a fish, it was his duty to sit next him,
+while Radney stood up with his lance in the prow, and haul in or
+slacken the line, at the word of command. Moreover, when the four boats
+were lowered, the mate’s got the start; and none howled more fiercely
+with delight than did Steelkilt, as he strained at his oar. After a
+stiff pull, their harpooneer got fast, and, spear in hand, Radney
+sprang to the bow. He was always a furious man, it seems, in a boat.
+And now his bandaged cry was, to beach him on the whale’s topmost back.
+Nothing loath, his bowsman hauled him up and up, through a blinding
+foam that blent two whitenesses together; till of a sudden the boat
+struck as against a sunken ledge, and keeling over, spilled out the
+standing mate. That instant, as he fell on the whale’s slippery back,
+the boat righted, and was dashed aside by the swell, while Radney was
+tossed over into the sea, on the other flank of the whale. He struck
+out through the spray, and, for an instant, was dimly seen through that
+veil, wildly seeking to remove himself from the eye of Moby Dick. But
+the whale rushed round in a sudden maelstrom; seized the swimmer
+between his jaws; and rearing high up with him, plunged headlong again,
+and went down.
+
+“Meantime, at the first tap of the boat’s bottom, the Lakeman had
+slackened the line, so as to drop astern from the whirlpool; calmly
+looking on, he thought his own thoughts. But a sudden, terrific,
+downward jerking of the boat, quickly brought his knife to the line. He
+cut it; and the whale was free. But, at some distance, Moby Dick rose
+again, with some tatters of Radney’s red woollen shirt, caught in the
+teeth that had destroyed him. All four boats gave chase again; but the
+whale eluded them, and finally wholly disappeared.
+
+“In good time, the Town-Ho reached her port—a savage, solitary
+place—where no civilized creature resided. There, headed by the
+Lakeman, all but five or six of the foremastmen deliberately deserted
+among the palms; eventually, as it turned out, seizing a large double
+war-canoe of the savages, and setting sail for some other harbor.
+
+“The ship’s company being reduced to but a handful, the captain called
+upon the Islanders to assist him in the laborious business of heaving
+down the ship to stop the leak. But to such unresting vigilance over
+their dangerous allies was this small band of whites necessitated, both
+by night and by day, and so extreme was the hard work they underwent,
+that upon the vessel being ready again for sea, they were in such a
+weakened condition that the captain durst not put off with them in so
+heavy a vessel. After taking counsel with his officers, he anchored the
+ship as far off shore as possible; loaded and ran out his two cannon
+from the bows; stacked his muskets on the poop; and warning the
+Islanders not to approach the ship at their peril, took one man with
+him, and setting the sail of his best whale-boat, steered straight
+before the wind for Tahiti, five hundred miles distant, to procure a
+reinforcement to his crew.
+
+“On the fourth day of the sail, a large canoe was descried, which
+seemed to have touched at a low isle of corals. He steered away from
+it; but the savage craft bore down on him; and soon the voice of
+Steelkilt hailed him to heave to, or he would run him under water. The
+captain presented a pistol. With one foot on each prow of the yoked
+war-canoes, the Lakeman laughed him to scorn; assuring him that if the
+pistol so much as clicked in the lock, he would bury him in bubbles and
+foam.
+
+“‘What do you want of me?’ cried the captain.
+
+“‘Where are you bound? and for what are you bound?’ demanded Steelkilt;
+‘no lies.’
+
+“‘I am bound to Tahiti for more men.’
+
+“‘Very good. Let me board you a moment—I come in peace.’ With that he
+leaped from the canoe, swam to the boat; and climbing the gunwale,
+stood face to face with the captain.
+
+“‘Cross your arms, sir; throw back your head. Now, repeat after me. As
+soon as Steelkilt leaves me, I swear to beach this boat on yonder
+island, and remain there six days. If I do not, may lightnings strike
+me!’
+
+“‘A pretty scholar,’ laughed the Lakeman. ‘Adios, Senor!’ and leaping
+into the sea, he swam back to his comrades.
+
+“Watching the boat till it was fairly beached, and drawn up to the
+roots of the cocoa-nut trees, Steelkilt made sail again, and in due
+time arrived at Tahiti, his own place of destination. There, luck
+befriended him; two ships were about to sail for France, and were
+providentially in want of precisely that number of men which the sailor
+headed. They embarked; and so for ever got the start of their former
+captain, had he been at all minded to work them legal retribution.
+
+“Some ten days after the French ships sailed, the whale-boat arrived,
+and the captain was forced to enlist some of the more civilized
+Tahitians, who had been somewhat used to the sea. Chartering a small
+native schooner, he returned with them to his vessel; and finding all
+right there, again resumed his cruisings.
+
+“Where Steelkilt now is, gentlemen, none know; but upon the island of
+Nantucket, the widow of Radney still turns to the sea which refuses to
+give up its dead; still in dreams sees the awful white whale that
+destroyed him.  * * * *
+
+“‘Are you through?’ said Don Sebastian, quietly.
+
+“‘I am, Don.’
+
+“‘Then I entreat you, tell me if to the best of your own convictions,
+this your story is in substance really true? It is so passing
+wonderful! Did you get it from an unquestionable source? Bear with me
+if I seem to press.’
+
+“‘Also bear with all of us, sir sailor; for we all join in Don
+Sebastian’s suit,’ cried the company, with exceeding interest.
+
+“‘Is there a copy of the Holy Evangelists in the Golden Inn,
+gentlemen?’
+
+“‘Nay,’ said Don Sebastian; ‘but I know a worthy priest near by, who
+will quickly procure one for me. I go for it; but are you well advised?
+this may grow too serious.’
+
+“‘Will you be so good as to bring the priest also, Don?’
+
+“‘Though there are no Auto-da-Fés in Lima now,’ said one of the company
+to another; ‘I fear our sailor friend runs risk of the archiepiscopacy.
+Let us withdraw more out of the moonlight. I see no need of this.’
+
+“‘Excuse me for running after you, Don Sebastian; but may I also beg
+that you will be particular in procuring the largest sized Evangelists
+you can.’
+
+* * * * * *
+
+“‘This is the priest, he brings you the Evangelists,’ said Don
+Sebastian, gravely, returning with a tall and solemn figure.
+
+“‘Let me remove my hat. Now, venerable priest, further into the light,
+and hold the Holy Book before me that I may touch it.
+
+“‘So help me Heaven, and on my honor the story I have told ye,
+gentlemen, is in substance and its great items, true. I know it to be
+true; it happened on this ball; I trod the ship; I knew the crew; I
+have seen and talked with Steelkilt since the death of Radney.’”
+
+
+CHAPTER 55. Of the Monstrous Pictures of Whales.
+
+I shall ere long paint to you as well as one can without canvas,
+something like the true form of the whale as he actually appears to the
+eye of the whaleman when in his own absolute body the whale is moored
+alongside the whale-ship so that he can be fairly stepped upon there.
+It may be worth while, therefore, previously to advert to those curious
+imaginary portraits of him which even down to the present day
+confidently challenge the faith of the landsman. It is time to set the
+world right in this matter, by proving such pictures of the whale all
+wrong.
+
+It may be that the primal source of all those pictorial delusions will
+be found among the oldest Hindoo, Egyptian, and Grecian sculptures. For
+ever since those inventive but unscrupulous times when on the marble
+panellings of temples, the pedestals of statues, and on shields,
+medallions, cups, and coins, the dolphin was drawn in scales of
+chain-armor like Saladin’s, and a helmeted head like St. George’s; ever
+since then has something of the same sort of license prevailed, not
+only in most popular pictures of the whale, but in many scientific
+presentations of him.
+
+Now, by all odds, the most ancient extant portrait anyways purporting
+to be the whale’s, is to be found in the famous cavern-pagoda of
+Elephanta, in India. The Brahmins maintain that in the almost endless
+sculptures of that immemorial pagoda, all the trades and pursuits,
+every conceivable avocation of man, were prefigured ages before any of
+them actually came into being. No wonder then, that in some sort our
+noble profession of whaling should have been there shadowed forth. The
+Hindoo whale referred to, occurs in a separate department of the wall,
+depicting the incarnation of Vishnu in the form of leviathan, learnedly
+known as the Matse Avatar. But though this sculpture is half man and
+half whale, so as only to give the tail of the latter, yet that small
+section of him is all wrong. It looks more like the tapering tail of an
+anaconda, than the broad palms of the true whale’s majestic flukes.
+
+But go to the old Galleries, and look now at a great Christian
+painter’s portrait of this fish; for he succeeds no better than the
+antediluvian Hindoo. It is Guido’s picture of Perseus rescuing
+Andromeda from the sea-monster or whale. Where did Guido get the model
+of such a strange creature as that? Nor does Hogarth, in painting the
+same scene in his own “Perseus Descending,” make out one whit better.
+The huge corpulence of that Hogarthian monster undulates on the
+surface, scarcely drawing one inch of water. It has a sort of howdah on
+its back, and its distended tusked mouth into which the billows are
+rolling, might be taken for the Traitors’ Gate leading from the Thames
+by water into the Tower. Then, there are the Prodromus whales of old
+Scotch Sibbald, and Jonah’s whale, as depicted in the prints of old
+Bibles and the cuts of old primers. What shall be said of these? As for
+the book-binder’s whale winding like a vine-stalk round the stock of a
+descending anchor—as stamped and gilded on the backs and title-pages of
+many books both old and new—that is a very picturesque but purely
+fabulous creature, imitated, I take it, from the like figures on
+antique vases. Though universally denominated a dolphin, I nevertheless
+call this book-binder’s fish an attempt at a whale; because it was so
+intended when the device was first introduced. It was introduced by an
+old Italian publisher somewhere about the 15th century, during the
+Revival of Learning; and in those days, and even down to a
+comparatively late period, dolphins were popularly supposed to be a
+species of the Leviathan.
+
+In the vignettes and other embellishments of some ancient books you
+will at times meet with very curious touches at the whale, where all
+manner of spouts, jets d’eau, hot springs and cold, Saratoga and
+Baden-Baden, come bubbling up from his unexhausted brain. In the
+title-page of the original edition of the “Advancement of Learning” you
+will find some curious whales.
+
+But quitting all these unprofessional attempts, let us glance at those
+pictures of leviathan purporting to be sober, scientific delineations,
+by those who know. In old Harris’s collection of voyages there are some
+plates of whales extracted from a Dutch book of voyages, A.D. 1671,
+entitled “A Whaling Voyage to Spitzbergen in the ship Jonas in the
+Whale, Peter Peterson of Friesland, master.” In one of those plates the
+whales, like great rafts of logs, are represented lying among
+ice-isles, with white bears running over their living backs. In another
+plate, the prodigious blunder is made of representing the whale with
+perpendicular flukes.
+
+Then again, there is an imposing quarto, written by one Captain
+Colnett, a Post Captain in the English navy, entitled “A Voyage round
+Cape Horn into the South Seas, for the purpose of extending the
+Spermaceti Whale Fisheries.” In this book is an outline purporting to
+be a “Picture of a Physeter or Spermaceti whale, drawn by scale from
+one killed on the coast of Mexico, August, 1793, and hoisted on deck.”
+I doubt not the captain had this veracious picture taken for the
+benefit of his marines. To mention but one thing about it, let me say
+that it has an eye which applied, according to the accompanying scale,
+to a full grown sperm whale, would make the eye of that whale a
+bow-window some five feet long. Ah, my gallant captain, why did ye not
+give us Jonah looking out of that eye!
+
+Nor are the most conscientious compilations of Natural History for the
+benefit of the young and tender, free from the same heinousness of
+mistake. Look at that popular work “Goldsmith’s Animated Nature.” In
+the abridged London edition of 1807, there are plates of an alleged
+“whale” and a “narwhale.” I do not wish to seem inelegant, but this
+unsightly whale looks much like an amputated sow; and, as for the
+narwhale, one glimpse at it is enough to amaze one, that in this
+nineteenth century such a hippogriff could be palmed for genuine upon
+any intelligent public of schoolboys.
+
+Then, again, in 1825, Bernard Germain, Count de Lacépède, a great
+naturalist, published a scientific systemized whale book, wherein are
+several pictures of the different species of the Leviathan. All these
+are not only incorrect, but the picture of the Mysticetus or Greenland
+whale (that is to say, the Right whale), even Scoresby, a long
+experienced man as touching that species, declares not to have its
+counterpart in nature.
+
+But the placing of the cap-sheaf to all this blundering business was
+reserved for the scientific Frederick Cuvier, brother to the famous
+Baron. In 1836, he published a Natural History of Whales, in which he
+gives what he calls a picture of the Sperm Whale. Before showing that
+picture to any Nantucketer, you had best provide for your summary
+retreat from Nantucket. In a word, Frederick Cuvier’s Sperm Whale is
+not a Sperm Whale, but a squash. Of course, he never had the benefit of
+a whaling voyage (such men seldom have), but whence he derived that
+picture, who can tell? Perhaps he got it as his scientific predecessor
+in the same field, Desmarest, got one of his authentic abortions; that
+is, from a Chinese drawing. And what sort of lively lads with the
+pencil those Chinese are, many queer cups and saucers inform us.
+
+As for the sign-painters’ whales seen in the streets hanging over the
+shops of oil-dealers, what shall be said of them? They are generally
+Richard III. whales, with dromedary humps, and very savage;
+breakfasting on three or four sailor tarts, that is whaleboats full of
+mariners: their deformities floundering in seas of blood and blue
+paint.
+
+But these manifold mistakes in depicting the whale are not so very
+surprising after all. Consider! Most of the scientific drawings have
+been taken from the stranded fish; and these are about as correct as a
+drawing of a wrecked ship, with broken back, would correctly represent
+the noble animal itself in all its undashed pride of hull and spars.
+Though elephants have stood for their full-lengths, the living
+Leviathan has never yet fairly floated himself for his portrait. The
+living whale, in his full majesty and significance, is only to be seen
+at sea in unfathomable waters; and afloat the vast bulk of him is out
+of sight, like a launched line-of-battle ship; and out of that element
+it is a thing eternally impossible for mortal man to hoist him bodily
+into the air, so as to preserve all his mighty swells and undulations.
+And, not to speak of the highly presumable difference of contour
+between a young sucking whale and a full-grown Platonian Leviathan;
+yet, even in the case of one of those young sucking whales hoisted to a
+ship’s deck, such is then the outlandish, eel-like, limbered, varying
+shape of him, that his precise expression the devil himself could not
+catch.
+
+But it may be fancied, that from the naked skeleton of the stranded
+whale, accurate hints may be derived touching his true form. Not at
+all. For it is one of the more curious things about this Leviathan,
+that his skeleton gives very little idea of his general shape. Though
+Jeremy Bentham’s skeleton, which hangs for candelabra in the library of
+one of his executors, correctly conveys the idea of a burly-browed
+utilitarian old gentleman, with all Jeremy’s other leading personal
+characteristics; yet nothing of this kind could be inferred from any
+leviathan’s articulated bones. In fact, as the great Hunter says, the
+mere skeleton of the whale bears the same relation to the fully
+invested and padded animal as the insect does to the chrysalis that so
+roundingly envelopes it. This peculiarity is strikingly evinced in the
+head, as in some part of this book will be incidentally shown. It is
+also very curiously displayed in the side fin, the bones of which
+almost exactly answer to the bones of the human hand, minus only the
+thumb. This fin has four regular bone-fingers, the index, middle, ring,
+and little finger. But all these are permanently lodged in their fleshy
+covering, as the human fingers in an artificial covering. “However
+recklessly the whale may sometimes serve us,” said humorous Stubb one
+day, “he can never be truly said to handle us without mittens.”
+
+For all these reasons, then, any way you may look at it, you must needs
+conclude that the great Leviathan is that one creature in the world
+which must remain unpainted to the last. True, one portrait may hit the
+mark much nearer than another, but none can hit it with any very
+considerable degree of exactness. So there is no earthly way of finding
+out precisely what the whale really looks like. And the only mode in
+which you can derive even a tolerable idea of his living contour, is by
+going a whaling yourself; but by so doing, you run no small risk of
+being eternally stove and sunk by him. Wherefore, it seems to me you
+had best not be too fastidious in your curiosity touching this
+Leviathan.
+
+
+CHAPTER 56. Of the Less Erroneous Pictures of Whales, and the True
+Pictures of Whaling Scenes.
+
+In connexion with the monstrous pictures of whales, I am strongly
+tempted here to enter upon those still more monstrous stories of them
+which are to be found in certain books, both ancient and modern,
+especially in Pliny, Purchas, Hackluyt, Harris, Cuvier, etc. But I pass
+that matter by.
+
+I know of only four published outlines of the great Sperm Whale;
+Colnett’s, Huggins’s, Frederick Cuvier’s, and Beale’s. In the previous
+chapter Colnett and Cuvier have been referred to. Huggins’s is far
+better than theirs; but, by great odds, Beale’s is the best. All
+Beale’s drawings of this whale are good, excepting the middle figure in
+the picture of three whales in various attitudes, capping his second
+chapter. His frontispiece, boats attacking Sperm Whales, though no
+doubt calculated to excite the civil scepticism of some parlor men, is
+admirably correct and life-like in its general effect. Some of the
+Sperm Whale drawings in J. Ross Browne are pretty correct in contour;
+but they are wretchedly engraved. That is not his fault though.
+
+Of the Right Whale, the best outline pictures are in Scoresby; but they
+are drawn on too small a scale to convey a desirable impression. He has
+but one picture of whaling scenes, and this is a sad deficiency,
+because it is by such pictures only, when at all well done, that you
+can derive anything like a truthful idea of the living whale as seen by
+his living hunters.
+
+But, taken for all in all, by far the finest, though in some details
+not the most correct, presentations of whales and whaling scenes to be
+anywhere found, are two large French engravings, well executed, and
+taken from paintings by one Garnery. Respectively, they represent
+attacks on the Sperm and Right Whale. In the first engraving a noble
+Sperm Whale is depicted in full majesty of might, just risen beneath
+the boat from the profundities of the ocean, and bearing high in the
+air upon his back the terrific wreck of the stoven planks. The prow of
+the boat is partially unbroken, and is drawn just balancing upon the
+monster’s spine; and standing in that prow, for that one single
+incomputable flash of time, you behold an oarsman, half shrouded by the
+incensed boiling spout of the whale, and in the act of leaping, as if
+from a precipice. The action of the whole thing is wonderfully good and
+true. The half-emptied line-tub floats on the whitened sea; the wooden
+poles of the spilled harpoons obliquely bob in it; the heads of the
+swimming crew are scattered about the whale in contrasting expressions
+of affright; while in the black stormy distance the ship is bearing
+down upon the scene. Serious fault might be found with the anatomical
+details of this whale, but let that pass; since, for the life of me, I
+could not draw so good a one.
+
+In the second engraving, the boat is in the act of drawing alongside
+the barnacled flank of a large running Right Whale, that rolls his
+black weedy bulk in the sea like some mossy rock-slide from the
+Patagonian cliffs. His jets are erect, full, and black like soot; so
+that from so abounding a smoke in the chimney, you would think there
+must be a brave supper cooking in the great bowels below. Sea fowls are
+pecking at the small crabs, shell-fish, and other sea candies and
+maccaroni, which the Right Whale sometimes carries on his pestilent
+back. And all the while the thick-lipped leviathan is rushing through
+the deep, leaving tons of tumultuous white curds in his wake, and
+causing the slight boat to rock in the swells like a skiff caught nigh
+the paddle-wheels of an ocean steamer. Thus, the foreground is all
+raging commotion; but behind, in admirable artistic contrast, is the
+glassy level of a sea becalmed, the drooping unstarched sails of the
+powerless ship, and the inert mass of a dead whale, a conquered
+fortress, with the flag of capture lazily hanging from the whale-pole
+inserted into his spout-hole.
+
+Who Garnery the painter is, or was, I know not. But my life for it he
+was either practically conversant with his subject, or else
+marvellously tutored by some experienced whaleman. The French are the
+lads for painting action. Go and gaze upon all the paintings of Europe,
+and where will you find such a gallery of living and breathing
+commotion on canvas, as in that triumphal hall at Versailles; where the
+beholder fights his way, pell-mell, through the consecutive great
+battles of France; where every sword seems a flash of the Northern
+Lights, and the successive armed kings and Emperors dash by, like a
+charge of crowned centaurs? Not wholly unworthy of a place in that
+gallery, are these sea battle-pieces of Garnery.
+
+The natural aptitude of the French for seizing the picturesqueness of
+things seems to be peculiarly evinced in what paintings and engravings
+they have of their whaling scenes. With not one tenth of England’s
+experience in the fishery, and not the thousandth part of that of the
+Americans, they have nevertheless furnished both nations with the only
+finished sketches at all capable of conveying the real spirit of the
+whale hunt. For the most part, the English and American whale
+draughtsmen seem entirely content with presenting the mechanical
+outline of things, such as the vacant profile of the whale; which, so
+far as picturesqueness of effect is concerned, is about tantamount to
+sketching the profile of a pyramid. Even Scoresby, the justly renowned
+Right whaleman, after giving us a stiff full length of the Greenland
+whale, and three or four delicate miniatures of narwhales and
+porpoises, treats us to a series of classical engravings of boat hooks,
+chopping knives, and grapnels; and with the microscopic diligence of a
+Leuwenhoeck submits to the inspection of a shivering world ninety-six
+fac-similes of magnified Arctic snow crystals. I mean no disparagement
+to the excellent voyager (I honor him for a veteran), but in so
+important a matter it was certainly an oversight not to have procured
+for every crystal a sworn affidavit taken before a Greenland Justice of
+the Peace.
+
+In addition to those fine engravings from Garnery, there are two other
+French engravings worthy of note, by some one who subscribes himself
+“H. Durand.” One of them, though not precisely adapted to our present
+purpose, nevertheless deserves mention on other accounts. It is a quiet
+noon-scene among the isles of the Pacific; a French whaler anchored,
+inshore, in a calm, and lazily taking water on board; the loosened
+sails of the ship, and the long leaves of the palms in the background,
+both drooping together in the breezeless air. The effect is very fine,
+when considered with reference to its presenting the hardy fishermen
+under one of their few aspects of oriental repose. The other engraving
+is quite a different affair: the ship hove-to upon the open sea, and in
+the very heart of the Leviathanic life, with a Right Whale alongside;
+the vessel (in the act of cutting-in) hove over to the monster as if to
+a quay; and a boat, hurriedly pushing off from this scene of activity,
+is about giving chase to whales in the distance. The harpoons and
+lances lie levelled for use; three oarsmen are just setting the mast in
+its hole; while from a sudden roll of the sea, the little craft stands
+half-erect out of the water, like a rearing horse. From the ship, the
+smoke of the torments of the boiling whale is going up like the smoke
+over a village of smithies; and to windward, a black cloud, rising up
+with earnest of squalls and rains, seems to quicken the activity of the
+excited seamen.
+
+
+CHAPTER 57. Of Whales in Paint; in Teeth; in Wood; in Sheet-Iron; in
+Stone; in Mountains; in Stars.
+
+On Tower-hill, as you go down to the London docks, you may have seen a
+crippled beggar (or _kedger_, as the sailors say) holding a painted
+board before him, representing the tragic scene in which he lost his
+leg. There are three whales and three boats; and one of the boats
+(presumed to contain the missing leg in all its original integrity) is
+being crunched by the jaws of the foremost whale. Any time these ten
+years, they tell me, has that man held up that picture, and exhibited
+that stump to an incredulous world. But the time of his justification
+has now come. His three whales are as good whales as were ever
+published in Wapping, at any rate; and his stump as unquestionable a
+stump as any you will find in the western clearings. But, though for
+ever mounted on that stump, never a stump-speech does the poor whaleman
+make; but, with downcast eyes, stands ruefully contemplating his own
+amputation.
+
+Throughout the Pacific, and also in Nantucket, and New Bedford, and Sag
+Harbor, you will come across lively sketches of whales and
+whaling-scenes, graven by the fishermen themselves on Sperm
+Whale-teeth, or ladies’ busks wrought out of the Right Whale-bone, and
+other like skrimshander articles, as the whalemen call the numerous
+little ingenious contrivances they elaborately carve out of the rough
+material, in their hours of ocean leisure. Some of them have little
+boxes of dentistical-looking implements, specially intended for the
+skrimshandering business. But, in general, they toil with their
+jack-knives alone; and, with that almost omnipotent tool of the sailor,
+they will turn you out anything you please, in the way of a mariner’s
+fancy.
+
+Long exile from Christendom and civilization inevitably restores a man
+to that condition in which God placed him, _i.e._ what is called
+savagery. Your true whale-hunter is as much a savage as an Iroquois. I
+myself am a savage, owning no allegiance but to the King of the
+Cannibals; and ready at any moment to rebel against him.
+
+Now, one of the peculiar characteristics of the savage in his domestic
+hours, is his wonderful patience of industry. An ancient Hawaiian
+war-club or spear-paddle, in its full multiplicity and elaboration of
+carving, is as great a trophy of human perseverance as a Latin lexicon.
+For, with but a bit of broken sea-shell or a shark’s tooth, that
+miraculous intricacy of wooden net-work has been achieved; and it has
+cost steady years of steady application.
+
+As with the Hawaiian savage, so with the white sailor-savage. With the
+same marvellous patience, and with the same single shark’s tooth, of
+his one poor jack-knife, he will carve you a bit of bone sculpture, not
+quite as workmanlike, but as close packed in its maziness of design, as
+the Greek savage, Achilles’s shield; and full of barbaric spirit and
+suggestiveness, as the prints of that fine old Dutch savage, Albert
+Durer.
+
+Wooden whales, or whales cut in profile out of the small dark slabs of
+the noble South Sea war-wood, are frequently met with in the
+forecastles of American whalers. Some of them are done with much
+accuracy.
+
+At some old gable-roofed country houses you will see brass whales hung
+by the tail for knockers to the road-side door. When the porter is
+sleepy, the anvil-headed whale would be best. But these knocking whales
+are seldom remarkable as faithful essays. On the spires of some
+old-fashioned churches you will see sheet-iron whales placed there for
+weather-cocks; but they are so elevated, and besides that are to all
+intents and purposes so labelled with “_Hands off!_” you cannot examine
+them closely enough to decide upon their merit.
+
+In bony, ribby regions of the earth, where at the base of high broken
+cliffs masses of rock lie strewn in fantastic groupings upon the plain,
+you will often discover images as of the petrified forms of the
+Leviathan partly merged in grass, which of a windy day breaks against
+them in a surf of green surges.
+
+Then, again, in mountainous countries where the traveller is
+continually girdled by amphitheatrical heights; here and there from
+some lucky point of view you will catch passing glimpses of the
+profiles of whales defined along the undulating ridges. But you must be
+a thorough whaleman, to see these sights; and not only that, but if you
+wish to return to such a sight again, you must be sure and take the
+exact intersecting latitude and longitude of your first stand-point,
+else so chance-like are such observations of the hills, that your
+precise, previous stand-point would require a laborious re-discovery;
+like the Soloma Islands, which still remain incognita, though once
+high-ruffed Mendanna trod them and old Figuera chronicled them.
+
+Nor when expandingly lifted by your subject, can you fail to trace out
+great whales in the starry heavens, and boats in pursuit of them; as
+when long filled with thoughts of war the Eastern nations saw armies
+locked in battle among the clouds. Thus at the North have I chased
+Leviathan round and round the Pole with the revolutions of the bright
+points that first defined him to me. And beneath the effulgent
+Antarctic skies I have boarded the Argo-Navis, and joined the chase
+against the starry Cetus far beyond the utmost stretch of Hydrus and
+the Flying Fish.
+
+With a frigate’s anchors for my bridle-bitts and fasces of harpoons for
+spurs, would I could mount that whale and leap the topmost skies, to
+see whether the fabled heavens with all their countless tents really
+lie encamped beyond my mortal sight!
+
+
+CHAPTER 58. Brit.
+
+Steering north-eastward from the Crozetts, we fell in with vast meadows
+of brit, the minute, yellow substance, upon which the Right Whale
+largely feeds. For leagues and leagues it undulated round us, so that
+we seemed to be sailing through boundless fields of ripe and golden
+wheat.
+
+On the second day, numbers of Right Whales were seen, who, secure from
+the attack of a Sperm Whaler like the Pequod, with open jaws sluggishly
+swam through the brit, which, adhering to the fringing fibres of that
+wondrous Venetian blind in their mouths, was in that manner separated
+from the water that escaped at the lip.
+
+As morning mowers, who side by side slowly and seethingly advance their
+scythes through the long wet grass of marshy meads; even so these
+monsters swam, making a strange, grassy, cutting sound; and leaving
+behind them endless swaths of blue upon the yellow sea.*
+
+*That part of the sea known among whalemen as the “Brazil Banks” does
+not bear that name as the Banks of Newfoundland do, because of there
+being shallows and soundings there, but because of this remarkable
+meadow-like appearance, caused by the vast drifts of brit continually
+floating in those latitudes, where the Right Whale is often chased.
+
+But it was only the sound they made as they parted the brit which at
+all reminded one of mowers. Seen from the mast-heads, especially when
+they paused and were stationary for a while, their vast black forms
+looked more like lifeless masses of rock than anything else. And as in
+the great hunting countries of India, the stranger at a distance will
+sometimes pass on the plains recumbent elephants without knowing them
+to be such, taking them for bare, blackened elevations of the soil;
+even so, often, with him, who for the first time beholds this species
+of the leviathans of the sea. And even when recognised at last, their
+immense magnitude renders it very hard really to believe that such
+bulky masses of overgrowth can possibly be instinct, in all parts, with
+the same sort of life that lives in a dog or a horse.
+
+Indeed, in other respects, you can hardly regard any creatures of the
+deep with the same feelings that you do those of the shore. For though
+some old naturalists have maintained that all creatures of the land are
+of their kind in the sea; and though taking a broad general view of the
+thing, this may very well be; yet coming to specialties, where, for
+example, does the ocean furnish any fish that in disposition answers to
+the sagacious kindness of the dog? The accursed shark alone can in any
+generic respect be said to bear comparative analogy to him.
+
+But though, to landsmen in general, the native inhabitants of the seas
+have ever been regarded with emotions unspeakably unsocial and
+repelling; though we know the sea to be an everlasting terra incognita,
+so that Columbus sailed over numberless unknown worlds to discover his
+one superficial western one; though, by vast odds, the most terrific of
+all mortal disasters have immemorially and indiscriminately befallen
+tens and hundreds of thousands of those who have gone upon the waters;
+though but a moment’s consideration will teach, that however baby man
+may brag of his science and skill, and however much, in a flattering
+future, that science and skill may augment; yet for ever and for ever,
+to the crack of doom, the sea will insult and murder him, and pulverize
+the stateliest, stiffest frigate he can make; nevertheless, by the
+continual repetition of these very impressions, man has lost that sense
+of the full awfulness of the sea which aboriginally belongs to it.
+
+The first boat we read of, floated on an ocean, that with Portuguese
+vengeance had whelmed a whole world without leaving so much as a widow.
+That same ocean rolls now; that same ocean destroyed the wrecked ships
+of last year. Yea, foolish mortals, Noah’s flood is not yet subsided;
+two thirds of the fair world it yet covers.
+
+Wherein differ the sea and the land, that a miracle upon one is not a
+miracle upon the other? Preternatural terrors rested upon the Hebrews,
+when under the feet of Korah and his company the live ground opened and
+swallowed them up for ever; yet not a modern sun ever sets, but in
+precisely the same manner the live sea swallows up ships and crews.
+
+But not only is the sea such a foe to man who is an alien to it, but it
+is also a fiend to its own off-spring; worse than the Persian host who
+murdered his own guests; sparing not the creatures which itself hath
+spawned. Like a savage tigress that tossing in the jungle overlays her
+own cubs, so the sea dashes even the mightiest whales against the
+rocks, and leaves them there side by side with the split wrecks of
+ships. No mercy, no power but its own controls it. Panting and snorting
+like a mad battle steed that has lost its rider, the masterless ocean
+overruns the globe.
+
+Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures
+glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously
+hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. Consider also the devilish
+brilliance and beauty of many of its most remorseless tribes, as the
+dainty embellished shape of many species of sharks. Consider, once
+more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey
+upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began.
+
+Consider all this; and then turn to this green, gentle, and most docile
+earth; consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a
+strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean
+surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one
+insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the
+horrors of the half known life. God keep thee! Push not off from that
+isle, thou canst never return!
+
+
+CHAPTER 59. Squid.
+
+Slowly wading through the meadows of brit, the Pequod still held on her
+way north-eastward towards the island of Java; a gentle air impelling
+her keel, so that in the surrounding serenity her three tall tapering
+masts mildly waved to that languid breeze, as three mild palms on a
+plain. And still, at wide intervals in the silvery night, the lonely,
+alluring jet would be seen.
+
+But one transparent blue morning, when a stillness almost preternatural
+spread over the sea, however unattended with any stagnant calm; when
+the long burnished sun-glade on the waters seemed a golden finger laid
+across them, enjoining some secrecy; when the slippered waves whispered
+together as they softly ran on; in this profound hush of the visible
+sphere a strange spectre was seen by Daggoo from the main-mast-head.
+
+In the distance, a great white mass lazily rose, and rising higher and
+higher, and disentangling itself from the azure, at last gleamed before
+our prow like a snow-slide, new slid from the hills. Thus glistening
+for a moment, as slowly it subsided, and sank. Then once more arose,
+and silently gleamed. It seemed not a whale; and yet is this Moby Dick?
+thought Daggoo. Again the phantom went down, but on re-appearing once
+more, with a stiletto-like cry that startled every man from his nod,
+the negro yelled out—“There! there again! there she breaches! right
+ahead! The White Whale, the White Whale!”
+
+Upon this, the seamen rushed to the yard-arms, as in swarming-time the
+bees rush to the boughs. Bare-headed in the sultry sun, Ahab stood on
+the bowsprit, and with one hand pushed far behind in readiness to wave
+his orders to the helmsman, cast his eager glance in the direction
+indicated aloft by the outstretched motionless arm of Daggoo.
+
+Whether the flitting attendance of the one still and solitary jet had
+gradually worked upon Ahab, so that he was now prepared to connect the
+ideas of mildness and repose with the first sight of the particular
+whale he pursued; however this was, or whether his eagerness betrayed
+him; whichever way it might have been, no sooner did he distinctly
+perceive the white mass, than with a quick intensity he instantly gave
+orders for lowering.
+
+The four boats were soon on the water; Ahab’s in advance, and all
+swiftly pulling towards their prey. Soon it went down, and while, with
+oars suspended, we were awaiting its reappearance, lo! in the same spot
+where it sank, once more it slowly rose. Almost forgetting for the
+moment all thoughts of Moby Dick, we now gazed at the most wondrous
+phenomenon which the secret seas have hitherto revealed to mankind. A
+vast pulpy mass, furlongs in length and breadth, of a glancing
+cream-colour, lay floating on the water, innumerable long arms
+radiating from its centre, and curling and twisting like a nest of
+anacondas, as if blindly to clutch at any hapless object within reach.
+No perceptible face or front did it have; no conceivable token of
+either sensation or instinct; but undulated there on the billows, an
+unearthly, formless, chance-like apparition of life.
+
+As with a low sucking sound it slowly disappeared again, Starbuck still
+gazing at the agitated waters where it had sunk, with a wild voice
+exclaimed—“Almost rather had I seen Moby Dick and fought him, than to
+have seen thee, thou white ghost!”
+
+“What was it, Sir?” said Flask.
+
+“The great live squid, which, they say, few whale-ships ever beheld,
+and returned to their ports to tell of it.”
+
+But Ahab said nothing; turning his boat, he sailed back to the vessel;
+the rest as silently following.
+
+Whatever superstitions the sperm whalemen in general have connected
+with the sight of this object, certain it is, that a glimpse of it
+being so very unusual, that circumstance has gone far to invest it with
+portentousness. So rarely is it beheld, that though one and all of them
+declare it to be the largest animated thing in the ocean, yet very few
+of them have any but the most vague ideas concerning its true nature
+and form; notwithstanding, they believe it to furnish to the sperm
+whale his only food. For though other species of whales find their food
+above water, and may be seen by man in the act of feeding, the
+spermaceti whale obtains his whole food in unknown zones below the
+surface; and only by inference is it that any one can tell of what,
+precisely, that food consists. At times, when closely pursued, he will
+disgorge what are supposed to be the detached arms of the squid; some
+of them thus exhibited exceeding twenty and thirty feet in length. They
+fancy that the monster to which these arms belonged ordinarily clings
+by them to the bed of the ocean; and that the sperm whale, unlike other
+species, is supplied with teeth in order to attack and tear it.
+
+There seems some ground to imagine that the great Kraken of Bishop
+Pontoppodan may ultimately resolve itself into Squid. The manner in
+which the Bishop describes it, as alternately rising and sinking, with
+some other particulars he narrates, in all this the two correspond. But
+much abatement is necessary with respect to the incredible bulk he
+assigns it.
+
+By some naturalists who have vaguely heard rumors of the mysterious
+creature, here spoken of, it is included among the class of
+cuttle-fish, to which, indeed, in certain external respects it would
+seem to belong, but only as the Anak of the tribe.
+
+
+CHAPTER 60. The Line.
+
+With reference to the whaling scene shortly to be described, as well as
+for the better understanding of all similar scenes elsewhere presented,
+I have here to speak of the magical, sometimes horrible whale-line.
+
+The line originally used in the fishery was of the best hemp, slightly
+vapored with tar, not impregnated with it, as in the case of ordinary
+ropes; for while tar, as ordinarily used, makes the hemp more pliable
+to the rope-maker, and also renders the rope itself more convenient to
+the sailor for common ship use; yet, not only would the ordinary
+quantity too much stiffen the whale-line for the close coiling to which
+it must be subjected; but as most seamen are beginning to learn, tar in
+general by no means adds to the rope’s durability or strength, however
+much it may give it compactness and gloss.
+
+Of late years the Manilla rope has in the American fishery almost
+entirely superseded hemp as a material for whale-lines; for, though not
+so durable as hemp, it is stronger, and far more soft and elastic; and
+I will add (since there is an æsthetics in all things), is much more
+handsome and becoming to the boat, than hemp. Hemp is a dusky, dark
+fellow, a sort of Indian; but Manilla is as a golden-haired Circassian
+to behold.
+
+The whale-line is only two-thirds of an inch in thickness. At first
+sight, you would not think it so strong as it really is. By experiment
+its one and fifty yarns will each suspend a weight of one hundred and
+twenty pounds; so that the whole rope will bear a strain nearly equal
+to three tons. In length, the common sperm whale-line measures
+something over two hundred fathoms. Towards the stern of the boat it is
+spirally coiled away in the tub, not like the worm-pipe of a still
+though, but so as to form one round, cheese-shaped mass of densely
+bedded “sheaves,” or layers of concentric spiralizations, without any
+hollow but the “heart,” or minute vertical tube formed at the axis of
+the cheese. As the least tangle or kink in the coiling would, in
+running out, infallibly take somebody’s arm, leg, or entire body off,
+the utmost precaution is used in stowing the line in its tub. Some
+harpooneers will consume almost an entire morning in this business,
+carrying the line high aloft and then reeving it downwards through a
+block towards the tub, so as in the act of coiling to free it from all
+possible wrinkles and twists.
+
+In the English boats two tubs are used instead of one; the same line
+being continuously coiled in both tubs. There is some advantage in
+this; because these twin-tubs being so small they fit more readily into
+the boat, and do not strain it so much; whereas, the American tub,
+nearly three feet in diameter and of proportionate depth, makes a
+rather bulky freight for a craft whose planks are but one half-inch in
+thickness; for the bottom of the whale-boat is like critical ice, which
+will bear up a considerable distributed weight, but not very much of a
+concentrated one. When the painted canvas cover is clapped on the
+American line-tub, the boat looks as if it were pulling off with a
+prodigious great wedding-cake to present to the whales.
+
+Both ends of the line are exposed; the lower end terminating in an
+eye-splice or loop coming up from the bottom against the side of the
+tub, and hanging over its edge completely disengaged from everything.
+This arrangement of the lower end is necessary on two accounts. First:
+In order to facilitate the fastening to it of an additional line from a
+neighboring boat, in case the stricken whale should sound so deep as to
+threaten to carry off the entire line originally attached to the
+harpoon. In these instances, the whale of course is shifted like a mug
+of ale, as it were, from the one boat to the other; though the first
+boat always hovers at hand to assist its consort. Second: This
+arrangement is indispensable for common safety’s sake; for were the
+lower end of the line in any way attached to the boat, and were the
+whale then to run the line out to the end almost in a single, smoking
+minute as he sometimes does, he would not stop there, for the doomed
+boat would infallibly be dragged down after him into the profundity of
+the sea; and in that case no town-crier would ever find her again.
+
+Before lowering the boat for the chase, the upper end of the line is
+taken aft from the tub, and passing round the loggerhead there, is
+again carried forward the entire length of the boat, resting crosswise
+upon the loom or handle of every man’s oar, so that it jogs against his
+wrist in rowing; and also passing between the men, as they alternately
+sit at the opposite gunwales, to the leaded chocks or grooves in the
+extreme pointed prow of the boat, where a wooden pin or skewer the size
+of a common quill, prevents it from slipping out. From the chocks it
+hangs in a slight festoon over the bows, and is then passed inside the
+boat again; and some ten or twenty fathoms (called box-line) being
+coiled upon the box in the bows, it continues its way to the gunwale
+still a little further aft, and is then attached to the short-warp—the
+rope which is immediately connected with the harpoon; but previous to
+that connexion, the short-warp goes through sundry mystifications too
+tedious to detail.
+
+Thus the whale-line folds the whole boat in its complicated coils,
+twisting and writhing around it in almost every direction. All the
+oarsmen are involved in its perilous contortions; so that to the timid
+eye of the landsman, they seem as Indian jugglers, with the deadliest
+snakes sportively festooning their limbs. Nor can any son of mortal
+woman, for the first time, seat himself amid those hempen intricacies,
+and while straining his utmost at the oar, bethink him that at any
+unknown instant the harpoon may be darted, and all these horrible
+contortions be put in play like ringed lightnings; he cannot be thus
+circumstanced without a shudder that makes the very marrow in his bones
+to quiver in him like a shaken jelly. Yet habit—strange thing! what
+cannot habit accomplish?—Gayer sallies, more merry mirth, better jokes,
+and brighter repartees, you never heard over your mahogany, than you
+will hear over the half-inch white cedar of the whale-boat, when thus
+hung in hangman’s nooses; and, like the six burghers of Calais before
+King Edward, the six men composing the crew pull into the jaws of
+death, with a halter around every neck, as you may say.
+
+Perhaps a very little thought will now enable you to account for those
+repeated whaling disasters—some few of which are casually chronicled—of
+this man or that man being taken out of the boat by the line, and lost.
+For, when the line is darting out, to be seated then in the boat, is
+like being seated in the midst of the manifold whizzings of a
+steam-engine in full play, when every flying beam, and shaft, and
+wheel, is grazing you. It is worse; for you cannot sit motionless in
+the heart of these perils, because the boat is rocking like a cradle,
+and you are pitched one way and the other, without the slightest
+warning; and only by a certain self-adjusting buoyancy and
+simultaneousness of volition and action, can you escape being made a
+Mazeppa of, and run away with where the all-seeing sun himself could
+never pierce you out.
+
+Again: as the profound calm which only apparently precedes and
+prophesies of the storm, is perhaps more awful than the storm itself;
+for, indeed, the calm is but the wrapper and envelope of the storm; and
+contains it in itself, as the seemingly harmless rifle holds the fatal
+powder, and the ball, and the explosion; so the graceful repose of the
+line, as it silently serpentines about the oarsmen before being brought
+into actual play—this is a thing which carries more of true terror than
+any other aspect of this dangerous affair. But why say more? All men
+live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their
+necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death,
+that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.
+And if you be a philosopher, though seated in the whale-boat, you would
+not at heart feel one whit more of terror, than though seated before
+your evening fire with a poker, and not a harpoon, by your side.
+
+
+CHAPTER 61. Stubb Kills a Whale.
+
+If to Starbuck the apparition of the Squid was a thing of portents, to
+Queequeg it was quite a different object.
+
+“When you see him ’quid,” said the savage, honing his harpoon in the
+bow of his hoisted boat, “then you quick see him ’parm whale.”
+
+The next day was exceedingly still and sultry, and with nothing special
+to engage them, the Pequod’s crew could hardly resist the spell of
+sleep induced by such a vacant sea. For this part of the Indian Ocean
+through which we then were voyaging is not what whalemen call a lively
+ground; that is, it affords fewer glimpses of porpoises, dolphins,
+flying-fish, and other vivacious denizens of more stirring waters, than
+those off the Rio de la Plata, or the in-shore ground off Peru.
+
+It was my turn to stand at the foremast-head; and with my shoulders
+leaning against the slackened royal shrouds, to and fro I idly swayed
+in what seemed an enchanted air. No resolution could withstand it; in
+that dreamy mood losing all consciousness, at last my soul went out of
+my body; though my body still continued to sway as a pendulum will,
+long after the power which first moved it is withdrawn.
+
+Ere forgetfulness altogether came over me, I had noticed that the
+seamen at the main and mizzen-mast-heads were already drowsy. So that
+at last all three of us lifelessly swung from the spars, and for every
+swing that we made there was a nod from below from the slumbering
+helmsman. The waves, too, nodded their indolent crests; and across the
+wide trance of the sea, east nodded to west, and the sun over all.
+
+Suddenly bubbles seemed bursting beneath my closed eyes; like vices my
+hands grasped the shrouds; some invisible, gracious agency preserved
+me; with a shock I came back to life. And lo! close under our lee, not
+forty fathoms off, a gigantic Sperm Whale lay rolling in the water like
+the capsized hull of a frigate, his broad, glossy back, of an Ethiopian
+hue, glistening in the sun’s rays like a mirror. But lazily undulating
+in the trough of the sea, and ever and anon tranquilly spouting his
+vapory jet, the whale looked like a portly burgher smoking his pipe of
+a warm afternoon. But that pipe, poor whale, was thy last. As if struck
+by some enchanter’s wand, the sleepy ship and every sleeper in it all
+at once started into wakefulness; and more than a score of voices from
+all parts of the vessel, simultaneously with the three notes from
+aloft, shouted forth the accustomed cry, as the great fish slowly and
+regularly spouted the sparkling brine into the air.
+
+“Clear away the boats! Luff!” cried Ahab. And obeying his own order, he
+dashed the helm down before the helmsman could handle the spokes.
+
+The sudden exclamations of the crew must have alarmed the whale; and
+ere the boats were down, majestically turning, he swam away to the
+leeward, but with such a steady tranquillity, and making so few ripples
+as he swam, that thinking after all he might not as yet be alarmed,
+Ahab gave orders that not an oar should be used, and no man must speak
+but in whispers. So seated like Ontario Indians on the gunwales of the
+boats, we swiftly but silently paddled along; the calm not admitting of
+the noiseless sails being set. Presently, as we thus glided in chase,
+the monster perpendicularly flitted his tail forty feet into the air,
+and then sank out of sight like a tower swallowed up.
+
+“There go flukes!” was the cry, an announcement immediately followed by
+Stubb’s producing his match and igniting his pipe, for now a respite
+was granted. After the full interval of his sounding had elapsed, the
+whale rose again, and being now in advance of the smoker’s boat, and
+much nearer to it than to any of the others, Stubb counted upon the
+honor of the capture. It was obvious, now, that the whale had at length
+become aware of his pursuers. All silence of cautiousness was therefore
+no longer of use. Paddles were dropped, and oars came loudly into play.
+And still puffing at his pipe, Stubb cheered on his crew to the
+assault.
+
+Yes, a mighty change had come over the fish. All alive to his jeopardy,
+he was going “head out”; that part obliquely projecting from the mad
+yeast which he brewed.*
+
+*It will be seen in some other place of what a very light substance the
+entire interior of the sperm whale’s enormous head consists. Though
+apparently the most massive, it is by far the most buoyant part about
+him. So that with ease he elevates it in the air, and invariably does
+so when going at his utmost speed. Besides, such is the breadth of the
+upper part of the front of his head, and such the tapering cut-water
+formation of the lower part, that by obliquely elevating his head, he
+thereby may be said to transform himself from a bluff-bowed sluggish
+galliot into a sharppointed New York pilot-boat.
+
+“Start her, start her, my men! Don’t hurry yourselves; take plenty of
+time—but start her; start her like thunder-claps, that’s all,” cried
+Stubb, spluttering out the smoke as he spoke. “Start her, now; give ’em
+the long and strong stroke, Tashtego. Start her, Tash, my boy—start
+her, all; but keep cool, keep cool—cucumbers is the word—easy,
+easy—only start her like grim death and grinning devils, and raise the
+buried dead perpendicular out of their graves, boys—that’s all. Start
+her!”
+
+“Woo-hoo! Wa-hee!” screamed the Gay-Header in reply, raising some old
+war-whoop to the skies; as every oarsman in the strained boat
+involuntarily bounced forward with the one tremendous leading stroke
+which the eager Indian gave.
+
+But his wild screams were answered by others quite as wild. “Kee-hee!
+Kee-hee!” yelled Daggoo, straining forwards and backwards on his seat,
+like a pacing tiger in his cage.
+
+“Ka-la! Koo-loo!” howled Queequeg, as if smacking his lips over a
+mouthful of Grenadier’s steak. And thus with oars and yells the keels
+cut the sea. Meanwhile, Stubb retaining his place in the van, still
+encouraged his men to the onset, all the while puffing the smoke from
+his mouth. Like desperadoes they tugged and they strained, till the
+welcome cry was heard—“Stand up, Tashtego!—give it to him!” The harpoon
+was hurled. “Stern all!” The oarsmen backed water; the same moment
+something went hot and hissing along every one of their wrists. It was
+the magical line. An instant before, Stubb had swiftly caught two
+additional turns with it round the loggerhead, whence, by reason of its
+increased rapid circlings, a hempen blue smoke now jetted up and
+mingled with the steady fumes from his pipe. As the line passed round
+and round the loggerhead; so also, just before reaching that point, it
+blisteringly passed through and through both of Stubb’s hands, from
+which the hand-cloths, or squares of quilted canvas sometimes worn at
+these times, had accidentally dropped. It was like holding an enemy’s
+sharp two-edged sword by the blade, and that enemy all the time
+striving to wrest it out of your clutch.
+
+“Wet the line! wet the line!” cried Stubb to the tub oarsman (him
+seated by the tub) who, snatching off his hat, dashed sea-water into
+it.* More turns were taken, so that the line began holding its place.
+The boat now flew through the boiling water like a shark all fins.
+Stubb and Tashtego here changed places—stem for stern—a staggering
+business truly in that rocking commotion.
+
+*Partly to show the indispensableness of this act, it may here be
+stated, that, in the old Dutch fishery, a mop was used to dash the
+running line with water; in many other ships, a wooden piggin, or
+bailer, is set apart for that purpose. Your hat, however, is the most
+convenient.
+
+From the vibrating line extending the entire length of the upper part
+of the boat, and from its now being more tight than a harpstring, you
+would have thought the craft had two keels—one cleaving the water, the
+other the air—as the boat churned on through both opposing elements at
+once. A continual cascade played at the bows; a ceaseless whirling eddy
+in her wake; and, at the slightest motion from within, even but of a
+little finger, the vibrating, cracking craft canted over her spasmodic
+gunwale into the sea. Thus they rushed; each man with might and main
+clinging to his seat, to prevent being tossed to the foam; and the tall
+form of Tashtego at the steering oar crouching almost double, in order
+to bring down his centre of gravity. Whole Atlantics and Pacifics
+seemed passed as they shot on their way, till at length the whale
+somewhat slackened his flight.
+
+“Haul in—haul in!” cried Stubb to the bowsman! and, facing round
+towards the whale, all hands began pulling the boat up to him, while
+yet the boat was being towed on. Soon ranging up by his flank, Stubb,
+firmly planting his knee in the clumsy cleat, darted dart after dart
+into the flying fish; at the word of command, the boat alternately
+sterning out of the way of the whale’s horrible wallow, and then
+ranging up for another fling.
+
+The red tide now poured from all sides of the monster like brooks down
+a hill. His tormented body rolled not in brine but in blood, which
+bubbled and seethed for furlongs behind in their wake. The slanting sun
+playing upon this crimson pond in the sea, sent back its reflection
+into every face, so that they all glowed to each other like red men.
+And all the while, jet after jet of white smoke was agonizingly shot
+from the spiracle of the whale, and vehement puff after puff from the
+mouth of the excited headsman; as at every dart, hauling in upon his
+crooked lance (by the line attached to it), Stubb straightened it again
+and again, by a few rapid blows against the gunwale, then again and
+again sent it into the whale.
+
+“Pull up—pull up!” he now cried to the bowsman, as the waning whale
+relaxed in his wrath. “Pull up!—close to!” and the boat ranged along
+the fish’s flank. When reaching far over the bow, Stubb slowly churned
+his long sharp lance into the fish, and kept it there, carefully
+churning and churning, as if cautiously seeking to feel after some gold
+watch that the whale might have swallowed, and which he was fearful of
+breaking ere he could hook it out. But that gold watch he sought was
+the innermost life of the fish. And now it is struck; for, starting
+from his trance into that unspeakable thing called his “flurry,” the
+monster horribly wallowed in his blood, overwrapped himself in
+impenetrable, mad, boiling spray, so that the imperilled craft,
+instantly dropping astern, had much ado blindly to struggle out from
+that phrensied twilight into the clear air of the day.
+
+And now abating in his flurry, the whale once more rolled out into
+view; surging from side to side; spasmodically dilating and contracting
+his spout-hole, with sharp, cracking, agonized respirations. At last,
+gush after gush of clotted red gore, as if it had been the purple lees
+of red wine, shot into the frighted air; and falling back again, ran
+dripping down his motionless flanks into the sea. His heart had burst!
+
+“He’s dead, Mr. Stubb,” said Daggoo.
+
+“Yes; both pipes smoked out!” and withdrawing his own from his mouth,
+Stubb scattered the dead ashes over the water; and, for a moment, stood
+thoughtfully eyeing the vast corpse he had made.
+
+
+CHAPTER 62. The Dart.
+
+A word concerning an incident in the last chapter.
+
+According to the invariable usage of the fishery, the whale-boat pushes
+off from the ship, with the headsman or whale-killer as temporary
+steersman, and the harpooneer or whale-fastener pulling the foremost
+oar, the one known as the harpooneer-oar. Now it needs a strong,
+nervous arm to strike the first iron into the fish; for often, in what
+is called a long dart, the heavy implement has to be flung to the
+distance of twenty or thirty feet. But however prolonged and exhausting
+the chase, the harpooneer is expected to pull his oar meanwhile to the
+uttermost; indeed, he is expected to set an example of superhuman
+activity to the rest, not only by incredible rowing, but by repeated
+loud and intrepid exclamations; and what it is to keep shouting at the
+top of one’s compass, while all the other muscles are strained and half
+started—what that is none know but those who have tried it. For one, I
+cannot bawl very heartily and work very recklessly at one and the same
+time. In this straining, bawling state, then, with his back to the
+fish, all at once the exhausted harpooneer hears the exciting
+cry—“Stand up, and give it to him!” He now has to drop and secure his
+oar, turn round on his centre half way, seize his harpoon from the
+crotch, and with what little strength may remain, he essays to pitch it
+somehow into the whale. No wonder, taking the whole fleet of whalemen
+in a body, that out of fifty fair chances for a dart, not five are
+successful; no wonder that so many hapless harpooneers are madly cursed
+and disrated; no wonder that some of them actually burst their
+blood-vessels in the boat; no wonder that some sperm whalemen are
+absent four years with four barrels; no wonder that to many ship
+owners, whaling is but a losing concern; for it is the harpooneer that
+makes the voyage, and if you take the breath out of his body how can
+you expect to find it there when most wanted!
+
+Again, if the dart be successful, then at the second critical instant,
+that is, when the whale starts to run, the boatheader and harpooneer
+likewise start to running fore and aft, to the imminent jeopardy of
+themselves and every one else. It is then they change places; and the
+headsman, the chief officer of the little craft, takes his proper
+station in the bows of the boat.
+
+Now, I care not who maintains the contrary, but all this is both
+foolish and unnecessary. The headsman should stay in the bows from
+first to last; he should both dart the harpoon and the lance, and no
+rowing whatever should be expected of him, except under circumstances
+obvious to any fisherman. I know that this would sometimes involve a
+slight loss of speed in the chase; but long experience in various
+whalemen of more than one nation has convinced me that in the vast
+majority of failures in the fishery, it has not by any means been so
+much the speed of the whale as the before described exhaustion of the
+harpooneer that has caused them.
+
+To insure the greatest efficiency in the dart, the harpooneers of this
+world must start to their feet from out of idleness, and not from out
+of toil.
+
+
+CHAPTER 63. The Crotch.
+
+Out of the trunk, the branches grow; out of them, the twigs. So, in
+productive subjects, grow the chapters.
+
+The crotch alluded to on a previous page deserves independent mention.
+It is a notched stick of a peculiar form, some two feet in length,
+which is perpendicularly inserted into the starboard gunwale near the
+bow, for the purpose of furnishing a rest for the wooden extremity of
+the harpoon, whose other naked, barbed end slopingly projects from the
+prow. Thereby the weapon is instantly at hand to its hurler, who
+snatches it up as readily from its rest as a backwoodsman swings his
+rifle from the wall. It is customary to have two harpoons reposing in
+the crotch, respectively called the first and second irons.
+
+But these two harpoons, each by its own cord, are both connected with
+the line; the object being this: to dart them both, if possible, one
+instantly after the other into the same whale; so that if, in the
+coming drag, one should draw out, the other may still retain a hold. It
+is a doubling of the chances. But it very often happens that owing to
+the instantaneous, violent, convulsive running of the whale upon
+receiving the first iron, it becomes impossible for the harpooneer,
+however lightning-like in his movements, to pitch the second iron into
+him. Nevertheless, as the second iron is already connected with the
+line, and the line is running, hence that weapon must, at all events,
+be anticipatingly tossed out of the boat, somehow and somewhere; else
+the most terrible jeopardy would involve all hands. Tumbled into the
+water, it accordingly is in such cases; the spare coils of box line
+(mentioned in a preceding chapter) making this feat, in most instances,
+prudently practicable. But this critical act is not always unattended
+with the saddest and most fatal casualties.
+
+Furthermore: you must know that when the second iron is thrown
+overboard, it thenceforth becomes a dangling, sharp-edged terror,
+skittishly curvetting about both boat and whale, entangling the lines,
+or cutting them, and making a prodigious sensation in all directions.
+Nor, in general, is it possible to secure it again until the whale is
+fairly captured and a corpse.
+
+Consider, now, how it must be in the case of four boats all engaging
+one unusually strong, active, and knowing whale; when owing to these
+qualities in him, as well as to the thousand concurring accidents of
+such an audacious enterprise, eight or ten loose second irons may be
+simultaneously dangling about him. For, of course, each boat is
+supplied with several harpoons to bend on to the line should the first
+one be ineffectually darted without recovery. All these particulars are
+faithfully narrated here, as they will not fail to elucidate several
+most important, however intricate passages, in scenes hereafter to be
+painted.
+
+
+CHAPTER 64. Stubb’s Supper.
+
+Stubb’s whale had been killed some distance from the ship. It was a
+calm; so, forming a tandem of three boats, we commenced the slow
+business of towing the trophy to the Pequod. And now, as we eighteen
+men with our thirty-six arms, and one hundred and eighty thumbs and
+fingers, slowly toiled hour after hour upon that inert, sluggish corpse
+in the sea; and it seemed hardly to budge at all, except at long
+intervals; good evidence was hereby furnished of the enormousness of
+the mass we moved. For, upon the great canal of Hang-Ho, or whatever
+they call it, in China, four or five laborers on the foot-path will
+draw a bulky freighted junk at the rate of a mile an hour; but this
+grand argosy we towed heavily forged along, as if laden with pig-lead
+in bulk.
+
+Darkness came on; but three lights up and down in the Pequod’s
+main-rigging dimly guided our way; till drawing nearer we saw Ahab
+dropping one of several more lanterns over the bulwarks. Vacantly
+eyeing the heaving whale for a moment, he issued the usual orders for
+securing it for the night, and then handing his lantern to a seaman,
+went his way into the cabin, and did not come forward again until
+morning.
+
+Though, in overseeing the pursuit of this whale, Captain Ahab had
+evinced his customary activity, to call it so; yet now that the
+creature was dead, some vague dissatisfaction, or impatience, or
+despair, seemed working in him; as if the sight of that dead body
+reminded him that Moby Dick was yet to be slain; and though a thousand
+other whales were brought to his ship, all that would not one jot
+advance his grand, monomaniac object. Very soon you would have thought
+from the sound on the Pequod’s decks, that all hands were preparing to
+cast anchor in the deep; for heavy chains are being dragged along the
+deck, and thrust rattling out of the port-holes. But by those clanking
+links, the vast corpse itself, not the ship, is to be moored. Tied by
+the head to the stern, and by the tail to the bows, the whale now lies
+with its black hull close to the vessel’s and seen through the darkness
+of the night, which obscured the spars and rigging aloft, the two—ship
+and whale, seemed yoked together like colossal bullocks, whereof one
+reclines while the other remains standing.*
+
+*A little item may as well be related here. The strongest and most
+reliable hold which the ship has upon the whale when moored alongside,
+is by the flukes or tail; and as from its greater density that part is
+relatively heavier than any other (excepting the side-fins), its
+flexibility even in death, causes it to sink low beneath the surface;
+so that with the hand you cannot get at it from the boat, in order to
+put the chain round it. But this difficulty is ingeniously overcome: a
+small, strong line is prepared with a wooden float at its outer end,
+and a weight in its middle, while the other end is secured to the ship.
+By adroit management the wooden float is made to rise on the other side
+of the mass, so that now having girdled the whale, the chain is readily
+made to follow suit; and being slipped along the body, is at last
+locked fast round the smallest part of the tail, at the point of
+junction with its broad flukes or lobes.
+
+If moody Ahab was now all quiescence, at least so far as could be known
+on deck, Stubb, his second mate, flushed with conquest, betrayed an
+unusual but still good-natured excitement. Such an unwonted bustle was
+he in that the staid Starbuck, his official superior, quietly resigned
+to him for the time the sole management of affairs. One small, helping
+cause of all this liveliness in Stubb, was soon made strangely
+manifest. Stubb was a high liver; he was somewhat intemperately fond of
+the whale as a flavorish thing to his palate.
+
+“A steak, a steak, ere I sleep! You, Daggoo! overboard you go, and cut
+me one from his small!”
+
+Here be it known, that though these wild fishermen do not, as a general
+thing, and according to the great military maxim, make the enemy defray
+the current expenses of the war (at least before realizing the proceeds
+of the voyage), yet now and then you find some of these Nantucketers
+who have a genuine relish for that particular part of the Sperm Whale
+designated by Stubb; comprising the tapering extremity of the body.
+
+About midnight that steak was cut and cooked; and lighted by two
+lanterns of sperm oil, Stubb stoutly stood up to his spermaceti supper
+at the capstan-head, as if that capstan were a sideboard. Nor was Stubb
+the only banqueter on whale’s flesh that night. Mingling their
+mumblings with his own mastications, thousands on thousands of sharks,
+swarming round the dead leviathan, smackingly feasted on its fatness.
+The few sleepers below in their bunks were often startled by the sharp
+slapping of their tails against the hull, within a few inches of the
+sleepers’ hearts. Peering over the side you could just see them (as
+before you heard them) wallowing in the sullen, black waters, and
+turning over on their backs as they scooped out huge globular pieces of
+the whale of the bigness of a human head. This particular feat of the
+shark seems all but miraculous. How at such an apparently unassailable
+surface, they contrive to gouge out such symmetrical mouthfuls, remains
+a part of the universal problem of all things. The mark they thus leave
+on the whale, may best be likened to the hollow made by a carpenter in
+countersinking for a screw.
+
+Though amid all the smoking horror and diabolism of a sea-fight, sharks
+will be seen longingly gazing up to the ship’s decks, like hungry dogs
+round a table where red meat is being carved, ready to bolt down every
+killed man that is tossed to them; and though, while the valiant
+butchers over the deck-table are thus cannibally carving each other’s
+live meat with carving-knives all gilded and tasselled, the sharks,
+also, with their jewel-hilted mouths, are quarrelsomely carving away
+under the table at the dead meat; and though, were you to turn the
+whole affair upside down, it would still be pretty much the same thing,
+that is to say, a shocking sharkish business enough for all parties;
+and though sharks also are the invariable outriders of all slave ships
+crossing the Atlantic, systematically trotting alongside, to be handy
+in case a parcel is to be carried anywhere, or a dead slave to be
+decently buried; and though one or two other like instances might be
+set down, touching the set terms, places, and occasions, when sharks do
+most socially congregate, and most hilariously feast; yet is there no
+conceivable time or occasion when you will find them in such countless
+numbers, and in gayer or more jovial spirits, than around a dead sperm
+whale, moored by night to a whaleship at sea. If you have never seen
+that sight, then suspend your decision about the propriety of
+devil-worship, and the expediency of conciliating the devil.
+
+But, as yet, Stubb heeded not the mumblings of the banquet that was
+going on so nigh him, no more than the sharks heeded the smacking of
+his own epicurean lips.
+
+“Cook, cook!—where’s that old Fleece?” he cried at length, widening his
+legs still further, as if to form a more secure base for his supper;
+and, at the same time darting his fork into the dish, as if stabbing
+with his lance; “cook, you cook!—sail this way, cook!”
+
+The old black, not in any very high glee at having been previously
+roused from his warm hammock at a most unseasonable hour, came
+shambling along from his galley, for, like many old blacks, there was
+something the matter with his knee-pans, which he did not keep well
+scoured like his other pans; this old Fleece, as they called him, came
+shuffling and limping along, assisting his step with his tongs, which,
+after a clumsy fashion, were made of straightened iron hoops; this old
+Ebony floundered along, and in obedience to the word of command, came
+to a dead stop on the opposite side of Stubb’s sideboard; when, with
+both hands folded before him, and resting on his two-legged cane, he
+bowed his arched back still further over, at the same time sideways
+inclining his head, so as to bring his best ear into play.
+
+“Cook,” said Stubb, rapidly lifting a rather reddish morsel to his
+mouth, “don’t you think this steak is rather overdone? You’ve been
+beating this steak too much, cook; it’s too tender. Don’t I always say
+that to be good, a whale-steak must be tough? There are those sharks
+now over the side, don’t you see they prefer it tough and rare? What a
+shindy they are kicking up! Cook, go and talk to ’em; tell ’em they are
+welcome to help themselves civilly, and in moderation, but they must
+keep quiet. Blast me, if I can hear my own voice. Away, cook, and
+deliver my message. Here, take this lantern,” snatching one from his
+sideboard; “now then, go and preach to ’em!”
+
+Sullenly taking the offered lantern, old Fleece limped across the deck
+to the bulwarks; and then, with one hand dropping his light low over
+the sea, so as to get a good view of his congregation, with the other
+hand he solemnly flourished his tongs, and leaning far over the side in
+a mumbling voice began addressing the sharks, while Stubb, softly
+crawling behind, overheard all that was said.
+
+“Fellow-critters: I’se ordered here to say dat you must stop dat dam
+noise dare. You hear? Stop dat dam smackin’ ob de lip! Massa Stubb say
+dat you can fill your dam bellies up to de hatchings, but by Gor! you
+must stop dat dam racket!”
+
+“Cook,” here interposed Stubb, accompanying the word with a sudden slap
+on the shoulder,—“Cook! why, damn your eyes, you mustn’t swear that way
+when you’re preaching. That’s no way to convert sinners, cook!”
+
+“Who dat? Den preach to him yourself,” sullenly turning to go.
+
+“No, cook; go on, go on.”
+
+“Well, den, Belubed fellow-critters:”—
+
+“Right!” exclaimed Stubb, approvingly, “coax ’em to it; try that,” and
+Fleece continued.
+
+“Do you is all sharks, and by natur wery woracious, yet I zay to you,
+fellow-critters, dat dat woraciousness—’top dat dam slappin’ ob de
+tail! How you tink to hear, spose you keep up such a dam slappin’ and
+bitin’ dare?”
+
+“Cook,” cried Stubb, collaring him, “I won’t have that swearing. Talk
+to ’em gentlemanly.”
+
+Once more the sermon proceeded.
+
+“Your woraciousness, fellow-critters, I don’t blame ye so much for; dat
+is natur, and can’t be helped; but to gobern dat wicked natur, dat is
+de pint. You is sharks, sartin; but if you gobern de shark in you, why
+den you be angel; for all angel is not’ing more dan de shark well
+goberned. Now, look here, bred’ren, just try wonst to be cibil, a
+helping yourselbs from dat whale. Don’t be tearin’ de blubber out your
+neighbour’s mout, I say. Is not one shark dood right as toder to dat
+whale? And, by Gor, none on you has de right to dat whale; dat whale
+belong to some one else. I know some o’ you has berry brig mout,
+brigger dan oders; but den de brig mouts sometimes has de small
+bellies; so dat de brigness of de mout is not to swaller wid, but to
+bit off de blubber for de small fry ob sharks, dat can’t get into de
+scrouge to help demselves.”
+
+“Well done, old Fleece!” cried Stubb, “that’s Christianity; go on.”
+
+“No use goin’ on; de dam willains will keep a scougin’ and slappin’
+each oder, Massa Stubb; dey don’t hear one word; no use a-preachin’ to
+such dam g’uttons as you call ’em, till dare bellies is full, and dare
+bellies is bottomless; and when dey do get ’em full, dey wont hear you
+den; for den dey sink in de sea, go fast to sleep on de coral, and
+can’t hear not’ing at all, no more, for eber and eber.”
+
+“Upon my soul, I am about of the same opinion; so give the benediction,
+Fleece, and I’ll away to my supper.”
+
+Upon this, Fleece, holding both hands over the fishy mob, raised his
+shrill voice, and cried—
+
+“Cussed fellow-critters! Kick up de damndest row as ever you can; fill
+your dam’ bellies ’till dey bust—and den die.”
+
+“Now, cook,” said Stubb, resuming his supper at the capstan; “stand
+just where you stood before, there, over against me, and pay particular
+attention.”
+
+“All dention,” said Fleece, again stooping over upon his tongs in the
+desired position.
+
+“Well,” said Stubb, helping himself freely meanwhile; “I shall now go
+back to the subject of this steak. In the first place, how old are you,
+cook?”
+
+“What dat do wid de ’teak,” said the old black, testily.
+
+“Silence! How old are you, cook?”
+
+“’Bout ninety, dey say,” he gloomily muttered.
+
+“And you have lived in this world hard upon one hundred years, cook,
+and don’t know yet how to cook a whale-steak?” rapidly bolting another
+mouthful at the last word, so that morsel seemed a continuation of the
+question. “Where were you born, cook?”
+
+“’Hind de hatchway, in ferry-boat, goin’ ober de Roanoke.”
+
+“Born in a ferry-boat! That’s queer, too. But I want to know what
+country you were born in, cook!”
+
+“Didn’t I say de Roanoke country?” he cried sharply.
+
+“No, you didn’t, cook; but I’ll tell you what I’m coming to, cook. You
+must go home and be born over again; you don’t know how to cook a
+whale-steak yet.”
+
+“Bress my soul, if I cook noder one,” he growled, angrily, turning
+round to depart.
+
+“Come back, cook;—here, hand me those tongs;—now take that bit of steak
+there, and tell me if you think that steak cooked as it should be? Take
+it, I say”—holding the tongs towards him—“take it, and taste it.”
+
+Faintly smacking his withered lips over it for a moment, the old negro
+muttered, “Best cooked ’teak I eber taste; joosy, berry joosy.”
+
+“Cook,” said Stubb, squaring himself once more; “do you belong to the
+church?”
+
+“Passed one once in Cape-Down,” said the old man sullenly.
+
+“And you have once in your life passed a holy church in Cape-Town,
+where you doubtless overheard a holy parson addressing his hearers as
+his beloved fellow-creatures, have you, cook! And yet you come here,
+and tell me such a dreadful lie as you did just now, eh?” said Stubb.
+“Where do you expect to go to, cook?”
+
+“Go to bed berry soon,” he mumbled, half-turning as he spoke.
+
+“Avast! heave to! I mean when you die, cook. It’s an awful question.
+Now what’s your answer?”
+
+“When dis old brack man dies,” said the negro slowly, changing his
+whole air and demeanor, “he hisself won’t go nowhere; but some bressed
+angel will come and fetch him.”
+
+“Fetch him? How? In a coach and four, as they fetched Elijah? And fetch
+him where?”
+
+“Up dere,” said Fleece, holding his tongs straight over his head, and
+keeping it there very solemnly.
+
+“So, then, you expect to go up into our main-top, do you, cook, when
+you are dead? But don’t you know the higher you climb, the colder it
+gets? Main-top, eh?”
+
+“Didn’t say dat t’all,” said Fleece, again in the sulks.
+
+“You said up there, didn’t you? and now look yourself, and see where
+your tongs are pointing. But, perhaps you expect to get into heaven by
+crawling through the lubber’s hole, cook; but, no, no, cook, you don’t
+get there, except you go the regular way, round by the rigging. It’s a
+ticklish business, but must be done, or else it’s no go. But none of us
+are in heaven yet. Drop your tongs, cook, and hear my orders. Do ye
+hear? Hold your hat in one hand, and clap t’other a’top of your heart,
+when I’m giving my orders, cook. What! that your heart, there?—that’s
+your gizzard! Aloft! aloft!—that’s it—now you have it. Hold it there
+now, and pay attention.”
+
+“All ’dention,” said the old black, with both hands placed as desired,
+vainly wriggling his grizzled head, as if to get both ears in front at
+one and the same time.
+
+“Well then, cook, you see this whale-steak of yours was so very bad,
+that I have put it out of sight as soon as possible; you see that,
+don’t you? Well, for the future, when you cook another whale-steak for
+my private table here, the capstan, I’ll tell you what to do so as not
+to spoil it by overdoing. Hold the steak in one hand, and show a live
+coal to it with the other; that done, dish it; d’ye hear? And now
+to-morrow, cook, when we are cutting in the fish, be sure you stand by
+to get the tips of his fins; have them put in pickle. As for the ends
+of the flukes, have them soused, cook. There, now ye may go.”
+
+But Fleece had hardly got three paces off, when he was recalled.
+
+“Cook, give me cutlets for supper to-morrow night in the mid-watch.
+D’ye hear? away you sail, then.—Halloa! stop! make a bow before you
+go.—Avast heaving again! Whale-balls for breakfast—don’t forget.”
+
+“Wish, by gor! whale eat him, ’stead of him eat whale. I’m bressed if
+he ain’t more of shark dan Massa Shark hisself,” muttered the old man,
+limping away; with which sage ejaculation he went to his hammock.
+
+
+CHAPTER 65. The Whale as a Dish.
+
+That mortal man should feed upon the creature that feeds his lamp, and,
+like Stubb, eat him by his own light, as you may say; this seems so
+outlandish a thing that one must needs go a little into the history and
+philosophy of it.
+
+It is upon record, that three centuries ago the tongue of the Right
+Whale was esteemed a great delicacy in France, and commanded large
+prices there. Also, that in Henry VIIIth’s time, a certain cook of the
+court obtained a handsome reward for inventing an admirable sauce to be
+eaten with barbacued porpoises, which, you remember, are a species of
+whale. Porpoises, indeed, are to this day considered fine eating. The
+meat is made into balls about the size of billiard balls, and being
+well seasoned and spiced might be taken for turtle-balls or veal balls.
+The old monks of Dunfermline were very fond of them. They had a great
+porpoise grant from the crown.
+
+The fact is, that among his hunters at least, the whale would by all
+hands be considered a noble dish, were there not so much of him; but
+when you come to sit down before a meat-pie nearly one hundred feet
+long, it takes away your appetite. Only the most unprejudiced of men
+like Stubb, nowadays partake of cooked whales; but the Esquimaux are
+not so fastidious. We all know how they live upon whales, and have rare
+old vintages of prime old train oil. Zogranda, one of their most famous
+doctors, recommends strips of blubber for infants, as being exceedingly
+juicy and nourishing. And this reminds me that certain Englishmen, who
+long ago were accidentally left in Greenland by a whaling vessel—that
+these men actually lived for several months on the mouldy scraps of
+whales which had been left ashore after trying out the blubber. Among
+the Dutch whalemen these scraps are called “fritters”; which, indeed,
+they greatly resemble, being brown and crisp, and smelling something
+like old Amsterdam housewives’ dough-nuts or oly-cooks, when fresh.
+They have such an eatable look that the most self-denying stranger can
+hardly keep his hands off.
+
+But what further depreciates the whale as a civilized dish, is his
+exceeding richness. He is the great prize ox of the sea, too fat to be
+delicately good. Look at his hump, which would be as fine eating as the
+buffalo’s (which is esteemed a rare dish), were it not such a solid
+pyramid of fat. But the spermaceti itself, how bland and creamy that
+is; like the transparent, half-jellied, white meat of a cocoanut in the
+third month of its growth, yet far too rich to supply a substitute for
+butter. Nevertheless, many whalemen have a method of absorbing it into
+some other substance, and then partaking of it. In the long try watches
+of the night it is a common thing for the seamen to dip their
+ship-biscuit into the huge oil-pots and let them fry there awhile. Many
+a good supper have I thus made.
+
+In the case of a small Sperm Whale the brains are accounted a fine
+dish. The casket of the skull is broken into with an axe, and the two
+plump, whitish lobes being withdrawn (precisely resembling two large
+puddings), they are then mixed with flour, and cooked into a most
+delectable mess, in flavor somewhat resembling calves’ head, which is
+quite a dish among some epicures; and every one knows that some young
+bucks among the epicures, by continually dining upon calves’ brains, by
+and by get to have a little brains of their own, so as to be able to
+tell a calf’s head from their own heads; which, indeed, requires
+uncommon discrimination. And that is the reason why a young buck with
+an intelligent looking calf’s head before him, is somehow one of the
+saddest sights you can see. The head looks a sort of reproachfully at
+him, with an “Et tu Brute!” expression.
+
+It is not, perhaps, entirely because the whale is so excessively
+unctuous that landsmen seem to regard the eating of him with
+abhorrence; that appears to result, in some way, from the consideration
+before mentioned: _i.e._ that a man should eat a newly murdered thing
+of the sea, and eat it too by its own light. But no doubt the first man
+that ever murdered an ox was regarded as a murderer; perhaps he was
+hung; and if he had been put on his trial by oxen, he certainly would
+have been; and he certainly deserved it if any murderer does. Go to the
+meat-market of a Saturday night and see the crowds of live bipeds
+staring up at the long rows of dead quadrupeds. Does not that sight
+take a tooth out of the cannibal’s jaw? Cannibals? who is not a
+cannibal? I tell you it will be more tolerable for the Fejee that
+salted down a lean missionary in his cellar against a coming famine; it
+will be more tolerable for that provident Fejee, I say, in the day of
+judgment, than for thee, civilized and enlightened gourmand, who
+nailest geese to the ground and feastest on their bloated livers in thy
+paté-de-foie-gras.
+
+But Stubb, he eats the whale by its own light, does he? and that is
+adding insult to injury, is it? Look at your knife-handle, there, my
+civilized and enlightened gourmand dining off that roast beef, what is
+that handle made of?—what but the bones of the brother of the very ox
+you are eating? And what do you pick your teeth with, after devouring
+that fat goose? With a feather of the same fowl. And with what quill
+did the Secretary of the Society for the Suppression of Cruelty to
+Ganders formally indite his circulars? It is only within the last month
+or two that that society passed a resolution to patronize nothing but
+steel pens.
+
+
+CHAPTER 66. The Shark Massacre.
+
+When in the Southern Fishery, a captured Sperm Whale, after long and
+weary toil, is brought alongside late at night, it is not, as a general
+thing at least, customary to proceed at once to the business of cutting
+him in. For that business is an exceedingly laborious one; is not very
+soon completed; and requires all hands to set about it. Therefore, the
+common usage is to take in all sail; lash the helm a’lee; and then send
+every one below to his hammock till daylight, with the reservation
+that, until that time, anchor-watches shall be kept; that is, two and
+two for an hour, each couple, the crew in rotation shall mount the deck
+to see that all goes well.
+
+But sometimes, especially upon the Line in the Pacific, this plan will
+not answer at all; because such incalculable hosts of sharks gather
+round the moored carcase, that were he left so for six hours, say, on a
+stretch, little more than the skeleton would be visible by morning. In
+most other parts of the ocean, however, where these fish do not so
+largely abound, their wondrous voracity can be at times considerably
+diminished, by vigorously stirring them up with sharp whaling-spades, a
+procedure notwithstanding, which, in some instances, only seems to
+tickle them into still greater activity. But it was not thus in the
+present case with the Pequod’s sharks; though, to be sure, any man
+unaccustomed to such sights, to have looked over her side that night,
+would have almost thought the whole round sea was one huge cheese, and
+those sharks the maggots in it.
+
+Nevertheless, upon Stubb setting the anchor-watch after his supper was
+concluded; and when, accordingly, Queequeg and a forecastle seaman came
+on deck, no small excitement was created among the sharks; for
+immediately suspending the cutting stages over the side, and lowering
+three lanterns, so that they cast long gleams of light over the turbid
+sea, these two mariners, darting their long whaling-spades, kept up an
+incessant murdering of the sharks,* by striking the keen steel deep
+into their skulls, seemingly their only vital part. But in the foamy
+confusion of their mixed and struggling hosts, the marksmen could not
+always hit their mark; and this brought about new revelations of the
+incredible ferocity of the foe. They viciously snapped, not only at
+each other’s disembowelments, but like flexible bows, bent round, and
+bit their own; till those entrails seemed swallowed over and over again
+by the same mouth, to be oppositely voided by the gaping wound. Nor was
+this all. It was unsafe to meddle with the corpses and ghosts of these
+creatures. A sort of generic or Pantheistic vitality seemed to lurk in
+their very joints and bones, after what might be called the individual
+life had departed. Killed and hoisted on deck for the sake of his skin,
+one of these sharks almost took poor Queequeg’s hand off, when he tried
+to shut down the dead lid of his murderous jaw.
+
+*The whaling-spade used for cutting-in is made of the very best steel;
+is about the bigness of a man’s spread hand; and in general shape,
+corresponds to the garden implement after which it is named; only its
+sides are perfectly flat, and its upper end considerably narrower than
+the lower. This weapon is always kept as sharp as possible; and when
+being used is occasionally honed, just like a razor. In its socket, a
+stiff pole, from twenty to thirty feet long, is inserted for a handle.
+
+“Queequeg no care what god made him shark,” said the savage,
+agonizingly lifting his hand up and down; “wedder Fejee god or
+Nantucket god; but de god wat made shark must be one dam Ingin.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 67. Cutting In.
+
+It was a Saturday night, and such a Sabbath as followed! Ex officio
+professors of Sabbath breaking are all whalemen. The ivory Pequod was
+turned into what seemed a shamble; every sailor a butcher. You would
+have thought we were offering up ten thousand red oxen to the sea gods.
+
+In the first place, the enormous cutting tackles, among other ponderous
+things comprising a cluster of blocks generally painted green, and
+which no single man can possibly lift—this vast bunch of grapes was
+swayed up to the main-top and firmly lashed to the lower mast-head, the
+strongest point anywhere above a ship’s deck. The end of the
+hawser-like rope winding through these intricacies, was then conducted
+to the windlass, and the huge lower block of the tackles was swung over
+the whale; to this block the great blubber hook, weighing some one
+hundred pounds, was attached. And now suspended in stages over the
+side, Starbuck and Stubb, the mates, armed with their long spades,
+began cutting a hole in the body for the insertion of the hook just
+above the nearest of the two side-fins. This done, a broad,
+semicircular line is cut round the hole, the hook is inserted, and the
+main body of the crew striking up a wild chorus, now commence heaving
+in one dense crowd at the windlass. When instantly, the entire ship
+careens over on her side; every bolt in her starts like the nail-heads
+of an old house in frosty weather; she trembles, quivers, and nods her
+frighted mast-heads to the sky. More and more she leans over to the
+whale, while every gasping heave of the windlass is answered by a
+helping heave from the billows; till at last, a swift, startling snap
+is heard; with a great swash the ship rolls upwards and backwards from
+the whale, and the triumphant tackle rises into sight dragging after it
+the disengaged semicircular end of the first strip of blubber. Now as
+the blubber envelopes the whale precisely as the rind does an orange,
+so is it stripped off from the body precisely as an orange is sometimes
+stripped by spiralizing it. For the strain constantly kept up by the
+windlass continually keeps the whale rolling over and over in the
+water, and as the blubber in one strip uniformly peels off along the
+line called the “scarf,” simultaneously cut by the spades of Starbuck
+and Stubb, the mates; and just as fast as it is thus peeled off, and
+indeed by that very act itself, it is all the time being hoisted higher
+and higher aloft till its upper end grazes the main-top; the men at the
+windlass then cease heaving, and for a moment or two the prodigious
+blood-dripping mass sways to and fro as if let down from the sky, and
+every one present must take good heed to dodge it when it swings, else
+it may box his ears and pitch him headlong overboard.
+
+One of the attending harpooneers now advances with a long, keen weapon
+called a boarding-sword, and watching his chance he dexterously slices
+out a considerable hole in the lower part of the swaying mass. Into
+this hole, the end of the second alternating great tackle is then
+hooked so as to retain a hold upon the blubber, in order to prepare for
+what follows. Whereupon, this accomplished swordsman, warning all hands
+to stand off, once more makes a scientific dash at the mass, and with a
+few sidelong, desperate, lunging slicings, severs it completely in
+twain; so that while the short lower part is still fast, the long upper
+strip, called a blanket-piece, swings clear, and is all ready for
+lowering. The heavers forward now resume their song, and while the one
+tackle is peeling and hoisting a second strip from the whale, the other
+is slowly slackened away, and down goes the first strip through the
+main hatchway right beneath, into an unfurnished parlor called the
+blubber-room. Into this twilight apartment sundry nimble hands keep
+coiling away the long blanket-piece as if it were a great live mass of
+plaited serpents. And thus the work proceeds; the two tackles hoisting
+and lowering simultaneously; both whale and windlass heaving, the
+heavers singing, the blubber-room gentlemen coiling, the mates
+scarfing, the ship straining, and all hands swearing occasionally, by
+way of assuaging the general friction.
+
+
+CHAPTER 68. The Blanket.
+
+I have given no small attention to that not unvexed subject, the skin
+of the whale. I have had controversies about it with experienced
+whalemen afloat, and learned naturalists ashore. My original opinion
+remains unchanged; but it is only an opinion.
+
+The question is, what and where is the skin of the whale? Already you
+know what his blubber is. That blubber is something of the consistence
+of firm, close-grained beef, but tougher, more elastic and compact, and
+ranges from eight or ten to twelve and fifteen inches in thickness.
+
+Now, however preposterous it may at first seem to talk of any
+creature’s skin as being of that sort of consistence and thickness, yet
+in point of fact these are no arguments against such a presumption;
+because you cannot raise any other dense enveloping layer from the
+whale’s body but that same blubber; and the outermost enveloping layer
+of any animal, if reasonably dense, what can that be but the skin?
+True, from the unmarred dead body of the whale, you may scrape off with
+your hand an infinitely thin, transparent substance, somewhat
+resembling the thinnest shreds of isinglass, only it is almost as
+flexible and soft as satin; that is, previous to being dried, when it
+not only contracts and thickens, but becomes rather hard and brittle. I
+have several such dried bits, which I use for marks in my whale-books.
+It is transparent, as I said before; and being laid upon the printed
+page, I have sometimes pleased myself with fancying it exerted a
+magnifying influence. At any rate, it is pleasant to read about whales
+through their own spectacles, as you may say. But what I am driving at
+here is this. That same infinitely thin, isinglass substance, which, I
+admit, invests the entire body of the whale, is not so much to be
+regarded as the skin of the creature, as the skin of the skin, so to
+speak; for it were simply ridiculous to say, that the proper skin of
+the tremendous whale is thinner and more tender than the skin of a
+new-born child. But no more of this.
+
+Assuming the blubber to be the skin of the whale; then, when this skin,
+as in the case of a very large Sperm Whale, will yield the bulk of one
+hundred barrels of oil; and, when it is considered that, in quantity,
+or rather weight, that oil, in its expressed state, is only three
+fourths, and not the entire substance of the coat; some idea may hence
+be had of the enormousness of that animated mass, a mere part of whose
+mere integument yields such a lake of liquid as that. Reckoning ten
+barrels to the ton, you have ten tons for the net weight of only three
+quarters of the stuff of the whale’s skin.
+
+In life, the visible surface of the Sperm Whale is not the least among
+the many marvels he presents. Almost invariably it is all over
+obliquely crossed and re-crossed with numberless straight marks in
+thick array, something like those in the finest Italian line
+engravings. But these marks do not seem to be impressed upon the
+isinglass substance above mentioned, but seem to be seen through it, as
+if they were engraved upon the body itself. Nor is this all. In some
+instances, to the quick, observant eye, those linear marks, as in a
+veritable engraving, but afford the ground for far other delineations.
+These are hieroglyphical; that is, if you call those mysterious cyphers
+on the walls of pyramids hieroglyphics, then that is the proper word to
+use in the present connexion. By my retentive memory of the
+hieroglyphics upon one Sperm Whale in particular, I was much struck
+with a plate representing the old Indian characters chiselled on the
+famous hieroglyphic palisades on the banks of the Upper Mississippi.
+Like those mystic rocks, too, the mystic-marked whale remains
+undecipherable. This allusion to the Indian rocks reminds me of another
+thing. Besides all the other phenomena which the exterior of the Sperm
+Whale presents, he not seldom displays the back, and more especially
+his flanks, effaced in great part of the regular linear appearance, by
+reason of numerous rude scratches, altogether of an irregular, random
+aspect. I should say that those New England rocks on the sea-coast,
+which Agassiz imagines to bear the marks of violent scraping contact
+with vast floating icebergs—I should say, that those rocks must not a
+little resemble the Sperm Whale in this particular. It also seems to me
+that such scratches in the whale are probably made by hostile contact
+with other whales; for I have most remarked them in the large,
+full-grown bulls of the species.
+
+A word or two more concerning this matter of the skin or blubber of the
+whale. It has already been said, that it is stript from him in long
+pieces, called blanket-pieces. Like most sea-terms, this one is very
+happy and significant. For the whale is indeed wrapt up in his blubber
+as in a real blanket or counterpane; or, still better, an Indian poncho
+slipt over his head, and skirting his extremity. It is by reason of
+this cosy blanketing of his body, that the whale is enabled to keep
+himself comfortable in all weathers, in all seas, times, and tides.
+What would become of a Greenland whale, say, in those shuddering, icy
+seas of the North, if unsupplied with his cosy surtout? True, other
+fish are found exceedingly brisk in those Hyperborean waters; but
+these, be it observed, are your cold-blooded, lungless fish, whose very
+bellies are refrigerators; creatures, that warm themselves under the
+lee of an iceberg, as a traveller in winter would bask before an inn
+fire; whereas, like man, the whale has lungs and warm blood. Freeze his
+blood, and he dies. How wonderful is it then—except after
+explanation—that this great monster, to whom corporeal warmth is as
+indispensable as it is to man; how wonderful that he should be found at
+home, immersed to his lips for life in those Arctic waters! where, when
+seamen fall overboard, they are sometimes found, months afterwards,
+perpendicularly frozen into the hearts of fields of ice, as a fly is
+found glued in amber. But more surprising is it to know, as has been
+proved by experiment, that the blood of a Polar whale is warmer than
+that of a Borneo negro in summer.
+
+It does seem to me, that herein we see the rare virtue of a strong
+individual vitality, and the rare virtue of thick walls, and the rare
+virtue of interior spaciousness. Oh, man! admire and model thyself
+after the whale! Do thou, too, remain warm among ice. Do thou, too,
+live in this world without being of it. Be cool at the equator; keep
+thy blood fluid at the Pole. Like the great dome of St. Peter’s, and
+like the great whale, retain, O man! in all seasons a temperature of
+thine own.
+
+But how easy and how hopeless to teach these fine things! Of erections,
+how few are domed like St. Peter’s! of creatures, how few vast as the
+whale!
+
+
+CHAPTER 69. The Funeral.
+
+“Haul in the chains! Let the carcase go astern!”
+
+The vast tackles have now done their duty. The peeled white body of the
+beheaded whale flashes like a marble sepulchre; though changed in hue,
+it has not perceptibly lost anything in bulk. It is still colossal.
+Slowly it floats more and more away, the water round it torn and
+splashed by the insatiate sharks, and the air above vexed with
+rapacious flights of screaming fowls, whose beaks are like so many
+insulting poniards in the whale. The vast white headless phantom floats
+further and further from the ship, and every rod that it so floats,
+what seem square roods of sharks and cubic roods of fowls, augment the
+murderous din. For hours and hours from the almost stationary ship that
+hideous sight is seen. Beneath the unclouded and mild azure sky, upon
+the fair face of the pleasant sea, wafted by the joyous breezes, that
+great mass of death floats on and on, till lost in infinite
+perspectives.
+
+There’s a most doleful and most mocking funeral! The sea-vultures all
+in pious mourning, the air-sharks all punctiliously in black or
+speckled. In life but few of them would have helped the whale, I ween,
+if peradventure he had needed it; but upon the banquet of his funeral
+they most piously do pounce. Oh, horrible vultureism of earth! from
+which not the mightiest whale is free.
+
+Nor is this the end. Desecrated as the body is, a vengeful ghost
+survives and hovers over it to scare. Espied by some timid man-of-war
+or blundering discovery-vessel from afar, when the distance obscuring
+the swarming fowls, nevertheless still shows the white mass floating in
+the sun, and the white spray heaving high against it; straightway the
+whale’s unharming corpse, with trembling fingers is set down in the
+log—_shoals, rocks, and breakers hereabouts: beware!_ And for years
+afterwards, perhaps, ships shun the place; leaping over it as silly
+sheep leap over a vacuum, because their leader originally leaped there
+when a stick was held. There’s your law of precedents; there’s your
+utility of traditions; there’s the story of your obstinate survival of
+old beliefs never bottomed on the earth, and now not even hovering in
+the air! There’s orthodoxy!
+
+Thus, while in life the great whale’s body may have been a real terror
+to his foes, in his death his ghost becomes a powerless panic to a
+world.
+
+Are you a believer in ghosts, my friend? There are other ghosts than
+the Cock-Lane one, and far deeper men than Doctor Johnson who believe
+in them.
+
+
+CHAPTER 70. The Sphynx.
+
+It should not have been omitted that previous to completely stripping
+the body of the leviathan, he was beheaded. Now, the beheading of the
+Sperm Whale is a scientific anatomical feat, upon which experienced
+whale surgeons very much pride themselves: and not without reason.
+
+Consider that the whale has nothing that can properly be called a neck;
+on the contrary, where his head and body seem to join, there, in that
+very place, is the thickest part of him. Remember, also, that the
+surgeon must operate from above, some eight or ten feet intervening
+between him and his subject, and that subject almost hidden in a
+discoloured, rolling, and oftentimes tumultuous and bursting sea. Bear
+in mind, too, that under these untoward circumstances he has to cut
+many feet deep in the flesh; and in that subterraneous manner, without
+so much as getting one single peep into the ever-contracting gash thus
+made, he must skilfully steer clear of all adjacent, interdicted parts,
+and exactly divide the spine at a critical point hard by its insertion
+into the skull. Do you not marvel, then, at Stubb’s boast, that he
+demanded but ten minutes to behead a sperm whale?
+
+When first severed, the head is dropped astern and held there by a
+cable till the body is stripped. That done, if it belong to a small
+whale it is hoisted on deck to be deliberately disposed of. But, with a
+full grown leviathan this is impossible; for the sperm whale’s head
+embraces nearly one third of his entire bulk, and completely to suspend
+such a burden as that, even by the immense tackles of a whaler, this
+were as vain a thing as to attempt weighing a Dutch barn in jewellers’
+scales.
+
+The Pequod’s whale being decapitated and the body stripped, the head
+was hoisted against the ship’s side—about half way out of the sea, so
+that it might yet in great part be buoyed up by its native element. And
+there with the strained craft steeply leaning over to it, by reason of
+the enormous downward drag from the lower mast-head, and every yard-arm
+on that side projecting like a crane over the waves; there, that
+blood-dripping head hung to the Pequod’s waist like the giant
+Holofernes’s from the girdle of Judith.
+
+When this last task was accomplished it was noon, and the seamen went
+below to their dinner. Silence reigned over the before tumultuous but
+now deserted deck. An intense copper calm, like a universal yellow
+lotus, was more and more unfolding its noiseless measureless leaves
+upon the sea.
+
+A short space elapsed, and up into this noiselessness came Ahab alone
+from his cabin. Taking a few turns on the quarter-deck, he paused to
+gaze over the side, then slowly getting into the main-chains he took
+Stubb’s long spade—still remaining there after the whale’s
+decapitation—and striking it into the lower part of the half-suspended
+mass, placed its other end crutch-wise under one arm, and so stood
+leaning over with eyes attentively fixed on this head.
+
+It was a black and hooded head; and hanging there in the midst of so
+intense a calm, it seemed the Sphynx’s in the desert. “Speak, thou vast
+and venerable head,” muttered Ahab, “which, though ungarnished with a
+beard, yet here and there lookest hoary with mosses; speak, mighty
+head, and tell us the secret thing that is in thee. Of all divers, thou
+hast dived the deepest. That head upon which the upper sun now gleams,
+has moved amid this world’s foundations. Where unrecorded names and
+navies rust, and untold hopes and anchors rot; where in her murderous
+hold this frigate earth is ballasted with bones of millions of the
+drowned; there, in that awful water-land, there was thy most familiar
+home. Thou hast been where bell or diver never went; hast slept by many
+a sailor’s side, where sleepless mothers would give their lives to lay
+them down. Thou saw’st the locked lovers when leaping from their
+flaming ship; heart to heart they sank beneath the exulting wave; true
+to each other, when heaven seemed false to them. Thou saw’st the
+murdered mate when tossed by pirates from the midnight deck; for hours
+he fell into the deeper midnight of the insatiate maw; and his
+murderers still sailed on unharmed—while swift lightnings shivered the
+neighboring ship that would have borne a righteous husband to
+outstretched, longing arms. O head! thou hast seen enough to split the
+planets and make an infidel of Abraham, and not one syllable is thine!”
+
+“Sail ho!” cried a triumphant voice from the main-mast-head.
+
+“Aye? Well, now, that’s cheering,” cried Ahab, suddenly erecting
+himself, while whole thunder-clouds swept aside from his brow. “That
+lively cry upon this deadly calm might almost convert a better
+man.—Where away?”
+
+“Three points on the starboard bow, sir, and bringing down her breeze
+to us!
+
+“Better and better, man. Would now St. Paul would come along that way,
+and to my breezelessness bring his breeze! O Nature, and O soul of man!
+how far beyond all utterance are your linked analogies! not the
+smallest atom stirs or lives on matter, but has its cunning duplicate
+in mind.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 71. The Jeroboam’s Story.
+
+Hand in hand, ship and breeze blew on; but the breeze came faster than
+the ship, and soon the Pequod began to rock.
+
+By and by, through the glass the stranger’s boats and manned mast-heads
+proved her a whale-ship. But as she was so far to windward, and
+shooting by, apparently making a passage to some other ground, the
+Pequod could not hope to reach her. So the signal was set to see what
+response would be made.
+
+Here be it said, that like the vessels of military marines, the ships
+of the American Whale Fleet have each a private signal; all which
+signals being collected in a book with the names of the respective
+vessels attached, every captain is provided with it. Thereby, the whale
+commanders are enabled to recognise each other upon the ocean, even at
+considerable distances and with no small facility.
+
+The Pequod’s signal was at last responded to by the stranger’s setting
+her own; which proved the ship to be the Jeroboam of Nantucket.
+Squaring her yards, she bore down, ranged abeam under the Pequod’s lee,
+and lowered a boat; it soon drew nigh; but, as the side-ladder was
+being rigged by Starbuck’s order to accommodate the visiting captain,
+the stranger in question waved his hand from his boat’s stern in token
+of that proceeding being entirely unnecessary. It turned out that the
+Jeroboam had a malignant epidemic on board, and that Mayhew, her
+captain, was fearful of infecting the Pequod’s company. For, though
+himself and boat’s crew remained untainted, and though his ship was
+half a rifle-shot off, and an incorruptible sea and air rolling and
+flowing between; yet conscientiously adhering to the timid quarantine
+of the land, he peremptorily refused to come into direct contact with
+the Pequod.
+
+But this did by no means prevent all communications. Preserving an
+interval of some few yards between itself and the ship, the Jeroboam’s
+boat by the occasional use of its oars contrived to keep parallel to
+the Pequod, as she heavily forged through the sea (for by this time it
+blew very fresh), with her main-topsail aback; though, indeed, at times
+by the sudden onset of a large rolling wave, the boat would be pushed
+some way ahead; but would be soon skilfully brought to her proper
+bearings again. Subject to this, and other the like interruptions now
+and then, a conversation was sustained between the two parties; but at
+intervals not without still another interruption of a very different
+sort.
+
+Pulling an oar in the Jeroboam’s boat, was a man of a singular
+appearance, even in that wild whaling life where individual
+notabilities make up all totalities. He was a small, short, youngish
+man, sprinkled all over his face with freckles, and wearing redundant
+yellow hair. A long-skirted, cabalistically-cut coat of a faded walnut
+tinge enveloped him; the overlapping sleeves of which were rolled up on
+his wrists. A deep, settled, fanatic delirium was in his eyes.
+
+So soon as this figure had been first descried, Stubb had
+exclaimed—“That’s he! that’s he!—the long-togged scaramouch the
+Town-Ho’s company told us of!” Stubb here alluded to a strange story
+told of the Jeroboam, and a certain man among her crew, some time
+previous when the Pequod spoke the Town-Ho. According to this account
+and what was subsequently learned, it seemed that the scaramouch in
+question had gained a wonderful ascendency over almost everybody in the
+Jeroboam. His story was this:
+
+He had been originally nurtured among the crazy society of Neskyeuna
+Shakers, where he had been a great prophet; in their cracked, secret
+meetings having several times descended from heaven by the way of a
+trap-door, announcing the speedy opening of the seventh vial, which he
+carried in his vest-pocket; but, which, instead of containing
+gunpowder, was supposed to be charged with laudanum. A strange,
+apostolic whim having seized him, he had left Neskyeuna for Nantucket,
+where, with that cunning peculiar to craziness, he assumed a steady,
+common-sense exterior, and offered himself as a green-hand candidate
+for the Jeroboam’s whaling voyage. They engaged him; but straightway
+upon the ship’s getting out of sight of land, his insanity broke out in
+a freshet. He announced himself as the archangel Gabriel, and commanded
+the captain to jump overboard. He published his manifesto, whereby he
+set himself forth as the deliverer of the isles of the sea and
+vicar-general of all Oceanica. The unflinching earnestness with which
+he declared these things;—the dark, daring play of his sleepless,
+excited imagination, and all the preternatural terrors of real
+delirium, united to invest this Gabriel in the minds of the majority of
+the ignorant crew, with an atmosphere of sacredness. Moreover, they
+were afraid of him. As such a man, however, was not of much practical
+use in the ship, especially as he refused to work except when he
+pleased, the incredulous captain would fain have been rid of him; but
+apprised that that individual’s intention was to land him in the first
+convenient port, the archangel forthwith opened all his seals and
+vials—devoting the ship and all hands to unconditional perdition, in
+case this intention was carried out. So strongly did he work upon his
+disciples among the crew, that at last in a body they went to the
+captain and told him if Gabriel was sent from the ship, not a man of
+them would remain. He was therefore forced to relinquish his plan. Nor
+would they permit Gabriel to be any way maltreated, say or do what he
+would; so that it came to pass that Gabriel had the complete freedom of
+the ship. The consequence of all this was, that the archangel cared
+little or nothing for the captain and mates; and since the epidemic had
+broken out, he carried a higher hand than ever; declaring that the
+plague, as he called it, was at his sole command; nor should it be
+stayed but according to his good pleasure. The sailors, mostly poor
+devils, cringed, and some of them fawned before him; in obedience to
+his instructions, sometimes rendering him personal homage, as to a god.
+Such things may seem incredible; but, however wondrous, they are true.
+Nor is the history of fanatics half so striking in respect to the
+measureless self-deception of the fanatic himself, as his measureless
+power of deceiving and bedevilling so many others. But it is time to
+return to the Pequod.
+
+“I fear not thy epidemic, man,” said Ahab from the bulwarks, to Captain
+Mayhew, who stood in the boat’s stern; “come on board.”
+
+But now Gabriel started to his feet.
+
+“Think, think of the fevers, yellow and bilious! Beware of the horrible
+plague!”
+
+“Gabriel! Gabriel!” cried Captain Mayhew; “thou must either—” But that
+instant a headlong wave shot the boat far ahead, and its seethings
+drowned all speech.
+
+“Hast thou seen the White Whale?” demanded Ahab, when the boat drifted
+back.
+
+“Think, think of thy whale-boat, stoven and sunk! Beware of the
+horrible tail!”
+
+“I tell thee again, Gabriel, that—” But again the boat tore ahead as if
+dragged by fiends. Nothing was said for some moments, while a
+succession of riotous waves rolled by, which by one of those occasional
+caprices of the seas were tumbling, not heaving it. Meantime, the
+hoisted sperm whale’s head jogged about very violently, and Gabriel was
+seen eyeing it with rather more apprehensiveness than his archangel
+nature seemed to warrant.
+
+When this interlude was over, Captain Mayhew began a dark story
+concerning Moby Dick; not, however, without frequent interruptions from
+Gabriel, whenever his name was mentioned, and the crazy sea that seemed
+leagued with him.
+
+It seemed that the Jeroboam had not long left home, when upon speaking
+a whale-ship, her people were reliably apprised of the existence of
+Moby Dick, and the havoc he had made. Greedily sucking in this
+intelligence, Gabriel solemnly warned the captain against attacking the
+White Whale, in case the monster should be seen; in his gibbering
+insanity, pronouncing the White Whale to be no less a being than the
+Shaker God incarnated; the Shakers receiving the Bible. But when, some
+year or two afterwards, Moby Dick was fairly sighted from the
+mast-heads, Macey, the chief mate, burned with ardour to encounter him;
+and the captain himself being not unwilling to let him have the
+opportunity, despite all the archangel’s denunciations and
+forewarnings, Macey succeeded in persuading five men to man his boat.
+With them he pushed off; and, after much weary pulling, and many
+perilous, unsuccessful onsets, he at last succeeded in getting one iron
+fast. Meantime, Gabriel, ascending to the main-royal mast-head, was
+tossing one arm in frantic gestures, and hurling forth prophecies of
+speedy doom to the sacrilegious assailants of his divinity. Now, while
+Macey, the mate, was standing up in his boat’s bow, and with all the
+reckless energy of his tribe was venting his wild exclamations upon the
+whale, and essaying to get a fair chance for his poised lance, lo! a
+broad white shadow rose from the sea; by its quick, fanning motion,
+temporarily taking the breath out of the bodies of the oarsmen. Next
+instant, the luckless mate, so full of furious life, was smitten bodily
+into the air, and making a long arc in his descent, fell into the sea
+at the distance of about fifty yards. Not a chip of the boat was
+harmed, nor a hair of any oarsman’s head; but the mate for ever sank.
+
+It is well to parenthesize here, that of the fatal accidents in the
+Sperm-Whale Fishery, this kind is perhaps almost as frequent as any.
+Sometimes, nothing is injured but the man who is thus annihilated;
+oftener the boat’s bow is knocked off, or the thigh-board, in which the
+headsman stands, is torn from its place and accompanies the body. But
+strangest of all is the circumstance, that in more instances than one,
+when the body has been recovered, not a single mark of violence is
+discernible; the man being stark dead.
+
+The whole calamity, with the falling form of Macey, was plainly
+descried from the ship. Raising a piercing shriek—“The vial! the vial!”
+Gabriel called off the terror-stricken crew from the further hunting of
+the whale. This terrible event clothed the archangel with added
+influence; because his credulous disciples believed that he had
+specifically fore-announced it, instead of only making a general
+prophecy, which any one might have done, and so have chanced to hit one
+of many marks in the wide margin allowed. He became a nameless terror
+to the ship.
+
+Mayhew having concluded his narration, Ahab put such questions to him,
+that the stranger captain could not forbear inquiring whether he
+intended to hunt the White Whale, if opportunity should offer. To which
+Ahab answered—“Aye.” Straightway, then, Gabriel once more started to
+his feet, glaring upon the old man, and vehemently exclaimed, with
+downward pointed finger—“Think, think of the blasphemer—dead, and down
+there!—beware of the blasphemer’s end!”
+
+Ahab stolidly turned aside; then said to Mayhew, “Captain, I have just
+bethought me of my letter-bag; there is a letter for one of thy
+officers, if I mistake not. Starbuck, look over the bag.”
+
+Every whale-ship takes out a goodly number of letters for various
+ships, whose delivery to the persons to whom they may be addressed,
+depends upon the mere chance of encountering them in the four oceans.
+Thus, most letters never reach their mark; and many are only received
+after attaining an age of two or three years or more.
+
+Soon Starbuck returned with a letter in his hand. It was sorely
+tumbled, damp, and covered with a dull, spotted, green mould, in
+consequence of being kept in a dark locker of the cabin. Of such a
+letter, Death himself might well have been the post-boy.
+
+“Can’st not read it?” cried Ahab. “Give it me, man. Aye, aye, it’s but
+a dim scrawl;—what’s this?” As he was studying it out, Starbuck took a
+long cutting-spade pole, and with his knife slightly split the end, to
+insert the letter there, and in that way, hand it to the boat, without
+its coming any closer to the ship.
+
+Meantime, Ahab holding the letter, muttered, “Mr. Har—yes, Mr. Harry—(a
+woman’s pinny hand,—the man’s wife, I’ll wager)—Aye—Mr. Harry Macey,
+Ship Jeroboam;—why it’s Macey, and he’s dead!”
+
+“Poor fellow! poor fellow! and from his wife,” sighed Mayhew; “but let
+me have it.”
+
+“Nay, keep it thyself,” cried Gabriel to Ahab; “thou art soon going
+that way.”
+
+“Curses throttle thee!” yelled Ahab. “Captain Mayhew, stand by now to
+receive it”; and taking the fatal missive from Starbuck’s hands, he
+caught it in the slit of the pole, and reached it over towards the
+boat. But as he did so, the oarsmen expectantly desisted from rowing;
+the boat drifted a little towards the ship’s stern; so that, as if by
+magic, the letter suddenly ranged along with Gabriel’s eager hand. He
+clutched it in an instant, seized the boat-knife, and impaling the
+letter on it, sent it thus loaded back into the ship. It fell at Ahab’s
+feet. Then Gabriel shrieked out to his comrades to give way with their
+oars, and in that manner the mutinous boat rapidly shot away from the
+Pequod.
+
+As, after this interlude, the seamen resumed their work upon the jacket
+of the whale, many strange things were hinted in reference to this wild
+affair.
+
+
+CHAPTER 72. The Monkey-Rope.
+
+In the tumultuous business of cutting-in and attending to a whale,
+there is much running backwards and forwards among the crew. Now hands
+are wanted here, and then again hands are wanted there. There is no
+staying in any one place; for at one and the same time everything has
+to be done everywhere. It is much the same with him who endeavors the
+description of the scene. We must now retrace our way a little. It was
+mentioned that upon first breaking ground in the whale’s back, the
+blubber-hook was inserted into the original hole there cut by the
+spades of the mates. But how did so clumsy and weighty a mass as that
+same hook get fixed in that hole? It was inserted there by my
+particular friend Queequeg, whose duty it was, as harpooneer, to
+descend upon the monster’s back for the special purpose referred to.
+But in very many cases, circumstances require that the harpooneer shall
+remain on the whale till the whole flensing or stripping operation is
+concluded. The whale, be it observed, lies almost entirely submerged,
+excepting the immediate parts operated upon. So down there, some ten
+feet below the level of the deck, the poor harpooneer flounders about,
+half on the whale and half in the water, as the vast mass revolves like
+a tread-mill beneath him. On the occasion in question, Queequeg figured
+in the Highland costume—a shirt and socks—in which to my eyes, at
+least, he appeared to uncommon advantage; and no one had a better
+chance to observe him, as will presently be seen.
+
+Being the savage’s bowsman, that is, the person who pulled the bow-oar
+in his boat (the second one from forward), it was my cheerful duty to
+attend upon him while taking that hard-scrabble scramble upon the dead
+whale’s back. You have seen Italian organ-boys holding a dancing-ape by
+a long cord. Just so, from the ship’s steep side, did I hold Queequeg
+down there in the sea, by what is technically called in the fishery a
+monkey-rope, attached to a strong strip of canvas belted round his
+waist.
+
+It was a humorously perilous business for both of us. For, before we
+proceed further, it must be said that the monkey-rope was fast at both
+ends; fast to Queequeg’s broad canvas belt, and fast to my narrow
+leather one. So that for better or for worse, we two, for the time,
+were wedded; and should poor Queequeg sink to rise no more, then both
+usage and honor demanded, that instead of cutting the cord, it should
+drag me down in his wake. So, then, an elongated Siamese ligature
+united us. Queequeg was my own inseparable twin brother; nor could I
+any way get rid of the dangerous liabilities which the hempen bond
+entailed.
+
+So strongly and metaphysically did I conceive of my situation then,
+that while earnestly watching his motions, I seemed distinctly to
+perceive that my own individuality was now merged in a joint stock
+company of two; that my free will had received a mortal wound; and that
+another’s mistake or misfortune might plunge innocent me into unmerited
+disaster and death. Therefore, I saw that here was a sort of
+interregnum in Providence; for its even-handed equity never could have
+so gross an injustice. And yet still further pondering—while I jerked
+him now and then from between the whale and ship, which would threaten
+to jam him—still further pondering, I say, I saw that this situation of
+mine was the precise situation of every mortal that breathes; only, in
+most cases, he, one way or other, has this Siamese connexion with a
+plurality of other mortals. If your banker breaks, you snap; if your
+apothecary by mistake sends you poison in your pills, you die. True,
+you may say that, by exceeding caution, you may possibly escape these
+and the multitudinous other evil chances of life. But handle Queequeg’s
+monkey-rope heedfully as I would, sometimes he jerked it so, that I
+came very near sliding overboard. Nor could I possibly forget that, do
+what I would, I only had the management of one end of it.*
+
+*The monkey-rope is found in all whalers; but it was only in the Pequod
+that the monkey and his holder were ever tied together. This
+improvement upon the original usage was introduced by no less a man
+than Stubb, in order to afford the imperilled harpooneer the strongest
+possible guarantee for the faithfulness and vigilance of his
+monkey-rope holder.
+
+I have hinted that I would often jerk poor Queequeg from between the
+whale and the ship—where he would occasionally fall, from the incessant
+rolling and swaying of both. But this was not the only jamming jeopardy
+he was exposed to. Unappalled by the massacre made upon them during the
+night, the sharks now freshly and more keenly allured by the before
+pent blood which began to flow from the carcass—the rabid creatures
+swarmed round it like bees in a beehive.
+
+And right in among those sharks was Queequeg; who often pushed them
+aside with his floundering feet. A thing altogether incredible were it
+not that attracted by such prey as a dead whale, the otherwise
+miscellaneously carnivorous shark will seldom touch a man.
+
+Nevertheless, it may well be believed that since they have such a
+ravenous finger in the pie, it is deemed but wise to look sharp to
+them. Accordingly, besides the monkey-rope, with which I now and then
+jerked the poor fellow from too close a vicinity to the maw of what
+seemed a peculiarly ferocious shark—he was provided with still another
+protection. Suspended over the side in one of the stages, Tashtego and
+Daggoo continually flourished over his head a couple of keen
+whale-spades, wherewith they slaughtered as many sharks as they could
+reach. This procedure of theirs, to be sure, was very disinterested and
+benevolent of them. They meant Queequeg’s best happiness, I admit; but
+in their hasty zeal to befriend him, and from the circumstance that
+both he and the sharks were at times half hidden by the blood-muddled
+water, those indiscreet spades of theirs would come nearer amputating a
+leg than a tail. But poor Queequeg, I suppose, straining and gasping
+there with that great iron hook—poor Queequeg, I suppose, only prayed
+to his Yojo, and gave up his life into the hands of his gods.
+
+Well, well, my dear comrade and twin-brother, thought I, as I drew in
+and then slacked off the rope to every swell of the sea—what matters
+it, after all? Are you not the precious image of each and all of us men
+in this whaling world? That unsounded ocean you gasp in, is Life; those
+sharks, your foes; those spades, your friends; and what between sharks
+and spades you are in a sad pickle and peril, poor lad.
+
+But courage! there is good cheer in store for you, Queequeg. For now,
+as with blue lips and blood-shot eyes the exhausted savage at last
+climbs up the chains and stands all dripping and involuntarily
+trembling over the side; the steward advances, and with a benevolent,
+consolatory glance hands him—what? Some hot Cognac? No! hands him, ye
+gods! hands him a cup of tepid ginger and water!
+
+“Ginger? Do I smell ginger?” suspiciously asked Stubb, coming near.
+“Yes, this must be ginger,” peering into the as yet untasted cup. Then
+standing as if incredulous for a while, he calmly walked towards the
+astonished steward slowly saying, “Ginger? ginger? and will you have
+the goodness to tell me, Mr. Dough-Boy, where lies the virtue of
+ginger? Ginger! is ginger the sort of fuel you use, Dough-boy, to
+kindle a fire in this shivering cannibal? Ginger!—what the devil is
+ginger? Sea-coal? firewood?—lucifer matches?—tinder?—gunpowder?—what
+the devil is ginger, I say, that you offer this cup to our poor
+Queequeg here.”
+
+“There is some sneaking Temperance Society movement about this
+business,” he suddenly added, now approaching Starbuck, who had just
+come from forward. “Will you look at that kannakin, sir: smell of it,
+if you please.” Then watching the mate’s countenance, he added, “The
+steward, Mr. Starbuck, had the face to offer that calomel and jalap to
+Queequeg, there, this instant off the whale. Is the steward an
+apothecary, sir? and may I ask whether this is the sort of bitters by
+which he blows back the life into a half-drowned man?”
+
+“I trust not,” said Starbuck, “it is poor stuff enough.”
+
+“Aye, aye, steward,” cried Stubb, “we’ll teach you to drug a
+harpooneer; none of your apothecary’s medicine here; you want to poison
+us, do ye? You have got out insurances on our lives and want to murder
+us all, and pocket the proceeds, do ye?”
+
+“It was not me,” cried Dough-Boy, “it was Aunt Charity that brought the
+ginger on board; and bade me never give the harpooneers any spirits,
+but only this ginger-jub—so she called it.”
+
+“Ginger-jub! you gingerly rascal! take that! and run along with ye to
+the lockers, and get something better. I hope I do no wrong, Mr.
+Starbuck. It is the captain’s orders—grog for the harpooneer on a
+whale.”
+
+“Enough,” replied Starbuck, “only don’t hit him again, but—”
+
+“Oh, I never hurt when I hit, except when I hit a whale or something of
+that sort; and this fellow’s a weazel. What were you about saying,
+sir?”
+
+“Only this: go down with him, and get what thou wantest thyself.”
+
+When Stubb reappeared, he came with a dark flask in one hand, and a
+sort of tea-caddy in the other. The first contained strong spirits, and
+was handed to Queequeg; the second was Aunt Charity’s gift, and that
+was freely given to the waves.
+
+
+CHAPTER 73. Stubb and Flask kill a Right Whale; and Then Have a Talk
+over Him.
+
+It must be borne in mind that all this time we have a Sperm Whale’s
+prodigious head hanging to the Pequod’s side. But we must let it
+continue hanging there a while till we can get a chance to attend to
+it. For the present other matters press, and the best we can do now for
+the head, is to pray heaven the tackles may hold.
+
+Now, during the past night and forenoon, the Pequod had gradually
+drifted into a sea, which, by its occasional patches of yellow brit,
+gave unusual tokens of the vicinity of Right Whales, a species of the
+Leviathan that but few supposed to be at this particular time lurking
+anywhere near. And though all hands commonly disdained the capture of
+those inferior creatures; and though the Pequod was not commissioned to
+cruise for them at all, and though she had passed numbers of them near
+the Crozetts without lowering a boat; yet now that a Sperm Whale had
+been brought alongside and beheaded, to the surprise of all, the
+announcement was made that a Right Whale should be captured that day,
+if opportunity offered.
+
+Nor was this long wanting. Tall spouts were seen to leeward; and two
+boats, Stubb’s and Flask’s, were detached in pursuit. Pulling further
+and further away, they at last became almost invisible to the men at
+the mast-head. But suddenly in the distance, they saw a great heap of
+tumultuous white water, and soon after news came from aloft that one or
+both the boats must be fast. An interval passed and the boats were in
+plain sight, in the act of being dragged right towards the ship by the
+towing whale. So close did the monster come to the hull, that at first
+it seemed as if he meant it malice; but suddenly going down in a
+maelstrom, within three rods of the planks, he wholly disappeared from
+view, as if diving under the keel. “Cut, cut!” was the cry from the
+ship to the boats, which, for one instant, seemed on the point of being
+brought with a deadly dash against the vessel’s side. But having plenty
+of line yet in the tubs, and the whale not sounding very rapidly, they
+paid out abundance of rope, and at the same time pulled with all their
+might so as to get ahead of the ship. For a few minutes the struggle
+was intensely critical; for while they still slacked out the tightened
+line in one direction, and still plied their oars in another, the
+contending strain threatened to take them under. But it was only a few
+feet advance they sought to gain. And they stuck to it till they did
+gain it; when instantly, a swift tremor was felt running like lightning
+along the keel, as the strained line, scraping beneath the ship,
+suddenly rose to view under her bows, snapping and quivering; and so
+flinging off its drippings, that the drops fell like bits of broken
+glass on the water, while the whale beyond also rose to sight, and once
+more the boats were free to fly. But the fagged whale abated his speed,
+and blindly altering his course, went round the stern of the ship
+towing the two boats after him, so that they performed a complete
+circuit.
+
+Meantime, they hauled more and more upon their lines, till close
+flanking him on both sides, Stubb answered Flask with lance for lance;
+and thus round and round the Pequod the battle went, while the
+multitudes of sharks that had before swum round the Sperm Whale’s body,
+rushed to the fresh blood that was spilled, thirstily drinking at every
+new gash, as the eager Israelites did at the new bursting fountains
+that poured from the smitten rock.
+
+At last his spout grew thick, and with a frightful roll and vomit, he
+turned upon his back a corpse.
+
+While the two headsmen were engaged in making fast cords to his flukes,
+and in other ways getting the mass in readiness for towing, some
+conversation ensued between them.
+
+“I wonder what the old man wants with this lump of foul lard,” said
+Stubb, not without some disgust at the thought of having to do with so
+ignoble a leviathan.
+
+“Wants with it?” said Flask, coiling some spare line in the boat’s bow,
+“did you never hear that the ship which but once has a Sperm Whale’s
+head hoisted on her starboard side, and at the same time a Right
+Whale’s on the larboard; did you never hear, Stubb, that that ship can
+never afterwards capsize?”
+
+“Why not?
+
+“I don’t know, but I heard that gamboge ghost of a Fedallah saying so,
+and he seems to know all about ships’ charms. But I sometimes think
+he’ll charm the ship to no good at last. I don’t half like that chap,
+Stubb. Did you ever notice how that tusk of his is a sort of carved
+into a snake’s head, Stubb?”
+
+“Sink him! I never look at him at all; but if ever I get a chance of a
+dark night, and he standing hard by the bulwarks, and no one by; look
+down there, Flask”—pointing into the sea with a peculiar motion of both
+hands—“Aye, will I! Flask, I take that Fedallah to be the devil in
+disguise. Do you believe that cock and bull story about his having been
+stowed away on board ship? He’s the devil, I say. The reason why you
+don’t see his tail, is because he tucks it up out of sight; he carries
+it coiled away in his pocket, I guess. Blast him! now that I think of
+it, he’s always wanting oakum to stuff into the toes of his boots.”
+
+“He sleeps in his boots, don’t he? He hasn’t got any hammock; but I’ve
+seen him lay of nights in a coil of rigging.”
+
+“No doubt, and it’s because of his cursed tail; he coils it down, do ye
+see, in the eye of the rigging.”
+
+“What’s the old man have so much to do with him for?”
+
+“Striking up a swap or a bargain, I suppose.”
+
+“Bargain?—about what?”
+
+“Why, do ye see, the old man is hard bent after that White Whale, and
+the devil there is trying to come round him, and get him to swap away
+his silver watch, or his soul, or something of that sort, and then
+he’ll surrender Moby Dick.”
+
+“Pooh! Stubb, you are skylarking; how can Fedallah do that?”
+
+“I don’t know, Flask, but the devil is a curious chap, and a wicked
+one, I tell ye. Why, they say as how he went a sauntering into the old
+flag-ship once, switching his tail about devilish easy and
+gentlemanlike, and inquiring if the old governor was at home. Well, he
+was at home, and asked the devil what he wanted. The devil, switching
+his hoofs, up and says, ‘I want John.’ ‘What for?’ says the old
+governor. ‘What business is that of yours,’ says the devil, getting
+mad,—‘I want to use him.’ ‘Take him,’ says the governor—and by the
+Lord, Flask, if the devil didn’t give John the Asiatic cholera before
+he got through with him, I’ll eat this whale in one mouthful. But look
+sharp—ain’t you all ready there? Well, then, pull ahead, and let’s get
+the whale alongside.”
+
+“I think I remember some such story as you were telling,” said Flask,
+when at last the two boats were slowly advancing with their burden
+towards the ship, “but I can’t remember where.”
+
+“Three Spaniards? Adventures of those three bloody-minded soldadoes?
+Did ye read it there, Flask? I guess ye did?”
+
+“No: never saw such a book; heard of it, though. But now, tell me,
+Stubb, do you suppose that that devil you was speaking of just now, was
+the same you say is now on board the Pequod?”
+
+“Am I the same man that helped kill this whale? Doesn’t the devil live
+for ever; who ever heard that the devil was dead? Did you ever see any
+parson a wearing mourning for the devil? And if the devil has a
+latch-key to get into the admiral’s cabin, don’t you suppose he can
+crawl into a porthole? Tell me that, Mr. Flask?”
+
+“How old do you suppose Fedallah is, Stubb?”
+
+“Do you see that mainmast there?” pointing to the ship; “well, that’s
+the figure one; now take all the hoops in the Pequod’s hold, and string
+along in a row with that mast, for oughts, do you see; well, that
+wouldn’t begin to be Fedallah’s age. Nor all the coopers in creation
+couldn’t show hoops enough to make oughts enough.”
+
+“But see here, Stubb, I thought you a little boasted just now, that you
+meant to give Fedallah a sea-toss, if you got a good chance. Now, if
+he’s so old as all those hoops of yours come to, and if he is going to
+live for ever, what good will it do to pitch him overboard—tell me
+that?
+
+“Give him a good ducking, anyhow.”
+
+“But he’d crawl back.”
+
+“Duck him again; and keep ducking him.”
+
+“Suppose he should take it into his head to duck you, though—yes, and
+drown you—what then?”
+
+“I should like to see him try it; I’d give him such a pair of black
+eyes that he wouldn’t dare to show his face in the admiral’s cabin
+again for a long while, let alone down in the orlop there, where he
+lives, and hereabouts on the upper decks where he sneaks so much. Damn
+the devil, Flask; so you suppose I’m afraid of the devil? Who’s afraid
+of him, except the old governor who daresn’t catch him and put him in
+double-darbies, as he deserves, but lets him go about kidnapping
+people; aye, and signed a bond with him, that all the people the devil
+kidnapped, he’d roast for him? There’s a governor!”
+
+“Do you suppose Fedallah wants to kidnap Captain Ahab?”
+
+“Do I suppose it? You’ll know it before long, Flask. But I am going now
+to keep a sharp look-out on him; and if I see anything very suspicious
+going on, I’ll just take him by the nape of his neck, and say—Look
+here, Beelzebub, you don’t do it; and if he makes any fuss, by the Lord
+I’ll make a grab into his pocket for his tail, take it to the capstan,
+and give him such a wrenching and heaving, that his tail will come
+short off at the stump—do you see; and then, I rather guess when he
+finds himself docked in that queer fashion, he’ll sneak off without the
+poor satisfaction of feeling his tail between his legs.”
+
+“And what will you do with the tail, Stubb?”
+
+“Do with it? Sell it for an ox whip when we get home;—what else?”
+
+“Now, do you mean what you say, and have been saying all along, Stubb?”
+
+“Mean or not mean, here we are at the ship.”
+
+The boats were here hailed, to tow the whale on the larboard side,
+where fluke chains and other necessaries were already prepared for
+securing him.
+
+“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Flask; “yes, you’ll soon see this right
+whale’s head hoisted 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 even keel; though sorely strained, you may
+well believe. So, when on one side you hoist 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 plight. Thus, some minds for ever keep
+trimming boat. Oh, ye foolish! throw all these thunder-heads overboard,
+and then you will float light and right.
+
+In disposing of the body of a right whale, when brought alongside the
+ship, the same preliminary proceedings commonly take place as in the
+case of a sperm whale; only, in the latter instance, the head is cut
+off whole, but in the former the lips and tongue are separately removed
+and hoisted on deck, with all the well known black bone attached to
+what is called the crown-piece. But nothing like this, in the present
+case, had been done. The carcases of both whales had dropped astern;
+and the head-laden ship not a little resembled a mule carrying a pair
+of overburdening panniers.
+
+Meantime, Fedallah was calmly eyeing the right whale’s head, and ever
+and anon glancing from the deep wrinkles there to the lines in his own
+hand. And Ahab chanced so to stand, that the Parsee occupied his
+shadow; while, if the Parsee’s shadow was there at all it seemed only
+to blend with, and lengthen Ahab’s. As the crew toiled on, Laplandish
+speculations were bandied among them, concerning all these passing
+things.
+
+
+CHAPTER 74. The Sperm Whale’s Head—Contrasted View.
+
+Here, now, are two great whales, laying their heads together; let us
+join them, and lay together our own.
+
+Of the grand order of folio leviathans, the Sperm Whale and the Right
+Whale are by far the most noteworthy. They are the only whales
+regularly hunted by man. To the Nantucketer, they present the two
+extremes of all the known varieties of the whale. As the external
+difference between them is mainly observable in their heads; and as a
+head of each is this moment hanging from the Pequod’s side; and as we
+may freely go from one to the other, by merely stepping across the
+deck:—where, I should like to know, will you obtain a better chance to
+study practical cetology than here?
+
+In the first place, you are struck by the general contrast between
+these heads. Both are massive enough in all conscience; but there is a
+certain mathematical symmetry in the Sperm Whale’s which the Right
+Whale’s sadly lacks. There is more character in the Sperm Whale’s head.
+As you behold it, you involuntarily yield the immense superiority to
+him, in point of pervading dignity. In the present instance, too, this
+dignity is heightened by the pepper and salt colour of his head at the
+summit, giving token of advanced age and large experience. In short, he
+is what the fishermen technically call a “grey-headed whale.”
+
+Let us now note what is least dissimilar in these heads—namely, the two
+most important organs, the eye and the ear. Far back on the side of the
+head, and low down, near the angle of either whale’s jaw, if you
+narrowly search, you will at last see a lashless eye, which you would
+fancy to be a young colt’s eye; so out of all proportion is it to the
+magnitude of the head.
+
+Now, from this peculiar sideway position of the whale’s eyes, it is
+plain that he can never see an object which is exactly ahead, no more
+than he can one exactly astern. In a word, the position of the whale’s
+eyes corresponds to that of a man’s ears; and you may fancy, for
+yourself, how it would fare with you, did you sideways survey objects
+through your ears. You would find that you could only command some
+thirty degrees of vision in advance of the straight side-line of sight;
+and about thirty more behind it. If your bitterest foe were walking
+straight towards you, with dagger uplifted in broad day, you would not
+be able to see him, any more than if he were stealing upon you from
+behind. In a word, you would have two backs, so to speak; but, at the
+same time, also, two fronts (side fronts): for what is it that makes
+the front of a man—what, indeed, but his eyes?
+
+Moreover, while in most other animals that I can now think of, the eyes
+are so planted as imperceptibly to blend their visual power, so as to
+produce one picture and not two to the brain; the peculiar position of
+the whale’s eyes, effectually divided as they are by many cubic feet of
+solid head, which towers between them like a great mountain separating
+two lakes in valleys; this, of course, must wholly separate the
+impressions which each independent organ imparts. The whale, therefore,
+must see one distinct picture on this side, and another distinct
+picture on that side; while all between must be profound darkness and
+nothingness to him. Man may, in effect, be said to look out on the
+world from a sentry-box with two joined sashes for his window. But with
+the whale, these two sashes are separately inserted, making two
+distinct windows, but sadly impairing the view. This peculiarity of the
+whale’s eyes is a thing always to be borne in mind in the fishery; and
+to be remembered by the reader in some subsequent scenes.
+
+A curious and most puzzling question might be started concerning this
+visual matter as touching the Leviathan. But I must be content with a
+hint. So long as a man’s eyes are open in the light, the act of seeing
+is involuntary; that is, he cannot then help mechanically seeing
+whatever objects are before him. Nevertheless, any one’s experience
+will teach him, that though he can take in an undiscriminating sweep of
+things at one glance, it is quite impossible for him, attentively, and
+completely, to examine any two things—however large or however small—at
+one and the same instant of time; never mind if they lie side by side
+and touch each other. But if you now come to separate these two
+objects, and surround each by a circle of profound darkness; then, in
+order to see one of them, in such a manner as to bring your mind to
+bear on it, the other will be utterly excluded from your contemporary
+consciousness. How is it, then, with the whale? True, both his eyes, in
+themselves, must simultaneously act; but is his brain so much more
+comprehensive, combining, and subtle than man’s, that he can at the
+same moment of time attentively examine two distinct prospects, one on
+one side of him, and the other in an exactly opposite direction? If he
+can, then is it as marvellous a thing in him, as if a man were able
+simultaneously to go through the demonstrations of two distinct
+problems in Euclid. Nor, strictly investigated, is there any
+incongruity in this comparison.
+
+It may be but an idle whim, but it has always seemed to me, that the
+extraordinary vacillations of movement displayed by some whales when
+beset by three or four boats; the timidity and liability to queer
+frights, so common to such whales; I think that all this indirectly
+proceeds from the helpless perplexity of volition, in which their
+divided and diametrically opposite powers of vision must involve them.
+
+But the ear of the whale is full as curious as the eye. If you are an
+entire stranger to their race, you might hunt over these two heads for
+hours, and never discover that organ. The ear has no external leaf
+whatever; and into the hole itself you can hardly insert a quill, so
+wondrously minute is it. It is lodged a little behind the eye. With
+respect to their ears, this important difference is to be observed
+between the sperm whale and the right. While the ear of the former has
+an external opening, that of the latter is entirely and evenly covered
+over with a membrane, so as to be quite imperceptible from without.
+
+Is it not curious, that so vast a being as the whale should see the
+world through so small an eye, and hear the thunder through an ear
+which is smaller than a hare’s? But if his eyes were broad as the lens
+of Herschel’s great telescope; and his ears capacious as the porches of
+cathedrals; would that make him any longer of sight, or sharper of
+hearing? Not at all.—Why then do you try to “enlarge” your mind?
+Subtilize it.
+
+Let us now with whatever levers and steam-engines we have at hand, cant
+over the sperm whale’s head, that it may lie bottom up; then, ascending
+by a ladder to the summit, have a peep down the mouth; and were it not
+that the body is now completely separated from it, with a lantern we
+might descend into the great Kentucky Mammoth Cave of his stomach. But
+let us hold on here by this tooth, and look about us where we are. What
+a really beautiful and chaste-looking mouth! from floor to ceiling,
+lined, or rather papered with a glistening white membrane, glossy as
+bridal satins.
+
+But come out now, and look at this portentous lower jaw, which seems
+like the long narrow lid of an immense snuff-box, with the hinge at one
+end, instead of one side. If you pry it up, so as to get it overhead,
+and expose its rows of teeth, it seems a terrific portcullis; and such,
+alas! it proves to many a poor wight in the fishery, upon whom these
+spikes fall with impaling force. But far more terrible is it to behold,
+when fathoms down in the sea, you see some sulky whale, floating there
+suspended, with his prodigious jaw, some fifteen feet long, hanging
+straight down at right-angles with his body, for all the world like a
+ship’s jib-boom. This whale is not dead; he is only dispirited; out of
+sorts, perhaps; hypochondriac; and so supine, that the hinges of his
+jaw have relaxed, leaving him there in that ungainly sort of plight, a
+reproach to all his tribe, who must, no doubt, imprecate lock-jaws upon
+him.
+
+In most cases this lower jaw—being easily unhinged by a practised
+artist—is disengaged and hoisted on deck for the purpose of extracting
+the ivory teeth, and furnishing a supply of that hard white whalebone
+with which the fishermen fashion all sorts of curious articles,
+including canes, umbrella-stocks, and handles to riding-whips.
+
+With a long, weary hoist the jaw is dragged on board, as if it were an
+anchor; and when the proper time comes—some few days after the other
+work—Queequeg, Daggoo, and Tashtego, being all accomplished dentists,
+are set to drawing teeth. With a keen cutting-spade, Queequeg lances
+the gums; then the jaw is lashed down to ringbolts, and a tackle being
+rigged from aloft, they drag out these teeth, as Michigan oxen drag
+stumps of old oaks out of wild wood lands. There are generally
+forty-two teeth in all; in old whales, much worn down, but undecayed;
+nor filled after our artificial fashion. The jaw is afterwards sawn
+into slabs, and piled away like joists for building houses.
+
+
+CHAPTER 75. The Right Whale’s Head—Contrasted View.
+
+Crossing the deck, let us now have a good long look at the Right
+Whale’s head.
+
+As in general shape the noble Sperm Whale’s head may be compared to a
+Roman war-chariot (especially in front, where it is so broadly
+rounded); so, at a broad view, the Right Whale’s head bears a rather
+inelegant resemblance to a gigantic galliot-toed shoe. Two hundred
+years ago an old Dutch voyager likened its shape to that of a
+shoemaker’s last. And in this same last or shoe, that old woman of the
+nursery tale, with the swarming brood, might very comfortably be
+lodged, she and all her progeny.
+
+But as you come nearer to this great head it begins to assume different
+aspects, according to your point of view. If you stand on its summit
+and look at these two F-shaped spoutholes, you would take the whole
+head for an enormous bass-viol, and these spiracles, the apertures in
+its sounding-board. Then, again, if you fix your eye upon this strange,
+crested, comb-like incrustation on the top of the mass—this green,
+barnacled thing, which the Greenlanders call the “crown,” and the
+Southern fishers the “bonnet” of the Right Whale; fixing your eyes
+solely on this, you would take the head for the trunk of some huge oak,
+with a bird’s nest in its crotch. At any rate, when you watch those
+live crabs that nestle here on this bonnet, such an idea will be almost
+sure to occur to you; unless, indeed, your fancy has been fixed by the
+technical term “crown” also bestowed upon it; in which case you will
+take great interest in thinking how this mighty monster is actually a
+diademed king of the sea, whose green crown has been put together for
+him in this marvellous manner. But if this whale be a king, he is a
+very sulky looking fellow to grace a diadem. Look at that hanging lower
+lip! what a huge sulk and pout is there! a sulk and pout, by
+carpenter’s measurement, about twenty feet long and five feet deep; a
+sulk and pout that will yield you some 500 gallons of oil and more.
+
+A great pity, now, that this unfortunate whale should be hare-lipped.
+The fissure is about a foot across. Probably the mother during an
+important interval was sailing down the Peruvian coast, when
+earthquakes caused the beach to gape. Over this lip, as over a slippery
+threshold, we now slide into the mouth. Upon my word were I at
+Mackinaw, I should take this to be the inside of an Indian wigwam. Good
+Lord! is this the road that Jonah went? The roof is about twelve feet
+high, and runs to a pretty sharp angle, as if there were a regular
+ridge-pole there; while these ribbed, arched, hairy sides, present us
+with those wondrous, half vertical, scimetar-shaped slats of whalebone,
+say three hundred on a side, which depending from the upper part of the
+head or crown bone, form those Venetian blinds which have elsewhere
+been cursorily mentioned. The edges of these bones are fringed with
+hairy fibres, through which the Right Whale strains the water, and in
+whose intricacies he retains the small fish, when openmouthed he goes
+through the seas of brit in feeding time. In the central blinds of
+bone, as they stand in their natural order, there are certain curious
+marks, curves, hollows, and ridges, whereby some whalemen calculate the
+creature’s age, as the age of an oak by its circular rings. Though the
+certainty of this criterion is far from demonstrable, yet it has the
+savor of analogical probability. At any rate, if we yield to it, we
+must grant a far greater age to the Right Whale than at first glance
+will seem reasonable.
+
+In old times, there seem to have prevailed the most curious fancies
+concerning these blinds. One voyager in Purchas calls them the wondrous
+“whiskers” inside of the whale’s mouth;* another, “hogs’ bristles”; a
+third old gentleman in Hackluyt uses the following elegant language:
+“There are about two hundred and fifty fins growing on each side of his
+upper _chop_, which arch over his tongue on each side of his mouth.”
+
+*This reminds us that the Right Whale really has a sort of whisker, or
+rather a moustache, consisting of a few scattered white hairs on the
+upper part of the outer end of the lower jaw. Sometimes these tufts
+impart a rather brigandish expression to his otherwise solemn
+countenance.
+
+As every one knows, these same “hogs’ bristles,” “fins,” “whiskers,”
+“blinds,” or whatever you please, furnish to the ladies their busks and
+other stiffening contrivances. But in this particular, the demand has
+long been on the decline. It was in Queen Anne’s time that the bone was
+in its glory, the farthingale being then all the fashion. And as those
+ancient dames moved about gaily, though in the jaws of the whale, as
+you may say; even so, in a shower, with the like thoughtlessness, do we
+nowadays fly under the same jaws for protection; the umbrella being a
+tent spread over the same bone.
+
+But now forget all about blinds and whiskers for a moment, and,
+standing in the Right Whale’s mouth, look around you afresh. Seeing all
+these colonnades of bone so methodically ranged about, would you not
+think you were inside of the great Haarlem organ, and gazing upon its
+thousand pipes? For a carpet to the organ we have a rug of the softest
+Turkey—the tongue, which is glued, as it were, to the floor of the
+mouth. It is very fat and tender, and apt to tear in pieces in hoisting
+it on deck. This particular tongue now before us; at a passing glance I
+should say it was a six-barreler; that is, it will yield you about that
+amount of oil.
+
+Ere this, you must have plainly seen the truth of what I started
+with—that the Sperm Whale and the Right Whale have almost entirely
+different heads. To sum up, then: in the Right Whale’s there is no
+great well of sperm; no ivory teeth at all; no long, slender mandible
+of a lower jaw, like the Sperm Whale’s. Nor in the Sperm Whale are
+there any of those blinds of bone; no huge lower lip; and scarcely
+anything of a tongue. Again, the Right Whale has two external
+spout-holes, the Sperm Whale only one.
+
+Look your last, now, on these venerable hooded heads, while they yet
+lie together; for one will soon sink, unrecorded, in the sea; the other
+will not be very long in following.
+
+Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale’s there? It is the same
+he died with, only some of the longer wrinkles in the forehead seem now
+faded away. I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like
+placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. But mark the
+other head’s expression. See that amazing lower lip, pressed by
+accident against the vessel’s side, so as firmly to embrace the jaw.
+Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical
+resolution in facing death? This Right Whale I take to have been a
+Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in
+his latter years.
+
+
+CHAPTER 76. The Battering-Ram.
+
+Ere quitting, for the nonce, the Sperm Whale’s head, I would have you,
+as a sensible physiologist, simply—particularly remark its front
+aspect, in all its compacted collectedness. I would have you
+investigate it now with the sole view of forming to yourself some
+unexaggerated, intelligent estimate of whatever battering-ram power may
+be lodged there. Here is a vital point; for you must either
+satisfactorily settle this matter with yourself, or for ever remain an
+infidel as to one of the most appalling, but not the less true events,
+perhaps anywhere to be found in all recorded history.
+
+You observe that in the ordinary swimming position of the Sperm Whale,
+the front of his head presents an almost wholly vertical plane to the
+water; you observe that the lower part of that front slopes
+considerably backwards, so as to furnish more of a retreat for the long
+socket which receives the boom-like lower jaw; you observe that the
+mouth is entirely under the head, much in the same way, indeed, as
+though your own mouth were entirely under your chin. Moreover you
+observe that the whale has no external nose; and that what nose he
+has—his spout hole—is on the top of his head; you observe that his eyes
+and ears are at the sides of his head, nearly one third of his entire
+length from the front. Wherefore, you must now have perceived that the
+front of the Sperm Whale’s head is a dead, blind wall, without a single
+organ or tender prominence of any sort whatsoever. Furthermore, you are
+now to consider that only in the extreme, lower, backward sloping part
+of the front of the head, is there the slightest vestige of bone; and
+not till you get near twenty feet from the forehead do you come to the
+full cranial development. So that this whole enormous boneless mass is
+as one wad. Finally, though, as will soon be revealed, its contents
+partly comprise the most delicate oil; yet, you are now to be apprised
+of the nature of the substance which so impregnably invests all that
+apparent effeminacy. In some previous place I have described to you how
+the blubber wraps the body of the whale, as the rind wraps an orange.
+Just so with the head; but with this difference: about the head this
+envelope, though not so thick, is of a boneless toughness, inestimable
+by any man who has not handled it. The severest pointed harpoon, the
+sharpest lance darted by the strongest human arm, impotently rebounds
+from it. It is as though the forehead of the Sperm Whale were paved
+with horses’ hoofs. I do not think that any sensation lurks in it.
+
+Bethink yourself also of another thing. When two large, loaded Indiamen
+chance to crowd and crush towards each other in the docks, what do the
+sailors do? They do not suspend between them, at the point of coming
+contact, any merely hard substance, like iron or wood. No, they hold
+there a large, round wad of tow and cork, enveloped in the thickest and
+toughest of ox-hide. That bravely and uninjured takes the jam which
+would have snapped all their oaken handspikes and iron crow-bars. By
+itself this sufficiently illustrates the obvious fact I drive at. But
+supplementary to this, it has hypothetically occurred to me, that as
+ordinary fish possess what is called a swimming bladder in them,
+capable, at will, of distension or contraction; and as the Sperm Whale,
+as far as I know, has no such provision in him; considering, too, the
+otherwise inexplicable manner in which he now depresses his head
+altogether beneath the surface, and anon swims with it high elevated
+out of the water; considering the unobstructed elasticity of its
+envelope; considering the unique interior of his head; it has
+hypothetically occurred to me, I say, that those mystical lung-celled
+honeycombs there may possibly have some hitherto unknown and
+unsuspected connexion with the outer air, so as to be susceptible to
+atmospheric distension and contraction. If this be so, fancy the
+irresistibleness of that might, to which the most impalpable and
+destructive of all elements contributes.
+
+Now, mark. Unerringly impelling this dead, impregnable, uninjurable
+wall, and this most buoyant thing within; there swims behind it all a
+mass of tremendous life, only to be adequately estimated as piled wood
+is—by the cord; and all obedient to one volition, as the smallest
+insect. So that when I shall hereafter detail to you all the
+specialities and concentrations of potency everywhere lurking in this
+expansive monster; when I shall show you some of his more
+inconsiderable braining feats; I trust you will have renounced all
+ignorant incredulity, and be ready to abide by this; that though the
+Sperm Whale stove a passage through the Isthmus of Darien, and mixed
+the Atlantic with the Pacific, you would not elevate one hair of your
+eye-brow. For unless you own the whale, you are but a provincial and
+sentimentalist in Truth. But clear Truth is a thing for salamander
+giants only to encounter; how small the chances for the provincials
+then? What befell the weakling youth lifting the dread goddess’s veil
+at Lais?
+
+
+CHAPTER 77. The Great Heidelburgh Tun.
+
+Now comes the Baling of the Case. But to comprehend it aright, you must
+know something of the curious internal structure of the thing operated
+upon.
+
+Regarding the Sperm Whale’s head as a solid oblong, you may, on an
+inclined plane, sideways divide it into two quoins,* whereof the lower
+is the bony structure, forming the cranium and jaws, and the upper an
+unctuous mass wholly free from bones; its broad forward end forming the
+expanded vertical apparent forehead of the whale. At the middle of the
+forehead horizontally subdivide this upper quoin, and then you have two
+almost equal parts, which before were naturally divided by an internal
+wall of a thick tendinous substance.
+
+*Quoin is not a Euclidean term. It belongs to the pure nautical
+mathematics. I know not that it has been defined before. A quoin is a
+solid which differs from a wedge in having its sharp end formed by the
+steep inclination of one side, instead of the mutual tapering of both
+sides.
+
+The lower subdivided part, called the junk, is one immense honeycomb of
+oil, formed by the crossing and recrossing, into ten thousand
+infiltrated cells, of tough elastic white fibres throughout its whole
+extent. The upper part, known as the Case, may be regarded as the great
+Heidelburgh Tun of the Sperm Whale. And as that famous great tierce is
+mystically carved in front, so the whale’s vast plaited forehead forms
+innumerable strange devices for the emblematical adornment of his
+wondrous tun. Moreover, as that of Heidelburgh was always replenished
+with the most excellent of the wines of the Rhenish valleys, so the tun
+of the whale contains by far the most precious of all his oily
+vintages; namely, the highly-prized spermaceti, in its absolutely pure,
+limpid, and odoriferous state. Nor is this precious substance found
+unalloyed in any other part of the creature. Though in life it remains
+perfectly fluid, yet, upon exposure to the air, after death, it soon
+begins to concrete; sending forth beautiful crystalline shoots, as when
+the first thin delicate ice is just forming in water. A large whale’s
+case generally yields about five hundred gallons of sperm, though from
+unavoidable circumstances, considerable of it is spilled, leaks, and
+dribbles away, or is otherwise irrevocably lost in the ticklish
+business of securing what you can.
+
+I know not with what fine and costly material the Heidelburgh Tun was
+coated within, but in superlative richness that coating could not
+possibly have compared with the silken pearl-coloured membrane, like
+the lining of a fine pelisse, forming the inner surface of the Sperm
+Whale’s case.
+
+It will have been seen that the Heidelburgh Tun of the Sperm Whale
+embraces the entire length of the entire top of the head; and since—as
+has been elsewhere set forth—the head embraces one third of the whole
+length of the creature, then setting that length down at eighty feet
+for a good sized whale, you have more than twenty-six feet for the
+depth of the tun, when it is lengthwise hoisted up and down against a
+ship’s side.
+
+As in decapitating the whale, the operator’s instrument is brought
+close to the spot where an entrance is subsequently forced into the
+spermaceti magazine; he has, therefore, to be uncommonly heedful, lest
+a careless, untimely stroke should invade the sanctuary and wastingly
+let out its invaluable contents. It is this decapitated end of the
+head, also, which is at last elevated out of the water, and retained in
+that position by the enormous cutting tackles, whose hempen
+combinations, on one side, make quite a wilderness of ropes in that
+quarter.
+
+Thus much being said, attend now, I pray you, to that marvellous and—in
+this particular instance—almost fatal operation whereby the Sperm
+Whale’s great Heidelburgh Tun is tapped.
+
+
+CHAPTER 78. Cistern and Buckets.
+
+Nimble as a cat, Tashtego mounts aloft; and without altering his erect
+posture, runs straight out upon the overhanging mainyard-arm, to the
+part where it exactly projects over the hoisted Tun. He has carried
+with him a light tackle called a whip, consisting of only two parts,
+travelling through a single-sheaved block. Securing this block, so that
+it hangs down from the yard-arm, he swings one end of the rope, till it
+is caught and firmly held by a hand on deck. Then, hand-over-hand, down
+the other part, the Indian drops through the air, till dexterously he
+lands on the summit of the head. There—still high elevated above the
+rest of the company, to whom he vivaciously cries—he seems some Turkish
+Muezzin calling the good people to prayers from the top of a tower. A
+short-handled sharp spade being sent up to him, he diligently searches
+for the proper place to begin breaking into the Tun. In this business
+he proceeds very heedfully, like a treasure-hunter in some old house,
+sounding the walls to find where the gold is masoned in. By the time
+this cautious search is over, a stout iron-bound bucket, precisely like
+a well-bucket, has been attached to one end of the whip; while the
+other end, being stretched across the deck, is there held by two or
+three alert hands. These last now hoist the bucket within grasp of the
+Indian, to whom another person has reached up a very long pole.
+Inserting this pole into the bucket, Tashtego downward guides the
+bucket into the Tun, till it entirely disappears; then giving the word
+to the seamen at the whip, up comes the bucket again, all bubbling like
+a dairy-maid’s pail of new milk. Carefully lowered from its height, the
+full-freighted vessel is caught by an appointed hand, and quickly
+emptied into a large tub. Then remounting aloft, it again goes through
+the same round until the deep cistern will yield no more. Towards the
+end, Tashtego has to ram his long pole harder and harder, and deeper
+and deeper into the Tun, until some twenty feet of the pole have gone
+down.
+
+Now, the people of the Pequod had been baling some time in this way;
+several tubs had been filled with the fragrant sperm; when all at once
+a queer accident happened. Whether it was that Tashtego, that wild
+Indian, was so heedless and reckless as to let go for a moment his
+one-handed hold on the great cabled tackles suspending the head; or
+whether the place where he stood was so treacherous and oozy; or
+whether the Evil One himself would have it to fall out so, without
+stating his particular reasons; how it was exactly, there is no telling
+now; but, on a sudden, as the eightieth or ninetieth bucket came
+suckingly up—my God! poor Tashtego—like the twin reciprocating bucket
+in a veritable well, dropped head-foremost down into this great Tun of
+Heidelburgh, and with a horrible oily gurgling, went clean out of
+sight!
+
+“Man overboard!” cried Daggoo, who amid the general consternation first
+came to his senses. “Swing the bucket this way!” and putting one foot
+into it, so as the better to secure his slippery hand-hold on the whip
+itself, the hoisters ran him high up to the top of the head, almost
+before Tashtego could have reached its interior bottom. Meantime, there
+was a terrible tumult. Looking over the side, they saw the before
+lifeless head throbbing and heaving just below the surface of the sea,
+as if that moment seized with some momentous idea; whereas it was only
+the poor Indian unconsciously revealing by those struggles the perilous
+depth to which he had sunk.
+
+At this instant, while Daggoo, on the summit of the head, was clearing
+the whip—which had somehow got foul of the great cutting tackles—a
+sharp cracking noise was heard; and to the unspeakable horror of all,
+one of the two enormous hooks suspending the head tore out, and with a
+vast vibration the enormous mass sideways swung, till the drunk ship
+reeled and shook as if smitten by an iceberg. The one remaining hook,
+upon which the entire strain now depended, seemed every instant to be
+on the point of giving way; an event still more likely from the violent
+motions of the head.
+
+“Come down, come down!” yelled the seamen to Daggoo, but with one hand
+holding on to the heavy tackles, so that if the head should drop, he
+would still remain suspended; the negro having cleared the foul line,
+rammed down the bucket into the now collapsed well, meaning that the
+buried harpooneer should grasp it, and so be hoisted out.
+
+“In heaven’s name, man,” cried Stubb, “are you ramming home a cartridge
+there?—Avast! How will that help him; jamming that iron-bound bucket on
+top of his head? Avast, will ye!”
+
+“Stand clear of the tackle!” cried a voice like the bursting of a
+rocket.
+
+Almost in the same instant, with a thunder-boom, the enormous mass
+dropped into the sea, like Niagara’s Table-Rock into the whirlpool; the
+suddenly relieved hull rolled away from it, to far down her glittering
+copper; and all caught their breath, as half swinging—now over the
+sailors’ heads, and now over the water—Daggoo, through a thick mist of
+spray, was dimly beheld clinging to the pendulous tackles, while poor,
+buried-alive Tashtego was sinking utterly down to the bottom of the
+sea! But hardly had the blinding vapor cleared away, when a naked
+figure with a boarding-sword in his hand, was for one swift moment seen
+hovering over the bulwarks. The next, a loud splash announced that my
+brave Queequeg had dived to the rescue. One packed rush was made to the
+side, and every eye counted every ripple, as moment followed moment,
+and no sign of either the sinker or the diver could be seen. Some hands
+now jumped into a boat alongside, and pushed a little off from the
+ship.
+
+“Ha! ha!” cried Daggoo, all at once, from his now quiet, swinging perch
+overhead; and looking further off from the side, we saw an arm thrust
+upright from the blue waves; a sight strange to see, as an arm thrust
+forth from the grass over a grave.
+
+“Both! both!—it is both!”—cried Daggoo again with a joyful shout; and
+soon after, Queequeg was seen boldly striking out with one hand, and
+with the other clutching the long hair of the Indian. Drawn into the
+waiting boat, they were quickly brought to the deck; but Tashtego was
+long in coming to, and Queequeg did not look very brisk.
+
+Now, how had this noble rescue been accomplished? Why, diving after the
+slowly descending head, Queequeg with his keen sword had made side
+lunges near its bottom, so as to scuttle a large hole there; then
+dropping his sword, had thrust his long arm far inwards and upwards,
+and so hauled out poor Tash by the head. He averred, that upon first
+thrusting in for him, a leg was presented; but well knowing that that
+was not as it ought to be, and might occasion great trouble;—he had
+thrust back the leg, and by a dexterous heave and toss, had wrought a
+somerset upon the Indian; so that with the next trial, he came forth in
+the good old way—head foremost. As for the great head itself, that was
+doing as well as could be expected.
+
+And thus, through the courage and great skill in obstetrics of
+Queequeg, the deliverance, or rather, delivery of Tashtego, was
+successfully accomplished, in the teeth, too, of the most untoward and
+apparently hopeless impediments; which is a lesson by no means to be
+forgotten. Midwifery should be taught in the same course with fencing
+and boxing, riding and rowing.
+
+I know that this queer adventure of the Gay-Header’s will be sure to
+seem incredible to some landsmen, though they themselves may have
+either seen or heard of some one’s falling into a cistern ashore; an
+accident which not seldom happens, and with much less reason too than
+the Indian’s, considering the exceeding slipperiness of the curb of the
+Sperm Whale’s well.
+
+But, peradventure, it may be sagaciously urged, how is this? We thought
+the tissued, infiltrated head of the Sperm Whale, was the lightest and
+most corky part about him; and yet thou makest it sink in an element of
+a far greater specific gravity than itself. We have thee there. Not at
+all, but I have ye; for at the time poor Tash fell in, the case had
+been nearly emptied of its lighter contents, leaving little but the
+dense tendinous wall of the well—a double welded, hammered substance,
+as I have before said, much heavier than the sea water, and a lump of
+which sinks in it like lead almost. But the tendency to rapid sinking
+in this substance was in the present instance materially counteracted
+by the other parts of the head remaining undetached from it, so that it
+sank very slowly and deliberately indeed, affording Queequeg a fair
+chance for performing his agile obstetrics on the run, as you may say.
+Yes, it was a running delivery, so it was.
+
+Now, had Tashtego perished in that head, it had been a very precious
+perishing; smothered in the very whitest and daintiest of fragrant
+spermaceti; coffined, hearsed, and tombed in the secret inner chamber
+and sanctum sanctorum of the whale. Only one sweeter end can readily be
+recalled—the delicious death of an Ohio honey-hunter, who seeking honey
+in the crotch of a hollow tree, found such exceeding store of it, that
+leaning too far over, it sucked him in, so that he died embalmed. How
+many, think ye, have likewise fallen into Plato’s honey head, and
+sweetly perished there?
+
+
+CHAPTER 79. The Prairie.
+
+To scan the lines of his face, or feel the bumps on the head of this
+Leviathan; this is a thing which no Physiognomist or Phrenologist has
+as yet undertaken. Such an enterprise would seem almost as hopeful as
+for Lavater to have scrutinized the wrinkles on the Rock of Gibraltar,
+or for Gall to have mounted a ladder and manipulated the Dome of the
+Pantheon. Still, in that famous work of his, Lavater not only treats of
+the various faces of men, but also attentively studies the faces of
+horses, birds, serpents, and fish; and dwells in detail upon the
+modifications of expression discernible therein. Nor have Gall and his
+disciple Spurzheim failed to throw out some hints touching the
+phrenological characteristics of other beings than man. Therefore,
+though I am but ill qualified for a pioneer, in the application of
+these two semi-sciences to the whale, I will do my endeavor. I try all
+things; I achieve what I can.
+
+Physiognomically regarded, the Sperm Whale is an anomalous creature. He
+has no proper nose. And since the nose is the central and most
+conspicuous of the features; and since it perhaps most modifies and
+finally controls their combined expression; hence it would seem that
+its entire absence, as an external appendage, must very largely affect
+the countenance of the whale. For as in landscape gardening, a spire,
+cupola, monument, or tower of some sort, is deemed almost indispensable
+to the completion of the scene; so no face can be physiognomically in
+keeping without the elevated open-work belfry of the nose. Dash the
+nose from Phidias’s marble Jove, and what a sorry remainder!
+Nevertheless, Leviathan is of so mighty a magnitude, all his
+proportions are so stately, that the same deficiency which in the
+sculptured Jove were hideous, in him is no blemish at all. Nay, it is
+an added grandeur. A nose to the whale would have been impertinent. As
+on your physiognomical voyage you sail round his vast head in your
+jolly-boat, your noble conceptions of him are never insulted by the
+reflection that he has a nose to be pulled. A pestilent conceit, which
+so often will insist upon obtruding even when beholding the mightiest
+royal beadle on his throne.
+
+In some particulars, perhaps the most imposing physiognomical view to
+be had of the Sperm Whale, is that of the full front of his head. This
+aspect is sublime.
+
+In thought, a fine human brow is like the East when troubled with the
+morning. In the repose of the pasture, the curled brow of the bull has
+a touch of the grand in it. Pushing heavy cannon up mountain defiles,
+the elephant’s brow is majestic. Human or animal, the mystical brow is
+as that great golden seal affixed by the German emperors to their
+decrees. It signifies—“God: done this day by my hand.” But in most
+creatures, nay in man himself, very often the brow is but a mere strip
+of alpine land lying along the snow line. Few are the foreheads which
+like Shakespeare’s or Melancthon’s rise so high, and descend so low,
+that the eyes themselves seem clear, eternal, tideless mountain lakes;
+and all above them in the forehead’s wrinkles, you seem to track the
+antlered thoughts descending there to drink, as the Highland hunters
+track the snow prints of the deer. But in the great Sperm Whale, this
+high and mighty god-like dignity inherent in the brow is so immensely
+amplified, that gazing on it, in that full front view, you feel the
+Deity and the dread powers more forcibly than in beholding any other
+object in living nature. For you see no one point precisely; not one
+distinct feature is revealed; no nose, eyes, ears, or mouth; no face;
+he has none, proper; nothing but that one broad firmament of a
+forehead, pleated with riddles; dumbly lowering with the doom of boats,
+and ships, and men. Nor, in profile, does this wondrous brow diminish;
+though that way viewed its grandeur does not domineer upon you so. In
+profile, you plainly perceive that horizontal, semi-crescentic
+depression in the forehead’s middle, which, in man, is Lavater’s mark
+of genius.
+
+But how? Genius in the Sperm Whale? Has the Sperm Whale ever written a
+book, spoken a speech? No, his great genius is declared in his doing
+nothing particular to prove it. It is moreover declared in his
+pyramidical silence. And this reminds me that had the great Sperm Whale
+been known to the young Orient World, he would have been deified by
+their child-magian thoughts. They deified the crocodile of the Nile,
+because the crocodile is tongueless; and the Sperm Whale has no tongue,
+or at least it is so exceedingly small, as to be incapable of
+protrusion. If hereafter any highly cultured, poetical nation shall
+lure back to their birth-right, the merry May-day gods of old; and
+livingly enthrone them again in the now egotistical sky; in the now
+unhaunted hill; then be sure, exalted to Jove’s high seat, the great
+Sperm Whale shall lord it.
+
+Champollion deciphered the wrinkled granite hieroglyphics. But there is
+no Champollion to decipher the Egypt of every man’s and every being’s
+face. Physiognomy, like every other human science, is but a passing
+fable. If then, Sir William Jones, who read in thirty languages, could
+not read the simplest peasant’s face in its profounder and more subtle
+meanings, how may unlettered Ishmael hope to read the awful Chaldee of
+the Sperm Whale’s brow? I but put that brow before you. Read it if you
+can.
+
+
+CHAPTER 80. The Nut.
+
+If the Sperm Whale be physiognomically a Sphinx, to the phrenologist
+his brain seems that geometrical circle which it is impossible to
+square.
+
+In the full-grown creature the skull will measure at least twenty feet
+in length. Unhinge the lower jaw, and the side view of this skull is as
+the side of a moderately inclined plane resting throughout on a level
+base. But in life—as we have elsewhere seen—this inclined plane is
+angularly filled up, and almost squared by the enormous superincumbent
+mass of the junk and sperm. At the high end the skull forms a crater to
+bed that part of the mass; while under the long floor of this crater—in
+another cavity seldom exceeding ten inches in length and as many in
+depth—reposes the mere handful of this monster’s brain. The brain is at
+least twenty feet from his apparent forehead in life; it is hidden away
+behind its vast outworks, like the innermost citadel within the
+amplified fortifications of Quebec. So like a choice casket is it
+secreted in him, that I have known some whalemen who peremptorily deny
+that the Sperm Whale has any other brain than that palpable semblance
+of one formed by the cubic-yards of his sperm magazine. Lying in
+strange folds, courses, and convolutions, to their apprehensions, it
+seems more in keeping with the idea of his general might to regard that
+mystic part of him as the seat of his intelligence.
+
+It is plain, then, that phrenologically the head of this Leviathan, in
+the creature’s living intact state, is an entire delusion. As for his
+true brain, you can then see no indications of it, nor feel any. The
+whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the
+common world.
+
+If you unload his skull of its spermy heaps and then take a rear view
+of its rear end, which is the high end, you will be struck by its
+resemblance to the human skull, beheld in the same situation, and from
+the same point of view. Indeed, place this reversed skull (scaled down
+to the human magnitude) among a plate of men’s skulls, and you would
+involuntarily confound it with them; and remarking the depressions on
+one part of its summit, in phrenological phrase you would say—This man
+had no self-esteem, and no veneration. And by those negations,
+considered along with the affirmative fact of his prodigious bulk and
+power, you can best form to yourself the truest, though not the most
+exhilarating conception of what the most exalted potency is.
+
+But if from the comparative dimensions of the whale’s proper brain, you
+deem it incapable of being adequately charted, then I have another idea
+for you. If you attentively regard almost any quadruped’s spine, you
+will be struck with the resemblance of its vertebræ to a strung
+necklace of dwarfed skulls, all bearing rudimental resemblance to the
+skull proper. It is a German conceit, that the vertebræ are absolutely
+undeveloped skulls. But the curious external resemblance, I take it the
+Germans were not the first men to perceive. A foreign friend once
+pointed it out to me, in the skeleton of a foe he had slain, and with
+the vertebræ of which he was inlaying, in a sort of basso-relievo, the
+beaked prow of his canoe. Now, I consider that the phrenologists have
+omitted an important thing in not pushing their investigations from the
+cerebellum through the spinal canal. For I believe that much of a man’s
+character will be found betokened in his backbone. I would rather feel
+your spine than your skull, whoever you are. A thin joist of a spine
+never yet upheld a full and noble soul. I rejoice in my spine, as in
+the firm audacious staff of that flag which I fling half out to the
+world.
+
+Apply this spinal branch of phrenology to the Sperm Whale. His cranial
+cavity is continuous with the first neck-vertebra; and in that vertebra
+the bottom of the spinal canal will measure ten inches across, being
+eight in height, and of a triangular figure with the base downwards. As
+it passes through the remaining vertebræ the canal tapers in size, but
+for a considerable distance remains of large capacity. Now, of course,
+this canal is filled with much the same strangely fibrous substance—the
+spinal cord—as the brain; and directly communicates with the brain. And
+what is still more, for many feet after emerging from the brain’s
+cavity, the spinal cord remains of an undecreasing girth, almost equal
+to that of the brain. Under all these circumstances, would it be
+unreasonable to survey and map out the whale’s spine phrenologically?
+For, viewed in this light, the wonderful comparative smallness of his
+brain proper is more than compensated by the wonderful comparative
+magnitude of his spinal cord.
+
+But leaving this hint to operate as it may with the phrenologists, I
+would merely assume the spinal theory for a moment, in reference to the
+Sperm Whale’s hump. This august hump, if I mistake not, rises over one
+of the larger vertebræ, and is, therefore, in some sort, the outer
+convex mould of it. From its relative situation then, I should call
+this high hump the organ of firmness or indomitableness in the Sperm
+Whale. And that the great monster is indomitable, you will yet have
+reason to know.
+
+
+CHAPTER 81. The Pequod Meets The Virgin.
+
+The predestinated day arrived, and we duly met the ship Jungfrau,
+Derick De Deer, master, of Bremen.
+
+At one time the greatest whaling people in the world, the Dutch and
+Germans are now among the least; but here and there at very wide
+intervals of latitude and longitude, you still occasionally meet with
+their flag in the Pacific.
+
+For some reason, the Jungfrau seemed quite eager to pay her respects.
+While yet some distance from the Pequod, she rounded to, and dropping a
+boat, her captain was impelled towards us, impatiently standing in the
+bows instead of the stern.
+
+“What has he in his hand there?” cried Starbuck, pointing to something
+wavingly held by the German. “Impossible!—a lamp-feeder!”
+
+“Not that,” said Stubb, “no, no, it’s a coffee-pot, Mr. Starbuck; he’s
+coming off to make us our coffee, is the Yarman; don’t you see that big
+tin can there alongside of him?—that’s his boiling water. Oh! he’s all
+right, is the Yarman.”
+
+“Go along with you,” cried Flask, “it’s a lamp-feeder and an oil-can.
+He’s out of oil, and has come a-begging.”
+
+However curious it may seem for an oil-ship to be borrowing oil on the
+whale-ground, and however much it may invertedly contradict the old
+proverb about carrying coals to Newcastle, yet sometimes such a thing
+really happens; and in the present case Captain Derick De Deer did
+indubitably conduct a lamp-feeder as Flask did declare.
+
+As he mounted the deck, Ahab abruptly accosted him, without at all
+heeding what he had in his hand; but in his broken lingo, the German
+soon evinced his complete ignorance of the White Whale; immediately
+turning the conversation to his lamp-feeder and oil can, with some
+remarks touching his having to turn into his hammock at night in
+profound darkness—his last drop of Bremen oil being gone, and not a
+single flying-fish yet captured to supply the deficiency; concluding by
+hinting that his ship was indeed what in the Fishery is technically
+called a _clean_ one (that is, an empty one), well deserving the name
+of Jungfrau or the Virgin.
+
+His necessities supplied, Derick departed; but he had not gained his
+ship’s side, when whales were almost simultaneously raised from the
+mast-heads of both vessels; and so eager for the chase was Derick, that
+without pausing to put his oil-can and lamp-feeder aboard, he slewed
+round his boat and made after the leviathan lamp-feeders.
+
+Now, the game having risen to leeward, he and the other three German
+boats that soon followed him, had considerably the start of the
+Pequod’s keels. There were eight whales, an average pod. Aware of their
+danger, they were going all abreast with great speed straight before
+the wind, rubbing their flanks as closely as so many spans of horses in
+harness. They left a great, wide wake, as though continually unrolling
+a great wide parchment upon the sea.
+
+Full in this rapid wake, and many fathoms in the rear, swam a huge,
+humped old bull, which by his comparatively slow progress, as well as
+by the unusual yellowish incrustations overgrowing him, seemed
+afflicted with the jaundice, or some other infirmity. Whether this
+whale belonged to the pod in advance, seemed questionable; for it is
+not customary for such venerable leviathans to be at all social.
+Nevertheless, he stuck to their wake, though indeed their back water
+must have retarded him, because the white-bone or swell at his broad
+muzzle was a dashed one, like the swell formed when two hostile
+currents meet. His spout was short, slow, and laborious; coming forth
+with a choking sort of gush, and spending itself in torn shreds,
+followed by strange subterranean commotions in him, which seemed to
+have egress at his other buried extremity, causing the waters behind
+him to upbubble.
+
+“Who’s got some paregoric?” said Stubb, “he has the stomach-ache, I’m
+afraid. Lord, think of having half an acre of stomach-ache! Adverse
+winds are holding mad Christmas in him, boys. It’s the first foul wind
+I ever knew to blow from astern; but look, did ever whale yaw so
+before? it must be, he’s lost his tiller.”
+
+As an overladen Indiaman bearing down the Hindostan coast with a deck
+load of frightened horses, careens, buries, rolls, and wallows on her
+way; so did this old whale heave his aged bulk, and now and then partly
+turning over on his cumbrous rib-ends, expose the cause of his devious
+wake in the unnatural stump of his starboard fin. Whether he had lost
+that fin in battle, or had been born without it, it were hard to say.
+
+“Only wait a bit, old chap, and I’ll give ye a sling for that wounded
+arm,” cried cruel Flask, pointing to the whale-line near him.
+
+“Mind he don’t sling thee with it,” cried Starbuck. “Give way, or the
+German will have him.”
+
+With one intent all the combined rival boats were pointed for this one
+fish, because not only was he the largest, and therefore the most
+valuable whale, but he was nearest to them, and the other whales were
+going with such great velocity, moreover, as almost to defy pursuit for
+the time. At this juncture the Pequod’s keels had shot by the three
+German boats last lowered; but from the great start he had had,
+Derick’s boat still led the chase, though every moment neared by his
+foreign rivals. The only thing they feared, was, that from being
+already so nigh to his mark, he would be enabled to dart his iron
+before they could completely overtake and pass him. As for Derick, he
+seemed quite confident that this would be the case, and occasionally
+with a deriding gesture shook his lamp-feeder at the other boats.
+
+“The ungracious and ungrateful dog!” cried Starbuck; “he mocks and
+dares me with the very poor-box I filled for him not five minutes
+ago!”—then in his old intense whisper—“Give way, greyhounds! Dog to
+it!”
+
+“I tell ye what it is, men”—cried Stubb to his crew—“it’s against my
+religion to get mad; but I’d like to eat that villainous
+Yarman—Pull—won’t ye? Are ye going to let that rascal beat ye? Do ye
+love brandy? A hogshead of brandy, then, to the best man. Come, why
+don’t some of ye burst a blood-vessel? Who’s that been dropping an
+anchor overboard—we don’t budge an inch—we’re becalmed. Halloo, here’s
+grass growing in the boat’s bottom—and by the Lord, the mast there’s
+budding. This won’t do, boys. Look at that Yarman! The short and long
+of it is, men, will ye spit fire or not?”
+
+“Oh! see the suds he makes!” cried Flask, dancing up and down—“What a
+hump—Oh, _do_ pile on the beef—lays like a log! Oh! my lads, _do_
+spring—slap-jacks and quahogs for supper, you know, my lads—baked clams
+and muffins—oh, _do_, _do_, spring,—he’s a hundred barreller—don’t lose
+him now—don’t oh, _don’t!_—see that Yarman—Oh, won’t ye pull for your
+duff, my lads—such a sog! such a sogger! Don’t ye love sperm? There
+goes three thousand dollars, men!—a bank!—a whole bank! The bank of
+England!—Oh, _do_, _do_, _do!_—What’s that Yarman about now?”
+
+At this moment Derick was in the act of pitching his lamp-feeder at the
+advancing boats, and also his oil-can; perhaps with the double view of
+retarding his rivals’ way, and at the same time economically
+accelerating his own by the momentary impetus of the backward toss.
+
+“The unmannerly Dutch dogger!” cried Stubb. “Pull now, men, like fifty
+thousand line-of-battle-ship loads of red-haired devils. What d’ye say,
+Tashtego; are you the man to snap your spine in two-and-twenty pieces
+for the honor of old Gayhead? What d’ye say?”
+
+“I say, pull like god-dam,”—cried the Indian.
+
+Fiercely, but evenly incited by the taunts of the German, the Pequod’s
+three boats now began ranging almost abreast; and, so disposed,
+momentarily neared him. In that fine, loose, chivalrous attitude of the
+headsman when drawing near to his prey, the three mates stood up
+proudly, occasionally backing the after oarsman with an exhilarating
+cry of, “There she slides, now! Hurrah for the white-ash breeze! Down
+with the Yarman! Sail over him!”
+
+But so decided an original start had Derick had, that spite of all
+their gallantry, he would have proved the victor in this race, had not
+a righteous judgment descended upon him in a crab which caught the
+blade of his midship oarsman. While this clumsy lubber was striving to
+free his white-ash, and while, in consequence, Derick’s boat was nigh
+to capsizing, and he thundering away at his men in a mighty rage;—that
+was a good time for Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask. With a shout, they took
+a mortal start forwards, and slantingly ranged up on the German’s
+quarter. An instant more, and all four boats were diagonically in the
+whale’s immediate wake, while stretching from them, on both sides, was
+the foaming swell that he made.
+
+It was a terrific, most pitiable, and maddening sight. The whale was
+now going head out, and sending his spout before him in a continual
+tormented jet; while his one poor fin beat his side in an agony of
+fright. Now to this hand, now to that, he yawed in his faltering
+flight, and still at every billow that he broke, he spasmodically sank
+in the sea, or sideways rolled towards the sky his one beating fin. So
+have I seen a bird with clipped wing making affrighted broken circles
+in the air, vainly striving to escape the piratical hawks. But the bird
+has a voice, and with plaintive cries will make known her fear; but the
+fear of this vast dumb brute of the sea, was chained up and enchanted
+in him; he had no voice, save that choking respiration through his
+spiracle, and this made the sight of him unspeakably pitiable; while
+still, in his amazing bulk, portcullis jaw, and omnipotent tail, there
+was enough to appal the stoutest man who so pitied.
+
+Seeing now that but a very few moments more would give the Pequod’s
+boats the advantage, and rather than be thus foiled of his game, Derick
+chose to hazard what to him must have seemed a most unusually long
+dart, ere the last chance would for ever escape.
+
+But no sooner did his harpooneer stand up for the stroke, than all
+three tigers—Queequeg, Tashtego, Daggoo—instinctively sprang to their
+feet, and standing in a diagonal row, simultaneously pointed their
+barbs; and darted over the head of the German harpooneer, their three
+Nantucket irons entered the whale. Blinding vapors of foam and
+white-fire! The three boats, in the first fury of the whale’s headlong
+rush, bumped the German’s aside with such force, that both Derick and
+his baffled harpooneer were spilled out, and sailed over by the three
+flying keels.
+
+“Don’t be afraid, my butter-boxes,” cried Stubb, casting a passing
+glance upon them as he shot by; “ye’ll be picked up presently—all
+right—I saw some sharks astern—St. Bernard’s dogs, you know—relieve
+distressed travellers. Hurrah! this is the way to sail now. Every keel
+a sunbeam! Hurrah!—Here we go like three tin kettles at the tail of a
+mad cougar! This puts me in mind of fastening to an elephant in a
+tilbury on a plain—makes the wheel-spokes fly, boys, when you fasten to
+him that way; and there’s danger of being pitched out too, when you
+strike a hill. Hurrah! this is the way a fellow feels when he’s going
+to Davy Jones—all a rush down an endless inclined plane! Hurrah! this
+whale carries the everlasting mail!”
+
+But the monster’s run was a brief one. Giving a sudden gasp, he
+tumultuously sounded. With a grating rush, the three lines flew round
+the loggerheads with such a force as to gouge deep grooves in them;
+while so fearful were the harpooneers that this rapid sounding would
+soon exhaust the lines, that using all their dexterous might, they
+caught repeated smoking turns with the rope to hold on; till at
+last—owing to the perpendicular strain from the lead-lined chocks of
+the boats, whence the three ropes went straight down into the blue—the
+gunwales of the bows were almost even with the water, while the three
+sterns tilted high in the air. And the whale soon ceasing to sound, for
+some time they remained in that attitude, fearful of expending more
+line, though the position was a little ticklish. But though boats have
+been taken down and lost in this way, yet it is this “holding on,” as
+it is called; this hooking up by the sharp barbs of his live flesh from
+the back; this it is that often torments the Leviathan into soon rising
+again to meet the sharp lance of his foes. Yet not to speak of the
+peril of the thing, it is to be doubted whether this course is always
+the best; for it is but reasonable to presume, that the longer the
+stricken whale stays under water, the more he is exhausted. Because,
+owing to the enormous surface of him—in a full grown sperm whale
+something less than 2000 square feet—the pressure of the water is
+immense. We all know what an astonishing atmospheric weight we
+ourselves stand up under; even here, above-ground, in the air; how
+vast, then, the burden of a whale, bearing on his back a column of two
+hundred fathoms of ocean! It must at least equal the weight of fifty
+atmospheres. One whaleman has estimated it at the weight of twenty
+line-of-battle ships, with all their guns, and stores, and men on
+board.
+
+As the three boats lay there on that gently rolling sea, gazing down
+into its eternal blue noon; and as not a single groan or cry of any
+sort, nay, not so much as a ripple or a bubble came up from its depths;
+what landsman would have thought, that beneath all that silence and
+placidity, the utmost monster of the seas was writhing and wrenching in
+agony! Not eight inches of perpendicular rope were visible at the bows.
+Seems it credible that by three such thin threads the great Leviathan
+was suspended like the big weight to an eight day clock. Suspended? and
+to what? To three bits of board. Is this the creature of whom it was
+once so triumphantly said—“Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons?
+or his head with fish-spears? The sword of him that layeth at him
+cannot hold, the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon: he esteemeth iron
+as straw; the arrow cannot make him flee; darts are counted as stubble;
+he laugheth at the shaking of a spear!” This the creature? this he? Oh!
+that unfulfilments should follow the prophets. For with the strength of
+a thousand thighs in his tail, Leviathan had run his head under the
+mountains of the sea, to hide him from the Pequod’s fish-spears!
+
+In that sloping afternoon sunlight, the shadows that the three boats
+sent down beneath the surface, must have been long enough and broad
+enough to shade half Xerxes’ army. Who can tell how appalling to the
+wounded whale must have been such huge phantoms flitting over his head!
+
+“Stand by, men; he stirs,” cried Starbuck, as the three lines suddenly
+vibrated in the water, distinctly conducting upwards to them, as by
+magnetic wires, the life and death throbs of the whale, so that every
+oarsman felt them in his seat. The next moment, relieved in great part
+from the downward strain at the bows, the boats gave a sudden bounce
+upwards, as a small icefield will, when a dense herd of white bears are
+scared from it into the sea.
+
+“Haul in! Haul in!” cried Starbuck again; “he’s rising.”
+
+The lines, of which, hardly an instant before, not one hand’s breadth
+could have been gained, were now in long quick coils flung back all
+dripping into the boats, and soon the whale broke water within two
+ship’s lengths of the hunters.
+
+His motions plainly denoted his extreme exhaustion. In most land
+animals there are certain valves or flood-gates in many of their veins,
+whereby when wounded, the blood is in some degree at least instantly
+shut off in certain directions. Not so with the whale; one of whose
+peculiarities it is to have an entire non-valvular structure of the
+blood-vessels, so that when pierced even by so small a point as a
+harpoon, a deadly drain is at once begun upon his whole arterial
+system; and when this is heightened by the extraordinary pressure of
+water at a great distance below the surface, his life may be said to
+pour from him in incessant streams. Yet so vast is the quantity of
+blood in him, and so distant and numerous its interior fountains, that
+he will keep thus bleeding and bleeding for a considerable period; even
+as in a drought a river will flow, whose source is in the well-springs
+of far-off and undiscernible hills. Even now, when the boats pulled
+upon this whale, and perilously drew over his swaying flukes, and the
+lances were darted into him, they were followed by steady jets from the
+new made wound, which kept continually playing, while the natural
+spout-hole in his head was only at intervals, however rapid, sending
+its affrighted moisture into the air. From this last vent no blood yet
+came, because no vital part of him had thus far been struck. His life,
+as they significantly call it, was untouched.
+
+As the boats now more closely surrounded him, the whole upper part of
+his form, with much of it that is ordinarily submerged, was plainly
+revealed. His eyes, or rather the places where his eyes had been, were
+beheld. As strange misgrown masses gather in the knot-holes of the
+noblest oaks when prostrate, so from the points which the whale’s eyes
+had once occupied, now protruded blind bulbs, horribly pitiable to see.
+But pity there was none. For all his old age, and his one arm, and his
+blind eyes, he must die the death and be murdered, in order to light
+the gay bridals and other merry-makings of men, and also to illuminate
+the solemn churches that preach unconditional inoffensiveness by all to
+all. Still rolling in his blood, at last he partially disclosed a
+strangely discoloured bunch or protuberance, the size of a bushel, low
+down on the flank.
+
+“A nice spot,” cried Flask; “just let me prick him there once.”
+
+“Avast!” cried Starbuck, “there’s no need of that!”
+
+But humane Starbuck was too late. At the instant of the dart an
+ulcerous jet shot from this cruel wound, and goaded by it into more
+than sufferable anguish, the whale now spouting thick blood, with swift
+fury blindly darted at the craft, bespattering them and their glorying
+crews all over with showers of gore, capsizing Flask’s boat and marring
+the bows. It was his death stroke. For, by this time, so spent was he
+by loss of blood, that he helplessly rolled away from the wreck he had
+made; lay panting on his side, impotently flapped with his stumped fin,
+then over and over slowly revolved like a waning world; turned up the
+white secrets of his belly; lay like a log, and died. It was most
+piteous, that last expiring spout. As when by unseen hands the water is
+gradually drawn off from some mighty fountain, and with half-stifled
+melancholy gurglings the spray-column lowers and lowers to the
+ground—so the last long dying spout of the whale.
+
+Soon, while the crews were awaiting the arrival of the ship, the body
+showed symptoms of sinking with all its treasures unrifled.
+Immediately, by Starbuck’s orders, lines were secured to it at
+different points, so that ere long every boat was a buoy; the sunken
+whale being suspended a few inches beneath them by the cords. By very
+heedful management, when the ship drew nigh, the whale was transferred
+to her side, and was strongly secured there by the stiffest
+fluke-chains, for it was plain that unless artificially upheld, the
+body would at once sink to the bottom.
+
+It so chanced that almost upon first cutting into him with the spade,
+the entire length of a corroded harpoon was found imbedded in his
+flesh, on the lower part of the bunch before described. But as the
+stumps of harpoons are frequently found in the dead bodies of captured
+whales, with the flesh perfectly healed around them, and no prominence
+of any kind to denote their place; therefore, there must needs have
+been some other unknown reason in the present case fully to account for
+the ulceration alluded to. But still more curious was the fact of a
+lance-head of stone being found in him, not far from the buried iron,
+the flesh perfectly firm about it. Who had darted that stone lance? And
+when? It might have been darted by some Nor’ West Indian long before
+America was discovered.
+
+What other marvels might have been rummaged out of this monstrous
+cabinet there is no telling. But a sudden stop was put to further
+discoveries, by the ship’s being unprecedentedly dragged over sideways
+to the sea, owing to the body’s immensely increasing tendency to sink.
+However, Starbuck, who had the ordering of affairs, hung on to it to
+the last; hung on to it so resolutely, indeed, that when at length the
+ship would have been capsized, if still persisting in locking arms with
+the body; then, when the command was given to break clear from it, such
+was the immovable strain upon the timber-heads to which the
+fluke-chains and cables were fastened, that it was impossible to cast
+them off. Meantime everything in the Pequod was aslant. To cross to the
+other side of the deck was like walking up the steep gabled roof of a
+house. The ship groaned and gasped. Many of the ivory inlayings of her
+bulwarks and cabins were started from their places, by the unnatural
+dislocation. In vain handspikes and crows were brought to bear upon the
+immovable fluke-chains, to pry them adrift from the timberheads; and so
+low had the whale now settled that the submerged ends could not be at
+all approached, while every moment whole tons of ponderosity seemed
+added to the sinking bulk, and the ship seemed on the point of going
+over.
+
+“Hold on, hold on, won’t ye?” cried Stubb to the body, “don’t be in
+such a devil of a hurry to sink! By thunder, men, we must do something
+or go for it. No use prying there; avast, I say with your handspikes,
+and run one of ye for a prayer book and a pen-knife, and cut the big
+chains.”
+
+“Knife? Aye, aye,” cried Queequeg, and seizing the carpenter’s heavy
+hatchet, he leaned out of a porthole, and steel to iron, began slashing
+at the largest fluke-chains. But a few strokes, full of sparks, were
+given, when the exceeding strain effected the rest. With a terrific
+snap, every fastening went adrift; the ship righted, the carcase sank.
+
+Now, this occasional inevitable sinking of the recently killed Sperm
+Whale is a very curious thing; nor has any fisherman yet adequately
+accounted for it. Usually the dead Sperm Whale floats with great
+buoyancy, with its side or belly considerably elevated above the
+surface. If the only whales that thus sank were old, meagre, and
+broken-hearted creatures, their pads of lard diminished and all their
+bones heavy and rheumatic; then you might with some reason assert that
+this sinking is caused by an uncommon specific gravity in the fish so
+sinking, consequent upon this absence of buoyant matter in him. But it
+is not so. For young whales, in the highest health, and swelling with
+noble aspirations, prematurely cut off in the warm flush and May of
+life, with all their panting lard about them; even these brawny,
+buoyant heroes do sometimes sink.
+
+Be it said, however, that the Sperm Whale is far less liable to this
+accident than any other species. Where one of that sort go down, twenty
+Right Whales do. This difference in the species is no doubt imputable
+in no small degree to the greater quantity of bone in the Right Whale;
+his Venetian blinds alone sometimes weighing more than a ton; from this
+incumbrance the Sperm Whale is wholly free. But there are instances
+where, after the lapse of many hours or several days, the sunken whale
+again rises, more buoyant than in life. But the reason of this is
+obvious. Gases are generated in him; he swells to a prodigious
+magnitude; becomes a sort of animal balloon. A line-of-battle ship
+could hardly keep him under then. In the Shore Whaling, on soundings,
+among the Bays of New Zealand, when a Right Whale gives token of
+sinking, they fasten buoys to him, with plenty of rope; so that when
+the body has gone down, they know where to look for it when it shall
+have ascended again.
+
+It was not long after the sinking of the body that a cry was heard from
+the Pequod’s mast-heads, announcing that the Jungfrau was again
+lowering her boats; though the only spout in sight was that of a
+Fin-Back, belonging to the species of uncapturable whales, because of
+its incredible power of swimming. Nevertheless, the Fin-Back’s spout is
+so similar to the Sperm Whale’s, that by unskilful fishermen it is
+often mistaken for it. And consequently Derick and all his host were
+now in valiant chase of this unnearable brute. The Virgin crowding all
+sail, made after her four young keels, and thus they all disappeared
+far to leeward, still in bold, hopeful chase.
+
+Oh! many are the Fin-Backs, and many are the Dericks, my friend.
+
+
+CHAPTER 82. The Honor and Glory of Whaling.
+
+There are some enterprises in which a careful disorderliness is the
+true method.
+
+The more I dive into this matter of whaling, and push my researches up
+to the very spring-head of it so much the more am I impressed with its
+great honorableness and antiquity; and especially when I find so many
+great demi-gods and heroes, prophets of all sorts, who one way or other
+have shed distinction upon it, I am transported with the reflection
+that I myself belong, though but subordinately, to so emblazoned a
+fraternity.
+
+The gallant Perseus, a son of Jupiter, was the first whaleman; and to
+the eternal honor of our calling be it said, that the first whale
+attacked by our brotherhood was not killed with any sordid intent.
+Those were the knightly days of our profession, when we only bore arms
+to succor the distressed, and not to fill men’s lamp-feeders. Every one
+knows the fine story of Perseus and Andromeda; how the lovely
+Andromeda, the daughter of a king, was tied to a rock on the sea-coast,
+and as Leviathan was in the very act of carrying her off, Perseus, the
+prince of whalemen, intrepidly advancing, harpooned the monster, and
+delivered and married the maid. It was an admirable artistic exploit,
+rarely achieved by the best harpooneers of the present day; inasmuch as
+this Leviathan was slain at the very first dart. And let no man doubt
+this Arkite story; for in the ancient Joppa, now Jaffa, on the Syrian
+coast, in one of the Pagan temples, there stood for many ages the vast
+skeleton of a whale, which the city’s legends and all the inhabitants
+asserted to be the identical bones of the monster that Perseus slew.
+When the Romans took Joppa, the same skeleton was carried to Italy in
+triumph. What seems most singular and suggestively important in this
+story, is this: it was from Joppa that Jonah set sail.
+
+Akin to the adventure of Perseus and Andromeda—indeed, by some supposed
+to be indirectly derived from it—is that famous story of St. George and
+the Dragon; which dragon I maintain to have been a whale; for in many
+old chronicles whales and dragons are strangely jumbled together, and
+often stand for each other. “Thou art as a lion of the waters, and as a
+dragon of the sea,” saith Ezekiel; hereby, plainly meaning a whale; in
+truth, some versions of the Bible use that word itself. Besides, it
+would much subtract from the glory of the exploit had St. George but
+encountered a crawling reptile of the land, instead of doing battle
+with the great monster of the deep. Any man may kill a snake, but only
+a Perseus, a St. George, a Coffin, have the heart in them to march
+boldly up to a whale.
+
+Let not the modern paintings of this scene mislead us; for though the
+creature encountered by that valiant whaleman of old is vaguely
+represented of a griffin-like shape, and though the battle is depicted
+on land and the saint on horseback, yet considering the great ignorance
+of those times, when the true form of the whale was unknown to artists;
+and considering that as in Perseus’ case, St. George’s whale might have
+crawled up out of the sea on the beach; and considering that the animal
+ridden by St. George might have been only a large seal, or sea-horse;
+bearing all this in mind, it will not appear altogether incompatible
+with the sacred legend and the ancientest draughts of the scene, to
+hold this so-called dragon no other than the great Leviathan himself.
+In fact, placed before the strict and piercing truth, this whole story
+will fare like that fish, flesh, and fowl idol of the Philistines,
+Dagon by name; who being planted before the ark of Israel, his horse’s
+head and both the palms of his hands fell off from him, and only the
+stump or fishy part of him remained. Thus, then, one of our own noble
+stamp, even a whaleman, is the tutelary guardian of England; and by
+good rights, we harpooneers of Nantucket should be enrolled in the most
+noble order of St. George. And therefore, let not the knights of that
+honorable company (none of whom, I venture to say, have ever had to do
+with a whale like their great patron), let them never eye a Nantucketer
+with disdain, since even in our woollen frocks and tarred trowsers we
+are much better entitled to St. George’s decoration than they.
+
+Whether to admit Hercules among us or not, concerning this I long
+remained dubious: for though according to the Greek mythologies, that
+antique Crockett and Kit Carson—that brawny doer of rejoicing good
+deeds, was swallowed down and thrown up by a whale; still, whether that
+strictly makes a whaleman of him, that might be mooted. It nowhere
+appears that he ever actually harpooned his fish, unless, indeed, from
+the inside. Nevertheless, he may be deemed a sort of involuntary
+whaleman; at any rate the whale caught him, if he did not the whale. I
+claim him for one of our clan.
+
+But, by the best contradictory authorities, this Grecian story of
+Hercules and the whale is considered to be derived from the still more
+ancient Hebrew story of Jonah and the whale; and vice versâ; certainly
+they are very similar. If I claim the demi-god then, why not the
+prophet?
+
+Nor do heroes, saints, demigods, and prophets alone comprise the whole
+roll of our order. Our grand master is still to be named; for like
+royal kings of old times, we find the head waters of our fraternity in
+nothing short of the great gods themselves. That wondrous oriental
+story is now to be rehearsed from the Shaster, which gives us the dread
+Vishnoo, one of the three persons in the godhead of the Hindoos; gives
+us this divine Vishnoo himself for our Lord;—Vishnoo, who, by the first
+of his ten earthly incarnations, has for ever set apart and sanctified
+the whale. When Brahma, or the God of Gods, saith the Shaster, resolved
+to recreate the world after one of its periodical dissolutions, he gave
+birth to Vishnoo, to preside over the work; but the Vedas, or mystical
+books, whose perusal would seem to have been indispensable to Vishnoo
+before beginning the creation, and which therefore must have contained
+something in the shape of practical hints to young architects, these
+Vedas were lying at the bottom of the waters; so Vishnoo became
+incarnate in a whale, and sounding down in him to the uttermost depths,
+rescued the sacred volumes. Was not this Vishnoo a whaleman, then? even
+as a man who rides a horse is called a horseman?
+
+Perseus, St. George, Hercules, Jonah, and Vishnoo! there’s a
+member-roll for you! What club but the whaleman’s can head off like
+that?
+
+
+CHAPTER 83. Jonah Historically Regarded.
+
+Reference was made to the historical story of Jonah and the whale in
+the preceding chapter. Now some Nantucketers rather distrust this
+historical story of Jonah and the whale. But then there were some
+sceptical Greeks and Romans, who, standing out from the orthodox pagans
+of their times, equally doubted the story of Hercules and the whale,
+and Arion and the dolphin; and yet their doubting those traditions did
+not make those traditions one whit the less facts, for all that.
+
+One old Sag-Harbor whaleman’s chief reason for questioning the Hebrew
+story was this:—He had one of those quaint old-fashioned Bibles,
+embellished with curious, unscientific plates; one of which represented
+Jonah’s whale with two spouts in his head—a peculiarity only true with
+respect to a species of the Leviathan (the Right Whale, and the
+varieties of that order), concerning which the fishermen have this
+saying, “A penny roll would choke him”; his swallow is so very small.
+But, to this, Bishop Jebb’s anticipative answer is ready. It is not
+necessary, hints the Bishop, that we consider Jonah as tombed in the
+whale’s belly, but as temporarily lodged in some part of his mouth. And
+this seems reasonable enough in the good Bishop. For truly, the Right
+Whale’s mouth would accommodate a couple of whist-tables, and
+comfortably seat all the players. Possibly, too, Jonah might have
+ensconced himself in a hollow tooth; but, on second thoughts, the Right
+Whale is toothless.
+
+Another reason which Sag-Harbor (he went by that name) urged for his
+want of faith in this matter of the prophet, was something obscurely in
+reference to his incarcerated body and the whale’s gastric juices. But
+this objection likewise falls to the ground, because a German exegetist
+supposes that Jonah must have taken refuge in the floating body of a
+_dead_ whale—even as the French soldiers in the Russian campaign turned
+their dead horses into tents, and crawled into them. Besides, it has
+been divined by other continental commentators, that when Jonah was
+thrown overboard from the Joppa ship, he straightway effected his
+escape to another vessel near by, some vessel with a whale for a
+figure-head; and, I would add, possibly called “The Whale,” as some
+craft are nowadays christened the “Shark,” the “Gull,” the “Eagle.” Nor
+have there been wanting learned exegetists who have opined that the
+whale mentioned in the book of Jonah merely meant a life-preserver—an
+inflated bag of wind—which the endangered prophet swam to, and so was
+saved from a watery doom. Poor Sag-Harbor, therefore, seems worsted all
+round. But he had still another reason for his want of faith. It was
+this, if I remember right: Jonah was swallowed by the whale in the
+Mediterranean Sea, and after three days he was vomited up somewhere
+within three days’ journey of Nineveh, a city on the Tigris, very much
+more than three days’ journey across from the nearest point of the
+Mediterranean coast. How is that?
+
+But was there no other way for the whale to land the prophet within
+that short distance of Nineveh? Yes. He might have carried him round by
+the way of the Cape of Good Hope. But not to speak of the passage
+through the whole length of the Mediterranean, and another passage up
+the Persian Gulf and Red Sea, such a supposition would involve the
+complete circumnavigation of all Africa in three days, not to speak of
+the Tigris waters, near the site of Nineveh, being too shallow for any
+whale to swim in. Besides, this idea of Jonah’s weathering the Cape of
+Good Hope at so early a day would wrest the honor of the discovery of
+that great headland from Bartholomew Diaz, its reputed discoverer, and
+so make modern history a liar.
+
+But all these foolish arguments of old Sag-Harbor only evinced his
+foolish pride of reason—a thing still more reprehensible in him, seeing
+that he had but little learning except what he had picked up from the
+sun and the sea. I say it only shows his foolish, impious pride, and
+abominable, devilish rebellion against the reverend clergy. For by a
+Portuguese Catholic priest, this very idea of Jonah’s going to Nineveh
+via the Cape of Good Hope was advanced as a signal magnification of the
+general miracle. And so it was. Besides, to this day, the highly
+enlightened Turks devoutly believe in the historical story of Jonah.
+And some three centuries ago, an English traveller in old Harris’s
+Voyages, speaks of a Turkish Mosque built in honor of Jonah, in which
+Mosque was a miraculous lamp that burnt without any oil.
+
+
+CHAPTER 84. Pitchpoling.
+
+To make them run easily and swiftly, the axles of carriages are
+anointed; and for much the same purpose, some whalers perform an
+analogous operation upon their boat; they grease the bottom. Nor is it
+to be doubted that as such a procedure can do no harm, it may possibly
+be of no contemptible advantage; considering that oil and water are
+hostile; that oil is a sliding thing, and that the object in view is to
+make the boat slide bravely. Queequeg believed strongly in anointing
+his boat, and one morning not long after the German ship Jungfrau
+disappeared, took more than customary pains in that occupation;
+crawling under its bottom, where it hung over the side, and rubbing in
+the unctuousness as though diligently seeking to insure a crop of hair
+from the craft’s bald keel. He seemed to be working in obedience to
+some particular presentiment. Nor did it remain unwarranted by the
+event.
+
+Towards noon whales were raised; but so soon as the ship sailed down to
+them, they turned and fled with swift precipitancy; a disordered
+flight, as of Cleopatra’s barges from Actium.
+
+Nevertheless, the boats pursued, and Stubb’s was foremost. By great
+exertion, Tashtego at last succeeded in planting one iron; but the
+stricken whale, without at all sounding, still continued his horizontal
+flight, with added fleetness. Such unintermitted strainings upon the
+planted iron must sooner or later inevitably extract it. It became
+imperative to lance the flying whale, or be content to lose him. But to
+haul the boat up to his flank was impossible, he swam so fast and
+furious. What then remained?
+
+Of all the wondrous devices and dexterities, the sleights of hand and
+countless subtleties, to which the veteran whaleman is so often forced,
+none exceed that fine manœuvre with the lance called pitchpoling. Small
+sword, or broad sword, in all its exercises boasts nothing like it. It
+is only indispensable with an inveterate running whale; its grand fact
+and feature is the wonderful distance to which the long lance is
+accurately darted from a violently rocking, jerking boat, under extreme
+headway. Steel and wood included, the entire spear is some ten or
+twelve feet in length; the staff is much slighter than that of the
+harpoon, and also of a lighter material—pine. It is furnished with a
+small rope called a warp, of considerable length, by which it can be
+hauled back to the hand after darting.
+
+But before going further, it is important to mention here, that though
+the harpoon may be pitchpoled in the same way with the lance, yet it is
+seldom done; and when done, is still less frequently successful, on
+account of the greater weight and inferior length of the harpoon as
+compared with the lance, which in effect become serious drawbacks. As a
+general thing, therefore, you must first get fast to a whale, before
+any pitchpoling comes into play.
+
+Look now at Stubb; a man who from his humorous, deliberate coolness and
+equanimity in the direst emergencies, was specially qualified to excel
+in pitchpoling. Look at him; he stands upright in the tossed bow of the
+flying boat; wrapt in fleecy foam, the towing whale is forty feet
+ahead. Handling the long lance lightly, glancing twice or thrice along
+its length to see if it be exactly straight, Stubb whistlingly gathers
+up the coil of the warp in one hand, so as to secure its free end in
+his grasp, leaving the rest unobstructed. Then holding the lance full
+before his waistband’s middle, he levels it at the whale; when,
+covering him with it, he steadily depresses the butt-end in his hand,
+thereby elevating the point till the weapon stands fairly balanced upon
+his palm, fifteen feet in the air. He minds you somewhat of a juggler,
+balancing a long staff on his chin. Next moment with a rapid, nameless
+impulse, in a superb lofty arch the bright steel spans the foaming
+distance, and quivers in the life spot of the whale. Instead of
+sparkling water, he now spouts red blood.
+
+“That drove the spigot out of him!” cried Stubb. “’Tis July’s immortal
+Fourth; all fountains must run wine today! Would now, it were old
+Orleans whiskey, or old Ohio, or unspeakable old Monongahela! Then,
+Tashtego, lad, I’d have ye hold a canakin to the jet, and we’d drink
+round it! Yea, verily, hearts alive, we’d brew choice punch in the
+spread of his spout-hole there, and from that live punch-bowl quaff the
+living stuff.”
+
+Again and again to such gamesome talk, the dexterous dart is repeated,
+the spear returning to its master like a greyhound held in skilful
+leash. The agonized whale goes into his flurry; the tow-line is
+slackened, and the pitchpoler dropping astern, folds his hands, and
+mutely watches the monster die.
+
+
+CHAPTER 85. The Fountain.
+
+That for six thousand years—and no one knows how many millions of ages
+before—the great whales should have been spouting all over the sea, and
+sprinkling and mistifying the gardens of the deep, as with so many
+sprinkling or mistifying pots; and that for some centuries back,
+thousands of hunters should have been close by the fountain of the
+whale, watching these sprinklings and spoutings—that all this should
+be, and yet, that down to this blessed minute (fifteen and a quarter
+minutes past one o’clock P.M. of this sixteenth day of December, A.D.
+1851), it should still remain a problem, whether these spoutings are,
+after all, really water, or nothing but vapor—this is surely a
+noteworthy thing.
+
+Let us, then, look at this matter, along with some interesting items
+contingent. Every one knows that by the peculiar cunning of their
+gills, the finny tribes in general breathe the air which at all times
+is combined with the element in which they swim; hence, a herring or a
+cod might live a century, and never once raise its head above the
+surface. But owing to his marked internal structure which gives him
+regular lungs, like a human being’s, the whale can only live by
+inhaling the disengaged air in the open atmosphere. Wherefore the
+necessity for his periodical visits to the upper world. But he cannot
+in any degree breathe through his mouth, for, in his ordinary attitude,
+the Sperm Whale’s mouth is buried at least eight feet beneath the
+surface; and what is still more, his windpipe has no connexion with his
+mouth. No, he breathes through his spiracle alone; and this is on the
+top of his head.
+
+If I say, that in any creature breathing is only a function
+indispensable to vitality, inasmuch as it withdraws from the air a
+certain element, which being subsequently brought into contact with the
+blood imparts to the blood its vivifying principle, I do not think I
+shall err; though I may possibly use some superfluous scientific words.
+Assume it, and it follows that if all the blood in a man could be
+aerated with one breath, he might then seal up his nostrils and not
+fetch another for a considerable time. That is to say, he would then
+live without breathing. Anomalous as it may seem, this is precisely the
+case with the whale, who systematically lives, by intervals, his full
+hour and more (when at the bottom) without drawing a single breath, or
+so much as in any way inhaling a particle of air; for, remember, he has
+no gills. How is this? Between his ribs and on each side of his spine
+he is supplied with a remarkable involved Cretan labyrinth of
+vermicelli-like vessels, which vessels, when he quits the surface, are
+completely distended with oxygenated blood. So that for an hour or
+more, a thousand fathoms in the sea, he carries a surplus stock of
+vitality in him, just as the camel crossing the waterless desert
+carries a surplus supply of drink for future use in its four
+supplementary stomachs. The anatomical fact of this labyrinth is
+indisputable; and that the supposition founded upon it is reasonable
+and true, seems the more cogent to me, when I consider the otherwise
+inexplicable obstinacy of that leviathan in _having his spoutings out_,
+as the fishermen phrase it. This is what I mean. If unmolested, upon
+rising to the surface, the Sperm Whale will continue there for a period
+of time exactly uniform with all his other unmolested risings. Say he
+stays eleven minutes, and jets seventy times, that is, respires seventy
+breaths; then whenever he rises again, he will be sure to have his
+seventy breaths over again, to a minute. Now, if after he fetches a few
+breaths you alarm him, so that he sounds, he will be always dodging up
+again to make good his regular allowance of air. And not till those
+seventy breaths are told, will he finally go down to stay out his full
+term below. Remark, however, that in different individuals these rates
+are different; but in any one they are alike. Now, why should the whale
+thus insist upon having his spoutings out, unless it be to replenish
+his reservoir of air, ere descending for good? How obvious is it, too,
+that this necessity for the whale’s rising exposes him to all the fatal
+hazards of the chase. For not by hook or by net could this vast
+leviathan be caught, when sailing a thousand fathoms beneath the
+sunlight. Not so much thy skill, then, O hunter, as the great
+necessities that strike the victory to thee!
+
+In man, breathing is incessantly going on—one breath only serving for
+two or three pulsations; so that whatever other business he has to
+attend to, waking or sleeping, breathe he must, or die he will. But the
+Sperm Whale only breathes about one seventh or Sunday of his time.
+
+It has been said that the whale only breathes through his spout-hole;
+if it could truthfully be added that his spouts are mixed with water,
+then I opine we should be furnished with the reason why his sense of
+smell seems obliterated in him; for the only thing about him that at
+all answers to his nose is that identical spout-hole; and being so
+clogged with two elements, it could not be expected to have the power
+of smelling. But owing to the mystery of the spout—whether it be water
+or whether it be vapor—no absolute certainty can as yet be arrived at
+on this head. Sure it is, nevertheless, that the Sperm Whale has no
+proper olfactories. But what does he want of them? No roses, no
+violets, no Cologne-water in the sea.
+
+Furthermore, as his windpipe solely opens into the tube of his spouting
+canal, and as that long canal—like the grand Erie Canal—is furnished
+with a sort of locks (that open and shut) for the downward retention of
+air or the upward exclusion of water, therefore the whale has no voice;
+unless you insult him by saying, that when he so strangely rumbles, he
+talks through his nose. But then again, what has the whale to say?
+Seldom have I known any profound being that had anything to say to this
+world, unless forced to stammer out something by way of getting a
+living. Oh! happy that the world is such an excellent listener!
+
+Now, the spouting canal of the Sperm Whale, chiefly intended as it is
+for the conveyance of air, and for several feet laid along,
+horizontally, just beneath the upper surface of his head, and a little
+to one side; this curious canal is very much like a gas-pipe laid down
+in a city on one side of a street. But the question returns whether
+this gas-pipe is also a water-pipe; in other words, whether the spout
+of the Sperm Whale is the mere vapor of the exhaled breath, or whether
+that exhaled breath is mixed with water taken in at the mouth, and
+discharged through the spiracle. It is certain that the mouth
+indirectly communicates with the spouting canal; but it cannot be
+proved that this is for the purpose of discharging water through the
+spiracle. Because the greatest necessity for so doing would seem to be,
+when in feeding he accidentally takes in water. But the Sperm Whale’s
+food is far beneath the surface, and there he cannot spout even if he
+would. Besides, if you regard him very closely, and time him with your
+watch, you will find that when unmolested, there is an undeviating
+rhyme between the periods of his jets and the ordinary periods of
+respiration.
+
+But why pester one with all this reasoning on the subject? Speak out!
+You have seen him spout; then declare what the spout is; can you not
+tell water from air? My dear sir, in this world it is not so easy to
+settle these plain things. I have ever found your plain things the
+knottiest of all. And as for this whale spout, you might almost stand
+in it, and yet be undecided as to what it is precisely.
+
+The central body of it is hidden in the snowy sparkling mist enveloping
+it; and how can you certainly tell whether any water falls from it,
+when, always, when you are close enough to a whale to get a close view
+of his spout, he is in a prodigious commotion, the water cascading all
+around him. And if at such times you should think that you really
+perceived drops of moisture in the spout, how do you know that they are
+not merely condensed from its vapor; or how do you know that they are
+not those identical drops superficially lodged in the spout-hole
+fissure, which is countersunk into the summit of the whale’s head? For
+even when tranquilly swimming through the mid-day sea in a calm, with
+his elevated hump sun-dried as a dromedary’s in the desert; even then,
+the whale always carries a small basin of water on his head, as under a
+blazing sun you will sometimes see a cavity in a rock filled up with
+rain.
+
+Nor is it at all prudent for the hunter to be over curious touching the
+precise nature of the whale spout. It will not do for him to be peering
+into it, and putting his face in it. You cannot go with your pitcher to
+this fountain and fill it, and bring it away. For even when coming into
+slight contact with the outer, vapory shreds of the jet, which will
+often happen, your skin will feverishly smart, from the acridness of
+the thing so touching it. And I know one, who coming into still closer
+contact with the spout, whether with some scientific object in view, or
+otherwise, I cannot say, the skin peeled off from his cheek and arm.
+Wherefore, among whalemen, the spout is deemed poisonous; they try to
+evade it. Another thing; I have heard it said, and I do not much doubt
+it, that if the jet is fairly spouted into your eyes, it will blind
+you. The wisest thing the investigator can do then, it seems to me, is
+to let this deadly spout alone.
+
+Still, we can hypothesize, even if we cannot prove and establish. My
+hypothesis is this: that the spout is nothing but mist. And besides
+other reasons, to this conclusion I am impelled, by considerations
+touching the great inherent dignity and sublimity of the Sperm Whale; I
+account him no common, shallow being, inasmuch as it is an undisputed
+fact that he is never found on soundings, or near shores; all other
+whales sometimes are. He is both ponderous and profound. And I am
+convinced that from the heads of all ponderous profound beings, such as
+Plato, Pyrrho, the Devil, Jupiter, Dante, and so on, there always goes
+up a certain semi-visible steam, while in the act of thinking deep
+thoughts. While composing a little treatise on Eternity, I had the
+curiosity to place a mirror before me; and ere long saw reflected
+there, a curious involved worming and undulation in the atmosphere over
+my head. The invariable moisture of my hair, while plunged in deep
+thought, after six cups of hot tea in my thin shingled attic, of an
+August noon; this seems an additional argument for the above
+supposition.
+
+And how nobly it raises our conceit of the mighty, misty monster, to
+behold him solemnly sailing through a calm tropical sea; his vast, mild
+head overhung by a canopy of vapor, engendered by his incommunicable
+contemplations, and that vapor—as you will sometimes see it—glorified
+by a rainbow, as if Heaven itself had put its seal upon his thoughts.
+For, d’ye see, rainbows do not visit the clear air; they only irradiate
+vapor. And so, through all the thick mists of the dim doubts in my
+mind, divine intuitions now and then shoot, enkindling my fog with a
+heavenly ray. And for this I thank God; for all have doubts; many deny;
+but doubts or denials, few along with them, have intuitions. Doubts of
+all things earthly, and intuitions of some things heavenly; this
+combination makes neither believer nor infidel, but makes a man who
+regards them both with equal eye.
+
+
+CHAPTER 86. The Tail.
+
+Other poets have warbled the praises of the soft eye of the antelope,
+and the lovely plumage of the bird that never alights; less celestial,
+I celebrate a tail.
+
+Reckoning the largest sized Sperm Whale’s tail to begin at that point
+of the trunk where it tapers to about the girth of a man, it comprises
+upon its upper surface alone, an area of at least fifty square feet.
+The compact round body of its root expands into two broad, firm, flat
+palms or flukes, gradually shoaling away to less than an inch in
+thickness. At the crotch or junction, these flukes slightly overlap,
+then sideways recede from each other like wings, leaving a wide vacancy
+between. In no living thing are the lines of beauty more exquisitely
+defined than in the crescentic borders of these flukes. At its utmost
+expansion in the full grown whale, the tail will considerably exceed
+twenty feet across.
+
+The entire member seems a dense webbed bed of welded sinews; but cut
+into it, and you find that three distinct strata compose it:—upper,
+middle, and lower. The fibres in the upper and lower layers, are long
+and horizontal; those of the middle one, very short, and running
+crosswise between the outside layers. This triune structure, as much as
+anything else, imparts power to the tail. To the student of old Roman
+walls, the middle layer will furnish a curious parallel to the thin
+course of tiles always alternating with the stone in those wonderful
+relics of the antique, and which undoubtedly contribute so much to the
+great strength of the masonry.
+
+But as if this vast local power in the tendinous tail were not enough,
+the whole bulk of the leviathan is knit over with a warp and woof of
+muscular fibres and filaments, which passing on either side the loins
+and running down into the flukes, insensibly blend with them, and
+largely contribute to their might; so that in the tail the confluent
+measureless force of the whole whale seems concentrated to a point.
+Could annihilation occur to matter, this were the thing to do it.
+
+Nor does this—its amazing strength, at all tend to cripple the graceful
+flexion of its motions; where infantileness of ease undulates through a
+Titanism of power. On the contrary, those motions derive their most
+appalling beauty from it. Real strength never impairs beauty or
+harmony, but it often bestows it; and in everything imposingly
+beautiful, strength has much to do with the magic. Take away the tied
+tendons that all over seem bursting from the marble in the carved
+Hercules, and its charm would be gone. As devout Eckerman lifted the
+linen sheet from the naked corpse of Goethe, he was overwhelmed with
+the massive chest of the man, that seemed as a Roman triumphal arch.
+When Angelo paints even God the Father in human form, mark what
+robustness is there. And whatever they may reveal of the divine love in
+the Son, the soft, curled, hermaphroditical Italian pictures, in which
+his idea has been most successfully embodied; these pictures, so
+destitute as they are of all brawniness, hint nothing of any power, but
+the mere negative, feminine one of submission and endurance, which on
+all hands it is conceded, form the peculiar practical virtues of his
+teachings.
+
+Such is the subtle elasticity of the organ I treat of, that whether
+wielded in sport, or in earnest, or in anger, whatever be the mood it
+be in, its flexions are invariably marked by exceeding grace. Therein
+no fairy’s arm can transcend it.
+
+Five great motions are peculiar to it. First, when used as a fin for
+progression; Second, when used as a mace in battle; Third, in sweeping;
+Fourth, in lobtailing; Fifth, in peaking flukes.
+
+First: Being horizontal in its position, the Leviathan’s tail acts in a
+different manner from the tails of all other sea creatures. It never
+wriggles. In man or fish, wriggling is a sign of inferiority. To the
+whale, his tail is the sole means of propulsion. Scroll-wise coiled
+forwards beneath the body, and then rapidly sprung backwards, it is
+this which gives that singular darting, leaping motion to the monster
+when furiously swimming. His side-fins only serve to steer by.
+
+Second: It is a little significant, that while one sperm whale only
+fights another sperm whale with his head and jaw, nevertheless, in his
+conflicts with man, he chiefly and contemptuously uses his tail. In
+striking at a boat, he swiftly curves away his flukes from it, and the
+blow is only inflicted by the recoil. If it be made in the unobstructed
+air, especially if it descend to its mark, the stroke is then simply
+irresistible. No ribs of man or boat can withstand it. Your only
+salvation lies in eluding it; but if it comes sideways through the
+opposing water, then partly owing to the light buoyancy of the
+whale-boat, and the elasticity of its materials, a cracked rib or a
+dashed plank or two, a sort of stitch in the side, is generally the
+most serious result. These submerged side blows are so often received
+in the fishery, that they are accounted mere child’s play. Some one
+strips off a frock, and the hole is stopped.
+
+Third: I cannot demonstrate it, but it seems to me, that in the whale
+the sense of touch is concentrated in the tail; for in this respect
+there is a delicacy in it only equalled by the daintiness of the
+elephant’s trunk. This delicacy is chiefly evinced in the action of
+sweeping, when in maidenly gentleness the whale with a certain soft
+slowness moves his immense flukes from side to side upon the surface of
+the sea; and if he feel but a sailor’s whisker, woe to that sailor,
+whiskers and all. What tenderness there is in that preliminary touch!
+Had this tail any prehensile power, I should straightway bethink me of
+Darmonodes’ elephant that so frequented the flower-market, and with low
+salutations presented nosegays to damsels, and then caressed their
+zones. On more accounts than one, a pity it is that the whale does not
+possess this prehensile virtue in his tail; for I have heard of yet
+another elephant, that when wounded in the fight, curved round his
+trunk and extracted the dart.
+
+Fourth: Stealing unawares upon the whale in the fancied security of the
+middle of solitary seas, you find him unbent from the vast corpulence
+of his dignity, and kitten-like, he plays on the ocean as if it were a
+hearth. But still you see his power in his play. The broad palms of his
+tail are flirted high into the air; then smiting the surface, the
+thunderous concussion resounds for miles. You would almost think a
+great gun had been discharged; and if you noticed the light wreath of
+vapor from the spiracle at his other extremity, you would think that
+that was the smoke from the touch-hole.
+
+Fifth: As in the ordinary floating posture of the leviathan the flukes
+lie considerably below the level of his back, they are then completely
+out of sight beneath the surface; but when he is about to plunge into
+the deeps, his entire flukes with at least thirty feet of his body are
+tossed erect in the air, and so remain vibrating a moment, till they
+downwards shoot out of view. Excepting the sublime _breach_—somewhere
+else to be described—this peaking of the whale’s flukes is perhaps the
+grandest sight to be seen in all animated nature. Out of the bottomless
+profundities the gigantic tail seems spasmodically snatching at the
+highest heaven. So in dreams, have I seen majestic Satan thrusting
+forth his tormented colossal claw from the flame Baltic of Hell. But in
+gazing at such scenes, it is all in all what mood you are in; if in the
+Dantean, the devils will occur to you; if in that of Isaiah, the
+archangels. Standing at the mast-head of my ship during a sunrise that
+crimsoned sky and sea, I once saw a large herd of whales in the east,
+all heading towards the sun, and for a moment vibrating in concert with
+peaked flukes. As it seemed to me at the time, such a grand embodiment
+of adoration of the gods was never beheld, even in Persia, the home of
+the fire worshippers. As Ptolemy Philopater testified of the African
+elephant, I then testified of the whale, pronouncing him the most
+devout of all beings. For according to King Juba, the military
+elephants of antiquity often hailed the morning with their trunks
+uplifted in the profoundest silence.
+
+The chance comparison in this chapter, between the whale and the
+elephant, so far as some aspects of the tail of the one and the trunk
+of the other are concerned, should not tend to place those two opposite
+organs on an equality, much less the creatures to which they
+respectively belong. For as the mightiest elephant is but a terrier to
+Leviathan, so, compared with Leviathan’s tail, his trunk is but the
+stalk of a lily. The most direful blow from the elephant’s trunk were
+as the playful tap of a fan, compared with the measureless crush and
+crash of the sperm whale’s ponderous flukes, which in repeated
+instances have one after the other hurled entire boats with all their
+oars and crews into the air, very much as an Indian juggler tosses his
+balls.*
+
+*Though all comparison in the way of general bulk between the whale and
+the elephant is preposterous, inasmuch as in that particular the
+elephant stands in much the same respect to the whale that a dog does
+to the elephant; nevertheless, there are not wanting some points of
+curious similitude; among these is the spout. It is well known that the
+elephant will often draw up water or dust in his trunk, and then
+elevating it, jet it forth in a stream.
+
+The more I consider this mighty tail, the more do I deplore my
+inability to express it. At times there are gestures in it, which,
+though they would well grace the hand of man, remain wholly
+inexplicable. In an extensive herd, so remarkable, occasionally, are
+these mystic gestures, that I have heard hunters who have declared them
+akin to Free-Mason signs and symbols; that the whale, indeed, by these
+methods intelligently conversed with the world. Nor are there wanting
+other motions of the whale in his general body, full of strangeness,
+and unaccountable to his most experienced assailant. Dissect him how I
+may, then, I but go skin deep; I know him not, and never will. But if I
+know not even the tail of this whale, how understand his head? much
+more, how comprehend his face, when face he has none? Thou shalt see my
+back parts, my tail, he seems to say, but my face shall not be seen.
+But I cannot completely make out his back parts; and hint what he will
+about his face, I say again he has no face.
+
+
+CHAPTER 87. The Grand Armada.
+
+The long and narrow peninsula of Malacca, extending south-eastward from
+the territories of Birmah, forms the most southerly point of all Asia.
+In a continuous line from that peninsula stretch the long islands of
+Sumatra, Java, Bally, and Timor; which, with many others, form a vast
+mole, or rampart, lengthwise connecting Asia with Australia, and
+dividing the long unbroken Indian ocean from the thickly studded
+oriental archipelagoes. This rampart is pierced by several sally-ports
+for the convenience of ships and whales; conspicuous among which are
+the straits of Sunda and Malacca. By the straits of Sunda, chiefly,
+vessels bound to China from the west, emerge into the China seas.
+
+Those narrow straits of Sunda divide Sumatra from Java; and standing
+midway in that vast rampart of islands, buttressed by that bold green
+promontory, known to seamen as Java Head; they not a little correspond
+to the central gateway opening into some vast walled empire: and
+considering the inexhaustible wealth of spices, and silks, and jewels,
+and gold, and ivory, with which the thousand islands of that oriental
+sea are enriched, it seems a significant provision of nature, that such
+treasures, by the very formation of the land, should at least bear the
+appearance, however ineffectual, of being guarded from the all-grasping
+western world. The shores of the Straits of Sunda are unsupplied with
+those domineering fortresses which guard the entrances to the
+Mediterranean, the Baltic, and the Propontis. Unlike the Danes, these
+Orientals do not demand the obsequious homage of lowered top-sails from
+the endless procession of ships before the wind, which for centuries
+past, by night and by day, have passed between the islands of Sumatra
+and Java, freighted with the costliest cargoes of the east. But while
+they freely waive a ceremonial like this, they do by no means renounce
+their claim to more solid tribute.
+
+Time out of mind the piratical proas of the Malays, lurking among the
+low shaded coves and islets of Sumatra, have sallied out upon the
+vessels sailing through the straits, fiercely demanding tribute at the
+point of their spears. Though by the repeated bloody chastisements they
+have received at the hands of European cruisers, the audacity of these
+corsairs has of late been somewhat repressed; yet, even at the present
+day, we occasionally hear of English and American vessels, which, in
+those waters, have been remorselessly boarded and pillaged.
+
+With a fair, fresh wind, the Pequod was now drawing nigh to these
+straits; Ahab purposing to pass through them into the Javan sea, and
+thence, cruising northwards, over waters known to be frequented here
+and there by the Sperm Whale, sweep inshore by the Philippine Islands,
+and gain the far coast of Japan, in time for the great whaling season
+there. By these means, the circumnavigating Pequod would sweep almost
+all the known Sperm Whale cruising grounds of the world, previous to
+descending upon the Line in the Pacific; where Ahab, though everywhere
+else foiled in his pursuit, firmly counted upon giving battle to Moby
+Dick, in the sea he was most known to frequent; and at a season when he
+might most reasonably be presumed to be haunting it.
+
+But how now? in this zoned quest, does Ahab touch no land? does his
+crew drink air? Surely, he will stop for water. Nay. For a long time,
+now, the circus-running sun has raced within his fiery ring, and needs
+no sustenance but what’s in himself. So Ahab. Mark this, too, in the
+whaler. While other hulls are loaded down with alien stuff, to be
+transferred to foreign wharves; the world-wandering whale-ship carries
+no cargo but herself and crew, their weapons and their wants. She has a
+whole lake’s contents bottled in her ample hold. She is ballasted with
+utilities; not altogether with unusable pig-lead and kentledge. She
+carries years’ water in her. Clear old prime Nantucket water; which,
+when three years afloat, the Nantucketer, in the Pacific, prefers to
+drink before the brackish fluid, but yesterday rafted off in casks,
+from the Peruvian or Indian streams. Hence it is, that, while other
+ships may have gone to China from New York, and back again, touching at
+a score of ports, the whale-ship, in all that interval, may not have
+sighted one grain of soil; her crew having seen no man but floating
+seamen like themselves. So that did you carry them the news that
+another flood had come; they would only answer—“Well, boys, here’s the
+ark!”
+
+Now, as many Sperm Whales had been captured off the western coast of
+Java, in the near vicinity of the Straits of Sunda; indeed, as most of
+the ground, roundabout, was generally recognised by the fishermen as an
+excellent spot for cruising; therefore, as the Pequod gained more and
+more upon Java Head, the look-outs were repeatedly hailed, and
+admonished to keep wide awake. But though the green palmy cliffs of the
+land soon loomed on the starboard bow, and with delighted nostrils the
+fresh cinnamon was snuffed in the air, yet not a single jet was
+descried. Almost renouncing all thought of falling in with any game
+hereabouts, the ship had well nigh entered the straits, when the
+customary cheering cry was heard from aloft, and ere long a spectacle
+of singular magnificence saluted us.
+
+But here be it premised, that owing to the unwearied activity with
+which of late they have been hunted over all four oceans, the Sperm
+Whales, instead of almost invariably sailing in small detached
+companies, as in former times, are now frequently met with in extensive
+herds, sometimes embracing so great a multitude, that it would almost
+seem as if numerous nations of them had sworn solemn league and
+covenant for mutual assistance and protection. To this aggregation of
+the Sperm Whale into such immense caravans, may be imputed the
+circumstance that even in the best cruising grounds, you may now
+sometimes sail for weeks and months together, without being greeted by
+a single spout; and then be suddenly saluted by what sometimes seems
+thousands on thousands.
+
+Broad on both bows, at the distance of some two or three miles, and
+forming a great semicircle, embracing one half of the level horizon, a
+continuous chain of whale-jets were up-playing and sparkling in the
+noon-day air. Unlike the straight perpendicular twin-jets of the Right
+Whale, which, dividing at top, fall over in two branches, like the
+cleft drooping boughs of a willow, the single forward-slanting spout of
+the Sperm Whale presents a thick curled bush of white mist, continually
+rising and falling away to leeward.
+
+Seen from the Pequod’s deck, then, as she would rise on a high hill of
+the sea, this host of vapory spouts, individually curling up into the
+air, and beheld through a blending atmosphere of bluish haze, showed
+like the thousand cheerful chimneys of some dense metropolis, descried
+of a balmy autumnal morning, by some horseman on a height.
+
+As marching armies approaching an unfriendly defile in the mountains,
+accelerate their march, all eagerness to place that perilous passage in
+their rear, and once more expand in comparative security upon the
+plain; even so did this vast fleet of whales now seem hurrying forward
+through the straits; gradually contracting the wings of their
+semicircle, and swimming on, in one solid, but still crescentic centre.
+
+Crowding all sail the Pequod pressed after them; the harpooneers
+handling their weapons, and loudly cheering from the heads of their yet
+suspended boats. If the wind only held, little doubt had they, that
+chased through these Straits of Sunda, the vast host would only deploy
+into the Oriental seas to witness the capture of not a few of their
+number. And who could tell whether, in that congregated caravan, Moby
+Dick himself might not temporarily be swimming, like the worshipped
+white-elephant in the coronation procession of the Siamese! So with
+stun-sail piled on stun-sail, we sailed along, driving these leviathans
+before us; when, of a sudden, the voice of Tashtego was heard, loudly
+directing attention to something in our wake.
+
+Corresponding to the crescent in our van, we beheld another in our
+rear. It seemed formed of detached white vapors, rising and falling
+something like the spouts of the whales; only they did not so
+completely come and go; for they constantly hovered, without finally
+disappearing. Levelling his glass at this sight, Ahab quickly revolved
+in his pivot-hole, crying, “Aloft there, and rig whips and buckets to
+wet the sails;—Malays, sir, and after us!”
+
+As if too long lurking behind the headlands, till the Pequod should
+fairly have entered the straits, these rascally Asiatics were now in
+hot pursuit, to make up for their over-cautious delay. But when the
+swift Pequod, with a fresh leading wind, was herself in hot chase; how
+very kind of these tawny philanthropists to assist in speeding her on
+to her own chosen pursuit,—mere riding-whips and rowels to her, that
+they were. As with glass under arm, Ahab to-and-fro paced the deck; in
+his forward turn beholding the monsters he chased, and in the after one
+the bloodthirsty pirates chasing _him_; some such fancy as the above
+seemed his. And when he glanced upon the green walls of the watery
+defile in which the ship was then sailing, and bethought him that
+through that gate lay the route to his vengeance, and beheld, how that
+through that same gate he was now both chasing and being chased to his
+deadly end; and not only that, but a herd of remorseless wild pirates
+and inhuman atheistical devils were infernally cheering him on with
+their curses;—when all these conceits had passed through his brain,
+Ahab’s brow was left gaunt and ribbed, like the black sand beach after
+some stormy tide has been gnawing it, without being able to drag the
+firm thing from its place.
+
+But thoughts like these troubled very few of the reckless crew; and
+when, after steadily dropping and dropping the pirates astern, the
+Pequod at last shot by the vivid green Cockatoo Point on the Sumatra
+side, emerging at last upon the broad waters beyond; then, the
+harpooneers seemed more to grieve that the swift whales had been
+gaining upon the ship, than to rejoice that the ship had so
+victoriously gained upon the Malays. But still driving on in the wake
+of the whales, at length they seemed abating their speed; gradually the
+ship neared them; and the wind now dying away, word was passed to
+spring to the boats. But no sooner did the herd, by some presumed
+wonderful instinct of the Sperm Whale, become notified of the three
+keels that were after them,—though as yet a mile in their rear,—than
+they rallied again, and forming in close ranks and battalions, so that
+their spouts all looked like flashing lines of stacked bayonets, moved
+on with redoubled velocity.
+
+Stripped to our shirts and drawers, we sprang to the white-ash, and
+after several hours’ pulling were almost disposed to renounce the
+chase, when a general pausing commotion among the whales gave animating
+token that they were now at last under the influence of that strange
+perplexity of inert irresolution, which, when the fishermen perceive it
+in the whale, they say he is gallied. The compact martial columns in
+which they had been hitherto rapidly and steadily swimming, were now
+broken up in one measureless rout; and like King Porus’ elephants in
+the Indian battle with Alexander, they seemed going mad with
+consternation. In all directions expanding in vast irregular circles,
+and aimlessly swimming hither and thither, by their short thick
+spoutings, they plainly betrayed their distraction of panic. This was
+still more strangely evinced by those of their number, who, completely
+paralysed as it were, helplessly floated like water-logged dismantled
+ships on the sea. Had these Leviathans been but a flock of simple
+sheep, pursued over the pasture by three fierce wolves, they could not
+possibly have evinced such excessive dismay. But this occasional
+timidity is characteristic of almost all herding creatures. Though
+banding together in tens of thousands, the lion-maned buffaloes of the
+West have fled before a solitary horseman. Witness, too, all human
+beings, how when herded together in the sheepfold of a theatre’s pit,
+they will, at the slightest alarm of fire, rush helter-skelter for the
+outlets, crowding, trampling, jamming, and remorselessly dashing each
+other to death. Best, therefore, withhold any amazement at the
+strangely gallied whales before us, for there is no folly of the beasts
+of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.
+
+Though many of the whales, as has been said, were in violent motion,
+yet it is to be observed that as a whole the herd neither advanced nor
+retreated, but collectively remained in one place. As is customary in
+those cases, the boats at once separated, each making for some one lone
+whale on the outskirts of the shoal. In about three minutes’ time,
+Queequeg’s harpoon was flung; the stricken fish darted blinding spray
+in our faces, and then running away with us like light, steered
+straight for the heart of the herd. Though such a movement on the part
+of the whale struck under such circumstances, is in no wise
+unprecedented; and indeed is almost always more or less anticipated;
+yet does it present one of the more perilous vicissitudes of the
+fishery. For as the swift monster drags you deeper and deeper into the
+frantic shoal, you bid adieu to circumspect life and only exist in a
+delirious throb.
+
+As, blind and deaf, the whale plunged forward, as if by sheer power of
+speed to rid himself of the iron leech that had fastened to him; as we
+thus tore a white gash in the sea, on all sides menaced as we flew, by
+the crazed creatures to and fro rushing about us; our beset boat was
+like a ship mobbed by ice-isles in a tempest, and striving to steer
+through their complicated channels and straits, knowing not at what
+moment it may be locked in and crushed.
+
+But not a bit daunted, Queequeg steered us manfully; now sheering off
+from this monster directly across our route in advance; now edging away
+from that, whose colossal flukes were suspended overhead, while all the
+time, Starbuck stood up in the bows, lance in hand, pricking out of our
+way whatever whales he could reach by short darts, for there was no
+time to make long ones. Nor were the oarsmen quite idle, though their
+wonted duty was now altogether dispensed with. They chiefly attended to
+the shouting part of the business. “Out of the way, Commodore!” cried
+one, to a great dromedary that of a sudden rose bodily to the surface,
+and for an instant threatened to swamp us. “Hard down with your tail,
+there!” cried a second to another, which, close to our gunwale, seemed
+calmly cooling himself with his own fan-like extremity.
+
+All whaleboats carry certain curious contrivances, originally invented
+by the Nantucket Indians, called druggs. Two thick squares of wood of
+equal size are stoutly clenched together, so that they cross each
+other’s grain at right angles; a line of considerable length is then
+attached to the middle of this block, and the other end of the line
+being looped, it can in a moment be fastened to a harpoon. It is
+chiefly among gallied whales that this drugg is used. For then, more
+whales are close round you than you can possibly chase at one time. But
+sperm whales are not every day encountered; while you may, then, you
+must kill all you can. And if you cannot kill them all at once, you
+must wing them, so that they can be afterwards killed at your leisure.
+Hence it is, that at times like these the drugg, comes into
+requisition. Our boat was furnished with three of them. The first and
+second were successfully darted, and we saw the whales staggeringly
+running off, fettered by the enormous sidelong resistance of the towing
+drugg. They were cramped like malefactors with the chain and ball. But
+upon flinging the third, in the act of tossing overboard the clumsy
+wooden block, it caught under one of the seats of the boat, and in an
+instant tore it out and carried it away, dropping the oarsman in the
+boat’s bottom as the seat slid from under him. On both sides the sea
+came in at the wounded planks, but we stuffed two or three drawers and
+shirts in, and so stopped the leaks for the time.
+
+It had been next to impossible to dart these drugged-harpoons, were it
+not that as we advanced into the herd, our whale’s way greatly
+diminished; moreover, that as we went still further and further from
+the circumference of commotion, the direful disorders seemed waning. So
+that when at last the jerking harpoon drew out, and the towing whale
+sideways vanished; then, with the tapering force of his parting
+momentum, we glided between two whales into the innermost heart of the
+shoal, as if from some mountain torrent we had slid into a serene
+valley lake. Here the storms in the roaring glens between the outermost
+whales, were heard but not felt. In this central expanse the sea
+presented that smooth satin-like surface, called a sleek, produced by
+the subtle moisture thrown off by the whale in his more quiet moods.
+Yes, we were now in that enchanted calm which they say lurks at the
+heart of every commotion. And still in the distracted distance we
+beheld the tumults of the outer concentric circles, and saw successive
+pods of whales, eight or ten in each, swiftly going round and round,
+like multiplied spans of horses in a ring; and so closely shoulder to
+shoulder, that a Titanic circus-rider might easily have over-arched the
+middle ones, and so have gone round on their backs. Owing to the
+density of the crowd of reposing whales, more immediately surrounding
+the embayed axis of the herd, no possible chance of escape was at
+present afforded us. We must watch for a breach in the living wall that
+hemmed us in; the wall that had only admitted us in order to shut us
+up. Keeping at the centre of the lake, we were occasionally visited by
+small tame cows and calves; the women and children of this routed host.
+
+Now, inclusive of the occasional wide intervals between the revolving
+outer circles, and inclusive of the spaces between the various pods in
+any one of those circles, the entire area at this juncture, embraced by
+the whole multitude, must have contained at least two or three square
+miles. At any rate—though indeed such a test at such a time might be
+deceptive—spoutings might be discovered from our low boat that seemed
+playing up almost from the rim of the horizon. I mention this
+circumstance, because, as if the cows and calves had been purposely
+locked up in this innermost fold; and as if the wide extent of the herd
+had hitherto prevented them from learning the precise cause of its
+stopping; or, possibly, being so young, unsophisticated, and every way
+innocent and inexperienced; however it may have been, these smaller
+whales—now and then visiting our becalmed boat from the margin of the
+lake—evinced a wondrous fearlessness and confidence, or else a still
+becharmed panic which it was impossible not to marvel at. Like
+household dogs they came snuffling round us, right up to our gunwales,
+and touching them; till it almost seemed that some spell had suddenly
+domesticated them. Queequeg patted their foreheads; Starbuck scratched
+their backs with his lance; but fearful of the consequences, for the
+time refrained from darting it.
+
+But far beneath this wondrous world upon the surface, another and still
+stranger world met our eyes as we gazed over the side. For, suspended
+in those watery vaults, floated the forms of the nursing mothers of the
+whales, and those that by their enormous girth seemed shortly to become
+mothers. The lake, as I have hinted, was to a considerable depth
+exceedingly transparent; and as human infants while suckling will
+calmly and fixedly gaze away from the breast, as if leading two
+different lives at the time; and while yet drawing mortal nourishment,
+be still spiritually feasting upon some unearthly reminiscence;—even so
+did the young of these whales seem looking up towards us, but not at
+us, as if we were but a bit of Gulfweed in their new-born sight.
+Floating on their sides, the mothers also seemed quietly eyeing us. One
+of these little infants, that from certain queer tokens seemed hardly a
+day old, might have measured some fourteen feet in length, and some six
+feet in girth. He was a little frisky; though as yet his body seemed
+scarce yet recovered from that irksome position it had so lately
+occupied in the maternal reticule; where, tail to head, and all ready
+for the final spring, the unborn whale lies bent like a Tartar’s bow.
+The delicate side-fins, and the palms of his flukes, still freshly
+retained the plaited crumpled appearance of a baby’s ears newly arrived
+from foreign parts.
+
+“Line! line!” cried Queequeg, looking over the gunwale; “him fast! him
+fast!—Who line him! Who struck?—Two whale; one big, one little!”
+
+“What ails ye, man?” cried Starbuck.
+
+“Look-e here,” said Queequeg, pointing down.
+
+As when the stricken whale, that from the tub has reeled out hundreds
+of fathoms of rope; as, after deep sounding, he floats up again, and
+shows the slackened curling line buoyantly rising and spiralling
+towards the air; so now, Starbuck saw long coils of the umbilical cord
+of Madame Leviathan, by which the young cub seemed still tethered to
+its dam. Not seldom in the rapid vicissitudes of the chase, this
+natural line, with the maternal end loose, becomes entangled with the
+hempen one, so that the cub is thereby trapped. Some of the subtlest
+secrets of the seas seemed divulged to us in this enchanted pond. We
+saw young Leviathan amours in the deep.*
+
+*The sperm whale, as with all other species of the Leviathan, but
+unlike most other fish, breeds indifferently at all seasons; after a
+gestation which may probably be set down at nine months, producing but
+one at a time; though in some few known instances giving birth to an
+Esau and Jacob:—a contingency provided for in suckling by two teats,
+curiously situated, one on each side of the anus; but the breasts
+themselves extend upwards from that. When by chance these precious
+parts in a nursing whale are cut by the hunter’s lance, the mother’s
+pouring milk and blood rivallingly discolour the sea for rods. The milk
+is very sweet and rich; it has been tasted by man; it might do well
+with strawberries. When overflowing with mutual esteem, the whales
+salute _more hominum_.
+
+And thus, though surrounded by circle upon circle of consternations and
+affrights, did these inscrutable creatures at the centre freely and
+fearlessly indulge in all peaceful concernments; yea, serenely revelled
+in dalliance and delight. But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of
+my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm;
+and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve round me, deep down
+and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy.
+
+Meanwhile, as we thus lay entranced, the occasional sudden frantic
+spectacles in the distance evinced the activity of the other boats,
+still engaged in drugging the whales on the frontier of the host; or
+possibly carrying on the war within the first circle, where abundance
+of room and some convenient retreats were afforded them. But the sight
+of the enraged drugged whales now and then blindly darting to and fro
+across the circles, was nothing to what at last met our eyes. It is
+sometimes the custom when fast to a whale more than commonly powerful
+and alert, to seek to hamstring him, as it were, by sundering or
+maiming his gigantic tail-tendon. It is done by darting a short-handled
+cutting-spade, to which is attached a rope for hauling it back again. A
+whale wounded (as we afterwards learned) in this part, but not
+effectually, as it seemed, had broken away from the boat, carrying
+along with him half of the harpoon line; and in the extraordinary agony
+of the wound, he was now dashing among the revolving circles like the
+lone mounted desperado Arnold, at the battle of Saratoga, carrying
+dismay wherever he went.
+
+But agonizing as was the wound of this whale, and an appalling
+spectacle enough, any way; yet the peculiar horror with which he seemed
+to inspire the rest of the herd, was owing to a cause which at first
+the intervening distance obscured from us. But at length we perceived
+that by one of the unimaginable accidents of the fishery, this whale
+had become entangled in the harpoon-line that he towed; he had also run
+away with the cutting-spade in him; and while the free end of the rope
+attached to that weapon, had permanently caught in the coils of the
+harpoon-line round his tail, the cutting-spade itself had worked loose
+from his flesh. So that tormented to madness, he was now churning
+through the water, violently flailing with his flexible tail, and
+tossing the keen spade about him, wounding and murdering his own
+comrades.
+
+This terrific object seemed to recall the whole herd from their
+stationary fright. First, the whales forming the margin of our lake
+began to crowd a little, and tumble against each other, as if lifted by
+half spent billows from afar; then the lake itself began faintly to
+heave and swell; the submarine bridal-chambers and nurseries vanished;
+in more and more contracting orbits the whales in the more central
+circles began to swim in thickening clusters. Yes, the long calm was
+departing. A low advancing hum was soon heard; and then like to the
+tumultuous masses of block-ice when the great river Hudson breaks up in
+Spring, the entire host of whales came tumbling upon their inner
+centre, as if to pile themselves up in one common mountain. Instantly
+Starbuck and Queequeg changed places; Starbuck taking the stern.
+
+“Oars! Oars!” he intensely whispered, seizing the helm—“gripe your
+oars, and clutch your souls, now! My God, men, stand by! Shove him off,
+you Queequeg—the whale there!—prick him!—hit him! Stand up—stand up,
+and stay so! Spring, men—pull, men; never mind their backs—scrape
+them!—scrape away!”
+
+The boat was now all but jammed between two vast black bulks, leaving a
+narrow Dardanelles between their long lengths. But by desperate
+endeavor we at last shot into a temporary opening; then giving way
+rapidly, and at the same time earnestly watching for another outlet.
+After many similar hair-breadth escapes, we at last swiftly glided into
+what had just been one of the outer circles, but now crossed by random
+whales, all violently making for one centre. This lucky salvation was
+cheaply purchased by the loss of Queequeg’s hat, who, while standing in
+the bows to prick the fugitive whales, had his hat taken clean from his
+head by the air-eddy made by the sudden tossing of a pair of broad
+flukes close by.
+
+Riotous and disordered as the universal commotion now was, it soon
+resolved itself into what seemed a systematic movement; for having
+clumped together at last in one dense body, they then renewed their
+onward flight with augmented fleetness. Further pursuit was useless;
+but the boats still lingered in their wake to pick up what drugged
+whales might be dropped astern, and likewise to secure one which Flask
+had killed and waifed. The waif is a pennoned pole, two or three of
+which are carried by every boat; and which, when additional game is at
+hand, are inserted upright into the floating body of a dead whale, both
+to mark its place on the sea, and also as token of prior possession,
+should the boats of any other ship draw near.
+
+The result of this lowering was somewhat illustrative of that sagacious
+saying in the Fishery,—the more whales the less fish. Of all the
+drugged whales only one was captured. The rest contrived to escape for
+the time, but only to be taken, as will hereafter be seen, by some
+other craft than the Pequod.
+
+
+CHAPTER 88. Schools and Schoolmasters.
+
+The previous chapter gave account of an immense body or herd of Sperm
+Whales, and there was also then given the probable cause inducing those
+vast aggregations.
+
+Now, though such great bodies are at times encountered, yet, as must
+have been seen, even at the present day, small detached bands are
+occasionally observed, embracing from twenty to fifty individuals each.
+Such bands are known as schools. They generally are of two sorts; those
+composed almost entirely of females, and those mustering none but young
+vigorous males, or bulls, as they are familiarly designated.
+
+In cavalier attendance upon the school of females, you invariably see a
+male of full grown magnitude, but not old; who, upon any alarm, evinces
+his gallantry by falling in the rear and covering the flight of his
+ladies. In truth, this gentleman is a luxurious Ottoman, swimming about
+over the watery world, surroundingly accompanied by all the solaces and
+endearments of the harem. The contrast between this Ottoman and his
+concubines is striking; because, while he is always of the largest
+leviathanic proportions, the ladies, even at full growth, are not more
+than one-third of the bulk of an average-sized male. They are
+comparatively delicate, indeed; I dare say, not to exceed half a dozen
+yards round the waist. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied, that upon the
+whole they are hereditarily entitled to _en bon point_.
+
+It is very curious to watch this harem and its lord in their indolent
+ramblings. Like fashionables, they are for ever on the move in
+leisurely search of variety. You meet them on the Line in time for the
+full flower of the Equatorial feeding season, having just returned,
+perhaps, from spending the summer in the Northern seas, and so cheating
+summer of all unpleasant weariness and warmth. By the time they have
+lounged up and down the promenade of the Equator awhile, they start for
+the Oriental waters in anticipation of the cool season there, and so
+evade the other excessive temperature of the year.
+
+When serenely advancing on one of these journeys, if any strange
+suspicious sights are seen, my lord whale keeps a wary eye on his
+interesting family. Should any unwarrantably pert young Leviathan
+coming that way, presume to draw confidentially close to one of the
+ladies, with what prodigious fury the Bashaw assails him, and chases
+him away! High times, indeed, if unprincipled young rakes like him are
+to be permitted to invade the sanctity of domestic bliss; though do
+what the Bashaw will, he cannot keep the most notorious Lothario out of
+his bed; for, alas! all fish bed in common. As ashore, the ladies often
+cause the most terrible duels among their rival admirers; just so with
+the whales, who sometimes come to deadly battle, and all for love. They
+fence with their long lower jaws, sometimes locking them together, and
+so striving for the supremacy like elks that warringly interweave their
+antlers. Not a few are captured having the deep scars of these
+encounters,—furrowed heads, broken teeth, scolloped fins; and in some
+instances, wrenched and dislocated mouths.
+
+But supposing the invader of domestic bliss to betake himself away at
+the first rush of the harem’s lord, then is it very diverting to watch
+that lord. Gently he insinuates his vast bulk among them again and
+revels there awhile, still in tantalizing vicinity to young Lothario,
+like pious Solomon devoutly worshipping among his thousand concubines.
+Granting other whales to be in sight, the fishermen will seldom give
+chase to one of these Grand Turks; for these Grand Turks are too lavish
+of their strength, and hence their unctuousness is small. As for the
+sons and the daughters they beget, why, those sons and daughters must
+take care of themselves; at least, with only the maternal help. For
+like certain other omnivorous roving lovers that might be named, my
+Lord Whale has no taste for the nursery, however much for the bower;
+and so, being a great traveller, he leaves his anonymous babies all
+over the world; every baby an exotic. In good time, nevertheless, as
+the ardour of youth declines; as years and dumps increase; as
+reflection lends her solemn pauses; in short, as a general lassitude
+overtakes the sated Turk; then a love of ease and virtue supplants the
+love for maidens; our Ottoman enters upon the impotent, repentant,
+admonitory stage of life, forswears, disbands the harem, and grown to
+an exemplary, sulky old soul, goes about all alone among the meridians
+and parallels saying his prayers, and warning each young Leviathan from
+his amorous errors.
+
+Now, as the harem of whales is called by the fishermen a school, so is
+the lord and master of that school technically known as the
+schoolmaster. It is therefore not in strict character, however
+admirably satirical, that after going to school himself, he should then
+go abroad inculcating not what he learned there, but the folly of it.
+His title, schoolmaster, would very naturally seem derived from the
+name bestowed upon the harem itself, but some have surmised that the
+man who first thus entitled this sort of Ottoman whale, must have read
+the memoirs of Vidocq, and informed himself what sort of a
+country-schoolmaster that famous Frenchman was in his younger days, and
+what was the nature of those occult lessons he inculcated into some of
+his pupils.
+
+The same secludedness and isolation to which the schoolmaster whale
+betakes himself in his advancing years, is true of all aged Sperm
+Whales. Almost universally, a lone whale—as a solitary Leviathan is
+called—proves an ancient one. Like venerable moss-bearded Daniel Boone,
+he will have no one near him but Nature herself; and her he takes to
+wife in the wilderness of waters, and the best of wives she is, though
+she keeps so many moody secrets.
+
+The schools composing none but young and vigorous males, previously
+mentioned, offer a strong contrast to the harem schools. For while
+those female whales are characteristically timid, the young males, or
+forty-barrel-bulls, as they call them, are by far the most pugnacious
+of all Leviathans, and proverbially the most dangerous to encounter;
+excepting those wondrous grey-headed, grizzled whales, sometimes met,
+and these will fight you like grim fiends exasperated by a penal gout.
+
+The Forty-barrel-bull schools are larger than the harem schools. Like a
+mob of young collegians, they are full of fight, fun, and wickedness,
+tumbling round the world at such a reckless, rollicking rate, that no
+prudent underwriter would insure them any more than he would a riotous
+lad at Yale or Harvard. They soon relinquish this turbulence though,
+and when about three-fourths grown, break up, and separately go about
+in quest of settlements, that is, harems.
+
+Another point of difference between the male and female schools is
+still more characteristic of the sexes. Say you strike a
+Forty-barrel-bull—poor devil! all his comrades quit him. But strike a
+member of the harem school, and her companions swim around her with
+every token of concern, sometimes lingering so near her and so long, as
+themselves to fall a prey.
+
+
+CHAPTER 89. Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish.
+
+The allusion to the waif and waif-poles in the last chapter but one,
+necessitates some account of the laws and regulations of the whale
+fishery, of which the waif may be deemed the grand symbol and badge.
+
+It frequently happens that when several ships are cruising in company,
+a whale may be struck by one vessel, then escape, and be finally killed
+and captured by another vessel; and herein are indirectly comprised
+many minor contingencies, all partaking of this one grand feature. For
+example,—after a weary and perilous chase and capture of a whale, the
+body may get loose from the ship by reason of a violent storm; and
+drifting far away to leeward, be retaken by a second whaler, who, in a
+calm, snugly tows it alongside, without risk of life or line. Thus the
+most vexatious and violent disputes would often arise between the
+fishermen, were there not some written or unwritten, universal,
+undisputed law applicable to all cases.
+
+Perhaps the only formal whaling code authorized by legislative
+enactment, was that of Holland. It was decreed by the States-General in
+A.D. 1695. But though no other nation has ever had any written whaling
+law, yet the American fishermen have been their own legislators and
+lawyers in this matter. They have provided a system which for terse
+comprehensiveness surpasses Justinian’s Pandects and the By-laws of the
+Chinese Society for the Suppression of Meddling with other People’s
+Business. Yes; these laws might be engraven on a Queen Anne’s farthing,
+or the barb of a harpoon, and worn round the neck, so small are they.
+
+I. A Fast-Fish belongs to the party fast to it.
+
+II. A Loose-Fish is fair game for anybody who can soonest catch it.
+
+But what plays the mischief with this masterly code is the admirable
+brevity of it, which necessitates a vast volume of commentaries to
+expound it.
+
+First: What is a Fast-Fish? Alive or dead a fish is technically fast,
+when it is connected with an occupied ship or boat, by any medium at
+all controllable by the occupant or occupants,—a mast, an oar, a
+nine-inch cable, a telegraph wire, or a strand of cobweb, it is all the
+same. Likewise a fish is technically fast when it bears a waif, or any
+other recognised symbol of possession; so long as the party waifing it
+plainly evince their ability at any time to take it alongside, as well
+as their intention so to do.
+
+These are scientific commentaries; but the commentaries of the whalemen
+themselves sometimes consist in hard words and harder knocks—the
+Coke-upon-Littleton of the fist. True, among the more upright and
+honorable whalemen allowances are always made for peculiar cases, where
+it would be an outrageous moral injustice for one party to claim
+possession of a whale previously chased or killed by another party. But
+others are by no means so scrupulous.
+
+Some fifty years ago there was a curious case of whale-trover litigated
+in England, wherein the plaintiffs set forth that after a hard chase of
+a whale in the Northern seas; and when indeed they (the plaintiffs) had
+succeeded in harpooning the fish; they were at last, through peril of
+their lives, obliged to forsake not only their lines, but their boat
+itself. Ultimately the defendants (the crew of another ship) came up
+with the whale, struck, killed, seized, and finally appropriated it
+before the very eyes of the plaintiffs. And when those defendants were
+remonstrated with, their captain snapped his fingers in the plaintiffs’
+teeth, and assured them that by way of doxology to the deed he had
+done, he would now retain their line, harpoons, and boat, which had
+remained attached to the whale at the time of the seizure. Wherefore
+the plaintiffs now sued for the recovery of the value of their whale,
+line, harpoons, and boat.
+
+Mr. Erskine was counsel for the defendants; Lord Ellenborough was the
+judge. In the course of the defence, the witty Erskine went on to
+illustrate his position, by alluding to a recent crim. con. case,
+wherein a gentleman, after in vain trying to bridle his wife’s
+viciousness, had at last abandoned her upon the seas of life; but in
+the course of years, repenting of that step, he instituted an action to
+recover possession of her. Erskine was on the other side; and he then
+supported it by saying, that though the gentleman had originally
+harpooned the lady, and had once had her fast, and only by reason of
+the great stress of her plunging viciousness, had at last abandoned
+her; yet abandon her he did, so that she became a loose-fish; and
+therefore when a subsequent gentleman re-harpooned her, the lady then
+became that subsequent gentleman’s property, along with whatever
+harpoon might have been found sticking in her.
+
+Now in the present case Erskine contended that the examples of the
+whale and the lady were reciprocally illustrative of each other.
+
+These pleadings, and the counter pleadings, being duly heard, the very
+learned judge in set terms decided, to wit,—That as for the boat, he
+awarded it to the plaintiffs, because they had merely abandoned it to
+save their lives; but that with regard to the controverted whale,
+harpoons, and line, they belonged to the defendants; the whale, because
+it was a Loose-Fish at the time of the final capture; and the harpoons
+and line because when the fish made off with them, it (the fish)
+acquired a property in those articles; and hence anybody who afterwards
+took the fish had a right to them. Now the defendants afterwards took
+the fish; ergo, the aforesaid articles were theirs.
+
+A common man looking at this decision of the very learned Judge, might
+possibly object to it. But ploughed up to the primary rock of the
+matter, the two great principles laid down in the twin whaling laws
+previously quoted, and applied and elucidated by Lord Ellenborough in
+the above cited case; these two laws touching Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish,
+I say, will, on reflection, be found the fundamentals of all human
+jurisprudence; for notwithstanding its complicated tracery of
+sculpture, the Temple of the Law, like the Temple of the Philistines,
+has but two props to stand on.
+
+Is it not a saying in every one’s mouth, Possession is half of the law:
+that is, regardless of how the thing came into possession? But often
+possession is the whole of the law. What are the sinews and souls of
+Russian serfs and Republican slaves but Fast-Fish, whereof possession
+is the whole of the law? What to the rapacious landlord is the widow’s
+last mite but a Fast-Fish? What is yonder undetected villain’s marble
+mansion with a door-plate for a waif; what is that but a Fast-Fish?
+What is the ruinous discount which Mordecai, the broker, gets from poor
+Woebegone, the bankrupt, on a loan to keep Woebegone’s family from
+starvation; what is that ruinous discount but a Fast-Fish? What is the
+Archbishop of Savesoul’s income of £100,000 seized from the scant bread
+and cheese of hundreds of thousands of broken-backed laborers (all sure
+of heaven without any of Savesoul’s help) what is that globular
+£100,000 but a Fast-Fish? What are the Duke of Dunder’s hereditary
+towns and hamlets but Fast-Fish? What to that redoubted harpooneer,
+John Bull, is poor Ireland, but a Fast-Fish? What to that apostolic
+lancer, Brother Jonathan, is Texas but a Fast-Fish? And concerning all
+these, is not Possession the whole of the law?
+
+But if the doctrine of Fast-Fish be pretty generally applicable, the
+kindred doctrine of Loose-Fish is still more widely so. That is
+internationally and universally applicable.
+
+What was America in 1492 but a Loose-Fish, in which Columbus struck the
+Spanish standard by way of waifing it for his royal master and
+mistress? What was Poland to the Czar? What Greece to the Turk? What
+India to England? What at last will Mexico be to the United States? All
+Loose-Fish.
+
+What are the Rights of Man and the Liberties of the World but
+Loose-Fish? What all men’s minds and opinions but Loose-Fish? What is
+the principle of religious belief in them but a Loose-Fish? What to the
+ostentatious smuggling verbalists are the thoughts of thinkers but
+Loose-Fish? What is the great globe itself but a Loose-Fish? And what
+are you, reader, but a Loose-Fish and a Fast-Fish, too?
+
+
+CHAPTER 90. Heads or Tails.
+
+“De balena vero sufficit, si rex habeat caput, et regina caudam.”
+_Bracton, l. 3, c. 3._
+
+Latin from the books of the Laws of England, which taken along with the
+context, means, that of all whales captured by anybody on the coast of
+that land, the King, as Honorary Grand Harpooneer, must have the head,
+and the Queen be respectfully presented with the tail. A division
+which, in the whale, is much like halving an apple; there is no
+intermediate remainder. Now as this law, under a modified form, is to
+this day in force in England; and as it offers in various respects a
+strange anomaly touching the general law of Fast and Loose-Fish, it is
+here treated of in a separate chapter, on the same courteous principle
+that prompts the English railways to be at the expense of a separate
+car, specially reserved for the accommodation of royalty. In the first
+place, in curious proof of the fact that the above-mentioned law is
+still in force, I proceed to lay before you a circumstance that
+happened within the last two years.
+
+It seems that some honest mariners of Dover, or Sandwich, or some one
+of the Cinque Ports, had after a hard chase succeeded in killing and
+beaching a fine whale which they had originally descried afar off from
+the shore. Now the Cinque Ports are partially or somehow under the
+jurisdiction of a sort of policeman or beadle, called a Lord Warden.
+Holding the office directly from the crown, I believe, all the royal
+emoluments incident to the Cinque Port territories become by assignment
+his. By some writers this office is called a sinecure. But not so.
+Because the Lord Warden is busily employed at times in fobbing his
+perquisites; which are his chiefly by virtue of that same fobbing of
+them.
+
+Now when these poor sun-burnt mariners, bare-footed, and with their
+trowsers rolled high up on their eely legs, had wearily hauled their
+fat fish high and dry, promising themselves a good £150 from the
+precious oil and bone; and in fantasy sipping rare tea with their
+wives, and good ale with their cronies, upon the strength of their
+respective shares; up steps a very learned and most Christian and
+charitable gentleman, with a copy of Blackstone under his arm; and
+laying it upon the whale’s head, he says—“Hands off! this fish, my
+masters, is a Fast-Fish. I seize it as the Lord Warden’s.” Upon this
+the poor mariners in their respectful consternation—so truly
+English—knowing not what to say, fall to vigorously scratching their
+heads all round; meanwhile ruefully glancing from the whale to the
+stranger. But that did in nowise mend the matter, or at all soften the
+hard heart of the learned gentleman with the copy of Blackstone. At
+length one of them, after long scratching about for his ideas, made
+bold to speak,
+
+“Please, sir, who is the Lord Warden?”
+
+“The Duke.”
+
+“But the duke had nothing to do with taking this fish?”
+
+“It is his.”
+
+“We have been at great trouble, and peril, and some expense, and is all
+that to go to the Duke’s benefit; we getting nothing at all for our
+pains but our blisters?”
+
+“It is his.”
+
+“Is the Duke so very poor as to be forced to this desperate mode of
+getting a livelihood?”
+
+“It is his.”
+
+“I thought to relieve my old bed-ridden mother by part of my share of
+this whale.”
+
+“It is his.”
+
+“Won’t the Duke be content with a quarter or a half?”
+
+“It is his.”
+
+In a word, the whale was seized and sold, and his Grace the Duke of
+Wellington received the money. Thinking that viewed in some particular
+lights, the case might by a bare possibility in some small degree be
+deemed, under the circumstances, a rather hard one, an honest clergyman
+of the town respectfully addressed a note to his Grace, begging him to
+take the case of those unfortunate mariners into full consideration. To
+which my Lord Duke in substance replied (both letters were published)
+that he had already done so, and received the money, and would be
+obliged to the reverend gentleman if for the future he (the reverend
+gentleman) would decline meddling with other people’s business. Is this
+the still militant old man, standing at the corners of the three
+kingdoms, on all hands coercing alms of beggars?
+
+It will readily be seen that in this case the alleged right of the Duke
+to the whale was a delegated one from the Sovereign. We must needs
+inquire then on what principle the Sovereign is originally invested
+with that right. The law itself has already been set forth. But Plowdon
+gives us the reason for it. Says Plowdon, the whale so caught belongs
+to the King and Queen, “because of its superior excellence.” And by the
+soundest commentators this has ever been held a cogent argument in such
+matters.
+
+But why should the King have the head, and the Queen the tail? A reason
+for that, ye lawyers!
+
+In his treatise on “Queen-Gold,” or Queen-pinmoney, an old King’s Bench
+author, one William Prynne, thus discourseth: “Ye tail is ye Queen’s,
+that ye Queen’s wardrobe may be supplied with ye whalebone.” Now this
+was written at a time when the black limber bone of the Greenland or
+Right whale was largely used in ladies’ bodices. But this same bone is
+not in the tail; it is in the head, which is a sad mistake for a
+sagacious lawyer like Prynne. But is the Queen a mermaid, to be
+presented with a tail? An allegorical meaning may lurk here.
+
+There are two royal fish so styled by the English law writers—the whale
+and the sturgeon; both royal property under certain limitations, and
+nominally supplying the tenth branch of the crown’s ordinary revenue. I
+know not that any other author has hinted of the matter; but by
+inference it seems to me that the sturgeon must be divided in the same
+way as the whale, the King receiving the highly dense and elastic head
+peculiar to that fish, which, symbolically regarded, may possibly be
+humorously grounded upon some presumed congeniality. And thus there
+seems a reason in all things, even in law.
+
+
+CHAPTER 91. The Pequod Meets The Rose-Bud.
+
+“In vain it was to rake for Ambergriese in the paunch of this
+Leviathan, insufferable fetor denying not inquiry.” _Sir T. Browne,
+V.E._
+
+It was a week or two after the last whaling scene recounted, and when
+we were slowly sailing over a sleepy, vapory, mid-day sea, that the
+many noses on the Pequod’s deck proved more vigilant discoverers than
+the three pairs of eyes aloft. A peculiar and not very pleasant smell
+was smelt in the sea.
+
+“I will bet something now,” said Stubb, “that somewhere hereabouts are
+some of those drugged whales we tickled the other day. I thought they
+would keel up before long.”
+
+Presently, the vapors in advance slid aside; and there in the distance
+lay a ship, whose furled sails betokened that some sort of whale must
+be alongside. As we glided nearer, the stranger showed French colours
+from his peak; and by the eddying cloud of vulture sea-fowl that
+circled, and hovered, and swooped around him, it was plain that the
+whale alongside must be what the fishermen call a blasted whale, that
+is, a whale that has died unmolested on the sea, and so floated an
+unappropriated corpse. It may well be conceived, what an unsavory odor
+such a mass must exhale; worse than an Assyrian city in the plague,
+when the living are incompetent to bury the departed. So intolerable
+indeed is it regarded by some, that no cupidity could persuade them to
+moor alongside of it. Yet are there those who will still do it;
+notwithstanding the fact that the oil obtained from such subjects is of
+a very inferior quality, and by no means of the nature of
+attar-of-rose.
+
+Coming still nearer with the expiring breeze, we saw that the Frenchman
+had a second whale alongside; and this second whale seemed even more of
+a nosegay than the first. In truth, it turned out to be one of those
+problematical whales that seem to dry up and die with a sort of
+prodigious dyspepsia, or indigestion; leaving their defunct bodies
+almost entirely bankrupt of anything like oil. Nevertheless, in the
+proper place we shall see that no knowing fisherman will ever turn up
+his nose at such a whale as this, however much he may shun blasted
+whales in general.
+
+The Pequod had now swept so nigh to the stranger, that Stubb vowed he
+recognised his cutting spade-pole entangled in the lines that were
+knotted round the tail of one of these whales.
+
+“There’s a pretty fellow, now,” he banteringly laughed, standing in the
+ship’s bows, “there’s a jackal for ye! I well know that these Crappoes
+of Frenchmen are but poor devils in the fishery; sometimes lowering
+their boats for breakers, mistaking them for Sperm Whale spouts; yes,
+and sometimes sailing from their port with their hold full of boxes of
+tallow candles, and cases of snuffers, foreseeing that all the oil they
+will get won’t be enough to dip the Captain’s wick into; aye, we all
+know these things; but look ye, here’s a Crappo that is content with
+our leavings, the drugged whale there, I mean; aye, and is content too
+with scraping the dry bones of that other precious fish he has there.
+Poor devil! I say, pass round a hat, some one, and let’s make him a
+present of a little oil for dear charity’s sake. For what oil he’ll get
+from that drugged whale there, wouldn’t be fit to burn in a jail; no,
+not in a condemned cell. And as for the other whale, why, I’ll agree to
+get more oil by chopping up and trying out these three masts of ours,
+than he’ll get from that bundle of bones; though, now that I think of
+it, it may contain something worth a good deal more than oil; yes,
+ambergris. I wonder now if our old man has thought of that. It’s worth
+trying. Yes, I’m for it;” and so saying he started for the
+quarter-deck.
+
+By this time the faint air had become a complete calm; so that whether
+or no, the Pequod was now fairly entrapped in the smell, with no hope
+of escaping except by its breezing up again. Issuing from the cabin,
+Stubb now called his boat’s crew, and pulled off for the stranger.
+Drawing across her bow, he perceived that in accordance with the
+fanciful French taste, the upper part of her stem-piece was carved in
+the likeness of a huge drooping stalk, was painted green, and for
+thorns had copper spikes projecting from it here and there; the whole
+terminating in a symmetrical folded bulb of a bright red colour. Upon
+her head boards, in large gilt letters, he read “Bouton de
+Rose,”—Rose-button, or Rose-bud; and this was the romantic name of this
+aromatic ship.
+
+Though Stubb did not understand the _Bouton_ part of the inscription,
+yet the word _rose_, and the bulbous figure-head put together,
+sufficiently explained the whole to him.
+
+“A wooden rose-bud, eh?” he cried with his hand to his nose, “that will
+do very well; but how like all creation it smells!”
+
+Now in order to hold direct communication with the people on deck, he
+had to pull round the bows to the starboard side, and thus come close
+to the blasted whale; and so talk over it.
+
+Arrived then at this spot, with one hand still to his nose, he
+bawled—“Bouton-de-Rose, ahoy! are there any of you Bouton-de-Roses that
+speak English?”
+
+“Yes,” rejoined a Guernsey-man from the bulwarks, who turned out to be
+the chief-mate.
+
+“Well, then, my Bouton-de-Rose-bud, have you seen the White Whale?”
+
+“_What_ whale?”
+
+“The _White_ Whale—a Sperm Whale—Moby Dick, have ye seen him?
+
+“Never heard of such a whale. Cachalot Blanche! White Whale—no.”
+
+“Very good, then; good bye now, and I’ll call again in a minute.”
+
+Then rapidly pulling back towards the Pequod, and seeing Ahab leaning
+over the quarter-deck rail awaiting his report, he moulded his two
+hands into a trumpet and shouted—“No, Sir! No!” Upon which Ahab
+retired, and Stubb returned to the Frenchman.
+
+He now perceived that the Guernsey-man, who had just got into the
+chains, and was using a cutting-spade, had slung his nose in a sort of
+bag.
+
+“What’s the matter with your nose, there?” said Stubb. “Broke it?”
+
+“I wish it was broken, or that I didn’t have any nose at all!” answered
+the Guernsey-man, who did not seem to relish the job he was at very
+much. “But what are you holding _yours_ for?”
+
+“Oh, nothing! It’s a wax nose; I have to hold it on. Fine day, ain’t
+it? Air rather gardenny, I should say; throw us a bunch of posies, will
+ye, Bouton-de-Rose?”
+
+“What in the devil’s name do you want here?” roared the Guernseyman,
+flying into a sudden passion.
+
+“Oh! keep cool—cool? yes, that’s the word! why don’t you pack those
+whales in ice while you’re working at ’em? But joking aside, though; do
+you know, Rose-bud, that it’s all nonsense trying to get any oil out of
+such whales? As for that dried up one, there, he hasn’t a gill in his
+whole carcase.”
+
+“I know that well enough; but, d’ye see, the Captain here won’t believe
+it; this is his first voyage; he was a Cologne manufacturer before. But
+come aboard, and mayhap he’ll believe you, if he won’t me; and so I’ll
+get out of this dirty scrape.”
+
+“Anything to oblige ye, my sweet and pleasant fellow,” rejoined Stubb,
+and with that he soon mounted to the deck. There a queer scene
+presented itself. The sailors, in tasselled caps of red worsted, were
+getting the heavy tackles in readiness for the whales. But they worked
+rather slow and talked very fast, and seemed in anything but a good
+humor. All their noses upwardly projected from their faces like so many
+jib-booms. Now and then pairs of them would drop their work, and run up
+to the mast-head to get some fresh air. Some thinking they would catch
+the plague, dipped oakum in coal-tar, and at intervals held it to their
+nostrils. Others having broken the stems of their pipes almost short
+off at the bowl, were vigorously puffing tobacco-smoke, so that it
+constantly filled their olfactories.
+
+Stubb was struck by a shower of outcries and anathemas proceeding from
+the Captain’s round-house abaft; and looking in that direction saw a
+fiery face thrust from behind the door, which was held ajar from
+within. This was the tormented surgeon, who, after in vain
+remonstrating against the proceedings of the day, had betaken himself
+to the Captain’s round-house (_cabinet_ he called it) to avoid the
+pest; but still, could not help yelling out his entreaties and
+indignations at times.
+
+Marking all this, Stubb argued well for his scheme, and turning to the
+Guernsey-man had a little chat with him, during which the stranger mate
+expressed his detestation of his Captain as a conceited ignoramus, who
+had brought them all into so unsavory and unprofitable a pickle.
+Sounding him carefully, Stubb further perceived that the Guernsey-man
+had not the slightest suspicion concerning the ambergris. He therefore
+held his peace on that head, but otherwise was quite frank and
+confidential with him, so that the two quickly concocted a little plan
+for both circumventing and satirizing the Captain, without his at all
+dreaming of distrusting their sincerity. According to this little plan
+of theirs, the Guernsey-man, under cover of an interpreter’s office,
+was to tell the Captain what he pleased, but as coming from Stubb; and
+as for Stubb, he was to utter any nonsense that should come uppermost
+in him during the interview.
+
+By this time their destined victim appeared from his cabin. He was a
+small and dark, but rather delicate looking man for a sea-captain, with
+large whiskers and moustache, however; and wore a red cotton velvet
+vest with watch-seals at his side. To this gentleman, Stubb was now
+politely introduced by the Guernsey-man, who at once ostentatiously put
+on the aspect of interpreting between them.
+
+“What shall I say to him first?” said he.
+
+“Why,” said Stubb, eyeing the velvet vest and the watch and seals, “you
+may as well begin by telling him that he looks a sort of babyish to me,
+though I don’t pretend to be a judge.”
+
+“He says, Monsieur,” said the Guernsey-man, in French, turning to his
+captain, “that only yesterday his ship spoke a vessel, whose captain
+and chief-mate, with six sailors, had all died of a fever caught from a
+blasted whale they had brought alongside.”
+
+Upon this the captain started, and eagerly desired to know more.
+
+“What now?” said the Guernsey-man to Stubb.
+
+“Why, since he takes it so easy, tell him that now I have eyed him
+carefully, I’m quite certain that he’s no more fit to command a
+whale-ship than a St. Jago monkey. In fact, tell him from me he’s a
+baboon.”
+
+“He vows and declares, Monsieur, that the other whale, the dried one,
+is far more deadly than the blasted one; in fine, Monsieur, he conjures
+us, as we value our lives, to cut loose from these fish.”
+
+Instantly the captain ran forward, and in a loud voice commanded his
+crew to desist from hoisting the cutting-tackles, and at once cast
+loose the cables and chains confining the whales to the ship.
+
+“What now?” said the Guernsey-man, when the Captain had returned to
+them.
+
+“Why, let me see; yes, you may as well tell him now that—that—in fact,
+tell him I’ve diddled him, and (aside to himself) perhaps somebody
+else.”
+
+“He says, Monsieur, that he’s very happy to have been of any service to
+us.”
+
+Hearing this, the captain vowed that they were the grateful parties
+(meaning himself and mate) and concluded by inviting Stubb down into
+his cabin to drink a bottle of Bordeaux.
+
+“He wants you to take a glass of wine with him,” said the interpreter.
+
+“Thank him heartily; but tell him it’s against my principles to drink
+with the man I’ve diddled. In fact, tell him I must go.”
+
+“He says, Monsieur, that his principles won’t admit of his drinking;
+but that if Monsieur wants to live another day to drink, then Monsieur
+had best drop all four boats, and pull the ship away from these whales,
+for it’s so calm they won’t drift.”
+
+By this time Stubb was over the side, and getting into his boat, hailed
+the Guernsey-man to this effect,—that having a long tow-line in his
+boat, he would do what he could to help them, by pulling out the
+lighter whale of the two from the ship’s side. While the Frenchman’s
+boats, then, were engaged in towing the ship one way, Stubb
+benevolently towed away at his whale the other way, ostentatiously
+slacking out a most unusually long tow-line.
+
+Presently a breeze sprang up; Stubb feigned to cast off from the whale;
+hoisting his boats, the Frenchman soon increased his distance, while
+the Pequod slid in between him and Stubb’s whale. Whereupon Stubb
+quickly pulled to the floating body, and hailing the Pequod to give
+notice of his intentions, at once proceeded to reap the fruit of his
+unrighteous cunning. Seizing his sharp boat-spade, he commenced an
+excavation in the body, a little behind the side fin. You would almost
+have thought he was digging a cellar there in the sea; and when at
+length his spade struck against the gaunt ribs, it was like turning up
+old Roman tiles and pottery buried in fat English loam. His boat’s crew
+were all in high excitement, eagerly helping their chief, and looking
+as anxious as gold-hunters.
+
+And all the time numberless fowls were diving, and ducking, and
+screaming, and yelling, and fighting around them. Stubb was beginning
+to look disappointed, especially as the horrible nosegay increased,
+when suddenly from out the very heart of this plague, there stole a
+faint stream of perfume, which flowed through the tide of bad smells
+without being absorbed by it, as one river will flow into and then
+along with another, without at all blending with it for a time.
+
+“I have it, I have it,” cried Stubb, with delight, striking something
+in the subterranean regions, “a purse! a purse!”
+
+Dropping his spade, he thrust both hands in, and drew out handfuls of
+something that looked like ripe Windsor soap, or rich mottled old
+cheese; very unctuous and savory withal. You might easily dent it with
+your thumb; it is of a hue between yellow and ash colour. And this,
+good friends, is ambergris, worth a gold guinea an ounce to any
+druggist. Some six handfuls were obtained; but more was unavoidably
+lost in the sea, and still more, perhaps, might have been secured were
+it not for impatient Ahab’s loud command to Stubb to desist, and come
+on board, else the ship would bid them good bye.
+
+
+CHAPTER 92. Ambergris.
+
+Now this ambergris is a very curious substance, and so important as an
+article of commerce, that in 1791 a certain Nantucket-born Captain
+Coffin was examined at the bar of the English House of Commons on that
+subject. For at that time, and indeed until a comparatively late day,
+the precise origin of ambergris remained, like amber itself, a problem
+to the learned. Though the word ambergris is but the French compound
+for grey amber, yet the two substances are quite distinct. For amber,
+though at times found on the sea-coast, is also dug up in some far
+inland soils, whereas ambergris is never found except upon the sea.
+Besides, amber is a hard, transparent, brittle, odorless substance,
+used for mouth-pieces to pipes, for beads and ornaments; but ambergris
+is soft, waxy, and so highly fragrant and spicy, that it is largely
+used in perfumery, in pastiles, precious candles, hair-powders, and
+pomatum. The Turks use it in cooking, and also carry it to Mecca, for
+the same purpose that frankincense is carried to St. Peter’s in Rome.
+Some wine merchants drop a few grains into claret, to flavor it.
+
+Who would think, then, that such fine ladies and gentlemen should
+regale themselves with an essence found in the inglorious bowels of a
+sick whale! Yet so it is. By some, ambergris is supposed to be the
+cause, and by others the effect, of the dyspepsia in the whale. How to
+cure such a dyspepsia it were hard to say, unless by administering
+three or four boat loads of Brandreth’s pills, and then running out of
+harm’s way, as laborers do in blasting rocks.
+
+I have forgotten to say that there were found in this ambergris,
+certain hard, round, bony plates, which at first Stubb thought might be
+sailors’ trowsers buttons; but it afterwards turned out that they were
+nothing more than pieces of small squid bones embalmed in that manner.
+
+Now that the incorruption of this most fragrant ambergris should be
+found in the heart of such decay; is this nothing? Bethink thee of that
+saying of St. Paul in Corinthians, about corruption and incorruption;
+how that we are sown in dishonor, but raised in glory. And likewise
+call to mind that saying of Paracelsus about what it is that maketh the
+best musk. Also forget not the strange fact that of all things of
+ill-savor, Cologne-water, in its rudimental manufacturing stages, is
+the worst.
+
+I should like to conclude the chapter with the above appeal, but
+cannot, owing to my anxiety to repel a charge often made against
+whalemen, and which, in the estimation of some already biased minds,
+might be considered as indirectly substantiated by what has been said
+of the Frenchman’s two whales. Elsewhere in this volume the slanderous
+aspersion has been disproved, that the vocation of whaling is
+throughout a slatternly, untidy business. But there is another thing to
+rebut. They hint that all whales always smell bad. Now how did this
+odious stigma originate?
+
+I opine, that it is plainly traceable to the first arrival of the
+Greenland whaling ships in London, more than two centuries ago. Because
+those whalemen did not then, and do not now, try out their oil at sea
+as the Southern ships have always done; but cutting up the fresh
+blubber in small bits, thrust it through the bung holes of large casks,
+and carry it home in that manner; the shortness of the season in those
+Icy Seas, and the sudden and violent storms to which they are exposed,
+forbidding any other course. The consequence is, that upon breaking
+into the hold, and unloading one of these whale cemeteries, in the
+Greenland dock, a savor is given forth somewhat similar to that arising
+from excavating an old city grave-yard, for the foundations of a
+Lying-in Hospital.
+
+I partly surmise also, that this wicked charge against whalers may be
+likewise imputed to the existence on the coast of Greenland, in former
+times, of a Dutch village called Schmerenburgh or Smeerenberg, which
+latter name is the one used by the learned Fogo Von Slack, in his great
+work on Smells, a text-book on that subject. As its name imports
+(smeer, fat; berg, to put up), this village was founded in order to
+afford a place for the blubber of the Dutch whale fleet to be tried
+out, without being taken home to Holland for that purpose. It was a
+collection of furnaces, fat-kettles, and oil sheds; and when the works
+were in full operation certainly gave forth no very pleasant savor. But
+all this is quite different with a South Sea Sperm Whaler; which in a
+voyage of four years perhaps, after completely filling her hold with
+oil, does not, perhaps, consume fifty days in the business of boiling
+out; and in the state that it is casked, the oil is nearly scentless.
+The truth is, that living or dead, if but decently treated, whales as a
+species are by no means creatures of ill odor; nor can whalemen be
+recognised, as the people of the middle ages affected to detect a Jew
+in the company, by the nose. Nor indeed can the whale possibly be
+otherwise than fragrant, when, as a general thing, he enjoys such high
+health; taking abundance of exercise; always out of doors; though, it
+is true, seldom in the open air. I say, that the motion of a Sperm
+Whale’s flukes above water dispenses a perfume, as when a musk-scented
+lady rustles her dress in a warm parlor. What then shall I liken the
+Sperm Whale to for fragrance, considering his magnitude? Must it not be
+to that famous elephant, with jewelled tusks, and redolent with myrrh,
+which was led out of an Indian town to do honor to Alexander the Great?
+
+
+CHAPTER 93. The Castaway.
+
+It was but some few days after encountering the Frenchman, that a most
+significant event befell the most insignificant of the Pequod’s crew;
+an event most lamentable; and which ended in providing the sometimes
+madly merry and predestinated craft with a living and ever accompanying
+prophecy of whatever shattered sequel might prove her own.
+
+Now, in the whale ship, it is not every one that goes in the boats.
+Some few hands are reserved called ship-keepers, whose province it is
+to work the vessel while the boats are pursuing the whale. As a general
+thing, these ship-keepers are as hardy fellows as the men comprising
+the boats’ crews. But if there happen to be an unduly slender, clumsy,
+or timorous wight in the ship, that wight is certain to be made a
+ship-keeper. It was so in the Pequod with the little negro Pippin by
+nick-name, Pip by abbreviation. Poor Pip! ye have heard of him before;
+ye must remember his tambourine on that dramatic midnight, so
+gloomy-jolly.
+
+In outer aspect, Pip and Dough-Boy made a match, like a black pony and
+a white one, of equal developments, though of dissimilar colour, driven
+in one eccentric span. But while hapless Dough-Boy was by nature dull
+and torpid in his intellects, Pip, though over tender-hearted, was at
+bottom very bright, with that pleasant, genial, jolly brightness
+peculiar to his tribe; a tribe, which ever enjoy all holidays and
+festivities with finer, freer relish than any other race. For blacks,
+the year’s calendar should show naught but three hundred and sixty-five
+Fourth of Julys and New Year’s Days. 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. But Pip loved
+life, and all life’s peaceable securities; so that the panic-striking
+business in which he had somehow unaccountably become entrapped, had
+most sadly blurred his brightness; though, as ere long will be seen,
+what was thus temporarily subdued in him, in the end was destined to be
+luridly illumined by strange wild fires, that fictitiously showed him
+off to ten times the natural lustre with which in his native Tolland
+County in Connecticut, he had once enlivened many a fiddler’s frolic on
+the green; and at melodious even-tide, with his gay ha-ha! had turned
+the round horizon into one star-belled tambourine. So, though in the
+clear air of day, suspended against a blue-veined neck, the
+pure-watered diamond drop will healthful glow; yet, when the cunning
+jeweller would show you the diamond in its most impressive lustre, he
+lays it against a gloomy ground, and then lights it up, not by the sun,
+but by some unnatural gases. Then come out those fiery effulgences,
+infernally superb; then the evil-blazing diamond, once the divinest
+symbol of the crystal skies, looks like some crown-jewel stolen from
+the King of Hell. But let us to the story.
+
+It came to pass, that in the ambergris affair Stubb’s after-oarsman
+chanced so to sprain his hand, as for a time to become quite maimed;
+and, temporarily, Pip was put into his place.
+
+The first time Stubb lowered with him, Pip evinced much nervousness;
+but happily, for that time, escaped close contact with the whale; and
+therefore came off not altogether discreditably; though Stubb observing
+him, took care, afterwards, to exhort him to cherish his courageousness
+to the utmost, for he might often find it needful.
+
+Now upon the second lowering, the boat paddled upon the whale; and as
+the fish received the darted iron, it gave its customary rap, which
+happened, in this instance, to be right under poor Pip’s seat. The
+involuntary consternation of the moment caused him to leap, paddle in
+hand, out of the boat; and in such a way, that part of the slack whale
+line coming against his chest, he breasted it overboard with him, so as
+to become entangled in it, when at last plumping into the water. That
+instant the stricken whale started on a fierce run, the line swiftly
+straightened; and presto! poor Pip came all foaming up to the chocks of
+the boat, remorselessly dragged there by the line, which had taken
+several turns around his chest and neck.
+
+Tashtego stood in the bows. He was full of the fire of the hunt. He
+hated Pip for a poltroon. Snatching the boat-knife from its sheath, he
+suspended its sharp edge over the line, and turning towards Stubb,
+exclaimed interrogatively, “Cut?” Meantime Pip’s blue, choked face
+plainly looked, Do, for God’s sake! All passed in a flash. In less than
+half a minute, this entire thing happened.
+
+“Damn him, cut!” roared Stubb; and so the whale was lost and Pip was
+saved.
+
+So soon as he recovered himself, the poor little negro was assailed by
+yells and execrations from the crew. Tranquilly permitting these
+irregular cursings to evaporate, Stubb then in a plain, business-like,
+but still half humorous manner, cursed Pip officially; and that done,
+unofficially gave him much wholesome advice. The substance was, Never
+jump from a boat, Pip, except—but all the rest was indefinite, as the
+soundest advice ever is. Now, in general, _Stick to the boat_, is your
+true motto in whaling; but cases will sometimes happen when _Leap from
+the boat_, is still better. Moreover, as if perceiving at last that if
+he should give undiluted conscientious advice to Pip, he would be
+leaving him too wide a margin to jump in for the future; Stubb suddenly
+dropped all advice, and concluded with a peremptory command, “Stick to
+the boat, Pip, or by the Lord, I won’t pick you up if you jump; mind
+that. We can’t afford to lose whales by the likes of you; a whale would
+sell for thirty times what you would, Pip, in Alabama. Bear that in
+mind, and don’t jump any more.” Hereby perhaps Stubb indirectly hinted,
+that though man loved his fellow, yet man is a money-making animal,
+which propensity too often interferes with his benevolence.
+
+But we are all in the hands of the Gods; and Pip jumped again. It was
+under very similar circumstances to the first performance; but this
+time he did not breast out the line; and hence, when the whale started
+to run, Pip was left behind on the sea, like a hurried traveller’s
+trunk. Alas! Stubb was but too true to his word. It was a beautiful,
+bounteous, blue day; the spangled sea calm and cool, and flatly
+stretching away, all round, to the horizon, like gold-beater’s skin
+hammered out to the extremest. Bobbing up and down in that sea, Pip’s
+ebon head showed like a head of cloves. No boat-knife was lifted when
+he fell so rapidly astern. Stubb’s inexorable back was turned upon him;
+and the whale was winged. In three minutes, a whole mile of shoreless
+ocean was between Pip and Stubb. Out from the centre of the sea, poor
+Pip turned his crisp, curling, black head to the sun, another lonely
+castaway, though the loftiest and the brightest.
+
+Now, in calm weather, to swim in the open ocean is as easy to the
+practised swimmer as to ride in a spring-carriage ashore. But the awful
+lonesomeness is intolerable. The intense concentration of self in the
+middle of such a heartless immensity, my God! who can tell it? Mark,
+how when sailors in a dead calm bathe in the open sea—mark how closely
+they hug their ship and only coast along her sides.
+
+But had Stubb really abandoned the poor little negro to his fate? No;
+he did not mean to, at least. Because there were two boats in his wake,
+and he supposed, no doubt, that they would of course come up to Pip
+very quickly, and pick him up; though, indeed, such considerations
+towards oarsmen jeopardized through their own timidity, is not always
+manifested by the hunters in all similar instances; and such instances
+not unfrequently occur; almost invariably in the fishery, a coward, so
+called, is marked with the same ruthless detestation peculiar to
+military navies and armies.
+
+But it so happened, that those boats, without seeing Pip, suddenly
+spying whales close to them on one side, turned, and gave chase; and
+Stubb’s boat was now so far away, and he and all his crew so intent
+upon his fish, that Pip’s ringed horizon began to expand around him
+miserably. By the merest chance the ship itself at last rescued him;
+but from that hour the little negro went about the deck an idiot; such,
+at least, they said he was. The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body
+up, but drowned the infinite of his soul. Not drowned entirely, though.
+Rather carried down alive to wondrous depths, where strange shapes of
+the unwarped primal world glided to and fro before his passive eyes;
+and the miser-merman, Wisdom, revealed his hoarded heaps; and among the
+joyous, heartless, ever-juvenile eternities, Pip saw the multitudinous,
+God-omnipresent, coral insects, that out of the firmament of waters
+heaved the colossal orbs. He saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the
+loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So
+man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason,
+man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is
+absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised,
+indifferent as his God.
+
+For the rest, blame not Stubb too hardly. The thing is common in that
+fishery; and in the sequel of the narrative, it will then be seen what
+like abandonment befell myself.
+
+
+CHAPTER 94. A Squeeze of the Hand.
+
+That whale of Stubb’s, so dearly purchased, was duly brought to the
+Pequod’s side, where all those cutting and hoisting operations
+previously detailed, were regularly gone through, even to the baling of
+the Heidelburgh Tun, or Case.
+
+While some were occupied with this latter duty, others were employed in
+dragging away the larger tubs, so soon as filled with the sperm; and
+when the proper time arrived, this same sperm was carefully manipulated
+ere going to the try-works, of which anon.
+
+It had cooled and crystallized to such a degree, that when, with
+several others, I sat down before a large Constantine’s bath of it, I
+found it strangely concreted into lumps, here and there rolling about
+in the liquid part. It was our business to squeeze these lumps back
+into fluid. A sweet and unctuous duty! No wonder that in old times this
+sperm was such a favourite cosmetic. Such a clearer! such a sweetener!
+such a softener! such a delicious molifier! After having my hands in it
+for only a few minutes, my fingers felt like eels, and began, as it
+were, to serpentine and spiralise.
+
+As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter
+exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under
+indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along; as I bathed my hands
+among those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, woven almost
+within the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all
+their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that
+uncontaminated aroma,—literally and truly, like the smell of spring
+violets; I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky
+meadow; I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible
+sperm, I washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit
+the old Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in
+allaying the heat of anger; while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely
+free from all ill-will, or petulance, or malice, of any sort
+whatsoever.
+
+Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm
+till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a
+strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly
+squeezing my co-laborers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the
+gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving
+feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually
+squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as
+much as to say,—Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish
+any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come;
+let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into
+each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and
+sperm of kindness.
+
+Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever! For now, since
+by many prolonged, repeated experiences, I have perceived that in all
+cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of
+attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the
+fancy; but in the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the
+fireside, the country; now that I have perceived all this, I am ready
+to squeeze case eternally. In thoughts of the visions of the night, I
+saw long rows of angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of
+spermaceti.
+
+Now, while discoursing of sperm, it behooves to speak of other things
+akin to it, in the business of preparing the sperm whale for the
+try-works.
+
+First comes white-horse, so called, which is obtained from the tapering
+part of the fish, and also from the thicker portions of his flukes. It
+is tough with congealed tendons—a wad of muscle—but still contains some
+oil. After being severed from the whale, the white-horse is first cut
+into portable oblongs ere going to the mincer. They look much like
+blocks of Berkshire marble.
+
+Plum-pudding is the term bestowed upon certain fragmentary parts of the
+whale’s flesh, here and there adhering to the blanket of blubber, and
+often participating to a considerable degree in its unctuousness. It is
+a most refreshing, convivial, beautiful object to behold. As its name
+imports, it is of an exceedingly rich, mottled tint, with a bestreaked
+snowy and golden ground, dotted with spots of the deepest crimson and
+purple. It is plums of rubies, in pictures of citron. Spite of reason,
+it is hard to keep yourself from eating it. I confess, that once I
+stole behind the foremast to try it. It tasted something as I should
+conceive a royal cutlet from the thigh of Louis le Gros might have
+tasted, supposing him to have been killed the first day after the
+venison season, and that particular venison season contemporary with an
+unusually fine vintage of the vineyards of Champagne.
+
+There is another substance, and a very singular one, which turns up in
+the course of this business, but which I feel it to be very puzzling
+adequately to describe. It is called slobgollion; an appellation
+original with the whalemen, and even so is the nature of the substance.
+It is an ineffably oozy, stringy affair, most frequently found in the
+tubs of sperm, after a prolonged squeezing, and subsequent decanting. I
+hold it to be the wondrously thin, ruptured membranes of the case,
+coalescing.
+
+Gurry, so called, is a term properly belonging to right whalemen, but
+sometimes incidentally used by the sperm fishermen. It designates the
+dark, glutinous substance which is scraped off the back of the
+Greenland or right whale, and much of which covers the decks of those
+inferior souls who hunt that ignoble Leviathan.
+
+Nippers. Strictly this word is not indigenous to the whale’s
+vocabulary. But as applied by whalemen, it becomes so. A whaleman’s
+nipper is a short firm strip of tendinous stuff cut from the tapering
+part of Leviathan’s tail: it averages an inch in thickness, and for the
+rest, is about the size of the iron part of a hoe. Edgewise moved along
+the oily deck, it operates like a leathern squilgee; and by nameless
+blandishments, as of magic, allures along with it all impurities.
+
+But to learn all about these recondite matters, your best way is at
+once to descend into the blubber-room, and have a long talk with its
+inmates. This place has previously been mentioned as the receptacle for
+the blanket-pieces, when stript and hoisted from the whale. When the
+proper time arrives for cutting up its contents, this apartment is a
+scene of terror to all tyros, especially by night. On one side, lit by
+a dull lantern, a space has been left clear for the workmen. They
+generally go in pairs,—a pike-and-gaffman and a spade-man. The
+whaling-pike is similar to a frigate’s boarding-weapon of the same
+name. The gaff is something like a boat-hook. With his gaff, the
+gaffman hooks on to a sheet of blubber, and strives to hold it from
+slipping, as the ship pitches and lurches about. Meanwhile, the
+spade-man stands on the sheet itself, perpendicularly chopping it into
+the portable horse-pieces. This spade is sharp as hone can make it; the
+spademan’s feet are shoeless; the thing he stands on will sometimes
+irresistibly slide away from him, like a sledge. If he cuts off one of
+his own toes, or one of his assistants’, would you be very much
+astonished? Toes are scarce among veteran blubber-room men.
+
+
+CHAPTER 95. The Cassock.
+
+Had you stepped on board the Pequod at a certain juncture of this
+post-mortemizing of the whale; and had you strolled forward nigh the
+windlass, pretty sure am I that you would have scanned with no small
+curiosity a very strange, enigmatical object, which you would have seen
+there, lying along lengthwise in the lee scuppers. Not the wondrous
+cistern in the whale’s huge head; not the prodigy of his unhinged lower
+jaw; not the miracle of his symmetrical tail; none of these would so
+surprise you, as half a glimpse of that unaccountable cone,—longer than
+a Kentuckian is tall, nigh a foot in diameter at the base, and
+jet-black as Yojo, the ebony idol of Queequeg. And an idol, indeed, it
+is; or, rather, in old times, its likeness was. Such an idol as that
+found in the secret groves of Queen Maachah in Judea; and for
+worshipping which, King Asa, her son, did depose her, and destroyed the
+idol, and burnt it for an abomination at the brook Kedron, as darkly
+set forth in the 15th chapter of the First Book of Kings.
+
+Look at the sailor, called the mincer, who now comes along, and
+assisted by two allies, heavily backs the grandissimus, as the mariners
+call it, and with bowed shoulders, staggers off with it as if he were a
+grenadier carrying a dead comrade from the field. Extending it upon the
+forecastle deck, he now proceeds cylindrically to remove its dark pelt,
+as an African hunter the pelt of a boa. This done he turns the pelt
+inside out, like a pantaloon leg; gives it a good stretching, so as
+almost to double its diameter; and at last hangs it, well spread, in
+the rigging, to dry. Ere long, it is taken down; when removing some
+three feet of it, towards the pointed extremity, and then cutting two
+slits for arm-holes at the other end, he lengthwise slips himself
+bodily into it. The mincer now stands before you invested in the full
+canonicals of his calling. Immemorial to all his order, this
+investiture alone will adequately protect him, while employed in the
+peculiar functions of his office.
+
+That office consists in mincing the horse-pieces of blubber for the
+pots; an operation which is conducted at a curious wooden horse,
+planted endwise against the bulwarks, and with a capacious tub beneath
+it, into which the minced pieces drop, fast as the sheets from a rapt
+orator’s desk. Arrayed in decent black; occupying a conspicuous pulpit;
+intent on bible leaves; what a candidate for an archbishopric, what a
+lad for a Pope were this mincer!*
+
+*Bible leaves! Bible leaves! This is the invariable cry from the mates
+to the mincer. It enjoins him to be careful, and cut his work into as
+thin slices as possible, inasmuch as by so doing the business of
+boiling out the oil is much accelerated, and its quantity considerably
+increased, besides perhaps improving it in quality.
+
+
+CHAPTER 96. The Try-Works.
+
+Besides her hoisted boats, an American whaler is outwardly
+distinguished by her try-works. She presents the curious anomaly of the
+most solid masonry joining with oak and hemp in constituting the
+completed ship. It is as if from the open field a brick-kiln were
+transported to her planks.
+
+The try-works are planted between the foremast and mainmast, the most
+roomy part of the deck. The timbers beneath are of a peculiar strength,
+fitted to sustain the weight of an almost solid mass of brick and
+mortar, some ten feet by eight square, and five in height. The
+foundation does not penetrate the deck, but the masonry is firmly
+secured to the surface by ponderous knees of iron bracing it on all
+sides, and screwing it down to the timbers. On the flanks it is cased
+with wood, and at top completely covered by a large, sloping, battened
+hatchway. Removing this hatch we expose the great try-pots, two in
+number, and each of several barrels’ capacity. When not in use, they
+are kept remarkably clean. Sometimes they are polished with soapstone
+and sand, till they shine within like silver punch-bowls. During the
+night-watches some cynical old sailors will crawl into them and coil
+themselves away there for a nap. While employed in polishing them—one
+man in each pot, side by side—many confidential communications are
+carried on, over the iron lips. It is a place also for profound
+mathematical meditation. It was in the left hand try-pot of the Pequod,
+with the soapstone diligently circling round me, that I was first
+indirectly struck by the remarkable fact, that in geometry all bodies
+gliding along the cycloid, my soapstone for example, will descend from
+any point in precisely the same time.
+
+Removing the fire-board from the front of the try-works, the bare
+masonry of that side is exposed, penetrated by the two iron mouths of
+the furnaces, directly underneath the pots. These mouths are fitted
+with heavy doors of iron. The intense heat of the fire is prevented
+from communicating itself to the deck, by means of a shallow reservoir
+extending under the entire inclosed surface of the works. By a tunnel
+inserted at the rear, this reservoir is kept replenished with water as
+fast as it evaporates. There are no external chimneys; they open direct
+from the rear wall. And here let us go back for a moment.
+
+It was about nine o’clock at night that the Pequod’s try-works were
+first started on this present voyage. It belonged to Stubb to oversee
+the business.
+
+“All ready there? Off hatch, then, and start her. You cook, fire the
+works.” This was an easy thing, for the carpenter had been thrusting
+his shavings into the furnace throughout the passage. Here be it said
+that in a whaling voyage the first fire in the try-works has to be fed
+for a time with wood. After that no wood is used, except as a means of
+quick ignition to the staple fuel. In a word, after being tried out,
+the crisp, shrivelled blubber, now called scraps or fritters, still
+contains considerable of its unctuous properties. These fritters feed
+the flames. Like a plethoric burning martyr, or a self-consuming
+misanthrope, once ignited, the whale supplies his own fuel and burns by
+his own body. Would that he consumed his own smoke! for his smoke is
+horrible to inhale, and inhale it you must, and not only that, but you
+must live in it for the time. It has an unspeakable, wild, Hindoo odor
+about it, such as may lurk in the vicinity of funereal pyres. It smells
+like the left wing of the day of judgment; it is an argument for the
+pit.
+
+By midnight the works were in full operation. We were clear from the
+carcase; sail had been made; the wind was freshening; the wild ocean
+darkness was intense. But that darkness was licked up by the fierce
+flames, which at intervals forked forth from the sooty flues, and
+illuminated every lofty rope in the rigging, as with the famed Greek
+fire. The burning ship drove on, as if remorselessly commissioned to
+some vengeful deed. So the pitch and sulphur-freighted brigs of the
+bold Hydriote, Canaris, issuing from their midnight harbors, with broad
+sheets of flame for sails, bore down upon the Turkish frigates, and
+folded them in conflagrations.
+
+The hatch, removed from the top of the works, now afforded a wide
+hearth in front of them. Standing on this were the Tartarean shapes of
+the pagan harpooneers, always the whale-ship’s stokers. With huge
+pronged poles they pitched hissing masses of blubber into the scalding
+pots, or stirred up the fires beneath, till the snaky flames darted,
+curling, out of the doors to catch them by the feet. The smoke rolled
+away in sullen heaps. To every pitch of the ship there was a pitch of
+the boiling oil, which seemed all eagerness to leap into their faces.
+Opposite the mouth of the works, on the further side of the wide wooden
+hearth, was the windlass. This served for a sea-sofa. Here lounged the
+watch, when not otherwise employed, looking into the red heat of the
+fire, till their eyes felt scorched in their heads. Their tawny
+features, now all begrimed with smoke and sweat, their matted beards,
+and the contrasting barbaric brilliancy of their teeth, all these were
+strangely revealed in the capricious emblazonings of the works. As they
+narrated to each other their unholy adventures, their tales of terror
+told in words of mirth; as their uncivilized laughter forked upwards
+out of them, like the flames from the furnace; as to and fro, in their
+front, the harpooneers wildly gesticulated with their huge pronged
+forks and dippers; as the wind howled on, and the sea leaped, and the
+ship groaned and dived, and yet steadfastly shot her red hell further
+and further into the blackness of the sea and the night, and scornfully
+champed the white bone in her mouth, and viciously spat round her on
+all sides; then the rushing Pequod, freighted with savages, and laden
+with fire, and burning a corpse, and plunging into that blackness of
+darkness, seemed the material counterpart of her monomaniac commander’s
+soul.
+
+So seemed it to me, as I stood at her helm, and for long hours silently
+guided the way of this fire-ship on the sea. Wrapped, for that
+interval, in darkness myself, I but the better saw the redness, the
+madness, the ghastliness of others. The continual sight of the fiend
+shapes before me, capering half in smoke and half in fire, these at
+last begat kindred visions in my soul, so soon as I began to yield to
+that unaccountable drowsiness which ever would come over me at a
+midnight helm.
+
+But that night, in particular, a strange (and ever since inexplicable)
+thing occurred to me. Starting from a brief standing sleep, I was
+horribly conscious of something fatally wrong. The jaw-bone tiller
+smote my side, which leaned against it; in my ears was the low hum of
+sails, just beginning to shake in the wind; I thought my eyes were
+open; I was half conscious of putting my fingers to the lids and
+mechanically stretching them still further apart. But, spite of all
+this, I could see no compass before me to steer by; though it seemed
+but a minute since I had been watching the card, by the steady binnacle
+lamp illuminating it. Nothing seemed before me but a jet gloom, now and
+then made ghastly by flashes of redness. Uppermost was the impression,
+that whatever swift, rushing thing I stood on was not so much bound to
+any haven ahead as rushing from all havens astern. A stark, bewildered
+feeling, as of death, came over me. Convulsively my hands grasped the
+tiller, but with the crazy conceit that the tiller was, somehow, in
+some enchanted way, inverted. My God! what is the matter with me?
+thought I. Lo! in my brief sleep I had turned myself about, and was
+fronting the ship’s stern, with my back to her prow and the compass. In
+an instant I faced back, just in time to prevent the vessel from flying
+up into the wind, and very probably capsizing her. How glad and how
+grateful the relief from this unnatural hallucination of the night, and
+the fatal contingency of being brought by the lee!
+
+Look not too long in the face of the fire, O man! Never dream with thy
+hand on the helm! Turn not thy back to the compass; accept the first
+hint of the hitching tiller; believe not the artificial fire, when its
+redness makes all things look ghastly. To-morrow, in the natural sun,
+the skies will be bright; those who glared like devils in the forking
+flames, the morn will show in far other, at least gentler, relief; the
+glorious, golden, glad sun, the only true lamp—all others but liars!
+
+Nevertheless the sun hides not Virginia’s Dismal Swamp, nor Rome’s
+accursed Campagna, nor wide Sahara, nor all the millions of miles of
+deserts and of griefs beneath the moon. The sun hides not the ocean,
+which is the dark side of this earth, and which is two thirds of this
+earth. So, therefore, that mortal man who hath more of joy than sorrow
+in him, that mortal man cannot be true—not true, or undeveloped. With
+books the same. The truest of all men was the Man of Sorrows, and the
+truest of all books is Solomon’s, and Ecclesiastes is the fine hammered
+steel of woe. “All is vanity.” ALL. This wilful world hath not got hold
+of unchristian Solomon’s wisdom yet. But he who dodges hospitals and
+jails, and walks fast crossing graveyards, and would rather talk of
+operas than hell; calls Cowper, Young, Pascal, Rousseau, poor devils
+all of sick men; and throughout a care-free lifetime swears by Rabelais
+as passing wise, and therefore jolly;—not that man is fitted to sit
+down on tomb-stones, and break the green damp mould with unfathomably
+wondrous Solomon.
+
+But even Solomon, he says, “the man that wandereth out of the way of
+understanding shall remain” (_i.e._, even while living) “in the
+congregation of the dead.” Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it
+invert thee, deaden thee; as for the time it did me. There is a wisdom
+that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. And 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. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is
+in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle
+is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.
+
+
+CHAPTER 97. The Lamp.
+
+Had you descended from the Pequod’s try-works to the Pequod’s
+forecastle, where the off duty watch were sleeping, for one single
+moment you would have almost thought you were standing in some
+illuminated shrine of canonized kings and counsellors. There they lay
+in their triangular oaken vaults, each mariner a chiselled muteness; a
+score of lamps flashing upon his hooded eyes.
+
+In merchantmen, oil for the sailor is more scarce than the milk of
+queens. To dress in the dark, and eat in the dark, and stumble in
+darkness to his pallet, this is his usual lot. But the whaleman, as he
+seeks the food of light, so he lives in light. He makes his berth an
+Aladdin’s lamp, and lays him down in it; so that in the pitchiest night
+the ship’s black hull still houses an illumination.
+
+See with what entire freedom the whaleman takes his handful of
+lamps—often but old bottles and vials, though—to the copper cooler at
+the try-works, and replenishes them there, as mugs of ale at a vat. He
+burns, too, the purest of oil, in its unmanufactured, and, therefore,
+unvitiated state; a fluid unknown to solar, lunar, or astral
+contrivances ashore. It is sweet as early grass butter in April. He
+goes and hunts for his oil, so as to be sure of its freshness and
+genuineness, even as the traveller on the prairie hunts up his own
+supper of game.
+
+
+CHAPTER 98. Stowing Down and Clearing Up.
+
+Already has it been related how the great leviathan is afar off
+descried from the mast-head; how he is chased over the watery moors,
+and slaughtered in the valleys of the deep; how he is then towed
+alongside and beheaded; and how (on the principle which entitled the
+headsman of old to the garments in which the beheaded was killed) his
+great padded surtout becomes the property of his executioner; how, in
+due time, he is condemned to the pots, and, like Shadrach, Meshach, and
+Abednego, his spermaceti, oil, and bone pass unscathed through the
+fire;—but now it remains to conclude the last chapter of this part of
+the description by rehearsing—singing, if I may—the romantic proceeding
+of decanting off his oil into the casks and striking them down into the
+hold, where once again leviathan returns to his native profundities,
+sliding along beneath the surface as before; but, alas! never more to
+rise and blow.
+
+While still warm, the oil, like hot punch, is received into the
+six-barrel casks; and while, perhaps, the ship is pitching and rolling
+this way and that in the midnight sea, the enormous casks are slewed
+round and headed over, end for end, and sometimes perilously scoot
+across the slippery deck, like so many land slides, till at last
+man-handled and stayed in their course; and all round the hoops, rap,
+rap, go as many hammers as can play upon them, for now, _ex officio_,
+every sailor is a cooper.
+
+At length, when the last pint is casked, and all is cool, then the
+great hatchways are unsealed, the bowels of the ship are thrown open,
+and down go the casks to their final rest in the sea. This done, the
+hatches are replaced, and hermetically closed, like a closet walled up.
+
+In the sperm fishery, this is perhaps one of the most remarkable
+incidents in all the business of whaling. One day the planks stream
+with freshets of blood and oil; on the sacred quarter-deck enormous
+masses of the whale’s head are profanely piled; great rusty casks lie
+about, as in a brewery yard; the smoke from the try-works has besooted
+all the bulwarks; the mariners go about suffused with unctuousness; the
+entire ship seems great leviathan himself; while on all hands the din
+is deafening.
+
+But a day or two after, you look about you, and prick your ears in this
+self-same ship; and were it not for the tell-tale boats and try-works,
+you would all but swear you trod some silent merchant vessel, with a
+most scrupulously neat commander. The unmanufactured sperm oil
+possesses a singularly cleansing virtue. This is the reason why the
+decks never look so white as just after what they call an affair of
+oil. Besides, from the ashes of the burned scraps of the whale, a
+potent lye is readily made; and whenever any adhesiveness from the back
+of the whale remains clinging to the side, that lye quickly
+exterminates it. Hands go diligently along the bulwarks, and with
+buckets of water and rags restore them to their full tidiness. The soot
+is brushed from the lower rigging. All the numerous implements which
+have been in use are likewise faithfully cleansed and put away. The
+great hatch is scrubbed and placed upon the try-works, completely
+hiding the pots; every cask is out of sight; all tackles are coiled in
+unseen nooks; and when by the combined and simultaneous industry of
+almost the entire ship’s company, the whole of this conscientious duty
+is at last concluded, then the crew themselves proceed to their own
+ablutions; shift themselves from top to toe; and finally issue to the
+immaculate deck, fresh and all aglow, as bridegrooms new-leaped from
+out the daintiest Holland.
+
+Now, with elated step, they pace the planks in twos and threes, and
+humorously discourse of parlors, sofas, carpets, and fine cambrics;
+propose to mat the deck; think of having hanging to the top; object not
+to taking tea by moonlight on the piazza of the forecastle. To hint to
+such musked mariners of oil, and bone, and blubber, were little short
+of audacity. They know not the thing you distantly allude to. Away, and
+bring us napkins!
+
+But mark: aloft there, at the three mast heads, stand three men intent
+on spying out more whales, which, if caught, infallibly will again soil
+the old oaken furniture, and drop at least one small grease-spot
+somewhere. Yes; and many is the time, when, after the severest
+uninterrupted labors, which know no night; continuing straight through
+for ninety-six hours; when from the boat, where they have swelled their
+wrists with all day rowing on the Line,—they only step to the deck to
+carry vast chains, and heave the heavy windlass, and cut and slash,
+yea, and in their very sweatings to be smoked and burned anew by the
+combined fires of the equatorial sun and the equatorial try-works;
+when, on the heel of all this, they have finally bestirred themselves
+to cleanse the ship, and make a spotless dairy room of it; many is the
+time the poor fellows, just buttoning the necks of their clean frocks,
+are startled by the cry of “There she blows!” and away they fly to
+fight another whale, and go through the whole weary thing again. Oh! my
+friends, but this is man-killing! Yet this is life. For hardly have we
+mortals by long toilings extracted from this world’s vast bulk its
+small but valuable sperm; and then, with weary patience, cleansed
+ourselves from its defilements, and learned to live here in clean
+tabernacles of the soul; hardly is this done, when—_There she
+blows!_—the ghost is spouted up, and away we sail to fight some other
+world, and go through young life’s old routine again.
+
+Oh! the metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras, that in bright Greece, two
+thousand years ago, did die, so good, so wise, so mild; I sailed with
+thee along the Peruvian coast last voyage—and, foolish as I am, taught
+thee, a green simple boy, how to splice a rope!
+
+
+CHAPTER 99. The Doubloon.
+
+Ere now it has been related how Ahab was wont to pace his quarter-deck,
+taking regular turns at either limit, the binnacle and mainmast; but in
+the multiplicity of other things requiring narration it has not been
+added how that sometimes in these walks, when most plunged in his mood,
+he was wont to pause in turn at each spot, and stand there strangely
+eyeing the particular object before him. When he halted before the
+binnacle, with his glance fastened on the pointed needle in the
+compass, that glance shot like a javelin with the pointed intensity of
+his purpose; and when resuming his walk he again paused before the
+mainmast, then, as the same riveted glance fastened upon the riveted
+gold coin there, he still wore the same aspect of nailed firmness, only
+dashed with a certain wild longing, if not hopefulness.
+
+But one morning, turning to pass the doubloon, he seemed to be newly
+attracted by the strange figures and inscriptions stamped on it, as
+though now for the first time beginning to interpret for himself in
+some monomaniac way whatever significance might lurk in them. And some
+certain significance lurks in all things, else all things are little
+worth, and the round world itself but an empty cipher, except to sell
+by the cartload, as they do hills about Boston, to fill up some morass
+in the Milky Way.
+
+Now this doubloon was of purest, virgin gold, raked somewhere out of
+the heart of gorgeous hills, whence, east and west, over golden sands,
+the head-waters of many a Pactolus flows. And though now nailed amidst
+all the rustiness of iron bolts and the verdigris of copper spikes,
+yet, untouchable and immaculate to any foulness, it still preserved its
+Quito glow. Nor, though placed amongst a ruthless crew and every hour
+passed by ruthless hands, and through the livelong nights shrouded with
+thick darkness which might cover any pilfering approach, nevertheless
+every sunrise found the doubloon where the sunset left it last. For it
+was set apart and sanctified to one awe-striking end; and however
+wanton in their sailor ways, one and all, the mariners revered it as
+the white whale’s talisman. Sometimes they talked it over in the weary
+watch by night, wondering whose it was to be at last, and whether he
+would ever live to spend it.
+
+Now those noble golden coins of South America are as medals of the sun
+and tropic token-pieces. Here palms, alpacas, and volcanoes; sun’s
+disks and stars; ecliptics, horns-of-plenty, and rich banners waving,
+are in luxuriant profusion stamped; so that the precious gold seems
+almost to derive an added preciousness and enhancing glories, by
+passing through those fancy mints, so Spanishly poetic.
+
+It so chanced that the doubloon of the Pequod was a most wealthy
+example of these things. On its round border it bore the letters,
+REPUBLICA DEL ECUADOR: QUITO. So this bright coin came from a country
+planted in the middle of the world, and beneath the great equator, and
+named after it; and it had been cast midway up the Andes, in the
+unwaning clime that knows no autumn. Zoned by those letters you saw the
+likeness of three Andes’ summits; from one a flame; a tower on another;
+on the third a crowing cock; while arching over all was a segment of
+the partitioned zodiac, the signs all marked with their usual
+cabalistics, and the keystone sun entering the equinoctial point at
+Libra.
+
+Before this equatorial coin, Ahab, not unobserved by others, was now
+pausing.
+
+“There’s something ever egotistical in mountain-tops and towers, and
+all other grand and lofty things; look here,—three peaks as proud as
+Lucifer. The firm tower, that is Ahab; the volcano, that is Ahab; the
+courageous, the undaunted, and victorious fowl, that, too, is Ahab; all
+are Ahab; and this round gold is but the image of the rounder globe,
+which, like a magician’s glass, to each and every man in turn but
+mirrors back his own mysterious self. Great pains, small gains for
+those who ask the world to solve them; it cannot solve itself. Methinks
+now this coined sun wears a ruddy face; but see! aye, he enters the
+sign of storms, the equinox! and but six months before he wheeled out
+of a former equinox at Aries! From storm to storm! So be it, then. Born
+in throes, ’tis fit that man should live in pains and die in pangs! So
+be it, then! Here’s stout stuff for woe to work on. So be it, then.”
+
+“No fairy fingers can have pressed the gold, but devil’s claws must
+have left their mouldings there since yesterday,” murmured Starbuck to
+himself, leaning against the bulwarks. “The old man seems to read
+Belshazzar’s awful writing. I have never marked the coin inspectingly.
+He goes below; let me read. A dark valley between three mighty,
+heaven-abiding peaks, that almost seem the Trinity, in some faint
+earthly symbol. So in this vale of Death, God girds us round; and over
+all our gloom, the sun of Righteousness still shines a beacon and a
+hope. If we bend down our eyes, the dark vale shows her mouldy soil;
+but if we lift them, the bright sun meets our glance half way, to
+cheer. Yet, oh, the great sun is no fixture; and if, at midnight, we
+would fain snatch some sweet solace from him, we gaze for him in vain!
+This coin speaks wisely, mildly, truly, but still sadly to me. I will
+quit it, lest Truth shake me falsely.”
+
+“There now’s the old Mogul,” soliloquized Stubb by the try-works, “he’s
+been twigging it; and there goes Starbuck from the same, and both with
+faces which I should say might be somewhere within nine fathoms long.
+And all from looking at a piece of gold, which did I have it now on
+Negro Hill or in Corlaer’s Hook, I’d not look at it very long ere
+spending it. Humph! in my poor, insignificant opinion, I regard this as
+queer. I have seen doubloons before now in my voyagings; your doubloons
+of old Spain, your doubloons of Peru, your doubloons of Chili, your
+doubloons of Bolivia, your doubloons of Popayan; with plenty of gold
+moidores and pistoles, and joes, and half joes, and quarter joes. What
+then should there be in this doubloon of the Equator that is so killing
+wonderful? By Golconda! let me read it once. Halloa! here’s signs and
+wonders truly! That, now, is what old Bowditch in his Epitome calls the
+zodiac, and what my almanac below calls ditto. I’ll get the almanac and
+as I have heard devils can be raised with Daboll’s arithmetic, I’ll try
+my hand at raising a meaning out of these queer curvicues here with the
+Massachusetts calendar. Here’s the book. Let’s see now. Signs and
+wonders; and the sun, he’s always among ’em. Hem, hem, hem; here they
+are—here they go—all alive:—Aries, or the Ram; Taurus, or the Bull and
+Jimimi! here’s Gemini himself, or the Twins. Well; the sun he wheels
+among ’em. Aye, here on the coin he’s just crossing the threshold
+between two of twelve sitting-rooms all in a ring. Book! you lie there;
+the fact is, you books must know your places. You’ll do to give us the
+bare words and facts, but we come in to supply the thoughts. That’s my
+small experience, so far as the Massachusetts calendar, and Bowditch’s
+navigator, and Daboll’s arithmetic go. Signs and wonders, eh? Pity if
+there is nothing wonderful in signs, and significant in wonders!
+There’s a clue somewhere; wait a bit; hist—hark! By Jove, I have it!
+Look you, Doubloon, your zodiac here is the life of man in one round
+chapter; and now I’ll read it off, straight out of the book. Come,
+Almanack! To begin: there’s Aries, or the Ram—lecherous dog, he begets
+us; then, Taurus, or the Bull—he bumps us the first thing; then Gemini,
+or the Twins—that is, Virtue and Vice; we try to reach Virtue, when lo!
+comes Cancer the Crab, and drags us back; and here, going from Virtue,
+Leo, a roaring Lion, lies in the path—he gives a few fierce bites and
+surly dabs with his paw; we escape, and hail Virgo, the Virgin! that’s
+our first love; we marry and think to be happy for aye, when pop comes
+Libra, or the Scales—happiness weighed and found wanting; and while we
+are very sad about that, Lord! how we suddenly jump, as Scorpio, or the
+Scorpion, stings us in the rear; we are curing the wound, when whang
+come the arrows all round; Sagittarius, or the Archer, is amusing
+himself. As we pluck out the shafts, stand aside! here’s the
+battering-ram, Capricornus, or the Goat; full tilt, he comes rushing,
+and headlong we are tossed; when Aquarius, or the Water-bearer, pours
+out his whole deluge and drowns us; and to wind up with Pisces, or the
+Fishes, we sleep. There’s a sermon now, writ in high heaven, and the
+sun goes through it every year, and yet comes out of it all alive and
+hearty. Jollily he, aloft there, wheels through toil and trouble; and
+so, alow here, does jolly Stubb. Oh, jolly’s the word for aye! Adieu,
+Doubloon! But stop; here comes little King-Post; dodge round the
+try-works, now, and let’s hear what he’ll have to say. There; he’s
+before it; he’ll out with something presently. So, so; he’s beginning.”
+
+“I see nothing here, but a round thing made of gold, and whoever raises
+a certain whale, this round thing belongs to him. So, what’s all this
+staring been about? It is worth sixteen dollars, that’s true; and at
+two cents the cigar, that’s nine hundred and sixty cigars. I won’t
+smoke dirty pipes like Stubb, but I like cigars, and here’s nine
+hundred and sixty of them; so here goes Flask aloft to spy ’em out.”
+
+“Shall I call that wise or foolish, now; if it be really wise it has a
+foolish look to it; yet, if it be really foolish, then has it a sort of
+wiseish look to it. But, avast; here comes our old Manxman—the old
+hearse-driver, he must have been, that is, before he took to the sea.
+He luffs up before the doubloon; halloa, and goes round on the other
+side of the mast; why, there’s a horse-shoe nailed on that side; and
+now he’s back again; what does that mean? Hark! he’s muttering—voice
+like an old worn-out coffee-mill. Prick ears, and listen!”
+
+“If the White Whale be raised, it must be in a month and a day, when
+the sun stands in some one of these signs. I’ve studied signs, and know
+their marks; they were taught me two score years ago, by the old witch
+in Copenhagen. Now, in what sign will the sun then be? The horse-shoe
+sign; for there it is, right opposite the gold. And what’s the
+horse-shoe sign? The lion is the horse-shoe sign—the roaring and
+devouring lion. Ship, old ship! my old head shakes to think of thee.”
+
+“There’s another rendering now; but still one text. All sorts of men in
+one kind of world, you see. Dodge again! here comes Queequeg—all
+tattooing—looks like the signs of the Zodiac himself. What says the
+Cannibal? As I live he’s comparing notes; looking at his thigh bone;
+thinks the sun is in the thigh, or in the calf, or in the bowels, I
+suppose, as the old women talk Surgeon’s Astronomy in the back country.
+And by Jove, he’s found something there in the vicinity of his thigh—I
+guess it’s Sagittarius, or the Archer. No: he don’t know what to make
+of the doubloon; he takes it for an old button off some king’s
+trowsers. But, aside again! here comes that ghost-devil, Fedallah; tail
+coiled out of sight as usual, oakum in the toes of his pumps as usual.
+What does he say, with that look of his? Ah, only makes a sign to the
+sign and bows himself; there is a sun on the coin—fire worshipper,
+depend upon it. Ho! more and more. This way comes Pip—poor boy! would
+he had died, or I; he’s half horrible to me. He too has been watching
+all of these interpreters—myself included—and look now, he comes to
+read, with that unearthly idiot face. Stand away again and hear him.
+Hark!”
+
+“I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.”
+
+“Upon my soul, he’s been studying Murray’s Grammar! Improving his mind,
+poor fellow! But what’s that he says now—hist!”
+
+“I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.”
+
+“Why, he’s getting it by heart—hist! again.”
+
+“I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.”
+
+“Well, that’s funny.”
+
+“And I, you, and he; and we, ye, and they, are all bats; and I’m a
+crow, especially when I stand a’top of this pine tree here. Caw! caw!
+caw! caw! caw! caw! Ain’t I a crow? And where’s the scare-crow? There
+he stands; two bones stuck into a pair of old trowsers, and two more
+poked into the sleeves of an old jacket.”
+
+“Wonder if he means me?—complimentary!—poor lad!—I could go hang
+myself. Any way, for the present, I’ll quit Pip’s vicinity. I can stand
+the rest, for they have plain wits; but he’s too crazy-witty for my
+sanity. So, so, I leave him muttering.”
+
+“Here’s the ship’s navel, this doubloon here, and they are all on fire
+to unscrew it. But, unscrew your navel, and what’s the consequence?
+Then again, if it stays here, that is ugly, too, for when aught’s
+nailed to the mast it’s a sign that things grow desperate. Ha, ha! old
+Ahab! the White Whale; he’ll nail ye! This is a pine tree. My father,
+in old Tolland county, cut down a pine tree once, and found a silver
+ring grown over in it; some old darkey’s wedding ring. How did it get
+there? And so they’ll say in the resurrection, when they come to fish
+up this old mast, and find a doubloon lodged in it, with bedded oysters
+for the shaggy bark. Oh, the gold! the precious, precious, gold! the
+green miser’ll hoard ye soon! Hish! hish! God goes ’mong the worlds
+blackberrying. Cook! ho, cook! and cook us! Jenny! hey, hey, hey, hey,
+hey, Jenny, Jenny! and get your hoe-cake done!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 100. Leg and Arm.
+
+The Pequod, of Nantucket, Meets the Samuel Enderby, of London.
+
+“Ship, ahoy! Hast seen the White Whale?”
+
+So cried Ahab, once more hailing a ship showing English colours,
+bearing down under the stern. Trumpet to mouth, the old man was
+standing in his hoisted quarter-boat, his ivory leg plainly revealed to
+the stranger captain, who was carelessly reclining in his own boat’s
+bow. He was a darkly-tanned, burly, good-natured, fine-looking man, of
+sixty or thereabouts, dressed in a spacious roundabout, that hung round
+him in festoons of blue pilot-cloth; and one empty arm of this jacket
+streamed behind him like the broidered arm of a hussar’s surcoat.
+
+“Hast seen the White Whale?”
+
+“See you this?” and withdrawing it from the folds that had hidden it,
+he held up a white arm of sperm whale bone, terminating in a wooden
+head like a mallet.
+
+“Man my boat!” cried Ahab, impetuously, and tossing about the oars near
+him—“Stand by to lower!”
+
+In less than a minute, without quitting his little craft, he and his
+crew were dropped to the water, and were soon alongside of the
+stranger. But here a curious difficulty presented itself. In the
+excitement of the moment, Ahab had forgotten that since the loss of his
+leg he had never once stepped on board of any vessel at sea but his
+own, and then it was always by an ingenious and very handy mechanical
+contrivance peculiar to the Pequod, and a thing not to be rigged and
+shipped in any other vessel at a moment’s warning. Now, it is no very
+easy matter for anybody—except those who are almost hourly used to it,
+like whalemen—to clamber up a ship’s side from a boat on the open sea;
+for the great swells now lift the boat high up towards the bulwarks,
+and then instantaneously drop it half way down to the kelson. So,
+deprived of one leg, and the strange ship of course being altogether
+unsupplied with the kindly invention, Ahab now found himself abjectly
+reduced to a clumsy landsman again; hopelessly eyeing the uncertain
+changeful height he could hardly hope to attain.
+
+It has before been hinted, perhaps, that every little untoward
+circumstance that befell him, and which indirectly sprang from his
+luckless mishap, almost invariably irritated or exasperated Ahab. And
+in the present instance, all this was heightened by the sight of the
+two officers of the strange ship, leaning over the side, by the
+perpendicular ladder of nailed cleets there, and swinging towards him a
+pair of tastefully-ornamented man-ropes; for at first they did not seem
+to bethink them that a one-legged man must be too much of a cripple to
+use their sea bannisters. But this awkwardness only lasted a minute,
+because the strange captain, observing at a glance how affairs stood,
+cried out, “I see, I see!—avast heaving there! Jump, boys, and swing
+over the cutting-tackle.”
+
+As good luck would have it, they had had a whale alongside a day or two
+previous, and the great tackles were still aloft, and the massive
+curved blubber-hook, now clean and dry, was still attached to the end.
+This was quickly lowered to Ahab, who at once comprehending it all,
+slid his solitary thigh into the curve of the hook (it was like sitting
+in the fluke of an anchor, or the crotch of an apple tree), and then
+giving the word, held himself fast, and at the same time also helped to
+hoist his own weight, by pulling hand-over-hand upon one of the running
+parts of the tackle. Soon he was carefully swung inside the high
+bulwarks, and gently landed upon the capstan head. With his ivory arm
+frankly thrust forth in welcome, the other captain advanced, and Ahab,
+putting out his ivory leg, and crossing the ivory arm (like two
+sword-fish blades) cried out in his walrus way, “Aye, aye, hearty! let
+us shake bones together!—an arm and a leg!—an arm that never can
+shrink, d’ye see; and a leg that never can run. Where did’st thou see
+the White Whale?—how long ago?”
+
+“The White Whale,” said the Englishman, pointing his ivory arm towards
+the East, and taking a rueful sight along it, as if it had been a
+telescope; “there I saw him, on the Line, last season.”
+
+“And he took that arm off, did he?” asked Ahab, now sliding down from
+the capstan, and resting on the Englishman’s shoulder, as he did so.
+
+“Aye, he was the cause of it, at least; and that leg, too?”
+
+“Spin me the yarn,” said Ahab; “how was it?”
+
+“It was the first time in my life that I ever cruised on the Line,”
+began the Englishman. “I was ignorant of the White Whale at that time.
+Well, one day we lowered for a pod of four or five whales, and my boat
+fastened to one of them; a regular circus horse he was, too, that went
+milling and milling round so, that my boat’s crew could only trim dish,
+by sitting all their sterns on the outer gunwale. Presently up breaches
+from the bottom of the sea a bouncing great whale, with a milky-white
+head and hump, all crows’ feet and wrinkles.”
+
+“It was he, it was he!” cried Ahab, suddenly letting out his suspended
+breath.
+
+“And harpoons sticking in near his starboard fin.”
+
+“Aye, aye—they were mine—_my_ irons,” cried Ahab, exultingly—“but on!”
+
+“Give me a chance, then,” said the Englishman, good-humoredly. “Well,
+this old great-grandfather, with the white head and hump, runs all
+afoam into the pod, and goes to snapping furiously at my fast-line!
+
+“Aye, I see!—wanted to part it; free the fast-fish—an old trick—I know
+him.”
+
+“How it was exactly,” continued the one-armed commander, “I do not
+know; but in biting the line, it got foul of his teeth, caught there
+somehow; but we didn’t know it then; so that when we afterwards pulled
+on the line, bounce we came plump on to his hump! instead of the other
+whale’s; that went off to windward, all fluking. Seeing how matters
+stood, and what a noble great whale it was—the noblest and biggest I
+ever saw, sir, in my life—I resolved to capture him, spite of the
+boiling rage he seemed to be in. And thinking the hap-hazard line would
+get loose, or the tooth it was tangled to might draw (for I have a
+devil of a boat’s crew for a pull on a whale-line); seeing all this, I
+say, I jumped into my first mate’s boat—Mr. Mounttop’s here (by the
+way, Captain—Mounttop; Mounttop—the captain);—as I was saying, I jumped
+into Mounttop’s boat, which, d’ye see, was gunwale and gunwale with
+mine, then; and snatching the first harpoon, let this old
+great-grandfather have it. But, Lord, look you, sir—hearts and souls
+alive, man—the next instant, in a jiff, I was blind as a bat—both eyes
+out—all befogged and bedeadened with black foam—the whale’s tail
+looming straight up out of it, perpendicular in the air, like a marble
+steeple. No use sterning all, then; but as I was groping at midday,
+with a blinding sun, all crown-jewels; as I was groping, I say, after
+the second iron, to toss it overboard—down comes the tail like a Lima
+tower, cutting my boat in two, leaving each half in splinters; and,
+flukes first, the white hump backed through the wreck, as though it was
+all chips. We all struck out. To escape his terrible flailings, I
+seized hold of my harpoon-pole sticking in him, and for a moment clung
+to that like a sucking fish. But a combing sea dashed me off, and at
+the same instant, the fish, taking one good dart forwards, went down
+like a flash; and the barb of that cursed second iron towing along near
+me caught me here” (clapping his hand just below his shoulder); “yes,
+caught me just here, I say, and bore me down to Hell’s flames, I was
+thinking; when, when, all of a sudden, thank the good God, the barb
+ript its way along the flesh—clear along the whole length of my
+arm—came out nigh my wrist, and up I floated;—and that gentleman there
+will tell you the rest (by the way, captain—Dr. Bunger, ship’s surgeon:
+Bunger, my lad,—the captain). Now, Bunger boy, spin your part of the
+yarn.”
+
+The professional gentleman thus familiarly pointed out, had been all
+the time standing near them, with nothing specific visible, to denote
+his gentlemanly rank on board. His face was an exceedingly round but
+sober one; he was dressed in a faded blue woollen frock or shirt, and
+patched trowsers; and had thus far been dividing his attention between
+a marlingspike he held in one hand, and a pill-box held in the other,
+occasionally casting a critical glance at the ivory limbs of the two
+crippled captains. But, at his superior’s introduction of him to Ahab,
+he politely bowed, and straightway went on to do his captain’s bidding.
+
+“It was a shocking bad wound,” began the whale-surgeon; “and, taking my
+advice, Captain Boomer here, stood our old Sammy—”
+
+“Samuel Enderby is the name of my ship,” interrupted the one-armed
+captain, addressing Ahab; “go on, boy.”
+
+“Stood our old Sammy off to the northward, to get out of the blazing
+hot weather there on the Line. But it was no use—I did all I could; sat
+up with him nights; was very severe with him in the matter of diet—”
+
+“Oh, very severe!” chimed in the patient himself; then suddenly
+altering his voice, “Drinking hot rum toddies with me every night, till
+he couldn’t see to put on the bandages; and sending me to bed, half
+seas over, about three o’clock in the morning. Oh, ye stars! he sat up
+with me indeed, and was very severe in my diet. Oh! a great watcher,
+and very dietetically severe, is Dr. Bunger. (Bunger, you dog, laugh
+out! why don’t ye? You know you’re a precious jolly rascal.) But, heave
+ahead, boy, I’d rather be killed by you than kept alive by any other
+man.”
+
+“My captain, you must have ere this perceived, respected sir”—said the
+imperturbable godly-looking Bunger, slightly bowing to Ahab—“is apt to
+be facetious at times; he spins us many clever things of that sort. But
+I may as well say—en passant, as the French remark—that I myself—that
+is to say, Jack Bunger, late of the reverend clergy—am a strict total
+abstinence man; I never drink—”
+
+“Water!” cried the captain; “he never drinks it; it’s a sort of fits to
+him; fresh water throws him into the hydrophobia; but go on—go on with
+the arm story.”
+
+“Yes, I may as well,” said the surgeon, coolly. “I was about observing,
+sir, before Captain Boomer’s facetious interruption, that spite of my
+best and severest endeavors, the wound kept getting worse and worse;
+the truth was, sir, it was as ugly gaping wound as surgeon ever saw;
+more than two feet and several inches long. I measured it with the lead
+line. In short, it grew black; I knew what was threatened, and off it
+came. But I had no hand in shipping that ivory arm there; that thing is
+against all rule”—pointing at it with the marlingspike—“that is the
+captain’s work, not mine; he ordered the carpenter to make it; he had
+that club-hammer there put to the end, to knock some one’s brains out
+with, I suppose, as he tried mine once. He flies into diabolical
+passions sometimes. Do ye see this dent, sir”—removing his hat, and
+brushing aside his hair, and exposing a bowl-like cavity in his skull,
+but which bore not the slightest scarry trace, or any token of ever
+having been a wound—“Well, the captain there will tell you how that
+came here; he knows.”
+
+“No, I don’t,” said the captain, “but his mother did; he was born with
+it. Oh, you solemn rogue, you—you Bunger! was there ever such another
+Bunger in the watery world? Bunger, when you die, you ought to die in
+pickle, you dog; you should be preserved to future ages, you rascal.”
+
+“What became of the White Whale?” now cried Ahab, who thus far had been
+impatiently listening to this by-play between the two Englishmen.
+
+“Oh!” cried the one-armed captain, “oh, yes! Well; after he sounded, we
+didn’t see him again for some time; in fact, as I before hinted, I
+didn’t then know what whale it was that had served me such a trick,
+till some time afterwards, when coming back to the Line, we heard about
+Moby Dick—as some call him—and then I knew it was he.”
+
+“Did’st thou cross his wake again?”
+
+“Twice.”
+
+“But could not fasten?”
+
+“Didn’t want to try to: ain’t one limb enough? What should I do without
+this other arm? And I’m thinking Moby Dick doesn’t bite so much as he
+swallows.”
+
+“Well, then,” interrupted Bunger, “give him your left arm for bait to
+get the right. Do you know, gentlemen”—very gravely and mathematically
+bowing to each Captain in succession—“Do you know, gentlemen, that the
+digestive organs of the whale are so inscrutably constructed by Divine
+Providence, that it is quite impossible for him to completely digest
+even a man’s arm? And he knows it too. So that what you take for the
+White Whale’s malice is only his awkwardness. For he never means to
+swallow a single limb; he only thinks to terrify by feints. But
+sometimes he is like the old juggling fellow, formerly a patient of
+mine in Ceylon, that making believe swallow jack-knives, once upon a
+time let one drop into him in good earnest, and there it stayed for a
+twelvemonth or more; when I gave him an emetic, and he heaved it up in
+small tacks, d’ye see. No possible way for him to digest that
+jack-knife, and fully incorporate it into his general bodily system.
+Yes, Captain Boomer, if you are quick enough about it, and have a mind
+to pawn one arm for the sake of the privilege of giving decent burial
+to the other, why in that case the arm is yours; only let the whale
+have another chance at you shortly, that’s all.”
+
+“No, thank ye, Bunger,” said the English Captain, “he’s welcome to the
+arm he has, since I can’t help it, and didn’t know him then; but not to
+another one. No more White Whales for me; I’ve lowered for him once,
+and that has satisfied me. There would be great glory in killing him, I
+know that; and there is a ship-load of precious sperm in him, but, hark
+ye, he’s best let alone; don’t you think so, Captain?”—glancing at the
+ivory leg.
+
+“He is. But he will still be hunted, for all that. What is best let
+alone, that accursed thing is not always what least allures. He’s all a
+magnet! How long since thou saw’st him last? Which way heading?”
+
+“Bless my soul, and curse the foul fiend’s,” cried Bunger, stoopingly
+walking round Ahab, and like a dog, strangely snuffing; “this man’s
+blood—bring the thermometer!—it’s at the boiling point!—his pulse makes
+these planks beat!—sir!”—taking a lancet from his pocket, and drawing
+near to Ahab’s arm.
+
+“Avast!” roared Ahab, dashing him against the bulwarks—“Man the boat!
+Which way heading?”
+
+“Good God!” cried the English Captain, to whom the question was put.
+“What’s the matter? He was heading east, I think.—Is your Captain
+crazy?” whispering Fedallah.
+
+But Fedallah, putting a finger on his lip, slid over the bulwarks to
+take the boat’s steering oar, and Ahab, swinging the cutting-tackle
+towards him, commanded the ship’s sailors to stand by to lower.
+
+In a moment he was standing in the boat’s stern, and the Manilla men
+were springing to their oars. In vain the English Captain hailed him.
+With back to the stranger ship, and face set like a flint to his own,
+Ahab stood upright till alongside of the Pequod.
+
+
+CHAPTER 101. The Decanter.
+
+Ere the English ship fades from sight, be it set down here, that she
+hailed from London, and was named after the late Samuel Enderby,
+merchant of that city, the original of the famous whaling house of
+Enderby & Sons; a house which in my poor whaleman’s opinion, comes not
+far behind the united royal houses of the Tudors and Bourbons, in point
+of real historical interest. How long, prior to the year of our Lord
+1775, this great whaling house was in existence, my numerous
+fish-documents do not make plain; but in that year (1775) it fitted out
+the first English ships that ever regularly hunted the Sperm Whale;
+though for some score of years previous (ever since 1726) our valiant
+Coffins and Maceys of Nantucket and the Vineyard had in large fleets
+pursued that Leviathan, but only in the North and South Atlantic: not
+elsewhere. Be it distinctly recorded here, that the Nantucketers were
+the first among mankind to harpoon with civilized steel the great Sperm
+Whale; and that for half a century they were the only people of the
+whole globe who so harpooned him.
+
+In 1778, a fine ship, the Amelia, fitted out for the express purpose,
+and at the sole charge of the vigorous Enderbys, boldly rounded Cape
+Horn, and was the first among the nations to lower a whale-boat of any
+sort in the great South Sea. The voyage was a skilful and lucky one;
+and returning to her berth with her hold full of the precious sperm,
+the Amelia’s example was soon followed by other ships, English and
+American, and thus the vast Sperm Whale grounds of the Pacific were
+thrown open. But not content with this good deed, the indefatigable
+house again bestirred itself: Samuel and all his Sons—how many, their
+mother only knows—and under their immediate auspices, and partly, I
+think, at their expense, the British government was induced to send the
+sloop-of-war Rattler on a whaling voyage of discovery into the South
+Sea. Commanded by a naval Post-Captain, the Rattler made a rattling
+voyage of it, and did some service; how much does not appear. But this
+is not all. In 1819, the same house fitted out a discovery whale ship
+of their own, to go on a tasting cruise to the remote waters of Japan.
+That ship—well called the “Syren”—made a noble experimental cruise; and
+it was thus that the great Japanese Whaling Ground first became
+generally known. The Syren in this famous voyage was commanded by a
+Captain Coffin, a Nantucketer.
+
+All honor to the Enderbies, therefore, whose house, I think, exists to
+the present day; though doubtless the original Samuel must long ago
+have slipped his cable for the great South Sea of the other world.
+
+The ship named after him was worthy of the honor, being a very fast
+sailer and a noble craft every way. I boarded her once at midnight
+somewhere off the Patagonian coast, and drank good flip down in the
+forecastle. It was a fine gam we had, and they were all trumps—every
+soul on board. A short life to them, and a jolly death. And that fine
+gam I had—long, very long after old Ahab touched her planks with his
+ivory heel—it minds me of the noble, solid, Saxon hospitality of that
+ship; and may my parson forget me, and the devil remember me, if I ever
+lose sight of it. Flip? Did I say we had flip? Yes, and we flipped it
+at the rate of ten gallons the hour; and when the squall came (for it’s
+squally off there by Patagonia), and all hands—visitors and all—were
+called to reef topsails, we were so top-heavy that we had to swing each
+other aloft in bowlines; and we ignorantly furled the skirts of our
+jackets into the sails, so that we hung there, reefed fast in the
+howling gale, a warning example to all drunken tars. However, the masts
+did not go overboard; and by and by we scrambled down, so sober, that
+we had to pass the flip again, though the savage salt spray bursting
+down the forecastle scuttle, rather too much diluted and pickled it to
+my taste.
+
+The beef was fine—tough, but with body in it. They said it was
+bull-beef; others, that it was dromedary beef; but I do not know, for
+certain, how that was. They had dumplings too; small, but substantial,
+symmetrically globular, and indestructible dumplings. I fancied that
+you could feel them, and roll them about in you after they were
+swallowed. If you stooped over too far forward, you risked their
+pitching out of you like billiard-balls. The bread—but that couldn’t be
+helped; besides, it was an anti-scorbutic; in short, the bread
+contained the only fresh fare they had. But the forecastle was not very
+light, and it was very easy to step over into a dark corner when you
+ate it. But all in all, taking her from truck to helm, considering the
+dimensions of the cook’s boilers, including his own live parchment
+boilers; fore and aft, I say, the Samuel Enderby was a jolly ship; of
+good fare and plenty; fine flip and strong; crack fellows all, and
+capital from boot heels to hat-band.
+
+But why was it, think ye, that the Samuel Enderby, and some other
+English whalers I know of—not all though—were such famous, hospitable
+ships; that passed round the beef, and the bread, and the can, and the
+joke; and were not soon weary of eating, and drinking, and laughing? I
+will tell you. The abounding good cheer of these English whalers is
+matter for historical research. Nor have I been at all sparing of
+historical whale research, when it has seemed needed.
+
+The English were preceded in the whale fishery by the Hollanders,
+Zealanders, and Danes; from whom they derived many terms still extant
+in the fishery; and what is yet more, their fat old fashions, touching
+plenty to eat and drink. For, as a general thing, the English
+merchant-ship scrimps her crew; but not so the English whaler. Hence,
+in the English, this thing of whaling good cheer is not normal and
+natural, but incidental and particular; and, therefore, must have some
+special origin, which is here pointed out, and will be still further
+elucidated.
+
+During my researches in the Leviathanic histories, I stumbled upon an
+ancient Dutch volume, which, by the musty whaling smell of it, I knew
+must be about whalers. The title was, “Dan Coopman,” wherefore I
+concluded that this must be the invaluable memoirs of some Amsterdam
+cooper in the fishery, as every whale ship must carry its cooper. I was
+reinforced in this opinion by seeing that it was the production of one
+“Fitz Swackhammer.” But my friend Dr. Snodhead, a very learned man,
+professor of Low Dutch and High German in the college of Santa Claus
+and St. Pott’s, to whom I handed the work for translation, giving him a
+box of sperm candles for his trouble—this same Dr. Snodhead, so soon as
+he spied the book, assured me that “Dan Coopman” did not mean “The
+Cooper,” but “The Merchant.” In short, this ancient and learned Low
+Dutch book treated of the commerce of Holland; and, among other
+subjects, contained a very interesting account of its whale fishery.
+And in this chapter it was, headed, “Smeer,” or “Fat,” that I found a
+long detailed list of the outfits for the larders and cellars of 180
+sail of Dutch whalemen; from which list, as translated by Dr. Snodhead,
+I transcribe the following:
+
+400,000 lbs. of beef. 60,000 lbs. Friesland pork. 150,000 lbs. of stock
+fish. 550,000 lbs. of biscuit. 72,000 lbs. of soft bread. 2,800 firkins
+of butter. 20,000 lbs. Texel & Leyden cheese. 144,000 lbs. cheese
+(probably an inferior article). 550 ankers of Geneva. 10,800 barrels of
+beer.
+
+Most statistical tables are parchingly dry in the reading; not so in
+the present case, however, where the reader is flooded with whole
+pipes, barrels, quarts, and gills of good gin and good cheer.
+
+At the time, I devoted three days to the studious digesting of all this
+beer, beef, and bread, during which many profound thoughts were
+incidentally suggested to me, capable of a transcendental and Platonic
+application; and, furthermore, I compiled supplementary tables of my
+own, touching the probable quantity of stock-fish, etc., consumed by
+every Low Dutch harpooneer in that ancient Greenland and Spitzbergen
+whale fishery. In the first place, the amount of butter, and Texel and
+Leyden cheese consumed, seems amazing. I impute it, though, to their
+naturally unctuous natures, being rendered still more unctuous by the
+nature of their vocation, and especially by their pursuing their game
+in those frigid Polar Seas, on the very coasts of that Esquimaux
+country where the convivial natives pledge each other in bumpers of
+train oil.
+
+The quantity of beer, too, is very large, 10,800 barrels. Now, as those
+polar fisheries could only be prosecuted in the short summer of that
+climate, so that the whole cruise of one of these Dutch whalemen,
+including the short voyage to and from the Spitzbergen sea, did not
+much exceed three months, say, and reckoning 30 men to each of their
+fleet of 180 sail, we have 5,400 Low Dutch seamen in all; therefore, I
+say, we have precisely two barrels of beer per man, for a twelve weeks’
+allowance, exclusive of his fair proportion of that 550 ankers of gin.
+Now, whether these gin and beer harpooneers, so fuddled as one might
+fancy them to have been, were the right sort of men to stand up in a
+boat’s head, and take good aim at flying whales; this would seem
+somewhat improbable. Yet they did aim at them, and hit them too. But
+this was very far North, be it remembered, where beer agrees well with
+the constitution; upon the Equator, in our southern fishery, beer would
+be apt to make the harpooneer sleepy at the mast-head and boozy in his
+boat; and grievous loss might ensue to Nantucket and New Bedford.
+
+But no more; enough has been said to show that the old Dutch whalers of
+two or three centuries ago were high livers; and that the English
+whalers have not neglected so excellent an example. For, say they, when
+cruising in an empty ship, if you can get nothing better out of the
+world, get a good dinner out of it, at least. And this empties the
+decanter.
+
+
+CHAPTER 102. A Bower in the Arsacides.
+
+Hitherto, in descriptively treating of the Sperm Whale, I have chiefly
+dwelt upon the marvels of his outer aspect; or separately and in detail
+upon some few interior structural features. But to a large and thorough
+sweeping comprehension of him, it behooves me now to unbutton him still
+further, and untagging the points of his hose, unbuckling his garters,
+and casting loose the hooks and the eyes of the joints of his innermost
+bones, set him before you in his ultimatum; that is to say, in his
+unconditional skeleton.
+
+But how now, Ishmael? How is it, that you, a mere oarsman in the
+fishery, pretend to know aught about the subterranean parts of the
+whale? Did erudite Stubb, mounted upon your capstan, deliver lectures
+on the anatomy of the Cetacea; and by help of the windlass, hold up a
+specimen rib for exhibition? Explain thyself, Ishmael. Can you land a
+full-grown whale on your deck for examination, as a cook dishes a
+roast-pig? Surely not. A veritable witness have you hitherto been,
+Ishmael; but have a care how you seize the privilege of Jonah alone;
+the privilege of discoursing upon the joists and beams; the rafters,
+ridge-pole, sleepers, and under-pinnings, making up the frame-work of
+leviathan; and belike of the tallow-vats, dairy-rooms, butteries, and
+cheeseries in his bowels.
+
+I confess, that since Jonah, few whalemen have penetrated very far
+beneath the skin of the adult whale; nevertheless, I have been blessed
+with an opportunity to dissect him in miniature. In a ship I belonged
+to, a small cub Sperm Whale was once bodily hoisted to the deck for his
+poke or bag, to make sheaths for the barbs of the harpoons, and for the
+heads of the lances. Think you I let that chance go, without using my
+boat-hatchet and jack-knife, and breaking the seal and reading all the
+contents of that young cub?
+
+And as for my exact knowledge of the bones of the leviathan in their
+gigantic, full grown development, for that rare knowledge I am indebted
+to my late royal friend Tranquo, king of Tranque, one of the Arsacides.
+For being at Tranque, years ago, when attached to the trading-ship Dey
+of Algiers, I was invited to spend part of the Arsacidean holidays with
+the lord of Tranque, at his retired palm villa at Pupella; a sea-side
+glen not very far distant from what our sailors called Bamboo-Town, his
+capital.
+
+Among many other fine qualities, my royal friend Tranquo, being gifted
+with a devout love for all matters of barbaric vertu, had brought
+together in Pupella whatever rare things the more ingenious of his
+people could invent; chiefly carved woods of wonderful devices,
+chiselled shells, inlaid spears, costly paddles, aromatic canoes; and
+all these distributed among whatever natural wonders, the
+wonder-freighted, tribute-rendering waves had cast upon his shores.
+
+Chief among these latter was a great Sperm Whale, which, after an
+unusually long raging gale, had been found dead and stranded, with his
+head against a cocoa-nut tree, whose plumage-like, tufted droopings
+seemed his verdant jet. When the vast body had at last been stripped of
+its fathom-deep enfoldings, and the bones become dust dry in the sun,
+then the skeleton was carefully transported up the Pupella glen, where
+a grand temple of lordly palms now sheltered it.
+
+The ribs were hung with trophies; the vertebræ were carved with
+Arsacidean annals, in strange hieroglyphics; in the skull, the priests
+kept up an unextinguished aromatic flame, so that the mystic head again
+sent forth its vapory spout; while, suspended from a bough, the
+terrific lower jaw vibrated over all the devotees, like the hair-hung
+sword that so affrighted Damocles.
+
+It was a wondrous sight. The wood was green as mosses of the Icy Glen;
+the trees stood high and haughty, feeling their living sap; the
+industrious earth beneath was as a weaver’s loom, with a gorgeous
+carpet on it, whereof the ground-vine tendrils formed the warp and
+woof, and the living flowers the figures. All the trees, with all their
+laden branches; all the shrubs, and ferns, and grasses; the
+message-carrying air; all these unceasingly were active. Through the
+lacings of the leaves, the great sun seemed a flying shuttle weaving
+the unwearied verdure. Oh, busy weaver! unseen weaver!—pause!—one
+word!—whither flows the fabric? what palace may it deck? wherefore all
+these ceaseless toilings? Speak, weaver!—stay thy hand!—but one single
+word with thee! Nay—the shuttle flies—the figures float from forth the
+loom; the freshet-rushing carpet for ever slides away. The weaver-god,
+he weaves; and by that weaving is he deafened, that he hears no mortal
+voice; and by that humming, we, too, who look on the loom are deafened;
+and only when we escape it shall we hear the thousand voices that speak
+through it. For even so it is in all material factories. The spoken
+words that are inaudible among the flying spindles; those same words
+are plainly heard without the walls, bursting from the opened
+casements. Thereby have villainies been detected. Ah, mortal! then, be
+heedful; for so, in all this din of the great world’s loom, thy
+subtlest thinkings may be overheard afar.
+
+Now, amid the green, life-restless loom of that Arsacidean wood, the
+great, white, worshipped skeleton lay lounging—a gigantic idler! Yet,
+as the ever-woven verdant warp and woof intermixed and hummed around
+him, the mighty idler seemed the cunning weaver; himself all woven over
+with the vines; every month assuming greener, fresher verdure; but
+himself a skeleton. Life folded Death; Death trellised Life; the grim
+god wived with youthful Life, and begat him curly-headed glories.
+
+Now, when with royal Tranquo I visited this wondrous whale, and saw the
+skull an altar, and the artificial smoke ascending from where the real
+jet had issued, I marvelled that the king should regard a chapel as an
+object of vertu. He laughed. But more I marvelled that the priests
+should swear that smoky jet of his was genuine. To and fro I paced
+before this skeleton—brushed the vines aside—broke through the ribs—and
+with a ball of Arsacidean twine, wandered, eddied long amid its many
+winding, shaded colonnades and arbours. But soon my line was out; and
+following it back, I emerged from the opening where I entered. I saw no
+living thing within; naught was there but bones.
+
+Cutting me a green measuring-rod, I once more dived within the
+skeleton. From their arrow-slit in the skull, the priests perceived me
+taking the altitude of the final rib, “How now!” they shouted; “Dar’st
+thou measure this our god! That’s for us.” “Aye, priests—well, how long
+do ye make him, then?” But hereupon a fierce contest rose among them,
+concerning feet and inches; they cracked each other’s sconces with
+their yard-sticks—the great skull echoed—and seizing that lucky chance,
+I quickly concluded my own admeasurements.
+
+These admeasurements I now propose to set before you. But first, be it
+recorded, that, in this matter, I am not free to utter any fancied
+measurement I please. Because there are skeleton authorities you can
+refer to, to test my accuracy. There is a Leviathanic Museum, they tell
+me, in Hull, England, one of the whaling ports of that country, where
+they have some fine specimens of fin-backs and other whales. Likewise,
+I have heard that in the museum of Manchester, in New Hampshire, they
+have what the proprietors call “the only perfect specimen of a
+Greenland or River Whale in the United States.” Moreover, at a place in
+Yorkshire, England, Burton Constable by name, a certain Sir Clifford
+Constable has in his possession the skeleton of a Sperm Whale, but of
+moderate size, by no means of the full-grown magnitude of my friend
+King Tranquo’s.
+
+In both cases, the stranded whales to which these two skeletons
+belonged, were originally claimed by their proprietors upon similar
+grounds. King Tranquo seizing his because he wanted it; and Sir
+Clifford, because he was lord of the seignories of those parts. Sir
+Clifford’s whale has been articulated throughout; so that, like a great
+chest of drawers, you can open and shut him, in all his bony
+cavities—spread out his ribs like a gigantic fan—and swing all day upon
+his lower jaw. Locks are to be put upon some of his trap-doors and
+shutters; and a footman will show round future visitors with a bunch of
+keys at his side. Sir Clifford thinks of charging twopence for a peep
+at the whispering gallery in the spinal column; threepence to hear the
+echo in the hollow of his cerebellum; and sixpence for the unrivalled
+view from his forehead.
+
+The skeleton dimensions I shall now proceed to set down are copied
+verbatim from my right arm, where I had them tattooed; as in my wild
+wanderings at that period, there was no other secure way of preserving
+such valuable statistics. But as I was crowded for space, and wished
+the other parts of my body to remain a blank page for a poem I was then
+composing—at least, what untattooed parts might remain—I did not
+trouble myself with the odd inches; nor, indeed, should inches at all
+enter into a congenial admeasurement of the whale.
+
+
+CHAPTER 103. Measurement of The Whale’s Skeleton.
+
+In the first place, I wish to lay before you a particular, plain
+statement, touching the living bulk of this leviathan, whose skeleton
+we are briefly to exhibit. Such a statement may prove useful here.
+
+According to a careful calculation I have made, and which I partly base
+upon Captain Scoresby’s estimate, of seventy tons for the largest sized
+Greenland whale of sixty feet in length; according to my careful
+calculation, I say, a Sperm Whale of the largest magnitude, between
+eighty-five and ninety feet in length, and something less than forty
+feet in its fullest circumference, such a whale will weigh at least
+ninety tons; so that, reckoning thirteen men to a ton, he would
+considerably outweigh the combined population of a whole village of one
+thousand one hundred inhabitants.
+
+Think you not then that brains, like yoked cattle, should be put to
+this leviathan, to make him at all budge to any landsman’s imagination?
+
+Having already in various ways put before you his skull, spout-hole,
+jaw, teeth, tail, forehead, fins, and divers other parts, I shall now
+simply point out what is most interesting in the general bulk of his
+unobstructed bones. But as the colossal skull embraces so very large a
+proportion of the entire extent of the skeleton; as it is by far the
+most complicated part; and as nothing is to be repeated concerning it
+in this chapter, you must not fail to carry it in your mind, or under
+your arm, as we proceed, otherwise you will not gain a complete notion
+of the general structure we are about to view.
+
+In length, the Sperm Whale’s skeleton at Tranque measured seventy-two
+feet; so that when fully invested and extended in life, he must have
+been ninety feet long; for in the whale, the skeleton loses about one
+fifth in length compared with the living body. Of this seventy-two
+feet, his skull and jaw comprised some twenty feet, leaving some fifty
+feet of plain back-bone. Attached to this back-bone, for something less
+than a third of its length, was the mighty circular basket of ribs
+which once enclosed his vitals.
+
+To me this vast ivory-ribbed chest, with the long, unrelieved spine,
+extending far away from it in a straight line, not a little resembled
+the hull of a great ship new-laid upon the stocks, when only some
+twenty of her naked bow-ribs are inserted, and the keel is otherwise,
+for the time, but a long, disconnected timber.
+
+The ribs were ten on a side. The first, to begin from the neck, was
+nearly six feet long; the second, third, and fourth were each
+successively longer, till you came to the climax of the fifth, or one
+of the middle ribs, which measured eight feet and some inches. From
+that part, the remaining ribs diminished, till the tenth and last only
+spanned five feet and some inches. In general thickness, they all bore
+a seemly correspondence to their length. The middle ribs were the most
+arched. In some of the Arsacides they are used for beams whereon to lay
+footpath bridges over small streams.
+
+In considering these ribs, I could not but be struck anew with the
+circumstance, so variously repeated in this book, that the skeleton of
+the whale is by no means the mould of his invested form. The largest of
+the Tranque ribs, one of the middle ones, occupied that part of the
+fish which, in life, is greatest in depth. Now, the greatest depth of
+the invested body of this particular whale must have been at least
+sixteen feet; whereas, the corresponding rib measured but little more
+than eight feet. So that this rib only conveyed half of the true notion
+of the living magnitude of that part. Besides, for some way, where I
+now saw but a naked spine, all that had been once wrapped round with
+tons of added bulk in flesh, muscle, blood, and bowels. Still more, for
+the ample fins, I here saw but a few disordered joints; and in place of
+the weighty and majestic, but boneless flukes, an utter blank!
+
+How vain and foolish, then, thought I, for timid untravelled man to try
+to comprehend aright this wondrous whale, by merely poring over his
+dead attenuated skeleton, stretched in this peaceful wood. No. Only in
+the heart of quickest perils; only when within the eddyings of his
+angry flukes; only on the profound unbounded sea, can the fully
+invested whale be truly and livingly found out.
+
+But the spine. For that, the best way we can consider it is, with a
+crane, to pile its bones high up on end. No speedy enterprise. But now
+it’s done, it looks much like Pompey’s Pillar.
+
+There are forty and odd vertebræ in all, which in the skeleton are not
+locked together. They mostly lie like the great knobbed blocks on a
+Gothic spire, forming solid courses of heavy masonry. The largest, a
+middle one, is in width something less than three feet, and in depth
+more than four. The smallest, where the spine tapers away into the
+tail, is only two inches in width, and looks something like a white
+billiard-ball. I was told that there were still smaller ones, but they
+had been lost by some little cannibal urchins, the priest’s children,
+who had stolen them to play marbles with. Thus we see how that the
+spine of even the hugest of living things tapers off at last into
+simple child’s play.
+
+
+CHAPTER 104. The Fossil Whale.
+
+From his mighty bulk the whale affords a most congenial theme whereon
+to enlarge, amplify, and generally expatiate. Would you, you could not
+compress him. By good rights he should only be treated of in imperial
+folio. Not to tell over again his furlongs from spiracle to tail, and
+the yards he measures about the waist; only think of the gigantic
+involutions of his intestines, where they lie in him like great cables
+and hawsers coiled away in the subterranean orlop-deck of a
+line-of-battle-ship.
+
+Since I have undertaken to manhandle this Leviathan, it behooves me to
+approve myself omnisciently exhaustive in the enterprise; not
+overlooking the minutest seminal germs of his blood, and spinning him
+out to the uttermost coil of his bowels. Having already described him
+in most of his present habitatory and anatomical peculiarities, it now
+remains to magnify him in an archæological, fossiliferous, and
+antediluvian point of view. Applied to any other creature than the
+Leviathan—to an ant or a flea—such portly terms might justly be deemed
+unwarrantably grandiloquent. But when Leviathan is the text, the case
+is altered. Fain am I to stagger to this emprise under the weightiest
+words of the dictionary. And here be it said, that whenever it has been
+convenient to consult one in the course of these dissertations, I have
+invariably used a huge quarto edition of Johnson, expressly purchased
+for that purpose; because that famous lexicographer’s uncommon personal
+bulk more fitted him to compile a lexicon to be used by a whale author
+like me.
+
+One often hears of writers that rise and swell with their subject,
+though it may seem but an ordinary one. How, then, with me, writing of
+this Leviathan? Unconsciously my chirography expands into placard
+capitals. Give me a condor’s quill! Give me Vesuvius’ crater for an
+inkstand! Friends, hold my arms! For in the mere act of penning my
+thoughts of this Leviathan, they weary me, and make me faint with their
+outreaching comprehensiveness of sweep, as if to include the whole
+circle of the sciences, and all the generations of whales, and men, and
+mastodons, past, present, and to come, with all the revolving panoramas
+of empire on earth, and throughout the whole universe, not excluding
+its suburbs. Such, and so magnifying, is the virtue of a large and
+liberal theme! We expand to its bulk. To produce a mighty book, you
+must choose a mighty theme. No great and enduring volume can ever be
+written on the flea, though many there be who have tried it.
+
+Ere entering upon the subject of Fossil Whales, I present my
+credentials as a geologist, by stating that in my miscellaneous time I
+have been a stone-mason, and also a great digger of ditches, canals and
+wells, wine-vaults, cellars, and cisterns of all sorts. Likewise, by
+way of preliminary, I desire to remind the reader, that while in the
+earlier geological strata there are found the fossils of monsters now
+almost completely extinct; the subsequent relics discovered in what are
+called the Tertiary formations seem the connecting, or at any rate
+intercepted links, between the antichronical creatures, and those whose
+remote posterity are said to have entered the Ark; all the Fossil
+Whales hitherto discovered belong to the Tertiary period, which is the
+last preceding the superficial formations. And though none of them
+precisely answer to any known species of the present time, they are yet
+sufficiently akin to them in general respects, to justify their taking
+rank as Cetacean fossils.
+
+Detached broken fossils of pre-adamite whales, fragments of their bones
+and skeletons, have within thirty years past, at various intervals,
+been found at the base of the Alps, in Lombardy, in France, in England,
+in Scotland, and in the States of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama.
+Among the more curious of such remains is part of a skull, which in the
+year 1779 was disinterred in the Rue Dauphine in Paris, a short street
+opening almost directly upon the palace of the Tuileries; and bones
+disinterred in excavating the great docks of Antwerp, in Napoleon’s
+time. Cuvier pronounced these fragments to have belonged to some
+utterly unknown Leviathanic species.
+
+But by far the most wonderful of all Cetacean relics was the almost
+complete vast skeleton of an extinct monster, found in the year 1842,
+on the plantation of Judge Creagh, in Alabama. The awe-stricken
+credulous slaves in the vicinity took it for the bones of one of the
+fallen angels. The Alabama doctors declared it a huge reptile, and
+bestowed upon it the name of Basilosaurus. But some specimen bones of
+it being taken across the sea to Owen, the English Anatomist, it turned
+out that this alleged reptile was a whale, though of a departed
+species. A significant illustration of the fact, again and again
+repeated in this book, that the skeleton of the whale furnishes but
+little clue to the shape of his fully invested body. So Owen
+rechristened the monster Zeuglodon; and in his paper read before the
+London Geological Society, pronounced it, in substance, one of the most
+extraordinary creatures which the mutations of the globe have blotted
+out of existence.
+
+When I stand among these mighty Leviathan skeletons, skulls, tusks,
+jaws, ribs, and vertebræ, all characterized by partial resemblances to
+the existing breeds of sea-monsters; but at the same time bearing on
+the other hand similar affinities to the annihilated antichronical
+Leviathans, their incalculable seniors; I am, by a flood, borne back to
+that wondrous period, ere time itself can be said to have begun; for
+time began with man. Here Saturn’s grey chaos rolls over me, and I
+obtain dim, shuddering glimpses into those Polar eternities; when
+wedged bastions of ice pressed hard upon what are now the Tropics; and
+in all the 25,000 miles of this world’s circumference, not an
+inhabitable hand’s breadth of land was visible. Then the whole world
+was the whale’s; and, king of creation, he left his wake along the
+present lines of the Andes and the Himmalehs. Who can show a pedigree
+like Leviathan? Ahab’s harpoon had shed older blood than the Pharaoh’s.
+Methuselah seems a school-boy. I look round to shake hands with Shem. I
+am horror-struck at this antemosaic, unsourced existence of the
+unspeakable terrors of the whale, which, having been before all time,
+must needs exist after all humane ages are over.
+
+But not alone has this Leviathan left his pre-adamite traces in the
+stereotype plates of nature, and in limestone and marl bequeathed his
+ancient bust; but upon Egyptian tablets, whose antiquity seems to claim
+for them an almost fossiliferous character, we find the unmistakable
+print of his fin. In an apartment of the great temple of Denderah, some
+fifty years ago, there was discovered upon the granite ceiling a
+sculptured and painted planisphere, abounding in centaurs, griffins,
+and dolphins, similar to the grotesque figures on the celestial globe
+of the moderns. Gliding among them, old Leviathan swam as of yore; was
+there swimming in that planisphere, centuries before Solomon was
+cradled.
+
+Nor must there be omitted another strange attestation of the antiquity
+of the whale, in his own osseous post-diluvian reality, as set down by
+the venerable John Leo, the old Barbary traveller.
+
+“Not far from the Sea-side, they have a Temple, the Rafters and Beams
+of which are made of Whale-Bones; for Whales of a monstrous size are
+oftentimes cast up dead upon that shore. The Common People imagine,
+that by a secret Power bestowed by God upon the Temple, no Whale can
+pass it without immediate death. But the truth of the Matter is, that
+on either side of the Temple, there are Rocks that shoot two Miles into
+the Sea, and wound the Whales when they light upon ’em. They keep a
+Whale’s Rib of an incredible length for a Miracle, which lying upon the
+Ground with its convex part uppermost, makes an Arch, the Head of which
+cannot be reached by a Man upon a Camel’s Back. This Rib (says John
+Leo) is said to have layn there a hundred Years before I saw it. Their
+Historians affirm, that a Prophet who prophesy’d of Mahomet, came from
+this Temple, and some do not stand to assert, that the Prophet Jonas
+was cast forth by the Whale at the Base of the Temple.”
+
+In this Afric Temple of the Whale I leave you, reader, and if you be a
+Nantucketer, and a whaleman, you will silently worship there.
+
+
+CHAPTER 105. Does the Whale’s Magnitude Diminish?—Will He Perish?
+
+Inasmuch, then, as this Leviathan comes floundering down upon us from
+the head-waters of the Eternities, it may be fitly inquired, whether,
+in the long course of his generations, he has not degenerated from the
+original bulk of his sires.
+
+But upon investigation we find, that not only are the whales of the
+present day superior in magnitude to those whose fossil remains are
+found in the Tertiary system (embracing a distinct geological period
+prior to man), but of the whales found in that Tertiary system, those
+belonging to its latter formations exceed in size those of its earlier
+ones.
+
+Of all the pre-adamite whales yet exhumed, by far the largest is the
+Alabama one mentioned in the last chapter, and that was less than
+seventy feet in length in the skeleton. Whereas, we have already seen,
+that the tape-measure gives seventy-two feet for the skeleton of a
+large sized modern whale. And I have heard, on whalemen’s authority,
+that Sperm Whales have been captured near a hundred feet long at the
+time of capture.
+
+But may it not be, that while the whales of the present hour are an
+advance in magnitude upon those of all previous geological periods; may
+it not be, that since Adam’s time they have degenerated?
+
+Assuredly, we must conclude so, if we are to credit the accounts of
+such gentlemen as Pliny, and the ancient naturalists generally. For
+Pliny tells us of whales that embraced acres of living bulk, and
+Aldrovandus of others which measured eight hundred feet in length—Rope
+Walks and Thames Tunnels of Whales! And even in the days of Banks and
+Solander, Cooke’s naturalists, we find a Danish member of the Academy
+of Sciences setting down certain Iceland Whales (reydan-siskur, or
+Wrinkled Bellies) at one hundred and twenty yards; that is, three
+hundred and sixty feet. And Lacépède, the French naturalist, in his
+elaborate history of whales, in the very beginning of his work (page
+3), sets down the Right Whale at one hundred metres, three hundred and
+twenty-eight feet. And this work was published so late as A.D. 1825.
+
+But will any whaleman believe these stories? No. The whale of to-day is
+as big as his ancestors in Pliny’s time. And if ever I go where Pliny
+is, I, a whaleman (more than he was), will make bold to tell him so.
+Because I cannot understand how it is, that while the Egyptian mummies
+that were buried thousands of years before even Pliny was born, do not
+measure so much in their coffins as a modern Kentuckian in his socks;
+and while the cattle and other animals sculptured on the oldest
+Egyptian and Nineveh tablets, by the relative proportions in which they
+are drawn, just as plainly prove that the high-bred, stall-fed, prize
+cattle of Smithfield, not only equal, but far exceed in magnitude the
+fattest of Pharaoh’s fat kine; in the face of all this, I will not
+admit that of all animals the whale alone should have degenerated.
+
+But still another inquiry remains; one often agitated by the more
+recondite Nantucketers. Whether owing to the almost omniscient
+look-outs at the mast-heads of the whale-ships, now penetrating even
+through Behring’s straits, and into the remotest secret drawers and
+lockers of the world; and the thousand harpoons and lances darted along
+all continental coasts; the moot point is, whether Leviathan can long
+endure so wide a chase, and so remorseless a havoc; whether he must not
+at last be exterminated from the waters, and the last whale, like the
+last man, smoke his last pipe, and then himself evaporate in the final
+puff.
+
+Comparing the humped herds of whales with the humped herds of buffalo,
+which, not forty years ago, overspread by tens of thousands the
+prairies of Illinois and Missouri, and shook their iron manes and
+scowled with their thunder-clotted brows upon the sites of populous
+river-capitals, where now the polite broker sells you land at a dollar
+an inch; in such a comparison an irresistible argument would seem
+furnished, to show that the hunted whale cannot now escape speedy
+extinction.
+
+But you must look at this matter in every light. Though so short a
+period ago—not a good lifetime—the census of the buffalo in Illinois
+exceeded the census of men now in London, and though at the present day
+not one horn or hoof of them remains in all that region; and though the
+cause of this wondrous extermination was the spear of man; yet the far
+different nature of the whale-hunt peremptorily forbids so inglorious
+an end to the Leviathan. Forty men in one ship hunting the Sperm Whales
+for forty-eight months think they have done extremely well, and thank
+God, if at last they carry home the oil of forty fish. Whereas, in the
+days of the old Canadian and Indian hunters and trappers of the West,
+when the far west (in whose sunset suns still rise) was a wilderness
+and a virgin, the same number of moccasined men, for the same number of
+months, mounted on horse instead of sailing in ships, would have slain
+not forty, but forty thousand and more buffaloes; a fact that, if need
+were, could be statistically stated.
+
+Nor, considered aright, does it seem any argument in favour of the
+gradual extinction of the Sperm Whale, for example, that in former
+years (the latter part of the last century, say) these Leviathans, in
+small pods, were encountered much oftener than at present, and, in
+consequence, the voyages were not so prolonged, and were also much more
+remunerative. Because, as has been elsewhere noticed, those whales,
+influenced by some views to safety, now swim the seas in immense
+caravans, so that to a large degree the scattered solitaries, yokes,
+and pods, and schools of other days are now aggregated into vast but
+widely separated, unfrequent armies. That is all. And equally
+fallacious seems the conceit, that because the so-called whale-bone
+whales no longer haunt many grounds in former years abounding with
+them, hence that species also is declining. For they are only being
+driven from promontory to cape; and if one coast is no longer enlivened
+with their jets, then, be sure, some other and remoter strand has been
+very recently startled by the unfamiliar spectacle.
+
+Furthermore: concerning these last mentioned Leviathans, they have two
+firm fortresses, which, in all human probability, will for ever remain
+impregnable. And as upon the invasion of their valleys, the frosty
+Swiss have retreated to their mountains; so, hunted from the savannas
+and glades of the middle seas, the whale-bone whales can at last resort
+to their Polar citadels, and diving under the ultimate glassy barriers
+and walls there, come up among icy fields and floes; and in a charmed
+circle of everlasting December, bid defiance to all pursuit from man.
+
+But as perhaps fifty of these whale-bone whales are harpooned for one
+cachalot, some philosophers of the forecastle have concluded that this
+positive havoc has already very seriously diminished their battalions.
+But though for some time past a number of these whales, not less than
+13,000, have been annually slain on the nor’ west coast by the
+Americans alone; yet there are considerations which render even this
+circumstance of little or no account as an opposing argument in this
+matter.
+
+Natural as it is to be somewhat incredulous concerning the populousness
+of the more enormous creatures of the globe, yet what shall we say to
+Harto, the historian of Goa, when he tells us that at one hunting the
+King of Siam took 4,000 elephants; that in those regions elephants are
+numerous as droves of cattle in the temperate climes. And there seems
+no reason to doubt that if these elephants, which have now been hunted
+for thousands of years, by Semiramis, by Porus, by Hannibal, and by all
+the successive monarchs of the East—if they still survive there in
+great numbers, much more may the great whale outlast all hunting, since
+he has a pasture to expatiate in, which is precisely twice as large as
+all Asia, both Americas, Europe and Africa, New Holland, and all the
+Isles of the sea combined.
+
+Moreover: we are to consider, that from the presumed great longevity of
+whales, their probably attaining the age of a century and more,
+therefore at any one period of time, several distinct adult generations
+must be contemporary. And what that is, we may soon gain some idea of,
+by imagining all the grave-yards, cemeteries, and family vaults of
+creation yielding up the live bodies of all the men, women, and
+children who were alive seventy-five years ago; and adding this
+countless host to the present human population of the globe.
+
+Wherefore, for all these things, we account the whale immortal in his
+species, however perishable in his individuality. He swam the seas
+before the continents broke water; he once swam over the site of the
+Tuileries, and Windsor Castle, and the Kremlin. In Noah’s flood he
+despised Noah’s Ark; and if ever the world is to be again flooded, like
+the Netherlands, to kill off its rats, then the eternal whale will
+still survive, and rearing upon the topmost crest of the equatorial
+flood, spout his frothed defiance to the skies.
+
+
+CHAPTER 106. Ahab’s Leg.
+
+The precipitating manner in which Captain Ahab had quitted the Samuel
+Enderby of London, had not been unattended with some small violence to
+his own person. He had lighted with such energy upon a thwart of his
+boat that his ivory leg had received a half-splintering shock. And when
+after gaining his own deck, and his own pivot-hole there, he so
+vehemently wheeled round with an urgent command to the steersman (it
+was, as ever, something about his not steering inflexibly enough);
+then, the already shaken ivory received such an additional twist and
+wrench, that though it still remained entire, and to all appearances
+lusty, yet Ahab did not deem it entirely trustworthy.
+
+And, indeed, it seemed small matter for wonder, that for all his
+pervading, mad recklessness, Ahab did at times give careful heed to the
+condition of that dead bone upon which he partly stood. For it had not
+been very long prior to the Pequod’s sailing from Nantucket, that he
+had been found one night lying prone upon the ground, and insensible;
+by some unknown, and seemingly inexplicable, unimaginable casualty, his
+ivory limb having been so violently displaced, that it had stake-wise
+smitten, and all but pierced his groin; nor was it without extreme
+difficulty that the agonizing wound was entirely cured.
+
+Nor, at the time, had it failed to enter his monomaniac mind, that all
+the anguish of that then present suffering was but the direct issue of
+a former woe; and he too plainly seemed to see, that as the most
+poisonous reptile of the marsh perpetuates his kind as inevitably as
+the sweetest songster of the grove; so, equally with every felicity,
+all miserable events do naturally beget their like. Yea, more than
+equally, thought Ahab; since both the ancestry and posterity of Grief
+go further than the ancestry and posterity of Joy. For, not to hint of
+this: that it is an inference from certain canonic teachings, that
+while some natural enjoyments here shall have no children born to them
+for the other world, but, on the contrary, shall be followed by the
+joy-childlessness of all hell’s despair; whereas, some guilty mortal
+miseries shall still fertilely beget to themselves an eternally
+progressive progeny of griefs beyond the grave; not at all to hint of
+this, there still seems an inequality in the deeper analysis of the
+thing. For, thought Ahab, while even the highest earthly felicities
+ever have a certain unsignifying pettiness lurking in them, but, at
+bottom, all heartwoes, a mystic significance, and, in some men, an
+archangelic grandeur; so do their diligent tracings-out not belie the
+obvious deduction. To trail the genealogies of these high mortal
+miseries, carries us at last among the sourceless primogenitures of the
+gods; so that, in the face of all the glad, hay-making suns, and soft
+cymballing, round harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that
+the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad
+birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the
+signers.
+
+Unwittingly here a secret has been divulged, which perhaps might more
+properly, in set way, have been disclosed before. With many other
+particulars concerning Ahab, always had it remained a mystery to some,
+why it was, that for a certain period, both before and after the
+sailing of the Pequod, he had hidden himself away with such
+Grand-Lama-like exclusiveness; and, for that one interval, sought
+speechless refuge, as it were, among the marble senate of the dead.
+Captain Peleg’s bruited reason for this thing appeared by no means
+adequate; though, indeed, as touching all Ahab’s deeper part, every
+revelation partook more of significant darkness than of explanatory
+light. But, in the end, it all came out; this one matter did, at least.
+That direful mishap was at the bottom of his temporary recluseness. And
+not only this, but to that ever-contracting, dropping circle ashore,
+who, for any reason, possessed the privilege of a less banned approach
+to him; to that timid circle the above hinted casualty—remaining, as it
+did, moodily unaccounted for by Ahab—invested itself with terrors, not
+entirely underived from the land of spirits and of wails. So that,
+through their zeal for him, they had all conspired, so far as in them
+lay, to muffle up the knowledge of this thing from others; and hence it
+was, that not till a considerable interval had elapsed, did it
+transpire upon the Pequod’s decks.
+
+But be all this as it may; let the unseen, ambiguous synod in the air,
+or the vindictive princes and potentates of fire, have to do or not
+with earthly Ahab, yet, in this present matter of his leg, he took
+plain practical procedures;—he called the carpenter.
+
+And when that functionary appeared before him, he bade him without
+delay set about making a new leg, and directed the mates to see him
+supplied with all the studs and joists of jaw-ivory (Sperm Whale) which
+had thus far been accumulated on the voyage, in order that a careful
+selection of the stoutest, clearest-grained stuff might be secured.
+This done, the carpenter received orders to have the leg completed that
+night; and to provide all the fittings for it, independent of those
+pertaining to the distrusted one in use. Moreover, the ship’s forge was
+ordered to be hoisted out of its temporary idleness in the hold; and,
+to accelerate the affair, the blacksmith was commanded to proceed at
+once to the forging of whatever iron contrivances might be needed.
+
+
+CHAPTER 107. The Carpenter.
+
+Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of Saturn, and take high
+abstracted man alone; and he seems a wonder, a grandeur, and a woe. But
+from the same point, take mankind in mass, and for the most part, they
+seem a mob of unnecessary duplicates, both contemporary and hereditary.
+But most humble though he was, and far from furnishing an example of
+the high, humane abstraction; the Pequod’s carpenter was no duplicate;
+hence, he now comes in person on this stage.
+
+Like all sea-going ship carpenters, and more especially those belonging
+to whaling vessels, he was, to a certain off-handed, practical extent,
+alike experienced in numerous trades and callings collateral to his
+own; the carpenter’s pursuit being the ancient and outbranching trunk
+of all those numerous handicrafts which more or less have to do with
+wood as an auxiliary material. But, besides the application to him of
+the generic remark above, this carpenter of the Pequod was singularly
+efficient in those thousand nameless mechanical emergencies continually
+recurring in a large ship, upon a three or four years’ voyage, in
+uncivilized and far-distant seas. For not to speak of his readiness in
+ordinary duties:—repairing stove boats, sprung spars, reforming the
+shape of clumsy-bladed oars, inserting bull’s eyes in the deck, or new
+tree-nails in the side planks, and other miscellaneous matters more
+directly pertaining to his special business; he was moreover
+unhesitatingly expert in all manner of conflicting aptitudes, both
+useful and capricious.
+
+The one grand stage where he enacted all his various parts so manifold,
+was his vice-bench; a long rude ponderous table furnished with several
+vices, of different sizes, and both of iron and of wood. At all times
+except when whales were alongside, this bench was securely lashed
+athwartships against the rear of the Try-works.
+
+A belaying pin is found too large to be easily inserted into its hole:
+the carpenter claps it into one of his ever-ready vices, and
+straightway files it smaller. A lost land-bird of strange plumage
+strays on board, and is made a captive: out of clean shaved rods of
+right-whale bone, and cross-beams of sperm whale ivory, the carpenter
+makes a pagoda-looking cage for it. An oarsman sprains his wrist: the
+carpenter concocts a soothing lotion. Stubb longed for vermillion stars
+to be painted upon the blade of his every oar; screwing each oar in his
+big vice of wood, the carpenter symmetrically supplies the
+constellation. A sailor takes a fancy to wear shark-bone ear-rings: the
+carpenter drills his ears. Another has the toothache: the carpenter out
+pincers, and clapping one hand upon his bench bids him be seated there;
+but the poor fellow unmanageably winces under the unconcluded
+operation; whirling round the handle of his wooden vice, the carpenter
+signs him to clap his jaw in that, if he would have him draw the tooth.
+
+Thus, this carpenter was prepared at all points, and alike indifferent
+and without respect in all. Teeth he accounted bits of ivory; heads he
+deemed but top-blocks; men themselves he lightly held for capstans. But
+while now upon so wide a field thus variously accomplished and with
+such liveliness of expertness in him, too; all this would seem to argue
+some uncommon vivacity of intelligence. But not precisely so. For
+nothing was this man more remarkable, than for a certain impersonal
+stolidity as it were; impersonal, I say; for it so shaded off into the
+surrounding infinite of things, that it seemed one with the general
+stolidity discernible in the whole visible world; which while
+pauselessly active in uncounted modes, still eternally holds its peace,
+and ignores you, though you dig foundations for cathedrals. Yet was
+this half-horrible stolidity in him, involving, too, as it appeared, an
+all-ramifying heartlessness;—yet was it oddly dashed at times, with an
+old, crutch-like, antediluvian, wheezing humorousness, not unstreaked
+now and then with a certain grizzled wittiness; such as might have
+served to pass the time during the midnight watch on the bearded
+forecastle of Noah’s ark. Was it that this old carpenter had been a
+life-long wanderer, whose much rolling, to and fro, not only had
+gathered no moss; but what is more, had rubbed off whatever small
+outward clingings might have originally pertained to him? He was a
+stript abstract; an unfractioned integral; uncompromised as a new-born
+babe; living without premeditated reference to this world or the next.
+You might almost say, that this strange uncompromisedness in him
+involved a sort of unintelligence; for in his numerous trades, he did
+not seem to work so much by reason or by instinct, or simply because he
+had been tutored to it, or by any intermixture of all these, even or
+uneven; but merely by a kind of deaf and dumb, spontaneous literal
+process. He was a pure manipulator; his brain, if he had ever had one,
+must have early oozed along into the muscles of his fingers. He was
+like one of those unreasoning but still highly useful, _multum in
+parvo_, Sheffield contrivances, assuming the exterior—though a little
+swelled—of a common pocket knife; but containing, not only blades of
+various sizes, but also screw-drivers, cork-screws, tweezers, awls,
+pens, rulers, nail-filers, countersinkers. So, if his superiors wanted
+to use the carpenter for a screw-driver, all they had to do was to open
+that part of him, and the screw was fast: or if for tweezers, take him
+up by the legs, and there they were.
+
+Yet, as previously hinted, this omnitooled, open-and-shut carpenter,
+was, after all, no mere machine of an automaton. If he did not have a
+common soul in him, he had a subtle something that somehow anomalously
+did its duty. What that was, whether essence of quicksilver, or a few
+drops of hartshorn, there is no telling. But there it was; and there it
+had abided for now some sixty years or more. And this it was, this same
+unaccountable, cunning life-principle in him; this it was, that kept
+him a great part of the time soliloquizing; but only like an
+unreasoning wheel, which also hummingly soliloquizes; or rather, his
+body was a sentry-box and this soliloquizer on guard there, and talking
+all the time to keep himself awake.
+
+
+CHAPTER 108. Ahab and the Carpenter.
+
+The Deck—First Night Watch.
+
+(_Carpenter standing before his vice-bench, and by the light of two
+lanterns busily filing the ivory joist for the leg, which joist is
+firmly fixed in the vice. Slabs of ivory, leather straps, pads, screws,
+and various tools of all sorts lying about the bench. Forward, the red
+flame of the forge is seen, where the blacksmith is at work._)
+
+Drat the file, and drat the bone! That is hard which should be soft,
+and that is soft which should be hard. So we go, who file old jaws and
+shinbones. Let’s try another. Aye, now, this works better (_sneezes_).
+Halloa, this bone dust is (_sneezes_)—why it’s (_sneezes_)—yes it’s
+(_sneezes_)—bless my soul, it won’t let me speak! This is what an old
+fellow gets now for working in dead lumber. Saw a live tree, and you
+don’t get this dust; amputate a live bone, and you don’t get it
+(_sneezes_). Come, come, you old Smut, there, bear a hand, and let’s
+have that ferule and buckle-screw; I’ll be ready for them presently.
+Lucky now (_sneezes_) there’s no knee-joint to make; that might puzzle
+a little; but a mere shinbone—why it’s easy as making hop-poles; only I
+should like to put a good finish on. Time, time; if I but only had the
+time, I could turn him out as neat a leg now as ever (_sneezes_)
+scraped to a lady in a parlor. Those buckskin legs and calves of legs
+I’ve seen in shop windows wouldn’t compare at all. They soak water,
+they do; and of course get rheumatic, and have to be doctored
+(_sneezes_) with washes and lotions, just like live legs. There; before
+I saw it off, now, I must call his old Mogulship, and see whether the
+length will be all right; too short, if anything, I guess. Ha! that’s
+the heel; we are in luck; here he comes, or it’s somebody else, that’s
+certain.
+
+AHAB (_advancing_). (_During the ensuing scene, the carpenter continues
+sneezing at times._)
+
+Well, manmaker!
+
+Just in time, sir. If the captain pleases, I will now mark the length.
+Let me measure, sir.
+
+Measured for a leg! good. Well, it’s not the first time. About it!
+There; keep thy finger on it. This is a cogent vice thou hast here,
+carpenter; let me feel its grip once. So, so; it does pinch some.
+
+Oh, sir, it will break bones—beware, beware!
+
+No fear; I like a good grip; I like to feel something in this slippery
+world that can hold, man. What’s Prometheus about there?—the
+blacksmith, I mean—what’s he about?
+
+He must be forging the buckle-screw, sir, now.
+
+Right. It’s a partnership; he supplies the muscle part. He makes a
+fierce red flame there!
+
+Aye, sir; he must have the white heat for this kind of fine work.
+
+Um-m. So he must. I do deem it now a most meaning thing, that that old
+Greek, Prometheus, who made men, they say, should have been a
+blacksmith, and animated them with fire; for what’s made in fire must
+properly belong to fire; and so hell’s probable. How the soot flies!
+This must be the remainder the Greek made the Africans of. Carpenter,
+when he’s through with that buckle, tell him to forge a pair of steel
+shoulder-blades; there’s a pedlar aboard with a crushing pack.
+
+Sir?
+
+Hold; while Prometheus is about it, I’ll order a complete man after a
+desirable pattern. Imprimis, fifty feet high in his socks; then, chest
+modelled after the Thames Tunnel; then, legs with roots to ’em, to stay
+in one place; then, arms three feet through the wrist; no heart at all,
+brass forehead, and about a quarter of an acre of fine brains; and let
+me see—shall I order eyes to see outwards? No, but put a sky-light on
+top of his head to illuminate inwards. There, take the order, and away.
+
+Now, what’s he speaking about, and who’s he speaking to, I should like
+to know? Shall I keep standing here? (_aside_).
+
+’Tis but indifferent architecture to make a blind dome; here’s one. No,
+no, no; I must have a lantern.
+
+Ho, ho! That’s it, hey? Here are two, sir; one will serve my turn.
+
+What art thou thrusting that thief-catcher into my face for, man?
+Thrusted light is worse than presented pistols.
+
+I thought, sir, that you spoke to carpenter.
+
+Carpenter? why that’s—but no;—a very tidy, and, I may say, an extremely
+gentlemanlike sort of business thou art in here, carpenter;—or would’st
+thou rather work in clay?
+
+Sir?—Clay? clay, sir? That’s mud; we leave clay to ditchers, sir.
+
+The fellow’s impious! What art thou sneezing about?
+
+Bone is rather dusty, sir.
+
+Take the hint, then; and when thou art dead, never bury thyself under
+living people’s noses.
+
+Sir?—oh! ah!—I guess so;—yes—oh, dear!
+
+Look ye, carpenter, I dare say thou callest thyself a right good
+workmanlike workman, eh? Well, then, will it speak thoroughly well for
+thy work, if, when I come to mount this leg thou makest, I shall
+nevertheless feel another leg in the same identical place with it; that
+is, carpenter, my old lost leg; the flesh and blood one, I mean. Canst
+thou not drive that old Adam away?
+
+Truly, sir, I begin to understand somewhat now. Yes, I have heard
+something curious on that score, sir; how that a dismasted man never
+entirely loses the feeling of his old spar, but it will be still
+pricking him at times. May I humbly ask if it be really so, sir?
+
+It is, man. Look, put thy live leg here in the place where mine once
+was; so, now, here is only one distinct leg to the eye, yet two to the
+soul. Where thou feelest tingling life; there, exactly there, there to
+a hair, do I. Is’t a riddle?
+
+I should humbly call it a poser, sir.
+
+Hist, then. How dost thou know that some entire, living, thinking thing
+may not be invisibly and uninterpenetratingly standing precisely where
+thou now standest; aye, and standing there in thy spite? In thy most
+solitary hours, then, dost thou not fear eavesdroppers? Hold, don’t
+speak! And if I still feel the smart of my crushed leg, though it be
+now so long dissolved; then, why mayst not thou, carpenter, feel the
+fiery pains of hell for ever, and without a body? Hah!
+
+Good Lord! Truly, sir, if it comes to that, I must calculate over
+again; I think I didn’t carry a small figure, sir.
+
+Look ye, pudding-heads should never grant premises.—How long before the
+leg is done?
+
+Perhaps an hour, sir.
+
+Bungle away at it then, and bring it to me (_turns to go_). Oh, Life!
+Here I am, proud as Greek god, and yet standing debtor to this
+blockhead for a bone to stand on! Cursed be that mortal
+inter-indebtedness which will not do away with ledgers. I would be free
+as air; and I’m down in the whole world’s books. I am so rich, I could
+have given bid for bid with the wealthiest Prætorians at the auction of
+the Roman empire (which was the world’s); and yet I owe for the flesh
+in the tongue I brag with. By heavens! I’ll get a crucible, and into
+it, and dissolve myself down to one small, compendious vertebra. So.
+
+CARPENTER (_resuming his work_).
+
+Well, well, well! Stubb knows him best of all, and Stubb always says
+he’s queer; says nothing but that one sufficient little word queer;
+he’s queer, says Stubb; he’s queer—queer, queer; and keeps dinning it
+into Mr. Starbuck all the time—queer—sir—queer, queer, very queer. And
+here’s his leg! Yes, now that I think of it, here’s his bedfellow! has
+a stick of whale’s jaw-bone for a wife! And this is his leg; he’ll
+stand on this. What was that now about one leg standing in three
+places, and all three places standing in one hell—how was that? Oh! I
+don’t wonder he looked so scornful at me! I’m a sort of
+strange-thoughted sometimes, they say; but that’s only haphazard-like.
+Then, a short, little old body like me, should never undertake to wade
+out into deep waters with tall, heron-built captains; the water chucks
+you under the chin pretty quick, and there’s a great cry for
+life-boats. And here’s the heron’s leg! long and slim, sure enough!
+Now, for most folks one pair of legs lasts a lifetime, and that must be
+because they use them mercifully, as a tender-hearted old lady uses her
+roly-poly old coach-horses. But Ahab; oh he’s a hard driver. Look,
+driven one leg to death, and spavined the other for life, and now wears
+out bone legs by the cord. Halloa, there, you Smut! bear a hand there
+with those screws, and let’s finish it before the resurrection fellow
+comes a-calling with his horn for all legs, true or false, as
+brewery-men go round collecting old beer barrels, to fill ’em up again.
+What a leg this is! It looks like a real live leg, filed down to
+nothing but the core; he’ll be standing on this to-morrow; he’ll be
+taking altitudes on it. Halloa! I almost forgot the little oval slate,
+smoothed ivory, where he figures up the latitude. So, so; chisel, file,
+and sand-paper, now!
+
+
+CHAPTER 109. Ahab and Starbuck in the Cabin.
+
+According to usage they were pumping the ship next morning; and lo! no
+inconsiderable oil came up with the water; the casks below must have
+sprung a bad leak. Much concern was shown; and Starbuck went down into
+the cabin to report this unfavourable affair.*
+
+*In Sperm-whalemen with any considerable quantity of oil on board, it
+is a regular semi-weekly duty to conduct a hose into the hold, and
+drench the casks with sea-water; which afterwards, at varying
+intervals, is removed by the ship’s pumps. Hereby the casks are sought
+to be kept damply tight; while by the changed character of the
+withdrawn water, the mariners readily detect any serious leakage in the
+precious cargo.
+
+Now, from the South and West the Pequod was drawing nigh to Formosa and
+the Bashee Isles, between which lies one of the tropical outlets from
+the China waters into the Pacific. And so Starbuck found Ahab with a
+general chart of the oriental archipelagoes spread before him; and
+another separate one representing the long eastern coasts of the
+Japanese islands—Niphon, Matsmai, and Sikoke. With his snow-white new
+ivory leg braced against the screwed leg of his table, and with a long
+pruning-hook of a jack-knife in his hand, the wondrous old man, with
+his back to the gangway door, was wrinkling his brow, and tracing his
+old courses again.
+
+“Who’s there?” hearing the footstep at the door, but not turning round
+to it. “On deck! Begone!”
+
+“Captain Ahab mistakes; it is I. The oil in the hold is leaking, sir.
+We must up Burtons and break out.”
+
+“Up Burtons and break out? Now that we are nearing Japan; heave-to here
+for a week to tinker a parcel of old hoops?”
+
+“Either do that, sir, or waste in one day more oil than we may make
+good in a year. What we come twenty thousand miles to get is worth
+saving, sir.”
+
+“So it is, so it is; if we get it.”
+
+“I was speaking of the oil in the hold, sir.”
+
+“And I was not speaking or thinking of that at all. Begone! Let it
+leak! I’m all aleak myself. Aye! leaks in leaks! not only full of leaky
+casks, but those leaky casks are in a leaky ship; and that’s a far
+worse plight than the Pequod’s, man. Yet I don’t stop to plug my leak;
+for who can find it in the deep-loaded hull; or how hope to plug it,
+even if found, in this life’s howling gale? Starbuck! I’ll not have the
+Burtons hoisted.”
+
+“What will the owners say, sir?”
+
+“Let the owners stand on Nantucket beach and outyell the Typhoons. What
+cares Ahab? Owners, owners? Thou art always prating to me, Starbuck,
+about those miserly owners, as if the owners were my conscience. But
+look ye, the only real owner of anything is its commander; and hark ye,
+my conscience is in this ship’s keel.—On deck!”
+
+“Captain Ahab,” said the reddening mate, moving further into the cabin,
+with a daring so strangely respectful and cautious that it almost
+seemed not only every way seeking to avoid the slightest outward
+manifestation of itself, but within also seemed more than half
+distrustful of itself; “A better man than I might well pass over in
+thee what he would quickly enough resent in a younger man; aye, and in
+a happier, Captain Ahab.”
+
+“Devils! Dost thou then so much as dare to critically think of me?—On
+deck!”
+
+“Nay, sir, not yet; I do entreat. And I do dare, sir—to be forbearing!
+Shall we not understand each other better than hitherto, Captain Ahab?”
+
+Ahab seized a loaded musket from the rack (forming part of most
+South-Sea-men’s cabin furniture), and pointing it towards Starbuck,
+exclaimed: “There is one God that is Lord over the earth, and one
+Captain that is lord over the Pequod.—On deck!”
+
+For an instant in the flashing eyes of the mate, and his fiery cheeks,
+you would have almost thought that he had really received the blaze of
+the levelled tube. But, mastering his emotion, he half calmly rose, and
+as he quitted the cabin, paused for an instant and said: “Thou hast
+outraged, not insulted me, sir; but for that I ask thee not to beware
+of Starbuck; thou wouldst but laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab;
+beware of thyself, old man.”
+
+“He waxes brave, but nevertheless obeys; most careful bravery that!”
+murmured Ahab, as Starbuck disappeared. “What’s that he said—Ahab
+beware of Ahab—there’s something there!” Then unconsciously using the
+musket for a staff, with an iron brow he paced to and fro in the little
+cabin; but presently the thick plaits of his forehead relaxed, and
+returning the gun to the rack, he went to the deck.
+
+“Thou art but too good a fellow, Starbuck,” he said lowly to the mate;
+then raising his voice to the crew: “Furl the t’gallant-sails, and
+close-reef the top-sails, fore and aft; back the main-yard; up Burton,
+and break out in the main-hold.”
+
+It were perhaps vain to surmise exactly why it was, that as respecting
+Starbuck, Ahab thus acted. It may have been a flash of honesty in him;
+or mere prudential policy which, under the circumstance, imperiously
+forbade the slightest symptom of open disaffection, however transient,
+in the important chief officer of his ship. However it was, his orders
+were executed; and the Burtons were hoisted.
+
+
+CHAPTER 110. Queequeg in His Coffin.
+
+Upon searching, it was found that the casks last struck into the hold
+were perfectly sound, and that the leak must be further off. So, it
+being calm weather, they broke out deeper and deeper, disturbing the
+slumbers of the huge ground-tier butts; and from that black midnight
+sending those gigantic moles into the daylight above. So deep did they
+go; and so ancient, and corroded, and weedy the aspect of the lowermost
+puncheons, that you almost looked next for some mouldy corner-stone
+cask containing coins of Captain Noah, with copies of the posted
+placards, vainly warning the infatuated old world from the flood.
+Tierce after tierce, too, of water, and bread, and beef, and shooks of
+staves, and iron bundles of hoops, were hoisted out, till at last the
+piled decks were hard to get about; and the hollow hull echoed under
+foot, as if you were treading over empty catacombs, and reeled and
+rolled in the sea like an air-freighted demijohn. Top-heavy was the
+ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head. Well was
+it that the Typhoons did not visit them then.
+
+Now, at this time it was that my poor pagan companion, and fast
+bosom-friend, Queequeg, was seized with a fever, which brought him nigh
+to his endless end.
+
+Be it said, that in this vocation of whaling, sinecures are unknown;
+dignity and danger go hand in hand; till you get to be Captain, the
+higher you rise the harder you toil. So with poor Queequeg, who, as
+harpooneer, must not only face all the rage of the living whale, but—as
+we have elsewhere seen—mount his dead back in a rolling sea; and
+finally descend into the gloom of the hold, and bitterly sweating all
+day in that subterraneous confinement, resolutely manhandle the
+clumsiest casks and see to their stowage. To be short, among whalemen,
+the harpooneers are the holders, so called.
+
+Poor Queequeg! when the ship was about half disembowelled, you should
+have stooped over the hatchway, and peered down upon him there; where,
+stripped to his woollen drawers, the tattooed savage was crawling about
+amid that dampness and slime, like a green spotted lizard at the bottom
+of a well. And a well, or an ice-house, it somehow proved to him, poor
+pagan; where, strange to say, for all the heat of his sweatings, he
+caught a terrible chill which lapsed into a fever; and at last, after
+some days’ suffering, laid him in his hammock, close to the very sill
+of the door of death. How he wasted and wasted away in those few
+long-lingering days, till there seemed but little left of him but his
+frame and tattooing. But as all else in him thinned, and his
+cheek-bones grew sharper, his eyes, nevertheless, seemed growing fuller
+and fuller; they became of a strange softness of lustre; and mildly but
+deeply looked out at you there from his sickness, a wondrous testimony
+to that immortal health in him which could not die, or be weakened. And
+like circles on the water, which, as they grow fainter, expand; so his
+eyes seemed rounding and rounding, like the rings of Eternity. An awe
+that cannot be named would steal over you as you sat by the side of
+this waning savage, and saw as strange things in his face, as any
+beheld who were bystanders when Zoroaster died. For whatever is truly
+wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books. And
+the drawing near of Death, which alike levels all, alike impresses all
+with a last revelation, which only an author from the dead could
+adequately tell. So that—let us say it again—no dying Chaldee or Greek
+had higher and holier thoughts than those, whose mysterious shades you
+saw creeping over the face of poor Queequeg, as he quietly lay in his
+swaying hammock, and the rolling sea seemed gently rocking him to his
+final rest, and the ocean’s invisible flood-tide lifted him higher and
+higher towards his destined heaven.
+
+Not a man of the crew but gave him up; and, as for Queequeg himself,
+what he thought of his case was forcibly shown by a curious favour he
+asked. He called one to him in the grey morning watch, when the day was
+just breaking, and taking his hand, said that while in Nantucket he had
+chanced to see certain little canoes of dark wood, like the rich
+war-wood of his native isle; and upon inquiry, he had learned that all
+whalemen who died in Nantucket, were laid in those same dark canoes,
+and that the fancy of being so laid had much pleased him; for it was
+not unlike the custom of his own race, who, after embalming a dead
+warrior, stretched him out in his canoe, and so left him to be floated
+away to the starry archipelagoes; for not only do they believe that the
+stars are isles, but that far beyond all visible horizons, their own
+mild, uncontinented seas, interflow with the blue heavens; and so form
+the white breakers of the milky way. He added, that he shuddered at the
+thought of being buried in his hammock, according to the usual
+sea-custom, tossed like something vile to the death-devouring sharks.
+No: he desired a canoe like those of Nantucket, all the more congenial
+to him, being a whaleman, that like a whale-boat these coffin-canoes
+were without a keel; though that involved but uncertain steering, and
+much lee-way adown the dim ages.
+
+Now, when this strange circumstance was made known aft, the carpenter
+was at once commanded to do Queequeg’s bidding, whatever it might
+include. There was some heathenish, coffin-coloured old lumber aboard,
+which, upon a long previous voyage, had been cut from the aboriginal
+groves of the Lackaday islands, and from these dark planks the coffin
+was recommended to be made. No sooner was the carpenter apprised of the
+order, than taking his rule, he forthwith with all the indifferent
+promptitude of his character, proceeded into the forecastle and took
+Queequeg’s measure with great accuracy, regularly chalking Queequeg’s
+person as he shifted the rule.
+
+“Ah! poor fellow! he’ll have to die now,” ejaculated the Long Island
+sailor.
+
+Going to his vice-bench, the carpenter for convenience sake and general
+reference, now transferringly measured on it the exact length the
+coffin was to be, and then made the transfer permanent by cutting two
+notches at its extremities. This done, he marshalled the planks and his
+tools, and to work.
+
+When the last nail was driven, and the lid duly planed and fitted, he
+lightly shouldered the coffin and went forward with it, inquiring
+whether they were ready for it yet in that direction.
+
+Overhearing the indignant but half-humorous cries with which the people
+on deck began to drive the coffin away, Queequeg, to every one’s
+consternation, commanded that the thing should be instantly brought to
+him, nor was there any denying him; seeing that, of all mortals, some
+dying men are the most tyrannical; and certainly, since they will
+shortly trouble us so little for evermore, the poor fellows ought to be
+indulged.
+
+Leaning over in his hammock, Queequeg long regarded the coffin with an
+attentive eye. He then called for his harpoon, had the wooden stock
+drawn from it, and then had the iron part placed in the coffin along
+with one of the paddles of his boat. All by his own request, also,
+biscuits were then ranged round the sides within: a flask of fresh
+water was placed at the head, and a small bag of woody earth scraped up
+in the hold at the foot; and a piece of sail-cloth being rolled up for
+a pillow, Queequeg now entreated to be lifted into his final bed, that
+he might make trial of its comforts, if any it had. He lay without
+moving a few minutes, then told one to go to his bag and bring out his
+little god, Yojo. Then crossing his arms on his breast with Yojo
+between, he called for the coffin lid (hatch he called it) to be placed
+over him. The head part turned over with a leather hinge, and there lay
+Queequeg in his coffin with little but his composed countenance in
+view. “Rarmai” (it will do; it is easy), he murmured at last, and
+signed to be replaced in his hammock.
+
+But ere this was done, Pip, who had been slily hovering near by all
+this while, drew nigh to him where he lay, and with soft sobbings, took
+him by the hand; in the other, holding his tambourine.
+
+“Poor rover! will ye never have done with all this weary roving? where
+go ye now? But if the currents carry ye to those sweet Antilles where
+the beaches are only beat with water-lilies, will ye do one little
+errand for me? Seek out one Pip, who’s now been missing long: I think
+he’s in those far Antilles. If ye find him, then comfort him; for he
+must be very sad; for look! he’s left his tambourine behind;—I found
+it. Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Now, Queequeg, die; and I’ll beat ye your
+dying march.”
+
+“I have heard,” murmured Starbuck, gazing down the scuttle, “that in
+violent fevers, men, all ignorance, have talked in ancient tongues; and
+that when the mystery is probed, it turns out always that in their
+wholly forgotten childhood those ancient tongues had been really spoken
+in their hearing by some lofty scholars. So, to my fond faith, poor
+Pip, in this strange sweetness of his lunacy, brings heavenly vouchers
+of all our heavenly homes. Where learned he that, but there?—Hark! he
+speaks again: but more wildly now.”
+
+“Form two and two! Let’s make a General of him! Ho, where’s his
+harpoon? Lay it across here.—Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! huzza! Oh for a game
+cock now to sit upon his head and crow! Queequeg dies game!—mind ye
+that; Queequeg dies game!—take ye good heed of that; Queequeg dies
+game! I say; game, game, game! but base little Pip, he died a coward;
+died all a’shiver;—out upon Pip! Hark ye; if ye find Pip, tell all the
+Antilles he’s a runaway; a coward, a coward, a coward! Tell them he
+jumped from a whale-boat! I’d never beat my tambourine over base Pip,
+and hail him General, if he were once more dying here. No, no! shame
+upon all cowards—shame upon them! Let ’em go drown like Pip, that
+jumped from a whale-boat. Shame! shame!”
+
+During all this, Queequeg lay with closed eyes, as if in a dream. Pip
+was led away, and the sick man was replaced in his hammock.
+
+But now that he had apparently made every preparation for death; now
+that his coffin was proved a good fit, Queequeg suddenly rallied; soon
+there seemed no need of the carpenter’s box: and thereupon, when some
+expressed their delighted surprise, he, in substance, said, that the
+cause of his sudden convalescence was this;—at a critical moment, he
+had just recalled a little duty ashore, which he was leaving undone;
+and therefore had changed his mind about dying: he could not die yet,
+he averred. They asked him, then, whether to live or die was a matter
+of his own sovereign will and pleasure. He answered, certainly. In a
+word, it was Queequeg’s conceit, that if a man made up his mind to
+live, mere sickness could not kill him: nothing but a whale, or a gale,
+or some violent, ungovernable, unintelligent destroyer of that sort.
+
+Now, there is this noteworthy difference between savage and civilized;
+that while a sick, civilized man may be six months convalescing,
+generally speaking, a sick savage is almost half-well again in a day.
+So, in good time my Queequeg gained strength; and at length after
+sitting on the windlass for a few indolent days (but eating with a
+vigorous appetite) he suddenly leaped to his feet, threw out his arms
+and legs, gave himself a good stretching, yawned a little bit, and then
+springing into the head of his hoisted boat, and poising a harpoon,
+pronounced himself fit for a fight.
+
+With a wild whimsiness, he now used his coffin for a sea-chest; and
+emptying into it his canvas bag of clothes, set them in order there.
+Many spare hours he spent, in carving the lid with all manner of
+grotesque figures and drawings; and it seemed that hereby he was
+striving, in his rude way, to copy parts of the twisted tattooing on
+his body. And this tattooing had been the work of a departed prophet
+and seer of his island, who, by those hieroglyphic marks, had written
+out on his body a complete theory of the heavens and the earth, and a
+mystical treatise on the art of attaining truth; so that Queequeg in
+his own proper person was a riddle to unfold; a wondrous work in one
+volume; but whose mysteries not even himself could read, though his own
+live heart beat against them; and these mysteries were therefore
+destined in the end to moulder away with the living parchment whereon
+they were inscribed, and so be unsolved to the last. And this thought
+it must have been which suggested to Ahab that wild exclamation of his,
+when one morning turning away from surveying poor Queequeg—“Oh,
+devilish tantalization of the gods!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 111. The Pacific.
+
+When gliding by the Bashee isles we emerged at last upon the great
+South Sea; were it not for other things, I could have greeted my dear
+Pacific with uncounted thanks, for now the long supplication of my
+youth was answered; that serene ocean rolled eastwards from me a
+thousand leagues of blue.
+
+There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently
+awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath; like those
+fabled undulations of the Ephesian sod over the buried Evangelist St.
+John. And meet it is, that over these sea-pastures, wide-rolling watery
+prairies and Potters’ Fields of all four continents, the waves should
+rise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly; for here, millions of
+mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all
+that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing
+like slumberers in their beds; the ever-rolling waves but made so by
+their restlessness.
+
+To any meditative Magian rover, this serene Pacific, once beheld, must
+ever after be the sea of his adoption. It rolls the midmost waters of
+the world, the Indian ocean and Atlantic being but its arms. The same
+waves wash the moles of the new-built Californian towns, but yesterday
+planted by the recentest race of men, and lave the faded but still
+gorgeous skirts of Asiatic lands, older than Abraham; while all between
+float milky-ways of coral isles, and low-lying, endless, unknown
+Archipelagoes, and impenetrable Japans. Thus this mysterious, divine
+Pacific zones the world’s whole bulk about; makes all coasts one bay to
+it; seems the tide-beating heart of earth. Lifted by those eternal
+swells, you needs must own the seductive god, bowing your head to Pan.
+
+But few thoughts of Pan stirred Ahab’s brain, as standing like an iron
+statue at his accustomed place beside the mizen rigging, with one
+nostril he unthinkingly snuffed the sugary musk from the Bashee isles
+(in whose sweet woods mild lovers must be walking), and with the other
+consciously inhaled the salt breath of the new found sea; that sea in
+which the hated White Whale must even then be swimming. Launched at
+length upon these almost final waters, and gliding towards the Japanese
+cruising-ground, the old man’s purpose intensified itself. His firm
+lips met like the lips of a vice; the Delta of his forehead’s veins
+swelled like overladen brooks; in his very sleep, his ringing cry ran
+through the vaulted hull, “Stern all! the White Whale spouts thick
+blood!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 112. The Blacksmith.
+
+Availing himself of the mild, summer-cool weather that now reigned in
+these latitudes, and in preparation for the peculiarly active pursuits
+shortly to be anticipated, Perth, the begrimed, blistered old
+blacksmith, had not removed his portable forge to the hold again, after
+concluding his contributory work for Ahab’s leg, but still retained it
+on deck, fast lashed to ringbolts by the foremast; being now almost
+incessantly invoked by the headsmen, and harpooneers, and bowsmen to do
+some little job for them; altering, or repairing, or new shaping their
+various weapons and boat furniture. Often he would be surrounded by an
+eager circle, all waiting to be served; holding boat-spades,
+pike-heads, harpoons, and lances, and jealously watching his every
+sooty movement, as he toiled. Nevertheless, this old man’s was a
+patient hammer wielded by a patient arm. No murmur, no impatience, no
+petulance did come from him. Silent, slow, and solemn; bowing over
+still further his chronically broken back, he toiled away, as if toil
+were life itself, and the heavy beating of his hammer the heavy beating
+of his heart. And so it was.—Most miserable!
+
+A peculiar walk in this old man, a certain slight but painful appearing
+yawing in his gait, had at an early period of the voyage excited the
+curiosity of the mariners. And to the importunity of their persisted
+questionings he had finally given in; and so it came to pass that every
+one now knew the shameful story of his wretched fate.
+
+Belated, and not innocently, one bitter winter’s midnight, on the road
+running between two country towns, the blacksmith half-stupidly felt
+the deadly numbness stealing over him, and sought refuge in a leaning,
+dilapidated barn. The issue was, the loss of the extremities of both
+feet. Out of this revelation, part by part, at last came out the four
+acts of the gladness, and the one long, and as yet uncatastrophied
+fifth act of the grief of his life’s drama.
+
+He was an old man, who, at the age of nearly sixty, had postponedly
+encountered that thing in sorrow’s technicals called ruin. He had been
+an artisan of famed excellence, and with plenty to do; owned a house
+and garden; embraced a youthful, daughter-like, loving wife, and three
+blithe, ruddy children; every Sunday went to a cheerful-looking church,
+planted in a grove. But one night, under cover of darkness, and further
+concealed in a most cunning disguisement, a desperate burglar slid into
+his happy home, and robbed them all of everything. And darker yet to
+tell, the blacksmith himself did ignorantly conduct this burglar into
+his family’s heart. It was the Bottle Conjuror! Upon the opening of
+that fatal cork, forth flew the fiend, and shrivelled up his home. Now,
+for prudent, most wise, and economic reasons, the blacksmith’s shop was
+in the basement of his dwelling, but with a separate entrance to it; so
+that always had the young and loving healthy wife listened with no
+unhappy nervousness, but with vigorous pleasure, to the stout ringing
+of her young-armed old husband’s hammer; whose reverberations, muffled
+by passing through the floors and walls, came up to her, not unsweetly,
+in her nursery; and so, to stout Labor’s iron lullaby, the blacksmith’s
+infants were rocked to slumber.
+
+Oh, woe on woe! Oh, Death, why canst thou not sometimes be timely?
+Hadst thou taken this old blacksmith to thyself ere his full ruin came
+upon him, then had the young widow had a delicious grief, and her
+orphans a truly venerable, legendary sire to dream of in their after
+years; and all of them a care-killing competency. But Death plucked
+down some virtuous elder brother, on whose whistling daily toil solely
+hung the responsibilities of some other family, and left the worse than
+useless old man standing, till the hideous rot of life should make him
+easier to harvest.
+
+Why tell the whole? The blows of the basement hammer every day grew
+more and more between; and each blow every day grew fainter than the
+last; the wife sat frozen at the window, with tearless eyes,
+glitteringly gazing into the weeping faces of her children; the bellows
+fell; the forge choked up with cinders; the house was sold; the mother
+dived down into the long church-yard grass; her children twice followed
+her thither; and the houseless, familyless old man staggered off a
+vagabond in crape; his every woe unreverenced; his grey head a scorn to
+flaxen curls!
+
+Death seems the only desirable sequel for a career like this; but Death
+is only a launching into the region of the strange Untried; it is but
+the first salutation to the possibilities of the immense Remote, the
+Wild, the Watery, the Unshored; therefore, to the death-longing eyes of
+such men, who still have left in them some interior compunctions
+against suicide, does the all-contributed and all-receptive ocean
+alluringly spread forth his whole plain of unimaginable, taking
+terrors, and wonderful, new-life adventures; and from the hearts of
+infinite Pacifics, the thousand mermaids sing to them—“Come hither,
+broken-hearted; here is another life without the guilt of intermediate
+death; here are wonders supernatural, without dying for them. Come
+hither! bury thyself in a life which, to your now equally abhorred and
+abhorring, landed world, is more oblivious than death. Come hither! put
+up _thy_ gravestone, too, within the churchyard, and come hither, till
+we marry thee!”
+
+Hearkening to these voices, East and West, by early sunrise, and by
+fall of eve, the blacksmith’s soul responded, Aye, I come! And so Perth
+went a-whaling.
+
+
+CHAPTER 113. The Forge.
+
+With matted beard, and swathed in a bristling shark-skin apron, about
+mid-day, Perth was standing between his forge and anvil, the latter
+placed upon an iron-wood log, with one hand holding a pike-head in the
+coals, and with the other at his forge’s lungs, when Captain Ahab came
+along, carrying in his hand a small rusty-looking leathern bag. While
+yet a little distance from the forge, moody Ahab paused; till at last,
+Perth, withdrawing his iron from the fire, began hammering it upon the
+anvil—the red mass sending off the sparks in thick hovering flights,
+some of which flew close to Ahab.
+
+“Are these thy Mother Carey’s chickens, Perth? they are always flying
+in thy wake; birds of good omen, too, but not to all;—look here, they
+burn; but thou—thou liv’st among them without a scorch.”
+
+“Because I am scorched all over, Captain Ahab,” answered Perth, resting
+for a moment on his hammer; “I am past scorching; not easily can’st
+thou scorch a scar.”
+
+“Well, well; no more. Thy shrunk voice sounds too calmly, sanely woeful
+to me. In no Paradise myself, I am impatient of all misery in others
+that is not mad. Thou should’st go mad, blacksmith; say, why dost thou
+not go mad? How can’st thou endure without being mad? Do the heavens
+yet hate thee, that thou can’st not go mad?—What wert thou making
+there?”
+
+“Welding an old pike-head, sir; there were seams and dents in it.”
+
+“And can’st thou make it all smooth again, blacksmith, after such hard
+usage as it had?”
+
+“I think so, sir.”
+
+“And I suppose thou can’st smoothe almost any seams and dents; never
+mind how hard the metal, blacksmith?”
+
+“Aye, sir, I think I can; all seams and dents but one.”
+
+“Look ye here, then,” cried Ahab, passionately advancing, and leaning
+with both hands on Perth’s shoulders; “look ye here—_here_—can ye
+smoothe out a seam like this, blacksmith,” sweeping one hand across his
+ribbed brow; “if thou could’st, blacksmith, glad enough would I lay my
+head upon thy anvil, and feel thy heaviest hammer between my eyes.
+Answer! Can’st thou smoothe this seam?”
+
+“Oh! that is the one, sir! Said I not all seams and dents but one?”
+
+“Aye, blacksmith, it is the one; aye, man, it is unsmoothable; for
+though thou only see’st it here in my flesh, it has worked down into
+the bone of my skull—_that_ is all wrinkles! But, away with child’s
+play; no more gaffs and pikes to-day. Look ye here!” jingling the
+leathern bag, as if it were full of gold coins. “I, too, want a harpoon
+made; one that a thousand yoke of fiends could not part, Perth;
+something that will stick in a whale like his own fin-bone. There’s the
+stuff,” flinging the pouch upon the anvil. “Look ye, blacksmith, these
+are the gathered nail-stubbs of the steel shoes of racing horses.”
+
+“Horse-shoe stubbs, sir? Why, Captain Ahab, thou hast here, then, the
+best and stubbornest stuff we blacksmiths ever work.”
+
+“I know it, old man; these stubbs will weld together like glue from the
+melted bones of murderers. Quick! forge me the harpoon. And forge me
+first, twelve rods for its shank; then wind, and twist, and hammer
+these twelve together like the yarns and strands of a tow-line. Quick!
+I’ll blow the fire.”
+
+When at last the twelve rods were made, Ahab tried them, one by one, by
+spiralling them, with his own hand, round a long, heavy iron bolt. “A
+flaw!” rejecting the last one. “Work that over again, Perth.”
+
+This done, Perth was about to begin welding the twelve into one, when
+Ahab stayed his hand, and said he would weld his own iron. As, then,
+with regular, gasping hems, he hammered on the anvil, Perth passing to
+him the glowing rods, one after the other, and the hard pressed forge
+shooting up its intense straight flame, the Parsee passed silently, and
+bowing over his head towards the fire, seemed invoking some curse or
+some blessing on the toil. But, as Ahab looked up, he slid aside.
+
+“What’s that bunch of lucifers dodging about there for?” muttered
+Stubb, looking on from the forecastle. “That Parsee smells fire like a
+fusee; and smells of it himself, like a hot musket’s powder-pan.”
+
+At last the shank, in one complete rod, received its final heat; and as
+Perth, to temper it, plunged it all hissing into the cask of water near
+by, the scalding steam shot up into Ahab’s bent face.
+
+“Would’st thou brand me, Perth?” wincing for a moment with the pain;
+“have I been but forging my own branding-iron, then?”
+
+“Pray God, not that; yet I fear something, Captain Ahab. Is not this
+harpoon for the White Whale?”
+
+“For the white fiend! But now for the barbs; thou must make them
+thyself, man. Here are my razors—the best of steel; here, and make the
+barbs sharp as the needle-sleet of the Icy Sea.”
+
+For a moment, the old blacksmith eyed the razors as though he would
+fain not use them.
+
+“Take them, man, I have no need for them; for I now neither shave, sup,
+nor pray till—but here—to work!”
+
+Fashioned at last into an arrowy shape, and welded by Perth to the
+shank, the steel soon pointed the end of the iron; and as the
+blacksmith was about giving the barbs their final heat, prior to
+tempering them, he cried to Ahab to place the water-cask near.
+
+“No, no—no water for that; I want it of the true death-temper. Ahoy,
+there! Tashtego, Queequeg, Daggoo! What say ye, pagans! Will ye give me
+as much blood as will cover this barb?” holding it high up. A cluster
+of dark nods replied, Yes. Three punctures were made in the heathen
+flesh, and the White Whale’s barbs were then tempered.
+
+“Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!”
+deliriously howled Ahab, as the malignant iron scorchingly devoured the
+baptismal blood.
+
+Now, mustering the spare poles from below, and selecting one of
+hickory, with the bark still investing it, Ahab fitted the end to the
+socket of the iron. A coil of new tow-line was then unwound, and some
+fathoms of it taken to the windlass, and stretched to a great tension.
+Pressing his foot upon it, till the rope hummed like a harp-string,
+then eagerly bending over it, and seeing no strandings, Ahab exclaimed,
+“Good! and now for the seizings.”
+
+At one extremity the rope was unstranded, and the separate spread yarns
+were all braided and woven round the socket of the harpoon; the pole
+was then driven hard up into the socket; from the lower end the rope
+was traced half-way along the pole’s length, and firmly secured so,
+with intertwistings of twine. This done, pole, iron, and rope—like the
+Three Fates—remained inseparable, and Ahab moodily stalked away with
+the weapon; the sound of his ivory leg, and the sound of the hickory
+pole, both hollowly ringing along every plank. But ere he entered his
+cabin, light, unnatural, half-bantering, yet most piteous sound was
+heard. Oh, Pip! thy wretched laugh, thy idle but unresting eye; all thy
+strange mummeries not unmeaningly blended with the black tragedy of the
+melancholy ship, and mocked it!
+
+
+CHAPTER 114. The Gilder.
+
+Penetrating further and further into the heart of the Japanese cruising
+ground, the Pequod was soon all astir in the fishery. Often, in mild,
+pleasant weather, for twelve, fifteen, eighteen, and twenty hours on
+the stretch, they were engaged in the boats, steadily pulling, or
+sailing, or paddling after the whales, or for an interlude of sixty or
+seventy minutes calmly awaiting their uprising; though with but small
+success for their pains.
+
+At such times, under an abated sun; afloat all day upon smooth, slow
+heaving swells; seated in his boat, light as a birch canoe; and so
+sociably mixing with the soft waves themselves, that like hearth-stone
+cats they purr against the gunwale; these are the times of dreamy
+quietude, when beholding the tranquil beauty and brilliancy of the
+ocean’s skin, one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it; and
+would not willingly remember, that this velvet paw but conceals a
+remorseless fang.
+
+These are the times, when in his whale-boat the rover softly feels a
+certain filial, confident, land-like feeling towards the sea; that he
+regards it as so much flowery earth; and the distant ship revealing
+only the tops of her masts, seems struggling forward, not through high
+rolling waves, but through the tall grass of a rolling prairie: as when
+the western emigrants’ horses only show their erected ears, while their
+hidden bodies widely wade through the amazing verdure.
+
+The long-drawn virgin vales; the mild blue hill-sides; as over these
+there steals the hush, the hum; you almost swear that play-wearied
+children lie sleeping in these solitudes, in some glad May-time, when
+the flowers of the woods are plucked. And all this mixes with your most
+mystic mood; so that fact and fancy, half-way meeting, interpenetrate,
+and form one seamless whole.
+
+Nor did such soothing scenes, however temporary, fail of at least as
+temporary an effect on Ahab. But if these secret golden keys did seem
+to open in him his own secret golden treasuries, yet did his breath
+upon them prove but tarnishing.
+
+Oh, grassy glades! oh, ever vernal endless landscapes in the soul; in
+ye,—though long parched by the dead drought of the earthy life,—in ye,
+men yet may roll, like young horses in new morning clover; and for some
+few fleeting moments, feel the cool dew of the life immortal on them.
+Would to God these blessed calms would last. But the mingled, mingling
+threads of life are woven by warp and woof: calms crossed by storms, a
+storm for every calm. There is no steady unretracing progress in this
+life; we do not advance through fixed gradations, and at the last one
+pause:—through infancy’s unconscious spell, boyhood’s thoughtless
+faith, adolescence’ doubt (the common doom), then scepticism, then
+disbelief, resting at last in manhood’s pondering repose of If. But
+once gone through, we trace the round again; and are infants, boys, and
+men, and Ifs eternally. Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor
+no more? In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will
+never weary? Where is the foundling’s father hidden? Our souls are like
+those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of
+our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.
+
+And that same day, too, gazing far down from his boat’s side into that
+same golden sea, Starbuck lowly murmured:—
+
+“Loveliness unfathomable, as ever lover saw in his young bride’s
+eye!—Tell me not of thy teeth-tiered sharks, and thy kidnapping
+cannibal ways. Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep
+down and do believe.”
+
+And Stubb, fish-like, with sparkling scales, leaped up in that same
+golden light:—
+
+“I am Stubb, and Stubb has his history; but here Stubb takes oaths that
+he has always been jolly!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 115. The Pequod Meets The Bachelor.
+
+And jolly enough were the sights and the sounds that came bearing down
+before the wind, some few weeks after Ahab’s harpoon had been welded.
+
+It was a Nantucket ship, the Bachelor, which had just wedged in her
+last cask of oil, and bolted down her bursting hatches; and now, in
+glad holiday apparel, was joyously, though somewhat vain-gloriously,
+sailing round among the widely-separated ships on the ground, previous
+to pointing her prow for home.
+
+The three men at her mast-head wore long streamers of narrow red
+bunting at their hats; from the stern, a whale-boat was suspended,
+bottom down; and hanging captive from the bowsprit was seen the long
+lower jaw of the last whale they had slain. Signals, ensigns, and jacks
+of all colours were flying from her rigging, on every side. Sideways
+lashed in each of her three basketed tops were two barrels of sperm;
+above which, in her top-mast cross-trees, you saw slender breakers of
+the same precious fluid; and nailed to her main truck was a brazen
+lamp.
+
+As was afterwards learned, the Bachelor had met with the most
+surprising success; all the more wonderful, for that while cruising in
+the same seas numerous other vessels had gone entire months without
+securing a single fish. Not only had barrels of beef and bread been
+given away to make room for the far more valuable sperm, but additional
+supplemental casks had been bartered for, from the ships she had met;
+and these were stowed along the deck, and in the captain’s and
+officers’ state-rooms. Even the cabin table itself had been knocked
+into kindling-wood; and the cabin mess dined off the broad head of an
+oil-butt, lashed down to the floor for a centrepiece. In the
+forecastle, the sailors had actually caulked and pitched their chests,
+and filled them; it was humorously added, that the cook had clapped a
+head on his largest boiler, and filled it; that the steward had plugged
+his spare coffee-pot and filled it; that the harpooneers had headed the
+sockets of their irons and filled them; that indeed everything was
+filled with sperm, except the captain’s pantaloons pockets, and those
+he reserved to thrust his hands into, in self-complacent testimony of
+his entire satisfaction.
+
+As this glad ship of good luck bore down upon the moody Pequod, the
+barbarian sound of enormous drums came from her forecastle; and drawing
+still nearer, a crowd of her men were seen standing round her huge
+try-pots, which, covered with the parchment-like _poke_ or stomach skin
+of the black fish, gave forth a loud roar to every stroke of the
+clenched hands of the crew. On the quarter-deck, the mates and
+harpooneers were dancing with the olive-hued girls who had eloped with
+them from the Polynesian Isles; while suspended in an ornamented boat,
+firmly secured aloft between the foremast and mainmast, three Long
+Island negroes, with glittering fiddle-bows of whale ivory, were
+presiding over the hilarious jig. Meanwhile, others of the ship’s
+company were tumultuously busy at the masonry of the try-works, from
+which the huge pots had been removed. You would have almost thought
+they were pulling down the cursed Bastille, such wild cries they
+raised, as the now useless brick and mortar were being hurled into the
+sea.
+
+Lord and master over all this scene, the captain stood erect on the
+ship’s elevated quarter-deck, so that the whole rejoicing drama was
+full before him, and seemed merely contrived for his own individual
+diversion.
+
+And Ahab, he too was standing on his quarter-deck, shaggy and black,
+with a stubborn gloom; and as the two ships crossed each other’s
+wakes—one all jubilations for things passed, the other all forebodings
+as to things to come—their two captains in themselves impersonated the
+whole striking contrast of the scene.
+
+“Come aboard, come aboard!” cried the gay Bachelor’s commander, lifting
+a glass and a bottle in the air.
+
+“Hast seen the White Whale?” gritted Ahab in reply.
+
+“No; only heard of him; but don’t believe in him at all,” said the
+other good-humoredly. “Come aboard!”
+
+“Thou art too damned jolly. Sail on. Hast lost any men?”
+
+“Not enough to speak of—two islanders, that’s all;—but come aboard, old
+hearty, come along. I’ll soon take that black from your brow. Come
+along, will ye (merry’s the play); a full ship and homeward-bound.”
+
+“How wondrous familiar is a fool!” muttered Ahab; then aloud, “Thou art
+a full ship and homeward bound, thou sayst; well, then, call me an
+empty ship, and outward-bound. So go thy ways, and I will mine. Forward
+there! Set all sail, and keep her to the wind!”
+
+And thus, while the one ship went cheerily before the breeze, the other
+stubbornly fought against it; and so the two vessels parted; the crew
+of the Pequod looking with grave, lingering glances towards the
+receding Bachelor; but the Bachelor’s men never heeding their gaze for
+the lively revelry they were in. And as Ahab, leaning over the
+taffrail, eyed the homeward-bound craft, he took from his pocket a
+small vial of sand, and then looking from the ship to the vial, seemed
+thereby bringing two remote associations together, for that vial was
+filled with Nantucket soundings.
+
+
+CHAPTER 116. The Dying Whale.
+
+Not seldom in this life, when, on the right side, fortune’s favourites
+sail close by us, we, though all adroop before, catch somewhat of the
+rushing breeze, and joyfully feel our bagging sails fill out. So seemed
+it with the Pequod. For next day after encountering the gay Bachelor,
+whales were seen and four were slain; and one of them by Ahab.
+
+It was far down the afternoon; and when all the spearings of the
+crimson fight were done: and floating in the lovely sunset sea and sky,
+sun and whale both stilly died together; then, such a sweetness and
+such plaintiveness, such inwreathing orisons curled up in that rosy
+air, that it almost seemed as if far over from the deep green convent
+valleys of the Manilla isles, the Spanish land-breeze, wantonly turned
+sailor, had gone to sea, freighted with these vesper hymns.
+
+Soothed again, but only soothed to deeper gloom, Ahab, who had sterned
+off from the whale, sat intently watching his final wanings from the
+now tranquil boat. For that strange spectacle observable in all sperm
+whales dying—the turning sunwards of the head, and so expiring—that
+strange spectacle, beheld of such a placid evening, somehow to Ahab
+conveyed a wondrousness unknown before.
+
+“He turns and turns him to it,—how slowly, but how steadfastly, his
+homage-rendering and invoking brow, with his last dying motions. He too
+worships fire; most faithful, broad, baronial vassal of the sun!—Oh
+that these too-favouring eyes should see these too-favouring sights.
+Look! here, far water-locked; beyond all hum of human weal or woe; in
+these most candid and impartial seas; where to traditions no rocks
+furnish tablets; where for long Chinese ages, the billows have still
+rolled on speechless and unspoken to, as stars that shine upon the
+Niger’s unknown source; here, too, life dies sunwards full of faith;
+but see! no sooner dead, than death whirls round the corpse, and it
+heads some other way.
+
+“Oh, thou dark Hindoo half of nature, who of drowned bones hast builded
+thy separate throne somewhere in the heart of these unverdured seas;
+thou art an infidel, thou queen, and too truly speakest to me in the
+wide-slaughtering Typhoon, and the hushed burial of its after calm. Nor
+has this thy whale sunwards turned his dying head, and then gone round
+again, without a lesson to me.
+
+“Oh, trebly hooped and welded hip of power! Oh, high aspiring,
+rainbowed jet!—that one strivest, this one jettest all in vain! In
+vain, oh whale, dost thou seek intercedings with yon all-quickening
+sun, that only calls forth life, but gives it not again. Yet dost thou,
+darker half, rock me with a prouder, if a darker faith. All thy
+unnamable imminglings float beneath me here; I am buoyed by breaths of
+once living things, exhaled as air, but water now.
+
+“Then hail, for ever hail, O sea, in whose eternal tossings the wild
+fowl finds his only rest. Born of earth, yet suckled by the sea; though
+hill and valley mothered me, ye billows are my foster-brothers!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 117. The Whale Watch.
+
+The four whales slain that evening had died wide apart; one, far to
+windward; one, less distant, to leeward; one ahead; one astern. These
+last three were brought alongside ere nightfall; but the windward one
+could not be reached till morning; and the boat that had killed it lay
+by its side all night; and that boat was Ahab’s.
+
+The waif-pole was thrust upright into the dead whale’s spout-hole; and
+the lantern hanging from its top, cast a troubled flickering glare upon
+the black, glossy back, and far out upon the midnight waves, which
+gently chafed the whale’s broad flank, like soft surf upon a beach.
+
+Ahab and all his boat’s crew seemed asleep but the Parsee; who
+crouching in the bow, sat watching the sharks, that spectrally played
+round the whale, and tapped the light cedar planks with their tails. A
+sound like the moaning in squadrons over Asphaltites of unforgiven
+ghosts of Gomorrah, ran shuddering through the air.
+
+Started from his slumbers, Ahab, face to face, saw the Parsee; and
+hooped round by the gloom of the night they seemed the last men in a
+flooded world. “I have dreamed it again,” said he.
+
+“Of the hearses? Have I not said, old man, that neither hearse nor
+coffin can be thine?”
+
+“And who are hearsed that die on the sea?”
+
+“But I said, old man, that ere thou couldst die on this voyage, two
+hearses must verily be seen by thee on the sea; the first not made by
+mortal hands; and the visible wood of the last one must be grown in
+America.”
+
+“Aye, aye! a strange sight that, Parsee:—a hearse and its plumes
+floating over the ocean with the waves for the pall-bearers. Ha! Such a
+sight we shall not soon see.”
+
+“Believe it or not, thou canst not die till it be seen, old man.”
+
+“And what was that saying about thyself?”
+
+“Though it come to the last, I shall still go before thee thy pilot.”
+
+“And when thou art so gone before—if that ever befall—then ere I can
+follow, thou must still appear to me, to pilot me still?—Was it not so?
+Well, then, did I believe all ye say, oh my pilot! I have here two
+pledges that I shall yet slay Moby Dick and survive it.”
+
+“Take another pledge, old man,” said the Parsee, as his eyes lighted up
+like fire-flies in the gloom—“Hemp only can kill thee.”
+
+“The gallows, ye mean.—I am immortal then, on land and on sea,” cried
+Ahab, with a laugh of derision;—“Immortal on land and on sea!”
+
+Both were silent again, as one man. The grey dawn came on, and the
+slumbering crew arose from the boat’s bottom, and ere noon the dead
+whale was brought to the ship.
+
+
+CHAPTER 118. The Quadrant.
+
+The season for the Line at length drew near; and every day when Ahab,
+coming from his cabin, cast his eyes aloft, the vigilant helmsman would
+ostentatiously handle his spokes, and the eager mariners quickly run to
+the braces, and would stand there with all their eyes centrally fixed
+on the nailed doubloon; impatient for the order to point the ship’s
+prow for the equator. In good time the order came. It was hard upon
+high noon; and Ahab, seated in the bows of his high-hoisted boat, was
+about taking his wonted daily observation of the sun to determine his
+latitude.
+
+Now, in that Japanese sea, the days in summer are as freshets of
+effulgences. That unblinkingly vivid Japanese sun seems the blazing
+focus of the glassy ocean’s immeasurable burning-glass. The sky looks
+lacquered; clouds there are none; the horizon floats; and this
+nakedness of unrelieved radiance is as the insufferable splendors of
+God’s throne. Well that Ahab’s quadrant was furnished with coloured
+glasses, through which to take sight of that solar fire. So, swinging
+his seated form to the roll of the ship, and with his
+astrological-looking instrument placed to his eye, he remained in that
+posture for some moments to catch the precise instant when the sun
+should gain its precise meridian. Meantime while his whole attention
+was absorbed, the Parsee was kneeling beneath him on the ship’s deck,
+and with face thrown up like Ahab’s, was eyeing the same sun with him;
+only the lids of his eyes half hooded their orbs, and his wild face was
+subdued to an earthly passionlessness. At length the desired
+observation was taken; and with his pencil upon his ivory leg, Ahab
+soon calculated what his latitude must be at that precise instant. Then
+falling into a moment’s revery, he again looked up towards the sun and
+murmured to himself: “Thou sea-mark! thou high and mighty Pilot! thou
+tellest me truly where I _am_—but canst thou cast the least hint where
+I _shall_ be? Or canst thou tell where some other thing besides me is
+this moment living? Where is Moby Dick? This instant thou must be
+eyeing him. These eyes of mine look into the very eye that is even now
+beholding him; aye, and into the eye that is even now equally beholding
+the objects on the unknown, thither side of thee, thou sun!”
+
+Then gazing at his quadrant, and handling, one after the other, its
+numerous cabalistical contrivances, he pondered again, and muttered:
+“Foolish toy! babies’ plaything of haughty Admirals, and Commodores,
+and Captains; the world brags of thee, of thy cunning and might; but
+what after all canst thou do, but tell the poor, pitiful point, where
+thou thyself happenest to be on this wide planet, and the hand that
+holds thee: no! not one jot more! Thou canst not tell where one drop of
+water or one grain of sand will be to-morrow noon; and yet with thy
+impotence thou insultest the sun! Science! Curse thee, thou vain toy;
+and cursed be all the things that cast man’s eyes aloft to that heaven,
+whose live vividness but scorches him, as these old eyes are even now
+scorched with thy light, O sun! Level by nature to this earth’s horizon
+are the glances of man’s eyes; not shot from the crown of his head, as
+if God had meant him to gaze on his firmament. Curse thee, thou
+quadrant!” dashing it to the deck, “no longer will I guide my earthly
+way by thee; the level ship’s compass, and the level dead-reckoning, by
+log and by line; _these_ shall conduct me, and show me my place on the
+sea. Aye,” lighting from the boat to the deck, “thus I trample on thee,
+thou paltry thing that feebly pointest on high; thus I split and
+destroy thee!”
+
+As the frantic old man thus spoke and thus trampled with his live and
+dead feet, a sneering triumph that seemed meant for Ahab, and a
+fatalistic despair that seemed meant for himself—these passed over the
+mute, motionless Parsee’s face. Unobserved he rose and glided away;
+while, awestruck by the aspect of their commander, the seamen clustered
+together on the forecastle, till Ahab, troubledly pacing the deck,
+shouted out—“To the braces! Up helm!—square in!”
+
+In an instant the yards swung round; and as the ship half-wheeled upon
+her heel, her three firm-seated graceful masts erectly poised upon her
+long, ribbed hull, seemed as the three Horatii pirouetting on one
+sufficient steed.
+
+Standing between the knight-heads, Starbuck watched the Pequod’s
+tumultuous way, and Ahab’s also, as he went lurching along the deck.
+
+“I have sat before the dense coal fire and watched it all aglow, full
+of its tormented flaming life; and I have seen it wane at last, down,
+down, to dumbest dust. Old man of oceans! of all this fiery life of
+thine, what will at length remain but one little heap of ashes!”
+
+“Aye,” cried Stubb, “but sea-coal ashes—mind ye that, Mr.
+Starbuck—sea-coal, not your common charcoal. Well, well; I heard Ahab
+mutter, ‘Here some one thrusts these cards into these old hands of
+mine; swears that I must play them, and no others.’ And damn me, Ahab,
+but thou actest right; live in the game, and die in it!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 119. The Candles.
+
+Warmest climes but nurse the cruellest fangs: the tiger of Bengal
+crouches in spiced groves of ceaseless verdure. Skies the most
+effulgent but basket the deadliest thunders: gorgeous Cuba knows
+tornadoes that never swept tame northern lands. So, too, it is, that in
+these resplendent Japanese seas the mariner encounters the direst of
+all storms, the Typhoon. It will sometimes burst from out that
+cloudless sky, like an exploding bomb upon a dazed and sleepy town.
+
+Towards evening of that day, the Pequod was torn of her canvas, and
+bare-poled was left to fight a Typhoon which had struck her directly
+ahead. When darkness came on, sky and sea roared and split with the
+thunder, and blazed with the lightning, that showed the disabled masts
+fluttering here and there with the rags which the first fury of the
+tempest had left for its after sport.
+
+Holding by a shroud, Starbuck was standing on the quarter-deck; at
+every flash of the lightning glancing aloft, to see what additional
+disaster might have befallen the intricate hamper there; while Stubb
+and Flask were directing the men in the higher hoisting and firmer
+lashing of the boats. But all their pains seemed naught. Though lifted
+to the very top of the cranes, the windward quarter boat (Ahab’s) did
+not escape. A great rolling sea, dashing high up against the reeling
+ship’s high teetering side, stove in the boat’s bottom at the stern,
+and left it again, all dripping through like a sieve.
+
+“Bad work, bad work! Mr. Starbuck,” said Stubb, regarding the wreck,
+“but the sea will have its way. Stubb, for one, can’t fight it. You
+see, Mr. Starbuck, a wave has such a great long start before it leaps,
+all round the world it runs, and then comes the spring! But as for me,
+all the start I have to meet it, is just across the deck here. But
+never mind; it’s all in fun: so the old song says;”—(_sings_.)
+
+
+  Oh! jolly is the gale, And a joker is the whale, A’ flourishin’ his
+  tail,— Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad, is the
+  Ocean, oh!
+
+  The scud all a flyin’, That’s his flip only foamin’; When he stirs in
+  the spicin’,— Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad,
+  is the Ocean, oh!
+
+  Thunder splits the ships, But he only smacks his lips, A tastin’ of
+  this flip,— Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad,
+  is the Ocean, oh!
+
+
+
+“Avast Stubb,” cried Starbuck, “let the Typhoon sing, and strike his
+harp here in our rigging; but if thou art a brave man thou wilt hold
+thy peace.”
+
+“But I am not a brave man; never said I was a brave man; I am a coward;
+and I sing to keep up my spirits. And I tell you what it is, Mr.
+Starbuck, there’s no way to stop my singing in this world but to cut my
+throat. And when that’s done, ten to one I sing ye the doxology for a
+wind-up.”
+
+“Madman! look through my eyes if thou hast none of thine own.”
+
+“What! how can you see better of a dark night than anybody else, never
+mind how foolish?”
+
+“Here!” cried Starbuck, seizing Stubb by the shoulder, and pointing his
+hand towards the weather bow, “markest thou not that the gale comes
+from the eastward, the very course Ahab is to run for Moby Dick? the
+very course he swung to this day noon? now mark his boat there; where
+is that stove? In the stern-sheets, man; where he is wont to stand—his
+stand-point is stove, man! Now jump overboard, and sing away, if thou
+must!
+
+“I don’t half understand ye: what’s in the wind?”
+
+“Yes, yes, round the Cape of Good Hope is the shortest way to
+Nantucket,” soliloquized Starbuck suddenly, heedless of Stubb’s
+question. “The gale that now hammers at us to stave us, we can turn it
+into a fair wind that will drive us towards home. Yonder, to windward,
+all is blackness of doom; but to leeward, homeward—I see it lightens up
+there; but not with the lightning.”
+
+At that moment in one of the intervals of profound darkness, following
+the flashes, a voice was heard at his side; and almost at the same
+instant a volley of thunder peals rolled overhead.
+
+“Who’s there?”
+
+“Old Thunder!” said Ahab, groping his way along the bulwarks to his
+pivot-hole; but suddenly finding his path made plain to him by elbowed
+lances of fire.
+
+Now, as the lightning rod to a spire on shore is intended to carry off
+the perilous fluid into the soil; so the kindred rod which at sea some
+ships carry to each mast, is intended to conduct it into the water. But
+as this conductor must descend to considerable depth, that its end may
+avoid all contact with the hull; and as moreover, if kept constantly
+towing there, it would be liable to many mishaps, besides interfering
+not a little with some of the rigging, and more or less impeding the
+vessel’s way in the water; because of all this, the lower parts of a
+ship’s lightning-rods are not always overboard; but are generally made
+in long slender links, so as to be the more readily hauled up into the
+chains outside, or thrown down into the sea, as occasion may require.
+
+“The rods! the rods!” cried Starbuck to the crew, suddenly admonished
+to vigilance by the vivid lightning that had just been darting
+flambeaux, to light Ahab to his post. “Are they overboard? drop them
+over, fore and aft. Quick!”
+
+“Avast!” cried Ahab; “let’s have fair play here, though we be the
+weaker side. Yet I’ll contribute to raise rods on the Himmalehs and
+Andes, that all the world may be secured; but out on privileges! Let
+them be, sir.”
+
+“Look aloft!” cried Starbuck. “The corpusants! the corpusants!”
+
+All the yard-arms were tipped with a pallid fire; and touched at each
+tri-pointed lightning-rod-end with three tapering white flames, each of
+the three tall masts was silently burning in that sulphurous air, like
+three gigantic wax tapers before an altar.
+
+“Blast the boat! let it go!” cried Stubb at this instant, as a swashing
+sea heaved up under his own little craft, so that its gunwale violently
+jammed his hand, as he was passing a lashing. “Blast it!”—but slipping
+backward on the deck, his uplifted eyes caught the flames; and
+immediately shifting his tone he cried—“The corpusants have mercy on us
+all!”
+
+To sailors, oaths are household words; they will swear in the trance of
+the calm, and in the teeth of the tempest; they will imprecate curses
+from the topsail-yard-arms, when most they teeter over to a seething
+sea; but in all my voyagings, seldom have I heard a common oath when
+God’s burning finger has been laid on the ship; when His “Mene, Mene,
+Tekel Upharsin” has been woven into the shrouds and the cordage.
+
+While this pallidness was burning aloft, few words were heard from the
+enchanted crew; who in one thick cluster stood on the forecastle, all
+their eyes gleaming in that pale phosphorescence, like a far away
+constellation of stars. Relieved against the ghostly light, the
+gigantic jet negro, Daggoo, loomed up to thrice his real stature, and
+seemed the black cloud from which the thunder had come. The parted
+mouth of Tashtego revealed his shark-white teeth, which strangely
+gleamed as if they too had been tipped by corpusants; while lit up by
+the preternatural light, Queequeg’s tattooing burned like Satanic blue
+flames on his body.
+
+The tableau all waned at last with the pallidness aloft; and once more
+the Pequod and every soul on her decks were wrapped in a pall. A moment
+or two passed, when Starbuck, going forward, pushed against some one.
+It was Stubb. “What thinkest thou now, man; I heard thy cry; it was not
+the same in the song.”
+
+“No, no, it wasn’t; I said the corpusants have mercy on us all; and I
+hope they will, still. But do they only have mercy on long faces?—have
+they no bowels for a laugh? And look ye, Mr. Starbuck—but it’s too dark
+to look. Hear me, then: I take that mast-head flame we saw for a sign
+of good luck; for those masts are rooted in a hold that is going to be
+chock a’ block with sperm-oil, d’ye see; and so, all that sperm will
+work up into the masts, like sap in a tree. Yes, our three masts will
+yet be as three spermaceti candles—that’s the good promise we saw.”
+
+At that moment Starbuck caught sight of Stubb’s face slowly beginning
+to glimmer into sight. Glancing upwards, he cried: “See! see!” and once
+more the high tapering flames were beheld with what seemed redoubled
+supernaturalness in their pallor.
+
+“The corpusants have mercy on us all,” cried Stubb, again.
+
+At the base of the mainmast, full beneath the doubloon and the flame,
+the Parsee was kneeling in Ahab’s front, but with his head bowed away
+from him; while near by, from the arched and overhanging rigging, where
+they had just been engaged securing a spar, a number of the seamen,
+arrested by the glare, now cohered together, and hung pendulous, like a
+knot of numbed wasps from a drooping, orchard twig. In various
+enchanted attitudes, like the standing, or stepping, or running
+skeletons in Herculaneum, others remained rooted to the deck; but all
+their eyes upcast.
+
+“Aye, aye, men!” cried Ahab. “Look up at it; mark it well; the white
+flame but lights the way to the White Whale! Hand me those mainmast
+links there; I would fain feel this pulse, and let mine beat against
+it; blood against fire! So.”
+
+Then turning—the last link held fast in his left hand, he put his foot
+upon the Parsee; and with fixed upward eye, and high-flung right arm,
+he stood erect before the lofty tri-pointed trinity of flames.
+
+“Oh! thou clear spirit of clear fire, whom on these seas I as Persian
+once did worship, till in the sacramental act so burned by thee, that
+to this hour I bear the scar; I now know thee, thou clear spirit, and I
+now know that thy right worship is defiance. To neither love nor
+reverence wilt thou be kind; and e’en for hate thou canst but kill; and
+all are killed. No fearless fool now fronts thee. I own thy speechless,
+placeless power; but to the last gasp of my earthquake life will
+dispute its unconditional, unintegral mastery in me. In the midst of
+the personified impersonal, a personality stands here. Though but a
+point at best; whencesoe’er I came; wheresoe’er I go; yet while I
+earthly live, the queenly personality lives in me, and feels her royal
+rights. But war is pain, and hate is woe. Come in thy lowest form of
+love, and I will kneel and kiss thee; but at thy highest, come as mere
+supernal power; and though thou launchest navies of full-freighted
+worlds, there’s that in here that still remains indifferent. Oh, thou
+clear spirit, of thy fire thou madest me, and like a true child of
+fire, I breathe it back to thee.”
+
+[_Sudden, repeated flashes of lightning; the nine flames leap
+lengthwise to thrice their previous height; Ahab, with the rest, closes
+his eyes, his right hand pressed hard upon them._]
+
+“I own thy speechless, placeless power; said I not so? Nor was it wrung
+from me; nor do I now drop these links. Thou canst blind; but I can
+then grope. Thou canst consume; but I can then be ashes. Take the
+homage of these poor eyes, and shutter-hands. I would not take it. The
+lightning flashes through my skull; mine eye-balls ache and ache; my
+whole beaten brain seems as beheaded, and rolling on some stunning
+ground. Oh, oh! Yet blindfold, yet will I talk to thee. Light though
+thou be, thou leapest out of darkness; but I am darkness leaping out of
+light, leaping out of thee! The javelins cease; open eyes; see, or not?
+There burn the flames! Oh, thou magnanimous! now I do glory in my
+genealogy. But thou art but my fiery father; my sweet mother, I know
+not. Oh, cruel! what hast thou done with her? There lies my puzzle; but
+thine is greater. Thou knowest not how came ye, hence callest thyself
+unbegotten; certainly knowest not thy beginning, hence callest thyself
+unbegun. I know that of me, which thou knowest not of thyself, oh, thou
+omnipotent. There is some unsuffusing thing beyond thee, thou clear
+spirit, to whom all thy eternity is but time, all thy creativeness
+mechanical. Through thee, thy flaming self, my scorched eyes do dimly
+see it. Oh, thou foundling fire, thou hermit immemorial, thou too hast
+thy incommunicable riddle, thy unparticipated grief. Here again with
+haughty agony, I read my sire. Leap! leap up, and lick the sky! I leap
+with thee; I burn with thee; would fain be welded with thee; defyingly
+I worship thee!”
+
+“The boat! the boat!” cried Starbuck, “look at thy boat, old man!”
+
+Ahab’s harpoon, the one forged at Perth’s fire, remained firmly lashed
+in its conspicuous crotch, so that it projected beyond his whale-boat’s
+bow; but the sea that had stove its bottom had caused the loose leather
+sheath to drop off; and from the keen steel barb there now came a
+levelled flame of pale, forked fire. As the silent harpoon burned there
+like a serpent’s tongue, Starbuck grasped Ahab by the arm—“God, God is
+against thee, old man; forbear! ’tis an ill voyage! ill begun, ill
+continued; let me square the yards, while we may, old man, and make a
+fair wind of it homewards, to go on a better voyage than this.”
+
+Overhearing Starbuck, the panic-stricken crew instantly ran to the
+braces—though not a sail was left aloft. For the moment all the aghast
+mate’s thoughts seemed theirs; they raised a half mutinous cry. But
+dashing the rattling lightning links to the deck, and snatching the
+burning harpoon, Ahab waved it like a torch among them; swearing to
+transfix with it the first sailor that but cast loose a rope’s end.
+Petrified by his aspect, and still more shrinking from the fiery dart
+that he held, the men fell back in dismay, and Ahab again spoke:—
+
+“All your oaths to hunt the White Whale are as binding as mine; and
+heart, soul, and body, lungs and life, old Ahab is bound. And that ye
+may know to what tune this heart beats; look ye here; thus I blow out
+the last fear!” And with one blast of his breath he extinguished the
+flame.
+
+As in the hurricane that sweeps the plain, men fly the neighborhood of
+some lone, gigantic elm, whose very height and strength but render it
+so much the more unsafe, because so much the more a mark for
+thunderbolts; so at those last words of Ahab’s many of the mariners did
+run from him in a terror of dismay.
+
+
+CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch.
+
+_Ahab standing by the helm. Starbuck approaching him._
+
+“We must send down the main-top-sail yard, sir. The band is working
+loose and the lee lift is half-stranded. Shall I strike it, sir?”
+
+“Strike nothing; lash it. If I had sky-sail poles, I’d sway them up
+now.”
+
+“Sir!—in God’s name!—sir?”
+
+“Well.”
+
+“The anchors are working, sir. Shall I get them inboard?”
+
+“Strike nothing, and stir nothing, but lash everything. The wind rises,
+but it has not got up to my table-lands yet. Quick, and see to it.—By
+masts and keels! he takes me for the hunch-backed skipper of some
+coasting smack. Send down my main-top-sail yard! Ho, gluepots! Loftiest
+trucks were made for wildest winds, and this brain-truck of mine now
+sails amid the cloud-scud. Shall I strike that? Oh, none but cowards
+send down their brain-trucks in tempest time. What a hooroosh aloft
+there! I would e’en take it for sublime, did I not know that the colic
+is a noisy malady. Oh, take medicine, take medicine!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 121. Midnight.—The Forecastle Bulwarks.
+
+_Stubb and Flask mounted on them, and passing additional lashings over
+the anchors there hanging._
+
+“No, Stubb; you may pound that knot there as much as you please, but
+you will never pound into me what you were just now saying. And how
+long ago is it since you said the very contrary? Didn’t you once say
+that whatever ship Ahab sails in, that ship should pay something extra
+on its insurance policy, just as though it were loaded with powder
+barrels aft and boxes of lucifers forward? Stop, now; didn’t you say
+so?”
+
+“Well, suppose I did? What then? I’ve part changed my flesh since that
+time, why not my mind? Besides, supposing we _are_ loaded with powder
+barrels aft and lucifers forward; how the devil could the lucifers get
+afire in this drenching spray here? Why, my little man, you have pretty
+red hair, but you couldn’t get afire now. Shake yourself; you’re
+Aquarius, or the water-bearer, Flask; might fill pitchers at your coat
+collar. Don’t you see, then, that for these extra risks the Marine
+Insurance companies have extra guarantees? Here are hydrants, Flask.
+But hark, again, and I’ll answer ye the other thing. First take your
+leg off from the crown of the anchor here, though, so I can pass the
+rope; now listen. What’s the mighty difference between holding a mast’s
+lightning-rod in the storm, and standing close by a mast that hasn’t
+got any lightning-rod at all in a storm? Don’t you see, you
+timber-head, that no harm can come to the holder of the rod, unless the
+mast is first struck? What are you talking about, then? Not one ship in
+a hundred carries rods, and Ahab,—aye, man, and all of us,—were in no
+more danger then, in my poor opinion, than all the crews in ten
+thousand ships now sailing the seas. Why, you King-Post, you, I suppose
+you would have every man in the world go about with a small
+lightning-rod running up the corner of his hat, like a militia
+officer’s skewered feather, and trailing behind like his sash. Why
+don’t ye be sensible, Flask? it’s easy to be sensible; why don’t ye,
+then? any man with half an eye can be sensible.”
+
+“I don’t know that, Stubb. You sometimes find it rather hard.”
+
+“Yes, when a fellow’s soaked through, it’s hard to be sensible, that’s
+a fact. And I am about drenched with this spray. Never mind; catch the
+turn there, and pass it. Seems to me we are lashing down these anchors
+now as if they were never going to be used again. Tying these two
+anchors here, Flask, seems like tying a man’s hands behind him. And
+what big generous hands they are, to be sure. These are your iron
+fists, hey? What a hold they have, too! I wonder, Flask, whether the
+world is anchored anywhere; if she is, she swings with an uncommon long
+cable, though. There, hammer that knot down, and we’ve done. So; next
+to touching land, lighting on deck is the most satisfactory. I say,
+just wring out my jacket skirts, will ye? Thank ye. They laugh at
+long-togs so, Flask; but seems to me, a long tailed coat ought always
+to be worn in all storms afloat. The tails tapering down that way,
+serve to carry off the water, d’ye see. Same with cocked hats; the
+cocks form gable-end eave-troughs, Flask. No more monkey-jackets and
+tarpaulins for me; I must mount a swallow-tail, and drive down a
+beaver; so. Halloa! whew! there goes my tarpaulin overboard; Lord,
+Lord, that the winds that come from heaven should be so unmannerly!
+This is a nasty night, lad.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 122. Midnight Aloft.—Thunder and Lightning.
+
+_The main-top-sail yard_.—_Tashtego passing new lashings around it_.
+
+“Um, um, um. Stop that thunder! Plenty too much thunder up here. What’s
+the use of thunder? Um, um, um. We don’t want thunder; we want rum;
+give us a glass of rum. Um, um, um!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 123. The Musket.
+
+During the most violent shocks of the Typhoon, the man at the Pequod’s
+jaw-bone tiller had several times been reelingly hurled to the deck by
+its spasmodic motions, even though preventer tackles had been attached
+to it—for they were slack—because some play to the tiller was
+indispensable.
+
+In a severe gale like this, while the ship is but a tossed shuttlecock
+to the blast, it is by no means uncommon to see the needles in the
+compasses, at intervals, go round and round. It was thus with the
+Pequod’s; at almost every shock the helmsman had not failed to notice
+the whirling velocity with which they revolved upon the cards; it is a
+sight that hardly anyone can behold without some sort of unwonted
+emotion.
+
+Some hours after midnight, the Typhoon abated so much, that through the
+strenuous exertions of Starbuck and Stubb—one engaged forward and the
+other aft—the shivered remnants of the jib and fore and main-top-sails
+were cut adrift from the spars, and went eddying away to leeward, like
+the feathers of an albatross, which sometimes are cast to the winds
+when that storm-tossed bird is on the wing.
+
+The three corresponding new sails were now bent and reefed, and a
+storm-trysail was set further aft; so that the ship soon went through
+the water with some precision again; and the course—for the present,
+East-south-east—which he was to steer, if practicable, was once more
+given to the helmsman. For during the violence of the gale, he had only
+steered according to its vicissitudes. But as he was now bringing the
+ship as near her course as possible, watching the compass meanwhile,
+lo! a good sign! the wind seemed coming round astern; aye, the foul
+breeze became fair!
+
+Instantly the yards were squared, to the lively song of “_Ho! the fair
+wind! oh-ye-ho, cheerly men!_” the crew singing for joy, that so
+promising an event should so soon have falsified the evil portents
+preceding it.
+
+In compliance with the standing order of his commander—to report
+immediately, and at any one of the twenty-four hours, any decided
+change in the affairs of the deck,—Starbuck had no sooner trimmed the
+yards to the breeze—however reluctantly and gloomily,—than he
+mechanically went below to apprise Captain Ahab of the circumstance.
+
+Ere knocking at his state-room, he involuntarily paused before it a
+moment. The cabin lamp—taking long swings this way and that—was burning
+fitfully, and casting fitful shadows upon the old man’s bolted door,—a
+thin one, with fixed blinds inserted, in place of upper panels. The
+isolated subterraneousness of the cabin made a certain humming silence
+to reign there, though it was hooped round by all the roar of the
+elements. The loaded muskets in the rack were shiningly revealed, as
+they stood upright against the forward bulkhead. Starbuck was an
+honest, upright man; but out of Starbuck’s heart, at that instant when
+he saw the muskets, there strangely evolved an evil thought; but so
+blent with its neutral or good accompaniments that for the instant he
+hardly knew it for itself.
+
+“He would have shot me once,” he murmured, “yes, there’s the very
+musket that he pointed at me;—that one with the studded stock; let me
+touch it—lift it. Strange, that I, who have handled so many deadly
+lances, strange, that I should shake so now. Loaded? I must see. Aye,
+aye; and powder in the pan;—that’s not good. Best spill it?—wait. I’ll
+cure myself of this. I’ll hold the musket boldly while I think.—I come
+to report a fair wind to him. But how fair? Fair for death and
+doom,—_that’s_ fair for Moby Dick. It’s a fair wind that’s only fair
+for that accursed fish.—The very tube he pointed at me!—the very one;
+_this_ one—I hold it here; he would have killed me with the very thing
+I handle now.—Aye and he would fain kill all his crew. Does he not say
+he will not strike his spars to any gale? Has he not dashed his
+heavenly quadrant? and in these same perilous seas, gropes he not his
+way by mere dead reckoning of the error-abounding log? and in this very
+Typhoon, did he not swear that he would have no lightning-rods? But
+shall this crazed old man be tamely suffered to drag a whole ship’s
+company down to doom with him?—Yes, it would make him the wilful
+murderer of thirty men and more, if this ship come to any deadly harm;
+and come to deadly harm, my soul swears this ship will, if Ahab have
+his way. If, then, he were this instant—put aside, that crime would not
+be his. Ha! is he muttering in his sleep? Yes, just there,—in there,
+he’s sleeping. Sleeping? aye, but still alive, and soon awake again. I
+can’t withstand thee, then, old man. Not reasoning; not remonstrance;
+not entreaty wilt thou hearken to; all this thou scornest. Flat
+obedience to thy own flat commands, this is all thou breathest. Aye,
+and say’st the men have vow’d thy vow; say’st all of us are Ahabs.
+Great God forbid!—But is there no other way? no lawful way?—Make him a
+prisoner to be taken home? What! hope to wrest this old man’s living
+power from his own living hands? Only a fool would try it. Say he were
+pinioned even; knotted all over with ropes and hawsers; chained down to
+ring-bolts on this cabin floor; he would be more hideous than a caged
+tiger, then. I could not endure the sight; could not possibly fly his
+howlings; all comfort, sleep itself, inestimable reason would leave me
+on the long intolerable voyage. What, then, remains? The land is
+hundreds of leagues away, and locked Japan the nearest. I stand alone
+here upon an open sea, with two oceans and a whole continent between me
+and law.—Aye, aye, ’tis so.—Is heaven a murderer when its lightning
+strikes a would-be murderer in his bed, tindering sheets and skin
+together?—And would I be a murderer, then, if”—and slowly, stealthily,
+and half sideways looking, he placed the loaded musket’s end against
+the door.
+
+“On this level, Ahab’s hammock swings within; his head this way. A
+touch, and Starbuck may survive to hug his wife and child again.—Oh
+Mary! Mary!—boy! boy! boy!—But if I wake thee not to death, old man,
+who can tell to what unsounded deeps Starbuck’s body this day week may
+sink, with all the crew! Great God, where art Thou? Shall I? shall
+I?—The wind has gone down and shifted, sir; the fore and main topsails
+are reefed and set; she heads her course.”
+
+“Stern all! Oh Moby Dick, I clutch thy heart at last!”
+
+Such were the sounds that now came hurtling from out the old man’s
+tormented sleep, as if Starbuck’s voice had caused the long dumb dream
+to speak.
+
+The yet levelled musket shook like a drunkard’s arm against the panel;
+Starbuck seemed wrestling with an angel; but turning from the door, he
+placed the death-tube in its rack, and left the place.
+
+“He’s too sound asleep, Mr. Stubb; go thou down, and wake him, and tell
+him. I must see to the deck here. Thou know’st what to say.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 124. The Needle.
+
+Next morning the not-yet-subsided sea rolled in long slow billows of
+mighty bulk, and striving in the Pequod’s gurgling track, pushed her on
+like giants’ palms outspread. The strong, unstaggering breeze abounded
+so, that sky and air seemed vast outbellying sails; the whole world
+boomed before the wind. Muffled in the full morning light, the
+invisible sun was only known by the spread intensity of his place;
+where his bayonet rays moved on in stacks. Emblazonings, as of crowned
+Babylonian kings and queens, reigned over everything. The sea was as a
+crucible of molten gold, that bubblingly leaps with light and heat.
+
+Long maintaining an enchanted silence, Ahab stood apart; and every time
+the tetering ship loweringly pitched down her bowsprit, he turned to
+eye the bright sun’s rays produced ahead; and when she profoundly
+settled by the stern, he turned behind, and saw the sun’s rearward
+place, and how the same yellow rays were blending with his undeviating
+wake.
+
+“Ha, ha, my ship! thou mightest well be taken now for the sea-chariot
+of the sun. Ho, ho! all ye nations before my prow, I bring the sun to
+ye! Yoke on the further billows; hallo! a tandem, I drive the sea!”
+
+But suddenly reined back by some counter thought, he hurried towards
+the helm, huskily demanding how the ship was heading.
+
+“East-sou-east, sir,” said the frightened steersman.
+
+“Thou liest!” smiting him with his clenched fist. “Heading East at this
+hour in the morning, and the sun astern?”
+
+Upon this every soul was confounded; for the phenomenon just then
+observed by Ahab had unaccountably escaped every one else; but its very
+blinding palpableness must have been the cause.
+
+Thrusting his head half way into the binnacle, Ahab caught one glimpse
+of the compasses; his uplifted arm slowly fell; for a moment he almost
+seemed to stagger. Standing behind him Starbuck looked, and lo! the two
+compasses pointed East, and the Pequod was as infallibly going West.
+
+But ere the first wild alarm could get out abroad among the crew, the
+old man with a rigid laugh exclaimed, “I have it! It has happened
+before. Mr. Starbuck, last night’s thunder turned our compasses—that’s
+all. Thou hast before now heard of such a thing, I take it.”
+
+“Aye; but never before has it happened to me, sir,” said the pale mate,
+gloomily.
+
+Here, it must needs be said, that accidents like this have in more than
+one case occurred to ships in violent storms. The magnetic energy, as
+developed in the mariner’s needle, is, as all know, essentially one
+with the electricity beheld in heaven; hence it is not to be much
+marvelled at, that such things should be. Instances where the lightning
+has actually struck the vessel, so as to smite down some of the spars
+and rigging, the effect upon the needle has at times been still more
+fatal; all its loadstone virtue being annihilated, so that the before
+magnetic steel was of no more use than an old wife’s knitting needle.
+But in either case, the needle never again, of itself, recovers the
+original virtue thus marred or lost; and if the binnacle compasses be
+affected, the same fate reaches all the others that may be in the ship;
+even were the lowermost one inserted into the kelson.
+
+Deliberately standing before the binnacle, and eyeing the transpointed
+compasses, the old man, with the sharp of his extended hand, now took
+the precise bearing of the sun, and satisfied that the needles were
+exactly inverted, shouted out his orders for the ship’s course to be
+changed accordingly. The yards were hard up; and once more the Pequod
+thrust her undaunted bows into the opposing wind, for the supposed fair
+one had only been juggling her.
+
+Meanwhile, whatever were his own secret thoughts, Starbuck said
+nothing, but quietly he issued all requisite orders; while Stubb and
+Flask—who in some small degree seemed then to be sharing his
+feelings—likewise unmurmuringly acquiesced. As for the men, though some
+of them lowly rumbled, their fear of Ahab was greater than their fear
+of Fate. But as ever before, the pagan harpooneers remained almost
+wholly unimpressed; or if impressed, it was only with a certain
+magnetism shot into their congenial hearts from inflexible Ahab’s.
+
+For a space the old man walked the deck in rolling reveries. But
+chancing to slip with his ivory heel, he saw the crushed copper
+sight-tubes of the quadrant he had the day before dashed to the deck.
+
+“Thou poor, proud heaven-gazer and sun’s pilot! yesterday I wrecked
+thee, and to-day the compasses would fain have wrecked me. So, so. But
+Ahab is lord over the level loadstone yet. Mr. Starbuck—a lance without
+a pole; a top-maul, and the smallest of the sail-maker’s needles.
+Quick!”
+
+Accessory, perhaps, to the impulse dictating the thing he was now about
+to do, were certain prudential motives, whose object might have been to
+revive the spirits of his crew by a stroke of his subtile skill, in a
+matter so wondrous as that of the inverted compasses. Besides, the old
+man well knew that to steer by transpointed needles, though clumsily
+practicable, was not a thing to be passed over by superstitious
+sailors, without some shudderings and evil portents.
+
+“Men,” said he, steadily turning upon the crew, as the mate handed him
+the things he had demanded, “my men, the thunder turned old Ahab’s
+needles; but out of this bit of steel Ahab can make one of his own,
+that will point as true as any.”
+
+Abashed glances of servile wonder were exchanged by the sailors, as
+this was said; and with fascinated eyes they awaited whatever magic
+might follow. But Starbuck looked away.
+
+With a blow from the top-maul Ahab knocked off the steel head of the
+lance, and then handing to the mate the long iron rod remaining, bade
+him hold it upright, without its touching the deck. Then, with the
+maul, after repeatedly smiting the upper end of this iron rod, he
+placed the blunted needle endwise on the top of it, and less strongly
+hammered that, several times, the mate still holding the rod as before.
+Then going through some small strange motions with it—whether
+indispensable to the magnetizing of the steel, or merely intended to
+augment the awe of the crew, is uncertain—he called for linen thread;
+and moving to the binnacle, slipped out the two reversed needles there,
+and horizontally suspended the sail-needle by its middle, over one of
+the compass-cards. At first, the steel went round and round, quivering
+and vibrating at either end; but at last it settled to its place, when
+Ahab, who had been intently watching for this result, stepped frankly
+back from the binnacle, and pointing his stretched arm towards it,
+exclaimed,—“Look ye, for yourselves, if Ahab be not lord of the level
+loadstone! The sun is East, and that compass swears it!”
+
+One after another they peered in, for nothing but their own eyes could
+persuade such ignorance as theirs, and one after another they slunk
+away.
+
+In his fiery eyes of scorn and triumph, you then saw Ahab in all his
+fatal pride.
+
+
+CHAPTER 125. The Log and Line.
+
+While now the fated Pequod had been so long afloat this voyage, the log
+and line had but very seldom been in use. Owing to a confident reliance
+upon other means of determining the vessel’s place, some merchantmen,
+and many whalemen, especially when cruising, wholly neglect to heave
+the log; though at the same time, and frequently more for form’s sake
+than anything else, regularly putting down upon the customary slate the
+course steered by the ship, as well as the presumed average rate of
+progression every hour. It had been thus with the Pequod. The wooden
+reel and angular log attached hung, long untouched, just beneath the
+railing of the after bulwarks. Rains and spray had damped it; sun and
+wind had warped it; all the elements had combined to rot a thing that
+hung so idly. But heedless of all this, his mood seized Ahab, as he
+happened to glance upon the reel, not many hours after the magnet
+scene, and he remembered how his quadrant was no more, and recalled his
+frantic oath about the level log and line. The ship was sailing
+plungingly; astern the billows rolled in riots.
+
+“Forward, there! Heave the log!”
+
+Two seamen came. The golden-hued Tahitian and the grizzly Manxman.
+“Take the reel, one of ye, I’ll heave.”
+
+They went towards the extreme stern, on the ship’s lee side, where the
+deck, with the oblique energy of the wind, was now almost dipping into
+the creamy, sidelong-rushing sea.
+
+The Manxman took the reel, and holding it high up, by the projecting
+handle-ends of the spindle, round which the spool of line revolved, so
+stood with the angular log hanging downwards, till Ahab advanced to
+him.
+
+Ahab stood before him, and was lightly unwinding some thirty or forty
+turns to form a preliminary hand-coil to toss overboard, when the old
+Manxman, who was intently eyeing both him and the line, made bold to
+speak.
+
+“Sir, I mistrust it; this line looks far gone, long heat and wet have
+spoiled it.”
+
+“’Twill hold, old gentleman. Long heat and wet, have they spoiled thee?
+Thou seem’st to hold. Or, truer perhaps, life holds thee; not thou it.”
+
+“I hold the spool, sir. But just as my captain says. With these grey
+hairs of mine ’tis not worth while disputing, ’specially with a
+superior, who’ll ne’er confess.”
+
+“What’s that? There now’s a patched professor in Queen Nature’s
+granite-founded College; but methinks he’s too subservient. Where wert
+thou born?”
+
+“In the little rocky Isle of Man, sir.”
+
+“Excellent! Thou’st hit the world by that.”
+
+“I know not, sir, but I was born there.”
+
+“In the Isle of Man, hey? Well, the other way, it’s good. Here’s a man
+from Man; a man born in once independent Man, and now unmanned of Man;
+which is sucked in—by what? Up with the reel! The dead, blind wall
+butts all inquiring heads at last. Up with it! So.”
+
+The log was heaved. The loose coils rapidly straightened out in a long
+dragging line astern, and then, instantly, the reel began to whirl. In
+turn, jerkingly raised and lowered by the rolling billows, the towing
+resistance of the log caused the old reelman to stagger strangely.
+
+“Hold hard!”
+
+Snap! the overstrained line sagged down in one long festoon; the
+tugging log was gone.
+
+“I crush the quadrant, the thunder turns the needles, and now the mad
+sea parts the log-line. But Ahab can mend all. Haul in here, Tahitian;
+reel up, Manxman. And look ye, let the carpenter make another log, and
+mend thou the line. See to it.”
+
+“There he goes now; to him nothing’s happened; but to me, the skewer
+seems loosening out of the middle of the world. Haul in, haul in,
+Tahitian! These lines run whole, and whirling out: come in broken, and
+dragging slow. Ha, Pip? come to help; eh, Pip?”
+
+“Pip? whom call ye Pip? Pip jumped from the whale-boat. Pip’s missing.
+Let’s see now if ye haven’t fished him up here, fisherman. It drags
+hard; I guess he’s holding on. Jerk him, Tahiti! Jerk him off; we haul
+in no cowards here. Ho! there’s his arm just breaking water. A hatchet!
+a hatchet! cut it off—we haul in no cowards here. Captain Ahab! sir,
+sir! here’s Pip, trying to get on board again.”
+
+“Peace, thou crazy loon,” cried the Manxman, seizing him by the arm.
+“Away from the quarter-deck!”
+
+“The greater idiot ever scolds the lesser,” muttered Ahab, advancing.
+“Hands off from that holiness! Where sayest thou Pip was, boy?
+
+“Astern there, sir, astern! Lo! lo!”
+
+“And who art thou, boy? I see not my reflection in the vacant pupils of
+thy eyes. Oh God! that man should be a thing for immortal souls to
+sieve through! Who art thou, boy?”
+
+“Bell-boy, sir; ship’s-crier; ding, dong, ding! Pip! Pip! Pip! One
+hundred pounds of clay reward for Pip; five feet high—looks
+cowardly—quickest known by that! Ding, dong, ding! Who’s seen Pip the
+coward?”
+
+“There can be no hearts above the snow-line. Oh, ye frozen heavens!
+look down here. Ye did beget this luckless child, and have abandoned
+him, ye creative libertines. Here, boy; Ahab’s cabin shall be Pip’s
+home henceforth, while Ahab lives. Thou touchest my inmost centre, boy;
+thou art tied to me by cords woven of my heart-strings. Come, let’s
+down.”
+
+“What’s this? here’s velvet shark-skin,” intently gazing at Ahab’s
+hand, and feeling it. “Ah, now, had poor Pip but felt so kind a thing
+as this, perhaps he had ne’er been lost! This seems to me, sir, as a
+man-rope; something that weak souls may hold by. Oh, sir, let old Perth
+now come and rivet these two hands together; the black one with the
+white, for I will not let this go.”
+
+“Oh, boy, nor will I thee, unless I should thereby drag thee to worse
+horrors than are here. Come, then, to my cabin. Lo! ye believers in
+gods all goodness, and in man all ill, lo you! see the omniscient gods
+oblivious of suffering man; and man, though idiotic, and knowing not
+what he does, yet full of the sweet things of love and gratitude. Come!
+I feel prouder leading thee by thy black hand, than though I grasped an
+Emperor’s!”
+
+“There go two daft ones now,” muttered the old Manxman. “One daft with
+strength, the other daft with weakness. But here’s the end of the
+rotten line—all dripping, too. Mend it, eh? I think we had best have a
+new line altogether. I’ll see Mr. Stubb about it.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 126. The Life-Buoy.
+
+Steering now south-eastward by Ahab’s levelled steel, and her progress
+solely determined by Ahab’s level log and line; the Pequod held on her
+path towards the Equator. Making so long a passage through such
+unfrequented waters, descrying no ships, and ere long, sideways
+impelled by unvarying trade winds, over waves monotonously mild; all
+these seemed the strange calm things preluding some riotous and
+desperate scene.
+
+At last, when the ship drew near to the outskirts, as it were, of the
+Equatorial fishing-ground, and in the deep darkness that goes before
+the dawn, was sailing by a cluster of rocky islets; the watch—then
+headed by Flask—was startled by a cry so plaintively wild and
+unearthly—like half-articulated wailings of the ghosts of all Herod’s
+murdered Innocents—that one and all, they started from their reveries,
+and for the space of some moments stood, or sat, or leaned all
+transfixedly listening, like the carved Roman slave, while that wild
+cry remained within hearing. The Christian or civilized part of the
+crew said it was mermaids, and shuddered; but the pagan harpooneers
+remained unappalled. Yet the grey Manxman—the oldest mariner of
+all—declared that the wild thrilling sounds that were heard, were the
+voices of newly drowned men in the sea.
+
+Below in his hammock, Ahab did not hear of this till grey dawn, when he
+came to the deck; it was then recounted to him by Flask, not
+unaccompanied with hinted dark meanings. He hollowly laughed, and thus
+explained the wonder.
+
+Those rocky islands the ship had passed were the resort of great
+numbers of seals, and some young seals that had lost their dams, or
+some dams that had lost their cubs, must have risen nigh the ship and
+kept company with her, crying and sobbing with their human sort of
+wail. But this only the more affected some of them, because most
+mariners cherish a very superstitious feeling about seals, arising not
+only from their peculiar tones when in distress, but also from the
+human look of their round heads and semi-intelligent faces, seen
+peeringly uprising from the water alongside. In the sea, under certain
+circumstances, seals have more than once been mistaken for men.
+
+But the bodings of the crew were destined to receive a most plausible
+confirmation in the fate of one of their number that morning. At
+sun-rise this man went from his hammock to his mast-head at the fore;
+and whether it was that he was not yet half waked from his sleep (for
+sailors sometimes go aloft in a transition state), whether it was thus
+with the man, there is now no telling; but, be that as it may, he had
+not been long at his perch, when a cry was heard—a cry and a
+rushing—and looking up, they saw a falling phantom in the air; and
+looking down, a little tossed heap of white bubbles in the blue of the
+sea.
+
+The life-buoy—a long slender cask—was dropped from the stern, where it
+always hung obedient to a cunning spring; but no hand rose to seize it,
+and the sun having long beat upon this cask it had shrunken, so that it
+slowly filled, and that parched wood also filled at its every pore; and
+the studded iron-bound cask followed the sailor to the bottom, as if to
+yield him his pillow, though in sooth but a hard one.
+
+And thus the first man of the Pequod that mounted the mast to look out
+for the White Whale, on the White Whale’s own peculiar ground; that man
+was swallowed up in the deep. But few, perhaps, thought of that at the
+time. Indeed, in some sort, they were not grieved at this event, at
+least as a portent; for they regarded it, not as a foreshadowing of
+evil in the future, but as the fulfilment of an evil already presaged.
+They declared that now they knew the reason of those wild shrieks they
+had heard the night before. But again the old Manxman said nay.
+
+The lost life-buoy was now to be replaced; Starbuck was directed to see
+to it; but as no cask of sufficient lightness could be found, and as in
+the feverish eagerness of what seemed the approaching crisis of the
+voyage, all hands were impatient of any toil but what was directly
+connected with its final end, whatever that might prove to be;
+therefore, they were going to leave the ship’s stern unprovided with a
+buoy, when by certain strange signs and inuendoes Queequeg hinted a
+hint concerning his coffin.
+
+“A life-buoy of a coffin!” cried Starbuck, starting.
+
+“Rather queer, that, I should say,” said Stubb.
+
+“It will make a good enough one,” said Flask, “the carpenter here can
+arrange it easily.”
+
+“Bring it up; there’s nothing else for it,” said Starbuck, after a
+melancholy pause. “Rig it, carpenter; do not look at me so—the coffin,
+I mean. Dost thou hear me? Rig it.”
+
+“And shall I nail down the lid, sir?” moving his hand as with a hammer.
+
+“Aye.”
+
+“And shall I caulk the seams, sir?” moving his hand as with a
+caulking-iron.
+
+“Aye.”
+
+“And shall I then pay over the same with pitch, sir?” moving his hand
+as with a pitch-pot.
+
+“Away! what possesses thee to this? Make a life-buoy of the coffin, and
+no more.—Mr. Stubb, Mr. Flask, come forward with me.”
+
+“He goes off in a huff. The whole he can endure; at the parts he
+baulks. Now I don’t like this. I make a leg for Captain Ahab, and he
+wears it like a gentleman; but I make a bandbox for Queequeg, and he
+won’t put his head into it. Are all my pains to go for nothing with
+that coffin? And now I’m ordered to make a life-buoy of it. It’s like
+turning an old coat; going to bring the flesh on the other side now. I
+don’t like this cobbling sort of business—I don’t like it at all; it’s
+undignified; it’s not my place. Let tinkers’ brats do tinkerings; we
+are their betters. I like to take in hand none but clean, virgin,
+fair-and-square mathematical jobs, something that regularly begins at
+the beginning, and is at the middle when midway, and comes to an end at
+the conclusion; not a cobbler’s job, that’s at an end in the middle,
+and at the beginning at the end. It’s the old woman’s tricks to be
+giving cobbling jobs. Lord! what an affection all old women have for
+tinkers. I know an old woman of sixty-five who ran away with a
+bald-headed young tinker once. And that’s the reason I never would work
+for lonely widow old women ashore, when I kept my job-shop in the
+Vineyard; they might have taken it into their lonely old heads to run
+off with me. But heigh-ho! there are no caps at sea but snow-caps. Let
+me see. Nail down the lid; caulk the seams; pay over the same with
+pitch; batten them down tight, and hang it with the snap-spring over
+the ship’s stern. Were ever such things done before with a coffin? Some
+superstitious old carpenters, now, would be tied up in the rigging, ere
+they would do the job. But I’m made of knotty Aroostook hemlock; I
+don’t budge. Cruppered with a coffin! Sailing about with a grave-yard
+tray! But never mind. We workers in woods make bridal-bedsteads and
+card-tables, as well as coffins and hearses. We work by the month, or
+by the job, or by the profit; not for us to ask the why and wherefore
+of our work, unless it be too confounded cobbling, and then we stash it
+if we can. Hem! I’ll do the job, now, tenderly. I’ll have me—let’s
+see—how many in the ship’s company, all told? But I’ve forgotten. Any
+way, I’ll have me thirty separate, Turk’s-headed life-lines, each three
+feet long hanging all round to the coffin. Then, if the hull go down,
+there’ll be thirty lively fellows all fighting for one coffin, a sight
+not seen very often beneath the sun! Come hammer, caulking-iron,
+pitch-pot, and marling-spike! Let’s to it.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 127. The Deck.
+
+_The coffin laid upon two line-tubs, between the vice-bench and the
+open hatchway; the Carpenter caulking its seams; the string of twisted
+oakum slowly unwinding from a large roll of it placed in the bosom of
+his frock.—Ahab comes slowly from the cabin-gangway, and hears Pip
+following him._
+
+“Back, lad; I will be with ye again presently. He goes! Not this hand
+complies with my humor more genially than that boy.—Middle aisle of a
+church! What’s here?”
+
+“Life-buoy, sir. Mr. Starbuck’s orders. Oh, look, sir! Beware the
+hatchway!”
+
+“Thank ye, man. Thy coffin lies handy to the vault.”
+
+“Sir? The hatchway? oh! So it does, sir, so it does.”
+
+“Art not thou the leg-maker? Look, did not this stump come from thy
+shop?”
+
+“I believe it did, sir; does the ferrule stand, sir?”
+
+“Well enough. But art thou not also the undertaker?”
+
+“Aye, sir; I patched up this thing here as a coffin for Queequeg; but
+they’ve set me now to turning it into something else.”
+
+“Then tell me; art thou not an arrant, all-grasping, intermeddling,
+monopolising, heathenish old scamp, to be one day making legs, and the
+next day coffins to clap them in, and yet again life-buoys out of those
+same coffins? Thou art as unprincipled as the gods, and as much of a
+jack-of-all-trades.”
+
+“But I do not mean anything, sir. I do as I do.”
+
+“The gods again. Hark ye, dost thou not ever sing working about a
+coffin? The Titans, they say, hummed snatches when chipping out the
+craters for volcanoes; and the grave-digger in the play sings, spade in
+hand. Dost thou never?”
+
+“Sing, sir? Do I sing? Oh, I’m indifferent enough, sir, for that; but
+the reason why the grave-digger made music must have been because there
+was none in his spade, sir. But the caulking mallet is full of it. Hark
+to it.”
+
+“Aye, and that’s because the lid there’s a sounding-board; and what in
+all things makes the sounding-board is this—there’s naught beneath. And
+yet, a coffin with a body in it rings pretty much the same, Carpenter.
+Hast thou ever helped carry a bier, and heard the coffin knock against
+the churchyard gate, going in?
+
+“Faith, sir, I’ve——”
+
+“Faith? What’s that?”
+
+“Why, faith, sir, it’s only a sort of exclamation-like—that’s all,
+sir.”
+
+“Um, um; go on.”
+
+“I was about to say, sir, that——”
+
+“Art thou a silk-worm? Dost thou spin thy own shroud out of thyself?
+Look at thy bosom! Despatch! and get these traps out of sight.”
+
+“He goes aft. That was sudden, now; but squalls come sudden in hot
+latitudes. I’ve heard that the Isle of Albemarle, one of the
+Gallipagos, is cut by the Equator right in the middle. Seems to me some
+sort of Equator cuts yon old man, too, right in his middle. He’s always
+under the Line—fiery hot, I tell ye! He’s looking this way—come, oakum;
+quick. Here we go again. This wooden mallet is the cork, and I’m the
+professor of musical glasses—tap, tap!”
+
+(_Ahab to himself_.)
+
+“There’s a sight! There’s a sound! The greyheaded woodpecker tapping
+the hollow tree! Blind and dumb might well be envied now. See! that
+thing rests on two line-tubs, full of tow-lines. A most malicious wag,
+that fellow. Rat-tat! So man’s seconds tick! Oh! how immaterial are all
+materials! What things real are there, but imponderable thoughts? Here
+now’s the very dreaded symbol of grim death, by a mere hap, made the
+expressive sign of the help and hope of most endangered life. A
+life-buoy of a coffin! Does it go further? Can it be that in some
+spiritual sense the coffin is, after all, but an immortality-preserver!
+I’ll think of that. But no. So far gone am I in the dark side of earth,
+that its other side, the theoretic bright one, seems but uncertain
+twilight to me. Will ye never have done, Carpenter, with that accursed
+sound? I go below; let me not see that thing here when I return again.
+Now, then, Pip, we’ll talk this over; I do suck most wondrous
+philosophies from thee! Some unknown conduits from the unknown worlds
+must empty into thee!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 128. The Pequod Meets The Rachel.
+
+Next day, a large ship, the Rachel, was descried, bearing directly down
+upon the Pequod, all her spars thickly clustering with men. At the time
+the Pequod was making good speed through the water; but as the
+broad-winged windward stranger shot nigh to her, the boastful sails all
+fell together as blank bladders that are burst, and all life fled from
+the smitten hull.
+
+“Bad news; she brings bad news,” muttered the old Manxman. But ere her
+commander, who, with trumpet to mouth, stood up in his boat; ere he
+could hopefully hail, Ahab’s voice was heard.
+
+“Hast seen the White Whale?”
+
+“Aye, yesterday. Have ye seen a whale-boat adrift?”
+
+Throttling his joy, Ahab negatively answered this unexpected question;
+and would then have fain boarded the stranger, when the stranger
+captain himself, having stopped his vessel’s way, was seen descending
+her side. A few keen pulls, and his boat-hook soon clinched the
+Pequod’s main-chains, and he sprang to the deck. Immediately he was
+recognised by Ahab for a Nantucketer he knew. But no formal salutation
+was exchanged.
+
+“Where was he?—not killed!—not killed!” cried Ahab, closely advancing.
+“How was it?”
+
+It seemed that somewhat late on the afternoon of the day previous,
+while three of the stranger’s boats were engaged with a shoal of
+whales, which had led them some four or five miles from the ship; and
+while they were yet in swift chase to windward, the white hump and head
+of Moby Dick had suddenly loomed up out of the water, not very far to
+leeward; whereupon, the fourth rigged boat—a reserved one—had been
+instantly lowered in chase. After a keen sail before the wind, this
+fourth boat—the swiftest keeled of all—seemed to have succeeded in
+fastening—at least, as well as the man at the mast-head could tell
+anything about it. In the distance he saw the diminished dotted boat;
+and then a swift gleam of bubbling white water; and after that nothing
+more; whence it was concluded that the stricken whale must have
+indefinitely run away with his pursuers, as often happens. There was
+some apprehension, but no positive alarm, as yet. The recall signals
+were placed in the rigging; darkness came on; and forced to pick up her
+three far to windward boats—ere going in quest of the fourth one in the
+precisely opposite direction—the ship had not only been necessitated to
+leave that boat to its fate till near midnight, but, for the time, to
+increase her distance from it. But the rest of her crew being at last
+safe aboard, she crowded all sail—stunsail on stunsail—after the
+missing boat; kindling a fire in her try-pots for a beacon; and every
+other man aloft on the look-out. But though when she had thus sailed a
+sufficient distance to gain the presumed place of the absent ones when
+last seen; though she then paused to lower her spare boats to pull all
+around her; and not finding anything, had again dashed on; again
+paused, and lowered her boats; and though she had thus continued doing
+till daylight; yet not the least glimpse of the missing keel had been
+seen.
+
+The story told, the stranger Captain immediately went on to reveal his
+object in boarding the Pequod. He desired that ship to unite with his
+own in the search; by sailing over the sea some four or five miles
+apart, on parallel lines, and so sweeping a double horizon, as it were.
+
+“I will wager something now,” whispered Stubb to Flask, “that some one
+in that missing boat wore off that Captain’s best coat; mayhap, his
+watch—he’s so cursed anxious to get it back. Who ever heard of two
+pious whale-ships cruising after one missing whale-boat in the height
+of the whaling season? See, Flask, only see how pale he looks—pale in
+the very buttons of his eyes—look—it wasn’t the coat—it must have been
+the—”
+
+“My boy, my own boy is among them. For God’s sake—I beg, I
+conjure”—here exclaimed the stranger Captain to Ahab, who thus far had
+but icily received his petition. “For eight-and-forty hours let me
+charter your ship—I will gladly pay for it, and roundly pay for it—if
+there be no other way—for eight-and-forty hours only—only that—you
+must, oh, you must, and you _shall_ do this thing.”
+
+“His son!” cried Stubb, “oh, it’s his son he’s lost! I take back the
+coat and watch—what says Ahab? We must save that boy.”
+
+“He’s drowned with the rest on ’em, last night,” said the old Manx
+sailor standing behind them; “I heard; all of ye heard their spirits.”
+
+Now, as it shortly turned out, what made this incident of the Rachel’s
+the more melancholy, was the circumstance, that not only was one of the
+Captain’s sons among the number of the missing boat’s crew; but among
+the number of the other boat’s crews, at the same time, but on the
+other hand, separated from the ship during the dark vicissitudes of the
+chase, there had been still another son; as that for a time, the
+wretched father was plunged to the bottom of the cruellest perplexity;
+which was only solved for him by his chief mate’s instinctively
+adopting the ordinary procedure of a whale-ship in such emergencies,
+that is, when placed between jeopardized but divided boats, always to
+pick up the majority first. But the captain, for some unknown
+constitutional reason, had refrained from mentioning all this, and not
+till forced to it by Ahab’s iciness did he allude to his one yet
+missing boy; a little lad, but twelve years old, whose father with the
+earnest but unmisgiving hardihood of a Nantucketer’s paternal love, had
+thus early sought to initiate him in the perils and wonders of a
+vocation almost immemorially the destiny of all his race. Nor does it
+unfrequently occur, that Nantucket captains will send a son of such
+tender age away from them, for a protracted three or four years’ voyage
+in some other ship than their own; so that their first knowledge of a
+whaleman’s career shall be unenervated by any chance display of a
+father’s natural but untimely partiality, or undue apprehensiveness and
+concern.
+
+Meantime, now the stranger was still beseeching his poor boon of Ahab;
+and Ahab still stood like an anvil, receiving every shock, but without
+the least quivering of his own.
+
+“I will not go,” said the stranger, “till you say _aye_ to me. Do to me
+as you would have me do to you in the like case. For _you_ too have a
+boy, Captain Ahab—though but a child, and nestling safely at home now—a
+child of your old age too—Yes, yes, you relent; I see it—run, run, men,
+now, and stand by to square in the yards.”
+
+“Avast,” cried Ahab—“touch not a rope-yarn”; then in a voice that
+prolongingly moulded every word—“Captain Gardiner, I will not do it.
+Even now I lose time. Good-bye, good-bye. God bless ye, man, and may I
+forgive myself, but I must go. Mr. Starbuck, look at the binnacle
+watch, and in three minutes from this present instant warn off all
+strangers: then brace forward again, and let the ship sail as before.”
+
+Hurriedly turning, with averted face, he descended into his cabin,
+leaving the strange captain transfixed at this unconditional and utter
+rejection of his so earnest suit. But starting from his enchantment,
+Gardiner silently hurried to the side; more fell than stepped into his
+boat, and returned to his ship.
+
+Soon the two ships diverged their wakes; and long as the strange vessel
+was in view, she was seen to yaw hither and thither at every dark spot,
+however small, on the sea. This way and that her yards were swung
+round; starboard and larboard, she continued to tack; now she beat
+against a head sea; and again it pushed her before it; while all the
+while, her masts and yards were thickly clustered with men, as three
+tall cherry trees, when the boys are cherrying among the boughs.
+
+But by her still halting course and winding, woeful way, you plainly
+saw that this ship that so wept with spray, still remained without
+comfort. She was Rachel, weeping for her children, because they were
+not.
+
+
+CHAPTER 129. The Cabin.
+
+(_Ahab moving to go on deck; Pip catches him by the hand to follow._)
+
+“Lad, lad, I tell thee thou must not follow Ahab now. The hour is
+coming when Ahab would not scare thee from him, yet would not have thee
+by him. There is that in thee, poor lad, which I feel too curing to my
+malady. Like cures like; and for this hunt, my malady becomes my most
+desired health. Do thou abide below here, where they shall serve thee,
+as if thou wert the captain. Aye, lad, thou shalt sit here in my own
+screwed chair; another screw to it, thou must be.”
+
+“No, no, no! ye have not a whole body, sir; do ye but use poor me for
+your one lost leg; only tread upon me, sir; I ask no more, so I remain
+a part of ye.”
+
+“Oh! spite of million villains, this makes me a bigot in the fadeless
+fidelity of man!—and a black! and crazy!—but methinks like-cures-like
+applies to him too; he grows so sane again.”
+
+“They tell me, sir, that Stubb did once desert poor little Pip, whose
+drowned bones now show white, for all the blackness of his living skin.
+But I will never desert ye, sir, as Stubb did him. Sir, I must go with
+ye.”
+
+“If thou speakest thus to me much more, Ahab’s purpose keels up in him.
+I tell thee no; it cannot be.”
+
+“Oh good master, master, master!
+
+“Weep so, and I will murder thee! have a care, for Ahab too is mad.
+Listen, and thou wilt often hear my ivory foot upon the deck, and still
+know that I am there. And now I quit thee. Thy hand!—Met! True art
+thou, lad, as the circumference to its centre. So: God for ever bless
+thee; and if it come to that,—God for ever save thee, let what will
+befall.”
+
+(_Ahab goes; Pip steps one step forward._)
+
+“Here he this instant stood; I stand in his air,—but I’m alone. Now
+were even poor Pip here I could endure it, but he’s missing. Pip! Pip!
+Ding, dong, ding! Who’s seen Pip? He must be up here; let’s try the
+door. What? neither lock, nor bolt, nor bar; and yet there’s no opening
+it. It must be the spell; he told me to stay here: Aye, and told me
+this screwed chair was mine. Here, then, I’ll seat me, against the
+transom, in the ship’s full middle, all her keel and her three masts
+before me. Here, our old sailors say, in their black seventy-fours
+great admirals sometimes sit at table, and lord it over rows of
+captains and lieutenants. Ha! what’s this? epaulets! epaulets! the
+epaulets all come crowding! Pass round the decanters; glad to see ye;
+fill up, monsieurs! What an odd feeling, now, when a black boy’s host
+to white men with gold lace upon their coats!—Monsieurs, have ye seen
+one Pip?—a little negro lad, five feet high, hang-dog look, and
+cowardly! Jumped from a whale-boat once;—seen him? No! Well then, fill
+up again, captains, and let’s drink shame upon all cowards! I name no
+names. Shame upon them! Put one foot upon the table. Shame upon all
+cowards.—Hist! above there, I hear ivory—Oh, master! master! I am
+indeed down-hearted when you walk over me. But here I’ll stay, though
+this stern strikes rocks; and they bulge through; and oysters come to
+join me.”
+
+
+CHAPTER 130. The Hat.
+
+And now that at the proper time and place, after so long and wide a
+preliminary cruise, Ahab,—all other whaling waters swept—seemed to have
+chased his foe into an ocean-fold, to slay him the more securely there;
+now, that he found himself hard by the very latitude and longitude
+where his tormenting wound had been inflicted; now that a vessel had
+been spoken which on the very day preceding had actually encountered
+Moby Dick;—and now that all his successive meetings with various ships
+contrastingly concurred to show the demoniac indifference with which
+the white whale tore his hunters, whether sinning or sinned against;
+now it was that there lurked a something in the old man’s eyes, which
+it was hardly sufferable for feeble souls to see. As the unsetting
+polar star, which through the livelong, arctic, six months’ night
+sustains its piercing, steady, central gaze; so Ahab’s purpose now
+fixedly gleamed down upon the constant midnight of the gloomy crew. It
+domineered above them so, that all their bodings, doubts, misgivings,
+fears, were fain to hide beneath their souls, and not sprout forth a
+single spear or leaf.
+
+In this foreshadowing interval too, all humor, forced or natural,
+vanished. Stubb no more strove to raise a smile; Starbuck no more
+strove to check one. Alike, joy and sorrow, hope and fear, seemed
+ground to finest dust, and powdered, for the time, in the clamped
+mortar of Ahab’s iron soul. Like machines, they dumbly moved about the
+deck, ever conscious that the old man’s despot eye was on them.
+
+But did you deeply scan him in his more secret confidential hours; when
+he thought no glance but one was on him; then you would have seen that
+even as Ahab’s eyes so awed the crew’s, the inscrutable Parsee’s glance
+awed his; or somehow, at least, in some wild way, at times affected it.
+Such an added, gliding strangeness began to invest the thin Fedallah
+now; such ceaseless shudderings shook him; that the men looked dubious
+at him; half uncertain, as it seemed, whether indeed he were a mortal
+substance, or else a tremulous shadow cast upon the deck by some unseen
+being’s body. And that shadow was always hovering there. For not by
+night, even, had Fedallah ever certainly been known to slumber, or go
+below. He would stand still for hours: but never sat or leaned; his wan
+but wondrous eyes did plainly say—We two watchmen never rest.
+
+Nor, at any time, by night or day could the mariners now step upon the
+deck, unless Ahab was before them; either standing in his pivot-hole,
+or exactly pacing the planks between two undeviating limits,—the
+main-mast and the mizen; or else they saw him standing in the
+cabin-scuttle,—his living foot advanced upon the deck, as if to step;
+his hat slouched heavily over his eyes; so that however motionless he
+stood, however the days and nights were added on, that he had not swung
+in his hammock; yet hidden beneath that slouching hat, they could never
+tell unerringly whether, for all this, his eyes were really closed at
+times; or whether he was still intently scanning them; no matter,
+though he stood so in the scuttle for a whole hour on the stretch, and
+the unheeded night-damp gathered in beads of dew upon that stone-carved
+coat and hat. The clothes that the night had wet, the next day’s
+sunshine dried upon him; and so, day after day, and night after night;
+he went no more beneath the planks; whatever he wanted from the cabin
+that thing he sent for.
+
+He ate in the same open air; that is, his two only meals,—breakfast and
+dinner: supper he never touched; nor reaped his beard; which darkly
+grew all gnarled, as unearthed roots of trees blown over, which still
+grow idly on at naked base, though perished in the upper verdure. But
+though his whole life was now become one watch on deck; and though the
+Parsee’s mystic watch was without intermission as his own; yet these
+two never seemed to speak—one man to the other—unless at long intervals
+some passing unmomentous matter made it necessary. Though such a potent
+spell seemed secretly to join the twain; openly, and to the awe-struck
+crew, they seemed pole-like asunder. If by day they chanced to speak
+one word; by night, dumb men were both, so far as concerned the
+slightest verbal interchange. At times, for longest hours, without a
+single hail, they stood far parted in the starlight; Ahab in his
+scuttle, the Parsee by the mainmast; but still fixedly gazing upon each
+other; as if in the Parsee Ahab saw his forethrown shadow, in Ahab the
+Parsee his abandoned substance.
+
+And yet, somehow, did Ahab—in his own proper self, as daily, hourly,
+and every instant, commandingly revealed to his subordinates,—Ahab
+seemed an independent lord; the Parsee but his slave. Still again both
+seemed yoked together, and an unseen tyrant driving them; the lean
+shade siding the solid rib. For be this Parsee what he may, all rib and
+keel was solid Ahab.
+
+At the first faintest glimmering of the dawn, his iron voice was heard
+from aft,—“Man the mast-heads!”—and all through the day, till after
+sunset and after twilight, the same voice every hour, at the striking
+of the helmsman’s bell, was heard—“What d’ye see?—sharp! sharp!”
+
+But when three or four days had slided by, after meeting the
+children-seeking Rachel; and no spout had yet been seen; the monomaniac
+old man seemed distrustful of his crew’s fidelity; at least, of nearly
+all except the Pagan harpooneers; he seemed to doubt, even, whether
+Stubb and Flask might not willingly overlook the sight he sought. But
+if these suspicions were really his, he sagaciously refrained from
+verbally expressing them, however his actions might seem to hint them.
+
+“I will have the first sight of the whale myself,”—he said. “Aye! Ahab
+must have the doubloon!” and with his own hands he rigged a nest of
+basketed bowlines; and sending a hand aloft, with a single sheaved
+block, to secure to the main-mast head, he received the two ends of the
+downward-reeved rope; and attaching one to his basket prepared a pin
+for the other end, in order to fasten it at the rail. This done, with
+that end yet in his hand and standing beside the pin, he looked round
+upon his crew, sweeping from one to the other; pausing his glance long
+upon Daggoo, Queequeg, Tashtego; but shunning Fedallah; and then
+settling his firm relying eye upon the chief mate, said,—“Take the
+rope, sir—I give it into thy hands, Starbuck.” Then arranging his
+person in the basket, he gave the word for them to hoist him to his
+perch, Starbuck being the one who secured the rope at last; and
+afterwards stood near it. And thus, with one hand clinging round the
+royal mast, Ahab gazed abroad upon the sea for miles and miles,—ahead,
+astern, this side, and that,—within the wide expanded circle commanded
+at so great a height.
+
+When in working with his hands at some lofty almost isolated place in
+the rigging, which chances to afford no foothold, the sailor at sea is
+hoisted up to that spot, and sustained there by the rope; under these
+circumstances, its fastened end on deck is always given in strict
+charge to some one man who has the special watch of it. Because in such
+a wilderness of running rigging, whose various different relations
+aloft cannot always be infallibly discerned by what is seen of them at
+the deck; and when the deck-ends of these ropes are being every few
+minutes cast down from the fastenings, it would be but a natural
+fatality, if, unprovided with a constant watchman, the hoisted sailor
+should by some carelessness of the crew be cast adrift and fall all
+swooping to the sea. So Ahab’s proceedings in this matter were not
+unusual; the only strange thing about them seemed to be, that Starbuck,
+almost the one only man who had ever ventured to oppose him with
+anything in the slightest degree approaching to decision—one of those
+too, whose faithfulness on the look-out he had seemed to doubt
+somewhat;—it was strange, that this was the very man he should select
+for his watchman; freely giving his whole life into such an otherwise
+distrusted person’s hands.
+
+Now, the first time Ahab was perched aloft; ere he had been there ten
+minutes; one of those red-billed savage sea-hawks which so often fly
+incommodiously close round the manned mast-heads of whalemen in these
+latitudes; one of these birds came wheeling and screaming round his
+head in a maze of untrackably swift circlings. Then it darted a
+thousand feet straight up into the air; then spiralized downwards, and
+went eddying again round his head.
+
+But with his gaze fixed upon the dim and distant horizon, Ahab seemed
+not to mark this wild bird; nor, indeed, would any one else have marked
+it much, it being no uncommon circumstance; only now almost the least
+heedful eye seemed to see some sort of cunning meaning in almost every
+sight.
+
+“Your hat, your hat, sir!” suddenly cried the Sicilian seaman, who
+being posted at the mizen-mast-head, stood directly behind Ahab, though
+somewhat lower than his level, and with a deep gulf of air dividing
+them.
+
+But already the sable wing was before the old man’s eyes; the long
+hooked bill at his head: with a scream, the black hawk darted away with
+his prize.
+
+An eagle flew thrice round Tarquin’s head, removing his cap to replace
+it, and thereupon Tanaquil, his wife, declared that Tarquin would be
+king of Rome. But only by the replacing of the cap was that omen
+accounted good. Ahab’s hat was never restored; the wild hawk flew on
+and on with it; far in advance of the prow: and at last disappeared;
+while from the point of that disappearance, a minute black spot was
+dimly discerned, falling from that vast height into the sea.
+
+
+CHAPTER 131. The Pequod Meets The Delight.
+
+The intense Pequod sailed on; the rolling waves and days went by; the
+life-buoy-coffin still lightly swung; and another ship, most miserably
+misnamed the Delight, was descried. As she drew nigh, all eyes were
+fixed upon her broad beams, called shears, which, in some
+whaling-ships, cross the quarter-deck at the height of eight or nine
+feet; serving to carry the spare, unrigged, or disabled boats.
+
+Upon the stranger’s shears were beheld the shattered, white ribs, and
+some few splintered planks, of what had once been a whale-boat; but you
+now saw through this wreck, as plainly as you see through the peeled,
+half-unhinged, and bleaching skeleton of a horse.
+
+“Hast seen the White Whale?”
+
+“Look!” replied the hollow-cheeked captain from his taffrail; and with
+his trumpet he pointed to the wreck.
+
+“Hast killed him?”
+
+“The harpoon is not yet forged that ever will do that,” answered the
+other, sadly glancing upon a rounded hammock on the deck, whose
+gathered sides some noiseless sailors were busy in sewing together.
+
+“Not forged!” and snatching Perth’s levelled iron from the crotch, Ahab
+held it out, exclaiming—“Look ye, Nantucketer; here in this hand I hold
+his death! Tempered in blood, and tempered by lightning are these
+barbs; and I swear to temper them triply in that hot place behind the
+fin, where the White Whale most feels his accursed life!”
+
+“Then God keep thee, old man—see’st thou that”—pointing to the
+hammock—“I bury but one of five stout men, who were alive only
+yesterday; but were dead ere night. Only _that_ one I bury; the rest
+were buried before they died; you sail upon their tomb.” Then turning
+to his crew—“Are ye ready there? place the plank then on the rail, and
+lift the body; so, then—Oh! God”—advancing towards the hammock with
+uplifted hands—“may the resurrection and the life——”
+
+“Brace forward! Up helm!” cried Ahab like lightning to his men.
+
+But the suddenly started Pequod was not quick enough to escape the
+sound of the splash that the corpse soon made as it struck the sea; not
+so quick, indeed, but that some of the flying bubbles might have
+sprinkled her hull with their ghostly baptism.
+
+As Ahab now glided from the dejected Delight, the strange life-buoy
+hanging at the Pequod’s stern came into conspicuous relief.
+
+“Ha! yonder! look yonder, men!” cried a foreboding voice in her wake.
+“In vain, oh, ye strangers, ye fly our sad burial; ye but turn us your
+taffrail to show us your coffin!”
+
+
+CHAPTER 132. The Symphony.
+
+It was a clear steel-blue day. The firmaments of air and sea were
+hardly separable in that all-pervading azure; only, the pensive air was
+transparently pure and soft, with a woman’s look, and the robust and
+man-like sea heaved with long, strong, lingering swells, as Samson’s
+chest in his sleep.
+
+Hither, and thither, on high, glided the snow-white wings of small,
+unspeckled birds; these were the gentle thoughts of the feminine air;
+but to and fro in the deeps, far down in the bottomless blue, rushed
+mighty leviathans, sword-fish, and sharks; and these were the strong,
+troubled, murderous thinkings of the masculine sea.
+
+But though thus contrasting within, the contrast was only in shades and
+shadows without; those two seemed one; it was only the sex, as it were,
+that distinguished them.
+
+Aloft, like a royal czar and king, the sun seemed giving this gentle
+air to this bold and rolling sea; even as bride to groom. And at the
+girdling line of the horizon, a soft and tremulous motion—most seen
+here at the equator—denoted the fond, throbbing trust, the loving
+alarms, with which the poor bride gave her bosom away.
+
+Tied up and twisted; gnarled and knotted with wrinkles; haggardly firm
+and unyielding; his eyes glowing like coals, that still glow in the
+ashes of ruin; untottering Ahab stood forth in the clearness of the
+morn; lifting his splintered helmet of a brow to the fair girl’s
+forehead of heaven.
+
+Oh, immortal infancy, and innocency of the azure! Invisible winged
+creatures that frolic all round us! Sweet childhood of air and sky! how
+oblivious were ye of old Ahab’s close-coiled woe! But so have I seen
+little Miriam and Martha, laughing-eyed elves, heedlessly gambol around
+their old sire; sporting with the circle of singed locks which grew on
+the marge of that burnt-out crater of his brain.
+
+Slowly crossing the deck from the scuttle, Ahab leaned over the side
+and watched how his shadow in the water sank and sank to his gaze, the
+more and the more that he strove to pierce the profundity. But the
+lovely aromas in that enchanted air did at last seem to dispel, for a
+moment, the cankerous thing in his soul. That glad, happy air, that
+winsome sky, did at last stroke and caress him; the step-mother world,
+so long cruel—forbidding—now threw affectionate arms round his stubborn
+neck, and did seem to joyously sob over him, as if over one, that
+however wilful and erring, she could yet find it in her heart to save
+and to bless. From beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped a tear into
+the sea; nor did all the Pacific contain such wealth as that one wee
+drop.
+
+Starbuck saw the old man; saw him, how he heavily leaned over the side;
+and he seemed to hear in his own true heart the measureless sobbing
+that stole out of the centre of the serenity around. Careful not to
+touch him, or be noticed by him, he yet drew near to him, and stood
+there.
+
+Ahab turned.
+
+“Starbuck!”
+
+“Sir.”
+
+“Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such
+a day—very much such a sweetness as this—I struck my first whale—a
+boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty—forty—forty years ago!—ago! Forty
+years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and
+storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab
+forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors
+of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not
+spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the
+desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a
+Captain’s exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any
+sympathy from the green country without—oh, weariness! heaviness!
+Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!—when I think of all this;
+only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before—and how for forty
+years I have fed upon dry salted fare—fit emblem of the dry nourishment
+of my soil!—when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily
+hand, and broken the world’s fresh bread to my mouldy crusts—away,
+whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and
+sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage
+pillow—wife? wife?—rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I
+widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the
+madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with
+which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly
+chased his prey—more a demon than a man!—aye, aye! what a forty years’
+fool—fool—old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase?
+why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance?
+how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not
+hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been
+snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me,
+that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some
+ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel
+deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering
+beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!—crack my
+heart!—stave my brain!—mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey
+hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus
+intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a
+human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to
+gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is
+the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no;
+stay on board, on board!—lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives
+chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with
+the far away home I see in that eye!”
+
+“Oh, my Captain! my Captain! noble soul! grand old heart, after all!
+why should any one give chase to that hated fish! Away with me! let us
+fly these deadly waters! let us home! Wife and child, too, are
+Starbuck’s—wife and child of his brotherly, sisterly, play-fellow
+youth; even as thine, sir, are the wife and child of thy loving,
+longing, paternal old age! Away! let us away!—this instant let me alter
+the course! How cheerily, how hilariously, O my Captain, would we bowl
+on our way to see old Nantucket again! I think, sir, they have some
+such mild blue days, even as this, in Nantucket.”
+
+“They have, they have. I have seen them—some summer days in the
+morning. About this time—yes, it is his noon nap now—the boy
+vivaciously wakes; sits up in bed; and his mother tells him of me, of
+cannibal old me; how I am abroad upon the deep, but will yet come back
+to dance him again.”
+
+“’Tis my Mary, my Mary herself! She promised that my boy, every
+morning, should be carried to the hill to catch the first glimpse of
+his father’s sail! Yes, yes! no more! it is done! we head for
+Nantucket! Come, my Captain, study out the course, and let us away!
+See, see! the boy’s face from the window! the boy’s hand on the hill!”
+
+But Ahab’s glance was averted; like a blighted fruit tree he shook, and
+cast his last, cindered apple to the soil.
+
+“What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what
+cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor
+commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep
+pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly
+making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not
+so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this
+arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy
+in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible
+power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain
+think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does
+that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round
+in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all
+the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea! Look! see yon
+Albicore! who put it into him to chase and fang that flying-fish? Where
+do murderers go, man! Who’s to doom, when the judge himself is dragged
+to the bar? But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and
+the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have
+been making hay somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and
+the mowers are sleeping among the new-mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we
+how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust
+amid greenness; as last year’s scythes flung down, and left in the
+half-cut swaths—Starbuck!”
+
+But blanched to a corpse’s hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away.
+
+Ahab crossed the deck to gaze over on the other side; but started at
+two reflected, fixed eyes in the water there. Fedallah was motionlessly
+leaning over the same rail.
+
+
+CHAPTER 133. The Chase—First Day.
+
+That night, in the mid-watch, when the old man—as his wont at
+intervals—stepped forth from the scuttle in which he leaned, and went
+to his pivot-hole, he suddenly thrust out his face fiercely, snuffing
+up the sea air as a sagacious ship’s dog will, in drawing nigh to some
+barbarous isle. He declared that a whale must be near. Soon that
+peculiar odor, sometimes to a great distance given forth by the living
+sperm whale, was palpable to all the watch; nor was any mariner
+surprised when, after inspecting the compass, and then the dog-vane,
+and then ascertaining the precise bearing of the odor as nearly as
+possible, Ahab rapidly ordered the ship’s course to be slightly
+altered, and the sail to be shortened.
+
+The acute policy dictating these movements was sufficiently vindicated
+at daybreak, by the sight of a long sleek on the sea directly and
+lengthwise ahead, smooth as oil, and resembling in the pleated watery
+wrinkles bordering it, the polished metallic-like marks of some swift
+tide-rip, at the mouth of a deep, rapid stream.
+
+“Man the mast-heads! Call all hands!”
+
+Thundering with the butts of three clubbed handspikes on the forecastle
+deck, Daggoo roused the sleepers with such judgment claps that they
+seemed to exhale from the scuttle, so instantaneously did they appear
+with their clothes in their hands.
+
+“What d’ye see?” cried Ahab, flattening his face to the sky.
+
+“Nothing, nothing sir!” was the sound hailing down in reply.
+
+“T’gallant sails!—stunsails! alow and aloft, and on both sides!”
+
+All sail being set, he now cast loose the life-line, reserved for
+swaying him to the main royal-mast head; and in a few moments they were
+hoisting him thither, when, while but two thirds of the way aloft, and
+while peering ahead through the horizontal vacancy between the
+main-top-sail and top-gallant-sail, he raised a gull-like cry in the
+air. “There she blows!—there she blows! A hump like a snow-hill! It is
+Moby Dick!”
+
+Fired by the cry which seemed simultaneously taken up by the three
+look-outs, the men on deck rushed to the rigging to behold the famous
+whale they had so long been pursuing. Ahab had now gained his final
+perch, some feet above the other look-outs, Tashtego standing just
+beneath him on the cap of the top-gallant-mast, so that the Indian’s
+head was almost on a level with Ahab’s heel. From this height the whale
+was now seen some mile or so ahead, at every roll of the sea revealing
+his high sparkling hump, and regularly jetting his silent spout into
+the air. To the credulous mariners it seemed the same silent spout they
+had so long ago beheld in the moonlit Atlantic and Indian Oceans.
+
+“And did none of ye see it before?” cried Ahab, hailing the perched men
+all around him.
+
+“I saw him almost that same instant, sir, that Captain Ahab did, and I
+cried out,” said Tashtego.
+
+“Not the same instant; not the same—no, the doubloon is mine, Fate
+reserved the doubloon for me. _I_ only; none of ye could have raised
+the White Whale first. There she blows!—there she blows!—there she
+blows! There again!—there again!” he cried, in long-drawn, lingering,
+methodic tones, attuned to the gradual prolongings of the whale’s
+visible jets. “He’s going to sound! In stunsails! Down
+top-gallant-sails! Stand by three boats. Mr. Starbuck, remember, stay
+on board, and keep the ship. Helm there! Luff, luff a point! So;
+steady, man, steady! There go flukes! No, no; only black water! All
+ready the boats there? Stand by, stand by! Lower me, Mr. Starbuck;
+lower, lower,—quick, quicker!” and he slid through the air to the deck.
+
+“He is heading straight to leeward, sir,” cried Stubb, “right away from
+us; cannot have seen the ship yet.”
+
+“Be dumb, man! Stand by the braces! Hard down the helm!—brace up!
+Shiver her!—shiver her!—So; well that! Boats, boats!”
+
+Soon all the boats but Starbuck’s were dropped; all the boat-sails
+set—all the paddles plying; with rippling swiftness, shooting to
+leeward; and Ahab heading the onset. A pale, death-glimmer lit up
+Fedallah’s sunken eyes; a hideous motion gnawed his mouth.
+
+Like noiseless nautilus shells, their light prows sped through the sea;
+but only slowly they neared the foe. As they neared him, the ocean grew
+still more smooth; seemed drawing a carpet over its waves; seemed a
+noon-meadow, so serenely it spread. At length the breathless hunter
+came so nigh his seemingly unsuspecting prey, that his entire dazzling
+hump was distinctly visible, sliding along the sea as if an isolated
+thing, and continually set in a revolving ring of finest, fleecy,
+greenish foam. He saw the vast, involved wrinkles of the slightly
+projecting head beyond. Before it, far out on the soft Turkish-rugged
+waters, went the glistening white shadow from his broad, milky
+forehead, a musical rippling playfully accompanying the shade; and
+behind, the blue waters interchangeably flowed over into the moving
+valley of his steady wake; and on either hand bright bubbles arose and
+danced by his side. But these were broken again by the light toes of
+hundreds of gay fowl softly feathering the sea, alternate with their
+fitful flight; and like to some flag-staff rising from the painted hull
+of an argosy, the tall but shattered pole of a recent lance projected
+from the white whale’s back; and at intervals one of the cloud of
+soft-toed fowls hovering, and to and fro skimming like a canopy over
+the fish, silently perched and rocked on this pole, the long tail
+feathers streaming like pennons.
+
+A gentle joyousness—a mighty mildness of repose in swiftness, invested
+the gliding whale. Not the white bull Jupiter swimming away with
+ravished Europa clinging to his graceful horns; his lovely, leering
+eyes sideways intent upon the maid; with smooth bewitching fleetness,
+rippling straight for the nuptial bower in Crete; not Jove, not that
+great majesty Supreme! did surpass the glorified White Whale as he so
+divinely swam.
+
+On each soft side—coincident with the parted swell, that but once
+leaving him, then flowed so wide away—on each bright side, the whale
+shed off enticings. No wonder there had been some among the hunters who
+namelessly transported and allured by all this serenity, had ventured
+to assail it; but had fatally found that quietude but the vesture of
+tornadoes. Yet calm, enticing calm, oh, whale! thou glidest on, to all
+who for the first time eye thee, no matter how many in that same way
+thou may’st have bejuggled and destroyed before.
+
+And thus, through the serene tranquillities of the tropical sea, among
+waves whose hand-clappings were suspended by exceeding rapture, Moby
+Dick moved on, still withholding from sight the full terrors of his
+submerged trunk, entirely hiding the wrenched hideousness of his jaw.
+But soon the fore part of him slowly rose from the water; for an
+instant his whole marbleized body formed a high arch, like Virginia’s
+Natural Bridge, and warningly waving his bannered flukes in the air,
+the grand god revealed himself, sounded, and went out of sight.
+Hoveringly halting, and dipping on the wing, the white sea-fowls
+longingly lingered over the agitated pool that he left.
+
+With oars apeak, and paddles down, the sheets of their sails adrift,
+the three boats now stilly floated, awaiting Moby Dick’s reappearance.
+
+“An hour,” said Ahab, standing rooted in his boat’s stern; and he gazed
+beyond the whale’s place, towards the dim blue spaces and wide wooing
+vacancies to leeward. It was only an instant; for again his eyes seemed
+whirling round in his head as he swept the watery circle. The breeze
+now freshened; the sea began to swell.
+
+“The birds!—the birds!” cried Tashtego.
+
+In long Indian file, as when herons take wing, the white birds were now
+all flying towards Ahab’s boat; and when within a few yards began
+fluttering over the water there, wheeling round and round, with joyous,
+expectant cries. Their vision was keener than man’s; Ahab could
+discover no sign in the sea. But suddenly as he peered down and down
+into its depths, he profoundly saw a white living spot no bigger than a
+white weasel, with wonderful celerity uprising, and magnifying as it
+rose, till it turned, and then there were plainly revealed two long
+crooked rows of white, glistening teeth, floating up from the
+undiscoverable bottom. It was Moby Dick’s open mouth and scrolled jaw;
+his vast, shadowed bulk still half blending with the blue of the sea.
+The glittering mouth yawned beneath the boat like an open-doored marble
+tomb; and giving one sidelong sweep with his steering oar, Ahab whirled
+the craft aside from this tremendous apparition. Then, calling upon
+Fedallah to change places with him, went forward to the bows, and
+seizing Perth’s harpoon, commanded his crew to grasp their oars and
+stand by to stern.
+
+Now, by reason of this timely spinning round the boat upon its axis,
+its bow, by anticipation, was made to face the whale’s head while yet
+under water. But as if perceiving this stratagem, Moby Dick, with that
+malicious intelligence ascribed to him, sidelingly transplanted
+himself, as it were, in an instant, shooting his pleated head
+lengthwise beneath the boat.
+
+Through and through; through every plank and each rib, it thrilled for
+an instant, the whale obliquely lying on his back, in the manner of a
+biting shark, slowly and feelingly taking its bows full within his
+mouth, so that the long, narrow, scrolled lower jaw curled high up into
+the open air, and one of the teeth caught in a row-lock. The bluish
+pearl-white of the inside of the jaw was within six inches of Ahab’s
+head, and reached higher than that. In this attitude the White Whale
+now shook the slight cedar as a mildly cruel cat her mouse. With
+unastonished eyes Fedallah gazed, and crossed his arms; but the
+tiger-yellow crew were tumbling over each other’s heads to gain the
+uttermost stern.
+
+And now, while both elastic gunwales were springing in and out, as the
+whale dallied with the doomed craft in this devilish way; and from his
+body being submerged beneath the boat, he could not be darted at from
+the bows, for the bows were almost inside of him, as it were; and while
+the other boats involuntarily paused, as before a quick crisis
+impossible to withstand, then it was that monomaniac Ahab, furious with
+this tantalizing vicinity of his foe, which placed him all alive and
+helpless in the very jaws he hated; frenzied with all this, he seized
+the long bone with his naked hands, and wildly strove to wrench it from
+its gripe. As now he thus vainly strove, the jaw slipped from him; the
+frail gunwales bent in, collapsed, and snapped, as both jaws, like an
+enormous shears, sliding further aft, bit the craft completely in
+twain, and locked themselves fast again in the sea, midway between the
+two floating wrecks. These floated aside, the broken ends drooping, the
+crew at the stern-wreck clinging to the gunwales, and striving to hold
+fast to the oars to lash them across.
+
+At that preluding moment, ere the boat was yet snapped, Ahab, the first
+to perceive the whale’s intent, by the crafty upraising of his head, a
+movement that loosed his hold for the time; at that moment his hand had
+made one final effort to push the boat out of the bite. But only
+slipping further into the whale’s mouth, and tilting over sideways as
+it slipped, the boat had shaken off his hold on the jaw; spilled him
+out of it, as he leaned to the push; and so he fell flat-faced upon the
+sea.
+
+Ripplingly withdrawing from his prey, Moby Dick now lay at a little
+distance, vertically thrusting his oblong white head up and down in the
+billows; and at the same time slowly revolving his whole spindled body;
+so that when his vast wrinkled forehead rose—some twenty or more feet
+out of the water—the now rising swells, with all their confluent waves,
+dazzlingly broke against it; vindictively tossing their shivered spray
+still higher into the air.* So, in a gale, the but half baffled Channel
+billows only recoil from the base of the Eddystone, triumphantly to
+overleap its summit with their scud.
+
+*This motion is peculiar to the sperm whale. It receives its
+designation (pitchpoling) from its being likened to that preliminary
+up-and-down poise of the whale-lance, in the exercise called
+pitchpoling, previously described. By this motion the whale must best
+and most comprehensively view whatever objects may be encircling him.
+
+But soon resuming his horizontal attitude, Moby Dick swam swiftly round
+and round the wrecked crew; sideways churning the water in his vengeful
+wake, as if lashing himself up to still another and more deadly
+assault. The sight of the splintered boat seemed to madden him, as the
+blood of grapes and mulberries cast before Antiochus’s elephants in the
+book of Maccabees. Meanwhile Ahab half smothered in the foam of the
+whale’s insolent tail, and too much of a cripple to swim,—though he
+could still keep afloat, even in the heart of such a whirlpool as that;
+helpless Ahab’s head was seen, like a tossed bubble which the least
+chance shock might burst. From the boat’s fragmentary stern, Fedallah
+incuriously and mildly eyed him; the clinging crew, at the other
+drifting end, could not succor him; more than enough was it for them to
+look to themselves. For so revolvingly appalling was the White Whale’s
+aspect, and so planetarily swift the ever-contracting circles he made,
+that he seemed horizontally swooping upon them. And though the other
+boats, unharmed, still hovered hard by; still they dared not pull into
+the eddy to strike, lest that should be the signal for the instant
+destruction of the jeopardized castaways, Ahab and all; nor in that
+case could they themselves hope to escape. With straining eyes, then,
+they remained on the outer edge of the direful zone, whose centre had
+now become the old man’s head.
+
+Meantime, from the beginning all this had been descried from the ship’s
+mast heads; and squaring her yards, she had borne down upon the scene;
+and was now so nigh, that Ahab in the water hailed her!—“Sail on
+the”—but that moment a breaking sea dashed on him from Moby Dick, and
+whelmed him for the time. But struggling out of it again, and chancing
+to rise on a towering crest, he shouted,—“Sail on the whale!—Drive him
+off!”
+
+The Pequod’s prows were pointed; and breaking up the charmed circle,
+she effectually parted the white whale from his victim. As he sullenly
+swam off, the boats flew to the rescue.
+
+Dragged into Stubb’s boat with blood-shot, blinded eyes, the white
+brine caking in his wrinkles; the long tension of Ahab’s bodily
+strength did crack, and helplessly he yielded to his body’s doom: for a
+time, lying all crushed in the bottom of Stubb’s boat, like one trodden
+under foot of herds of elephants. Far inland, nameless wails came from
+him, as desolate sounds from out ravines.
+
+But this intensity of his physical prostration did but so much the more
+abbreviate it. In an instant’s compass, great hearts sometimes condense
+to one deep pang, the sum total of those shallow pains kindly diffused
+through feebler men’s whole lives. And so, such hearts, though summary
+in each one suffering; still, if the gods decree it, in their life-time
+aggregate a whole age of woe, wholly made up of instantaneous
+intensities; for even in their pointless centres, those noble natures
+contain the entire circumferences of inferior souls.
+
+“The harpoon,” said Ahab, half way rising, and draggingly leaning on
+one bended arm—“is it safe?”
+
+“Aye, sir, for it was not darted; this is it,” said Stubb, showing it.
+
+“Lay it before me;—any missing men?”
+
+“One, two, three, four, five;—there were five oars, sir, and here are
+five men.”
+
+“That’s good.—Help me, man; I wish to stand. So, so, I see him! there!
+there! going to leeward still; what a leaping spout!—Hands off from me!
+The eternal sap runs up in Ahab’s bones again! Set the sail; out oars;
+the helm!”
+
+It is often the case that when a boat is stove, its crew, being picked
+up by another boat, help to work that second boat; and the chase is
+thus continued with what is called double-banked oars. It was thus now.
+But the added power of the boat did not equal the added power of the
+whale, for he seemed to have treble-banked his every fin; swimming with
+a velocity which plainly showed, that if now, under these
+circumstances, pushed on, the chase would prove an indefinitely
+prolonged, if not a hopeless one; nor could any crew endure for so long
+a period, such an unintermitted, intense straining at the oar; a thing
+barely tolerable only in some one brief vicissitude. The ship itself,
+then, as it sometimes happens, offered the most promising intermediate
+means of overtaking the chase. Accordingly, the boats now made for her,
+and were soon swayed up to their cranes—the two parts of the wrecked
+boat having been previously secured by her—and then hoisting everything
+to her side, and stacking her canvas high up, and sideways
+outstretching it with stun-sails, like the double-jointed wings of an
+albatross; the Pequod bore down in the leeward wake of Moby-Dick. At
+the well known, methodic intervals, the whale’s glittering spout was
+regularly announced from the manned mast-heads; and when he would be
+reported as just gone down, Ahab would take the time, and then pacing
+the deck, binnacle-watch in hand, so soon as the last second of the
+allotted hour expired, his voice was heard.—“Whose is the doubloon now?
+D’ye see him?” and if the reply was, No, sir! straightway he commanded
+them to lift him to his perch. In this way the day wore on; Ahab, now
+aloft and motionless; anon, unrestingly pacing the planks.
+
+As he was thus walking, uttering no sound, except to hail the men
+aloft, or to bid them hoist a sail still higher, or to spread one to a
+still greater breadth—thus to and fro pacing, beneath his slouched hat,
+at every turn he passed his own wrecked boat, which had been dropped
+upon the quarter-deck, and lay there reversed; broken bow to shattered
+stern. At last he paused before it; and as in an already over-clouded
+sky fresh troops of clouds will sometimes sail across, so over the old
+man’s face there now stole some such added gloom as this.
+
+Stubb saw him pause; and perhaps intending, not vainly, though, to
+evince his own unabated fortitude, and thus keep up a valiant place in
+his Captain’s mind, he advanced, and eyeing the wreck exclaimed—“The
+thistle the ass refused; it pricked his mouth too keenly, sir; ha! ha!”
+
+“What soulless thing is this that laughs before a wreck? Man, man! did
+I not know thee brave as fearless fire (and as mechanical) I could
+swear thou wert a poltroon. Groan nor laugh should be heard before a
+wreck.”
+
+“Aye, sir,” said Starbuck drawing near, “’tis a solemn sight; an omen,
+and an ill one.”
+
+“Omen? omen?—the dictionary! If the gods think to speak outright to
+man, they will honorably speak outright; not shake their heads, and
+give an old wives’ darkling hint.—Begone! Ye two are the opposite poles
+of one thing; Starbuck is Stubb reversed, and Stubb is Starbuck; and ye
+two are all mankind; and Ahab stands alone among the millions of the
+peopled earth, nor gods nor men his neighbors! Cold, cold—I shiver!—How
+now? Aloft there! D’ye see him? Sing out for every spout, though he
+spout ten times a second!”
+
+The day was nearly done; only the hem of his golden robe was rustling.
+Soon, it was almost dark, but the look-out men still remained unset.
+
+“Can’t see the spout now, sir;—too dark”—cried a voice from the air.
+
+“How heading when last seen?”
+
+“As before, sir,—straight to leeward.”
+
+“Good! he will travel slower now ’tis night. Down royals and
+top-gallant stun-sails, Mr. Starbuck. We must not run over him before
+morning; he’s making a passage now, and may heave-to a while. Helm
+there! keep her full before the wind!—Aloft! come down!—Mr. Stubb, send
+a fresh hand to the fore-mast head, and see it manned till
+morning.”—Then advancing towards the doubloon in the main-mast—“Men,
+this gold is mine, for I earned it; but I shall let it abide here till
+the White Whale is dead; and then, whosoever of ye first raises him,
+upon the day he shall be killed, this gold is that man’s; and if on
+that day I shall again raise him, then, ten times its sum shall be
+divided among all of ye! Away now!—the deck is thine, sir!”
+
+And so saying, he placed himself half way within the scuttle, and
+slouching his hat, stood there till dawn, except when at intervals
+rousing himself to see how the night wore on.
+
+
+CHAPTER 134. The Chase—Second Day.
+
+At day-break, the three mast-heads were punctually manned afresh.
+
+“D’ye see him?” cried Ahab after allowing a little space for the light
+to spread.
+
+“See nothing, sir.”
+
+“Turn up all hands and make sail! he travels faster than I thought
+for;—the top-gallant sails!—aye, they should have been kept on her all
+night. But no matter—’tis but resting for the rush.”
+
+Here be it said, that this pertinacious pursuit of one particular
+whale, continued through day into night, and through night into day, is
+a thing by no means unprecedented in the South sea fishery. For such is
+the wonderful skill, prescience of experience, and invincible
+confidence acquired by some great natural geniuses among the Nantucket
+commanders; that from the simple observation of a whale when last
+descried, they will, under certain given circumstances, pretty
+accurately foretell both the direction in which he will continue to
+swim for a time, while out of sight, as well as his probable rate of
+progression during that period. And, in these cases, somewhat as a
+pilot, when about losing sight of a coast, whose general trending he
+well knows, and which he desires shortly to return to again, but at
+some further point; like as this pilot stands by his compass, and takes
+the precise bearing of the cape at present visible, in order the more
+certainly to hit aright the remote, unseen headland, eventually to be
+visited: so does the fisherman, at his compass, with the whale; for
+after being chased, and diligently marked, through several hours of
+daylight, then, when night obscures the fish, the creature’s future
+wake through the darkness is almost as established to the sagacious
+mind of the hunter, as the pilot’s coast is to him. So that to this
+hunter’s wondrous skill, the proverbial evanescence of a thing writ in
+water, a wake, is to all desired purposes well nigh as reliable as the
+steadfast land. And as the mighty iron Leviathan of the modern railway
+is so familiarly known in its every pace, that, with watches in their
+hands, men time his rate as doctors that of a baby’s pulse; and lightly
+say of it, the up train or the down train will reach such or such a
+spot, at such or such an hour; even so, almost, there are occasions
+when these Nantucketers time that other Leviathan of the deep,
+according to the observed humor of his speed; and say to themselves, so
+many hours hence this whale will have gone two hundred miles, will have
+about reached this or that degree of latitude or longitude. But to
+render this acuteness at all successful in the end, the wind and the
+sea must be the whaleman’s allies; for of what present avail to the
+becalmed or windbound mariner is the skill that assures him he is
+exactly ninety-three leagues and a quarter from his port? Inferable
+from these statements, are many collateral subtile matters touching the
+chase of whales.
+
+The ship tore on; leaving such a furrow in the sea as when a
+cannon-ball, missent, becomes a plough-share and turns up the level
+field.
+
+“By salt and hemp!” cried Stubb, “but this swift motion of the deck
+creeps up one’s legs and tingles at the heart. This ship and I are two
+brave fellows!—Ha, ha! Some one take me up, and launch me, spine-wise,
+on the sea,—for by live-oaks! my spine’s a keel. Ha, ha! we go the gait
+that leaves no dust behind!”
+
+“There she blows—she blows!—she blows!—right ahead!” was now the
+mast-head cry.
+
+“Aye, aye!” cried Stubb, “I knew it—ye can’t escape—blow on and split
+your spout, O whale! the mad fiend himself is after ye! blow your
+trump—blister your lungs!—Ahab will dam off your blood, as a miller
+shuts his watergate upon the stream!”
+
+And Stubb did but speak out for well nigh all that crew. The frenzies
+of the chase had by this time worked them bubblingly up, like old wine
+worked anew. Whatever pale fears and forebodings some of them might
+have felt before; these were not only now kept out of sight through the
+growing awe of Ahab, but they were broken up, and on all sides routed,
+as timid prairie hares that scatter before the bounding bison. The hand
+of Fate had snatched all their souls; and by the stirring perils of the
+previous day; the rack of the past night’s suspense; the fixed,
+unfearing, blind, reckless way in which their wild craft went plunging
+towards its flying mark; by all these things, their hearts were bowled
+along. The wind that made great bellies of their sails, and rushed the
+vessel on by arms invisible as irresistible; this seemed the symbol of
+that unseen agency which so enslaved them to the race.
+
+They were one man, not thirty. For as the one ship that held them all;
+though it was put together of all contrasting things—oak, and maple,
+and pine wood; iron, and pitch, and hemp—yet all these ran into each
+other in the one concrete hull, which shot on its way, both balanced
+and directed by the long central keel; even so, all the individualities
+of the crew, this man’s valor, that man’s fear; guilt and guiltiness,
+all varieties were welded into oneness, and were all directed to that
+fatal goal which Ahab their one lord and keel did point to.
+
+The rigging lived. The mast-heads, like the tops of tall palms, were
+outspreadingly tufted with arms and legs. Clinging to a spar with one
+hand, some reached forth the other with impatient wavings; others,
+shading their eyes from the vivid sunlight, sat far out on the rocking
+yards; all the spars in full bearing of mortals, ready and ripe for
+their fate. Ah! how they still strove through that infinite blueness to
+seek out the thing that might destroy them!
+
+“Why sing ye not out for him, if ye see him?” cried Ahab, when, after
+the lapse of some minutes since the first cry, no more had been heard.
+“Sway me up, men; ye have been deceived; not Moby Dick casts one odd
+jet that way, and then disappears.”
+
+It was even so; in their headlong eagerness, the men had mistaken some
+other thing for the whale-spout, as the event itself soon proved; for
+hardly had Ahab reached his perch; hardly was the rope belayed to its
+pin on deck, when he struck the key-note to an orchestra, that made the
+air vibrate as with the combined discharges of rifles. The triumphant
+halloo of thirty buckskin lungs was heard, as—much nearer to the ship
+than the place of the imaginary jet, less than a mile ahead—Moby Dick
+bodily burst into view! For not by any calm and indolent spoutings; not
+by the peaceable gush of that mystic fountain in his head, did the
+White Whale now reveal his vicinity; but by the far more wondrous
+phenomenon of breaching. Rising with his utmost velocity from the
+furthest depths, the Sperm Whale thus booms his entire bulk into the
+pure element of air, and piling up a mountain of dazzling foam, shows
+his place to the distance of seven miles and more. In those moments,
+the torn, enraged waves he shakes off, seem his mane; in some cases,
+this breaching is his act of defiance.
+
+“There she breaches! there she breaches!” was the cry, as in his
+immeasurable bravadoes the White Whale tossed himself salmon-like to
+Heaven. So suddenly seen in the blue plain of the sea, and relieved
+against the still bluer margin of the sky, the spray that he raised,
+for the moment, intolerably glittered and glared like a glacier; and
+stood there gradually fading and fading away from its first sparkling
+intensity, to the dim mistiness of an advancing shower in a vale.
+
+“Aye, breach your last to the sun, Moby Dick!” cried Ahab, “thy hour
+and thy harpoon are at hand!—Down! down all of ye, but one man at the
+fore. The boats!—stand by!”
+
+Unmindful of the tedious rope-ladders of the shrouds, the men, like
+shooting stars, slid to the deck, by the isolated backstays and
+halyards; while Ahab, less dartingly, but still rapidly was dropped
+from his perch.
+
+“Lower away,” he cried, so soon as he had reached his boat—a spare one,
+rigged the afternoon previous. “Mr. Starbuck, the ship is thine—keep
+away from the boats, but keep near them. Lower, all!”
+
+As if to strike a quick terror into them, by this time being the first
+assailant himself, Moby Dick had turned, and was now coming for the
+three crews. Ahab’s boat was central; and cheering his men, he told
+them he would take the whale head-and-head,—that is, pull straight up
+to his forehead,—a not uncommon thing; for when within a certain limit,
+such a course excludes the coming onset from the whale’s sidelong
+vision. But ere that close limit was gained, and while yet all three
+boats were plain as the ship’s three masts to his eye; the White Whale
+churning himself into furious speed, almost in an instant as it were,
+rushing among the boats with open jaws, and a lashing tail, offered
+appalling battle on every side; and heedless of the irons darted at him
+from every boat, seemed only intent on annihilating each separate plank
+of which those boats were made. But skilfully manœuvred, incessantly
+wheeling like trained chargers in the field; the boats for a while
+eluded him; though, at times, but by a plank’s breadth; while all the
+time, Ahab’s unearthly slogan tore every other cry but his to shreds.
+
+But at last in his untraceable evolutions, the White Whale so crossed
+and recrossed, and in a thousand ways entangled the slack of the three
+lines now fast to him, that they foreshortened, and, of themselves,
+warped the devoted boats towards the planted irons in him; though now
+for a moment the whale drew aside a little, as if to rally for a more
+tremendous charge. Seizing that opportunity, Ahab first paid out more
+line: and then was rapidly hauling and jerking in upon it again—hoping
+that way to disencumber it of some snarls—when lo!—a sight more savage
+than the embattled teeth of sharks!
+
+Caught and twisted—corkscrewed in the mazes of the line, loose harpoons
+and lances, with all their bristling barbs and points, came flashing
+and dripping up to the chocks in the bows of Ahab’s boat. Only one
+thing could be done. Seizing the boat-knife, he critically reached
+within—through—and then, without—the rays of steel; dragged in the line
+beyond, passed it, inboard, to the bowsman, and then, twice sundering
+the rope near the chocks—dropped the intercepted fagot of steel into
+the sea; and was all fast again. That instant, the White Whale made a
+sudden rush among the remaining tangles of the other lines; by so
+doing, irresistibly dragged the more involved boats of Stubb and Flask
+towards his flukes; dashed them together like two rolling husks on a
+surf-beaten beach, and then, diving down into the sea, disappeared in a
+boiling maelstrom, in which, for a space, the odorous cedar chips of
+the wrecks danced round and round, like the grated nutmeg in a swiftly
+stirred bowl of punch.
+
+While the two crews were yet circling in the waters, reaching out after
+the revolving line-tubs, oars, and other floating furniture, while
+aslope little Flask bobbed up and down like an empty vial, twitching
+his legs upwards to escape the dreaded jaws of sharks; and Stubb was
+lustily singing out for some one to ladle him up; and while the old
+man’s line—now parting—admitted of his pulling into the creamy pool to
+rescue whom he could;—in that wild simultaneousness of a thousand
+concreted perils,—Ahab’s yet unstricken boat seemed drawn up towards
+Heaven by invisible wires,—as, arrow-like, shooting perpendicularly
+from the sea, the White Whale dashed his broad forehead against its
+bottom, and sent it, turning over and over, into the air; till it fell
+again—gunwale downwards—and Ahab and his men struggled out from under
+it, like seals from a sea-side cave.
+
+The first uprising momentum of the whale—modifying its direction as he
+struck the surface—involuntarily launched him along it, to a little
+distance from the centre of the destruction he had made; and with his
+back to it, he now lay for a moment slowly feeling with his flukes from
+side to side; and whenever a stray oar, bit of plank, the least chip or
+crumb of the boats touched his skin, his tail swiftly drew back, and
+came sideways smiting the sea. But soon, as if satisfied that his work
+for that time was done, he pushed his pleated forehead through the
+ocean, and trailing after him the intertangled lines, continued his
+leeward way at a traveller’s methodic pace.
+
+As before, the attentive ship having descried the whole fight, again
+came bearing down to the rescue, and dropping a boat, picked up the
+floating mariners, tubs, oars, and whatever else could be caught at,
+and safely landed them on her decks. Some sprained shoulders, wrists,
+and ankles; livid contusions; wrenched harpoons and lances;
+inextricable intricacies of rope; shattered oars and planks; all these
+were there; but no fatal or even serious ill seemed to have befallen
+any one. As with Fedallah the day before, so Ahab was now found grimly
+clinging to his boat’s broken half, which afforded a comparatively easy
+float; nor did it so exhaust him as the previous day’s mishap.
+
+But when he was helped to the deck, all eyes were fastened upon him; as
+instead of standing by himself he still half-hung upon the shoulder of
+Starbuck, who had thus far been the foremost to assist him. His ivory
+leg had been snapped off, leaving but one short sharp splinter.
+
+“Aye, aye, Starbuck, ’tis sweet to lean sometimes, be the leaner who he
+will; and would old Ahab had leaned oftener than he has.”
+
+“The ferrule has not stood, sir,” said the carpenter, now coming up; “I
+put good work into that leg.”
+
+“But no bones broken, sir, I hope,” said Stubb with true concern.
+
+“Aye! and all splintered to pieces, Stubb!—d’ye see it.—But even with a
+broken bone, old Ahab is untouched; and I account no living bone of
+mine one jot more me, than this dead one that’s lost. Nor white whale,
+nor man, nor fiend, can so much as graze old Ahab in his own proper and
+inaccessible being. Can any lead touch yonder floor, any mast scrape
+yonder roof?—Aloft there! which way?”
+
+“Dead to leeward, sir.”
+
+“Up helm, then; pile on the sail again, ship keepers! down the rest of
+the spare boats and rig them—Mr. Starbuck away, and muster the boat’s
+crews.”
+
+“Let me first help thee towards the bulwarks, sir.”
+
+“Oh, oh, oh! how this splinter gores me now! Accursed fate! that the
+unconquerable captain in the soul should have such a craven mate!”
+
+“Sir?”
+
+“My body, man, not thee. Give me something for a cane—there, that
+shivered lance will do. Muster the men. Surely I have not seen him yet.
+By heaven it cannot be!—missing?—quick! call them all.”
+
+The old man’s hinted thought was true. Upon mustering the company, the
+Parsee was not there.
+
+“The Parsee!” cried Stubb—“he must have been caught in——”
+
+“The black vomit wrench thee!—run all of ye above, alow, cabin,
+forecastle—find him—not gone—not gone!”
+
+But quickly they returned to him with the tidings that the Parsee was
+nowhere to be found.
+
+“Aye, sir,” said Stubb—“caught among the tangles of your line—I thought
+I saw him dragging under.”
+
+“_My_ line! _my_ line? Gone?—gone? What means that little word?—What
+death-knell rings in it, that old Ahab shakes as if he were the belfry.
+The harpoon, too!—toss over the litter there,—d’ye see it?—the forged
+iron, men, the white whale’s—no, no, no,—blistered fool! this hand did
+dart it!—’tis in the fish!—Aloft there! Keep him nailed—Quick!—all
+hands to the rigging of the boats—collect the oars—harpooneers! the
+irons, the irons!—hoist the royals higher—a pull on all the
+sheets!—helm there! steady, steady for your life! I’ll ten times girdle
+the unmeasured globe; yea and dive straight through it, but I’ll slay
+him yet!”
+
+“Great God! but for one single instant show thyself,” cried Starbuck;
+“never, never wilt thou capture him, old man—In Jesus’ name no more of
+this, that’s worse than devil’s madness. Two days chased; twice stove
+to splinters; thy very leg once more snatched from under thee; thy evil
+shadow gone—all good angels mobbing thee with warnings:—what more
+wouldst thou have?—Shall we keep chasing this murderous fish till he
+swamps the last man? Shall we be dragged by him to the bottom of the
+sea? Shall we be towed by him to the infernal world? Oh, oh,—Impiety
+and blasphemy to hunt him more!”
+
+“Starbuck, of late I’ve felt strangely moved to thee; ever since that
+hour we both saw—thou know’st what, in one another’s eyes. But in this
+matter of the whale, be the front of thy face to me as the palm of this
+hand—a lipless, unfeatured blank. Ahab is for ever Ahab, man. This
+whole act’s immutably decreed. ’Twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion
+years before this ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates’ lieutenant; I act
+under orders. Look thou, underling! that thou obeyest mine.—Stand round
+me, men. Ye see an old man cut down to the stump; leaning on a shivered
+lance; propped up on a lonely foot. ’Tis Ahab—his body’s part; but
+Ahab’s soul’s a centipede, that moves upon a hundred legs. I feel
+strained, half stranded, as ropes that tow dismasted frigates in a
+gale; and I may look so. But ere I break, ye’ll hear me crack; and till
+ye hear _that_, know that Ahab’s hawser tows his purpose yet. Believe
+ye, men, in the things called omens? Then laugh aloud, and cry encore!
+For ere they drown, drowning things will twice rise to the surface;
+then rise again, to sink for evermore. So with Moby Dick—two days he’s
+floated—tomorrow will be the third. Aye, men, he’ll rise once more,—but
+only to spout his last! D’ye feel brave men, brave?”
+
+“As fearless fire,” cried Stubb.
+
+“And as mechanical,” muttered Ahab. Then as the men went forward, he
+muttered on: “The things called omens! And yesterday I talked the same
+to Starbuck there, concerning my broken boat. Oh! how valiantly I seek
+to drive out of others’ hearts what’s clinched so fast in mine!—The
+Parsee—the Parsee!—gone, gone? and he was to go before:—but still was
+to be seen again ere I could perish—How’s that?—There’s a riddle now
+might baffle all the lawyers backed by the ghosts of the whole line of
+judges:—like a hawk’s beak it pecks my brain. _I’ll_, _I’ll_ solve it,
+though!”
+
+When dusk descended, the whale was still in sight to leeward.
+
+So once more the sail was shortened, and everything passed nearly as on
+the previous night; only, the sound of hammers, and the hum of the
+grindstone was heard till nearly daylight, as the men toiled by
+lanterns in the complete and careful rigging of the spare boats and
+sharpening their fresh weapons for the morrow. Meantime, of the broken
+keel of Ahab’s wrecked craft the carpenter made him another leg; while
+still as on the night before, slouched Ahab stood fixed within his
+scuttle; his hid, heliotrope glance anticipatingly gone backward on its
+dial; sat due eastward for the earliest sun.
+
+
+CHAPTER 135. The Chase.—Third Day.
+
+The morning of the third day dawned fair and fresh, and once more the
+solitary night-man at the fore-mast-head was relieved by crowds of the
+daylight look-outs, who dotted every mast and almost every spar.
+
+“D’ye see him?” cried Ahab; but the whale was not yet in sight.
+
+“In his infallible wake, though; but follow that wake, that’s all. Helm
+there; steady, as thou goest, and hast been going. What a lovely day
+again! were it a new-made world, and made for a summer-house to the
+angels, and this morning the first of its throwing open to them, a
+fairer day could not dawn upon that world. Here’s food for thought, had
+Ahab time to think; but Ahab never thinks; he only feels, feels, feels;
+_that’s_ tingling enough for mortal man! to think’s audacity. God only
+has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness
+and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too
+much for that. And yet, I’ve sometimes thought my brain was very
+calm—frozen calm, this old skull cracks so, like a glass in which the
+contents turned to ice, and shiver it. And still this hair is growing
+now; this moment growing, and heat must breed it; but no, it’s like
+that sort of common grass that will grow anywhere, between the earthy
+clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius lava. How the wild winds blow
+it; they whip it about me as the torn shreds of split sails lash the
+tossed ship they cling to. A vile wind that has no doubt blown ere this
+through prison corridors and cells, and wards of hospitals, and
+ventilated them, and now comes blowing hither as innocent as fleeces.
+Out upon it!—it’s tainted. Were I the wind, I’d blow no more on such a
+wicked, miserable world. I’d crawl somewhere to a cave, and slink
+there. And yet, ’tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind! who ever
+conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow. Run
+tilting at it, and you but run through it. Ha! a coward wind that
+strikes stark naked men, but will not stand to receive a single blow.
+Even Ahab is a braver thing—a nobler thing than _that_. Would now the
+wind but had a body; but all the things that most exasperate and
+outrage mortal man, all these things are bodiless, but only bodiless as
+objects, not as agents. There’s a most special, a most cunning, oh, a
+most malicious difference! And yet, I say again, and swear it now, that
+there’s something all glorious and gracious in the wind. These warm
+Trade Winds, at least, that in the clear heavens blow straight on, in
+strong and steadfast, vigorous mildness; and veer not from their mark,
+however the baser currents of the sea may turn and tack, and mightiest
+Mississippies of the land swift and swerve about, uncertain where to go
+at last. And by the eternal Poles! these same Trades that so directly
+blow my good ship on; these Trades, or something like them—something so
+unchangeable, and full as strong, blow my keeled soul along! To it!
+Aloft there! What d’ye see?”
+
+“Nothing, sir.”
+
+“Nothing! and noon at hand! The doubloon goes a-begging! See the sun!
+Aye, aye, it must be so. I’ve oversailed him. How, got the start? Aye,
+he’s chasing _me_ now; not I, _him_—that’s bad; I might have known it,
+too. Fool! the lines—the harpoons he’s towing. Aye, aye, I have run him
+by last night. About! about! Come down, all of ye, but the regular look
+outs! Man the braces!”
+
+Steering as she had done, the wind had been somewhat on the Pequod’s
+quarter, so that now being pointed in the reverse direction, the braced
+ship sailed hard upon the breeze as she rechurned the cream in her own
+white wake.
+
+“Against the wind he now steers for the open jaw,” murmured Starbuck to
+himself, as he coiled the new-hauled main-brace upon the rail. “God
+keep us, but already my bones feel damp within me, and from the inside
+wet my flesh. I misdoubt me that I disobey my God in obeying him!”
+
+“Stand by to sway me up!” cried Ahab, advancing to the hempen basket.
+“We should meet him soon.”
+
+“Aye, aye, sir,” and straightway Starbuck did Ahab’s bidding, and once
+more Ahab swung on high.
+
+A whole hour now passed; gold-beaten out to ages. Time itself now held
+long breaths with keen suspense. But at last, some three points off the
+weather bow, Ahab descried the spout again, and instantly from the
+three mast-heads three shrieks went up as if the tongues of fire had
+voiced it.
+
+“Forehead to forehead I meet thee, this third time, Moby Dick! On deck
+there!—brace sharper up; crowd her into the wind’s eye. He’s too far
+off to lower yet, Mr. Starbuck. The sails shake! Stand over that
+helmsman with a top-maul! So, so; he travels fast, and I must down. But
+let me have one more good round look aloft here at the sea; there’s
+time for that. An old, old sight, and yet somehow so young; aye, and
+not changed a wink since I first saw it, a boy, from the sand-hills of
+Nantucket! The same!—the same!—the same to Noah as to me. There’s a
+soft shower to leeward. Such lovely leewardings! They must lead
+somewhere—to something else than common land, more palmy than the
+palms. Leeward! the white whale goes that way; look to windward, then;
+the better if the bitterer quarter. But good bye, good bye, old
+mast-head! What’s this?—green? aye, tiny mosses in these warped cracks.
+No such green weather stains on Ahab’s head! There’s the difference now
+between man’s old age and matter’s. But aye, old mast, we both grow old
+together; sound in our hulls, though, are we not, my ship? Aye, minus a
+leg, that’s all. By heaven this dead wood has the better of my live
+flesh every way. I can’t compare with it; and I’ve known some ships
+made of dead trees outlast the lives of men made of the most vital
+stuff of vital fathers. What’s that he said? he should still go before
+me, my pilot; and yet to be seen again? But where? Will I have eyes at
+the bottom of the sea, supposing I descend those endless stairs? and
+all night I’ve been sailing from him, wherever he did sink to. Aye,
+aye, like many more thou told’st direful truth as touching thyself, O
+Parsee; but, Ahab, there thy shot fell short. Good-bye, mast-head—keep
+a good eye upon the whale, the while I’m gone. We’ll talk to-morrow,
+nay, to-night, when the white whale lies down there, tied by head and
+tail.”
+
+He gave the word; and still gazing round him, was steadily lowered
+through the cloven blue air to the deck.
+
+In due time the boats were lowered; but as standing in his shallop’s
+stern, Ahab just hovered upon the point of the descent, he waved to the
+mate,—who held one of the tackle-ropes on deck—and bade him pause.
+
+“Starbuck!”
+
+“Sir?”
+
+“For the third time my soul’s ship starts upon this voyage, Starbuck.”
+
+“Aye, sir, thou wilt have it so.”
+
+“Some ships sail from their ports, and ever afterwards are missing,
+Starbuck!”
+
+“Truth, sir: saddest truth.”
+
+“Some men die at ebb tide; some at low water; some at the full of the
+flood;—and I feel now like a billow that’s all one crested comb,
+Starbuck. I am old;—shake hands with me, man.”
+
+Their hands met; their eyes fastened; Starbuck’s tears the glue.
+
+“Oh, my captain, my captain!—noble heart—go not—go not!—see, it’s a
+brave man that weeps; how great the agony of the persuasion then!”
+
+“Lower away!”—cried Ahab, tossing the mate’s arm from him. “Stand by
+the crew!”
+
+In an instant the boat was pulling round close under the stern.
+
+“The sharks! the sharks!” cried a voice from the low cabin-window
+there; “O master, my master, come back!”
+
+But Ahab heard nothing; for his own voice was high-lifted then; and the
+boat leaped on.
+
+Yet the voice spake true; for scarce had he pushed from the ship, when
+numbers of sharks, seemingly rising from out the dark waters beneath
+the hull, maliciously snapped at the blades of the oars, every time
+they dipped in the water; and in this way accompanied the boat with
+their bites. It is a thing not uncommonly happening to the whale-boats
+in those swarming seas; the sharks at times apparently following them
+in the same prescient way that vultures hover over the banners of
+marching regiments in the east. But these were the first sharks that
+had been observed by the Pequod since the White Whale had been first
+descried; and whether it was that Ahab’s crew were all such
+tiger-yellow barbarians, and therefore their flesh more musky to the
+senses of the sharks—a matter sometimes well known to affect
+them,—however it was, they seemed to follow that one boat without
+molesting the others.
+
+“Heart of wrought steel!” murmured Starbuck gazing over the side, and
+following with his eyes the receding boat—“canst thou yet ring boldly
+to that sight?—lowering thy keel among ravening sharks, and followed by
+them, open-mouthed to the chase; and this the critical third day?—For
+when three days flow together in one continuous intense pursuit; be
+sure the first is the morning, the second the noon, and the third the
+evening and the end of that thing—be that end what it may. Oh! my God!
+what is this that shoots through me, and leaves me so deadly calm, yet
+expectant,—fixed at the top of a shudder! Future things swim before me,
+as in empty outlines and skeletons; all the past is somehow grown dim.
+Mary, girl! thou fadest in pale glories behind me; boy! I seem to see
+but thy eyes grown wondrous blue. Strangest problems of life seem
+clearing; but clouds sweep between—Is my journey’s end coming? My legs
+feel faint; like his who has footed it all day. Feel thy heart,—beats
+it yet? Stir thyself, Starbuck!—stave it off—move, move! speak
+aloud!—Mast-head there! See ye my boy’s hand on the hill?—Crazed;—aloft
+there!—keep thy keenest eye upon the boats:—mark well the whale!—Ho!
+again!—drive off that hawk! see! he pecks—he tears the vane”—pointing
+to the red flag flying at the main-truck—“Ha! he soars away with
+it!—Where’s the old man now? see’st thou that sight, oh Ahab!—shudder,
+shudder!”
+
+The boats had not gone very far, when by a signal from the mast-heads—a
+downward pointed arm, Ahab knew that the whale had sounded; but
+intending to be near him at the next rising, he held on his way a
+little sideways from the vessel; the becharmed crew maintaining the
+profoundest silence, as the head-beat waves hammered and hammered
+against the opposing bow.
+
+“Drive, drive in your nails, oh ye waves! to their uttermost heads
+drive them in! ye but strike a thing without a lid; and no coffin and
+no hearse can be mine:—and hemp only can kill me! Ha! ha!”
+
+Suddenly the waters around them slowly swelled in broad circles; then
+quickly upheaved, as if sideways sliding from a submerged berg of ice,
+swiftly rising to the surface. A low rumbling sound was heard; a
+subterraneous hum; and then all held their breaths; as bedraggled with
+trailing ropes, and harpoons, and lances, a vast form shot lengthwise,
+but obliquely from the sea. Shrouded in a thin drooping veil of mist,
+it hovered for a moment in the rainbowed air; and then fell swamping
+back into the deep. Crushed thirty feet upwards, the waters flashed for
+an instant like heaps of fountains, then brokenly sank in a shower of
+flakes, leaving the circling surface creamed like new milk round the
+marble trunk of the whale.
+
+“Give way!” cried Ahab to the oarsmen, and the boats darted forward to
+the attack; but maddened by yesterday’s fresh irons that corroded in
+him, Moby Dick seemed combinedly possessed by all the angels that fell
+from heaven. The wide tiers of welded tendons overspreading his broad
+white forehead, beneath the transparent skin, looked knitted together;
+as head on, he came churning his tail among the boats; and once more
+flailed them apart; spilling out the irons and lances from the two
+mates’ boats, and dashing in one side of the upper part of their bows,
+but leaving Ahab’s almost without a scar.
+
+While Daggoo and Queequeg were stopping the strained planks; and as the
+whale swimming out from them, turned, and showed one entire flank as he
+shot by them again; at that moment a quick cry went up. Lashed round
+and round to the fish’s back; pinioned in the turns upon turns in
+which, during the past night, the whale had reeled the involutions of
+the lines around him, the half torn body of the Parsee was seen; his
+sable raiment frayed to shreds; his distended eyes turned full upon old
+Ahab.
+
+The harpoon dropped from his hand.
+
+“Befooled, befooled!”—drawing in a long lean breath—“Aye, Parsee! I see
+thee again.—Aye, and thou goest before; and this, _this_ then is the
+hearse that thou didst promise. But I hold thee to the last letter of
+thy word. Where is the second hearse? Away, mates, to the ship! those
+boats are useless now; repair them if ye can in time, and return to me;
+if not, Ahab is enough to die—Down, men! the first thing that but
+offers to jump from this boat I stand in, that thing I harpoon. Ye are
+not other men, but my arms and my legs; and so obey me.—Where’s the
+whale? gone down again?”
+
+But he looked too nigh the boat; for as if bent upon escaping with the
+corpse he bore, and as if the particular place of the last encounter
+had been but a stage in his leeward voyage, Moby Dick was now again
+steadily swimming forward; and had almost passed the ship,—which thus
+far had been sailing in the contrary direction to him, though for the
+present her headway had been stopped. He seemed swimming with his
+utmost velocity, and now only intent upon pursuing his own straight
+path in the sea.
+
+“Oh! Ahab,” cried Starbuck, “not too late is it, even now, the third
+day, to desist. See! Moby Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou, that
+madly seekest him!”
+
+Setting sail to the rising wind, the lonely boat was swiftly impelled
+to leeward, by both oars and canvas. And at last when Ahab was sliding
+by the vessel, so near as plainly to distinguish Starbuck’s face as he
+leaned over the rail, he hailed him to turn the vessel about, and
+follow him, not too swiftly, at a judicious interval. Glancing upwards,
+he saw Tashtego, Queequeg, and Daggoo, eagerly mounting to the three
+mast-heads; while the oarsmen were rocking in the two staved boats
+which had but just been hoisted to the side, and were busily at work in
+repairing them. One after the other, through the port-holes, as he
+sped, he also caught flying glimpses of Stubb and Flask, busying
+themselves on deck among bundles of new irons and lances. As he saw all
+this; as he heard the hammers in the broken boats; far other hammers
+seemed driving a nail into his heart. But he rallied. And now marking
+that the vane or flag was gone from the main-mast-head, he shouted to
+Tashtego, who had just gained that perch, to descend again for another
+flag, and a hammer and nails, and so nail it to the mast.
+
+Whether fagged by the three days’ running chase, and the resistance to
+his swimming in the knotted hamper he bore; or whether it was some
+latent deceitfulness and malice in him: whichever was true, the White
+Whale’s way now began to abate, as it seemed, from the boat so rapidly
+nearing him once more; though indeed the whale’s last start had not
+been so long a one as before. And still as Ahab glided over the waves
+the unpitying sharks accompanied him; and so pertinaciously stuck to
+the boat; and so continually bit at the plying oars, that the blades
+became jagged and crunched, and left small splinters in the sea, at
+almost every dip.
+
+“Heed them not! those teeth but give new rowlocks to your oars. Pull
+on! ’tis the better rest, the shark’s jaw than the yielding water.”
+
+“But at every bite, sir, the thin blades grow smaller and smaller!”
+
+“They will last long enough! pull on!—But who can tell”—he
+muttered—“whether these sharks swim to feast on the whale or on
+Ahab?—But pull on! Aye, all alive, now—we near him. The helm! take the
+helm! let me pass,”—and so saying two of the oarsmen helped him forward
+to the bows of the still flying boat.
+
+At length as the craft was cast to one side, and ran ranging along with
+the White Whale’s flank, he seemed strangely oblivious of its
+advance—as the whale sometimes will—and Ahab was fairly within the
+smoky mountain mist, which, thrown off from the whale’s spout, curled
+round his great, Monadnock hump; he was even thus close to him; when,
+with body arched back, and both arms lengthwise high-lifted to the
+poise, he darted his fierce iron, and his far fiercer curse into the
+hated whale. As both steel and curse sank to the socket, as if sucked
+into a morass, Moby Dick sideways writhed; spasmodically rolled his
+nigh flank against the bow, and, without staving a hole in it, so
+suddenly canted the boat over, that had it not been for the elevated
+part of the gunwale to which he then clung, Ahab would once more have
+been tossed into the sea. As it was, three of the oarsmen—who foreknew
+not the precise instant of the dart, and were therefore unprepared for
+its effects—these were flung out; but so fell, that, in an instant two
+of them clutched the gunwale again, and rising to its level on a
+combing wave, hurled themselves bodily inboard again; the third man
+helplessly dropping astern, but still afloat and swimming.
+
+Almost simultaneously, with a mighty volition of ungraduated,
+instantaneous swiftness, the White Whale darted through the weltering
+sea. But when Ahab cried out to the steersman to take new turns with
+the line, and hold it so; and commanded the crew to turn round on their
+seats, and tow the boat up to the mark; the moment the treacherous line
+felt that double strain and tug, it snapped in the empty air!
+
+“What breaks in me? Some sinew cracks!—’tis whole again; oars! oars!
+Burst in upon him!”
+
+Hearing the tremendous rush of the sea-crashing boat, the whale wheeled
+round to present his blank forehead at bay; but in that evolution,
+catching sight of the nearing black hull of the ship; seemingly seeing
+in it the source of all his persecutions; bethinking it—it may be—a
+larger and nobler foe; of a sudden, he bore down upon its advancing
+prow, smiting his jaws amid fiery showers of foam.
+
+Ahab staggered; his hand smote his forehead. “I grow blind; hands!
+stretch out before me that I may yet grope my way. Is’t night?”
+
+“The whale! The ship!” cried the cringing oarsmen.
+
+“Oars! oars! Slope downwards to thy depths, O sea, that ere it be for
+ever too late, Ahab may slide this last, last time upon his mark! I
+see: the ship! the ship! Dash on, my men! Will ye not save my ship?”
+
+But as the oarsmen violently forced their boat through the
+sledge-hammering seas, the before whale-smitten bow-ends of two planks
+burst through, and in an instant almost, the temporarily disabled boat
+lay nearly level with the waves; its half-wading, splashing crew,
+trying hard to stop the gap and bale out the pouring water.
+
+Meantime, for that one beholding instant, Tashtego’s mast-head hammer
+remained suspended in his hand; and the red flag, half-wrapping him as
+with a plaid, then streamed itself straight out from him, as his own
+forward-flowing heart; while Starbuck and Stubb, standing upon the
+bowsprit beneath, caught sight of the down-coming monster just as soon
+as he.
+
+“The whale, the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all ye sweet powers of
+air, now hug me close! Let not Starbuck die, if die he must, in a
+woman’s fainting fit. Up helm, I say—ye fools, the jaw! the jaw! Is
+this the end of all my bursting prayers? all my life-long fidelities?
+Oh, Ahab, Ahab, lo, thy work. Steady! helmsman, steady. Nay, nay! Up
+helm again! He turns to meet us! Oh, his unappeasable brow drives on
+towards one, whose duty tells him he cannot depart. My God, stand by me
+now!”
+
+“Stand not by me, but stand under me, whoever you are that will now
+help Stubb; for Stubb, too, sticks here. I grin at thee, thou grinning
+whale! Who ever helped Stubb, or kept Stubb awake, but Stubb’s own
+unwinking eye? And now poor Stubb goes to bed upon a mattrass that is
+all too soft; would it were stuffed with brushwood! I grin at thee,
+thou grinning whale! Look ye, sun, moon, and stars! I call ye assassins
+of as good a fellow as ever spouted up his ghost. For all that, I would
+yet ring glasses with ye, would ye but hand the cup! Oh, oh! oh, oh!
+thou grinning whale, but there’ll be plenty of gulping soon! Why fly ye
+not, O Ahab! For me, off shoes and jacket to it; let Stubb die in his
+drawers! A most mouldy and over salted death, though;—cherries!
+cherries! cherries! Oh, Flask, for one red cherry ere we die!”
+
+“Cherries? I only wish that we were where they grow. Oh, Stubb, I hope
+my poor mother’s drawn my part-pay ere this; if not, few coppers will
+now come to her, for the voyage is up.”
+
+From the ship’s bows, nearly all the seamen now hung inactive; hammers,
+bits of plank, lances, and harpoons, mechanically retained in their
+hands, just as they had darted from their various employments; all
+their enchanted eyes intent upon the whale, which from side to side
+strangely vibrating his predestinating head, sent a broad band of
+overspreading semicircular foam before him as he rushed. Retribution,
+swift vengeance, eternal malice were in his whole aspect, and spite of
+all that mortal man could do, the solid white buttress of his forehead
+smote the ship’s starboard bow, till men and timbers reeled. Some fell
+flat upon their faces. Like dislodged trucks, the heads of the
+harpooneers aloft shook on their bull-like necks. Through the breach,
+they heard the waters pour, as mountain torrents down a flume.
+
+“The ship! The hearse!—the second hearse!” cried Ahab from the boat;
+“its wood could only be American!”
+
+Diving beneath the settling ship, the whale ran quivering along its
+keel; but turning under water, swiftly shot to the surface again, far
+off the other bow, but within a few yards of Ahab’s boat, where, for a
+time, he lay quiescent.
+
+“I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! let me hear thy
+hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel;
+and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and
+Pole-pointed prow,—death-glorious ship! must ye then perish, and
+without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest
+shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel
+my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your
+furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone
+life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll,
+thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; 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. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool!
+and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still
+chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! _Thus_, I give up
+the spear!”
+
+The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting
+velocity the line ran through the grooves;—ran foul. Ahab stooped to
+clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the
+neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was
+shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the
+heavy eye-splice in the rope’s final end flew out of the stark-empty
+tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its
+depths.
+
+For an instant, the tranced boat’s crew stood still; then turned. “The
+ship? Great God, where is the ship?” Soon they through dim, bewildering
+mediums saw her sidelong fading phantom, as in the gaseous Fata
+Morgana; only the uppermost masts out of water; while fixed by
+infatuation, or fidelity, or fate, to their once lofty perches, the
+pagan harpooneers still maintained their sinking lookouts on the sea.
+And now, concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its
+crew, and each floating oar, and every lance-pole, and spinning,
+animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the
+smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight.
+
+But as the last whelmings intermixingly poured themselves over the
+sunken head of the Indian at the mainmast, leaving a few inches of the
+erect spar yet visible, together with long streaming yards of the flag,
+which calmly undulated, with ironical coincidings, over the destroying
+billows they almost touched;—at that instant, a red arm and a hammer
+hovered backwardly uplifted in the open air, in the act of nailing the
+flag faster and yet faster to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that
+tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home
+among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there;
+this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between
+the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial
+thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his
+hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic
+shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive
+form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like
+Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of
+heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it.
+
+Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen
+white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the
+great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.
+
+
+Epilogue
+
+“AND I ONLY AM ESCAPED ALONE TO TELL THEE” Job.
+
+The drama’s done. Why then here does any one step forth?—Because one
+did survive the wreck.
+
+It so chanced, that after the Parsee’s disappearance, I was he whom the
+Fates ordained to take the place of Ahab’s bowsman, when that bowsman
+assumed the vacant post; the same, who, when on the last day the three
+men were tossed from out of the rocking boat, was dropped astern. So,
+floating on the margin of the ensuing scene, and in full sight of it,
+when the halfspent suction of the sunk ship reached me, I was then, but
+slowly, drawn towards the closing vortex. When I reached it, it had
+subsided to a creamy pool. Round and round, then, and ever contracting
+towards the button-like black bubble at the axis of that slowly
+wheeling circle, like another Ixion I did revolve. Till, gaining that
+vital centre, the black bubble upward burst; and now, liberated by
+reason of its cunning spring, and, owing to its great buoyancy, rising
+with great force, the coffin life-buoy shot lengthwise from the sea,
+fell over, and floated by my side. Buoyed up by that coffin, for almost
+one whole day and night, I floated on a soft and dirgelike main. The
+unharming sharks, they glided by as if with padlocks on their mouths;
+the savage sea-hawks sailed with sheathed beaks. On the second day, a
+sail drew near, nearer, and picked me up at last. It was the
+devious-cruising Rachel, that in her retracing search after her missing
+children, only found another orphan.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOBY DICK; OR, THE WHALE ***
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diff --git a/books/prideandprejudice.txt b/books/prideandprejudice.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ef6d9b9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/books/prideandprejudice.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,14907 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pride and Prejudice
+    
+This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
+at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
+you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
+before using this eBook.
+
+Title: Pride and Prejudice
+
+Author: Jane Austen
+
+Release date: June 1, 1998 [eBook #1342]
+                Most recently updated: October 29, 2024
+
+Language: English
+
+Credits: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE ***
+                            [Illustration:
+
+                             GEORGE ALLEN
+                               PUBLISHER
+
+                        156 CHARING CROSS ROAD
+                                LONDON
+
+                             RUSKIN HOUSE
+                                   ]
+
+                            [Illustration:
+
+               _Reading Jane’s Letters._      _Chap 34._
+                                   ]
+
+
+
+
+                                PRIDE.
+                                  and
+                               PREJUDICE
+
+                                  by
+                             Jane Austen,
+
+                           with a Preface by
+                           George Saintsbury
+                                  and
+                           Illustrations by
+                             Hugh Thomson
+
+                         [Illustration: 1894]
+
+                       Ruskin       156. Charing
+                       House.        Cross Road.
+
+                                London
+                             George Allen.
+
+
+
+
+             CHISWICK PRESS:--CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
+                  TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+                            [Illustration:
+
+                          _To J. Comyns Carr
+                      in acknowledgment of all I
+                       owe to his friendship and
+                    advice, these illustrations are
+                         gratefully inscribed_
+
+                            _Hugh Thomson_
+                                   ]
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+_Walt Whitman has somewhere a fine and just distinction between “loving
+by allowance” and “loving with personal love.” This distinction applies
+to books as well as to men and women; and in the case of the not very
+numerous authors who are the objects of the personal affection, it
+brings a curious consequence with it. There is much more difference as
+to their best work than in the case of those others who are loved “by
+allowance” by convention, and because it is felt to be the right and
+proper thing to love them. And in the sect--fairly large and yet
+unusually choice--of Austenians or Janites, there would probably be
+found partisans of the claim to primacy of almost every one of the
+novels. To some the delightful freshness and humour of_ Northanger
+Abbey, _its completeness, finish, and_ entrain, _obscure the undoubted
+critical facts that its scale is small, and its scheme, after all, that
+of burlesque or parody, a kind in which the first rank is reached with
+difficulty._ Persuasion, _relatively faint in tone, and not enthralling
+in interest, has devotees who exalt above all the others its exquisite
+delicacy and keeping. The catastrophe of_ Mansfield Park _is admittedly
+theatrical, the hero and heroine are insipid, and the author has almost
+wickedly destroyed all romantic interest by expressly admitting that
+Edmund only took Fanny because Mary shocked him, and that Fanny might
+very likely have taken Crawford if he had been a little more assiduous;
+yet the matchless rehearsal-scenes and the characters of Mrs. Norris and
+others have secured, I believe, a considerable party for it._ Sense and
+Sensibility _has perhaps the fewest out-and-out admirers; but it does
+not want them._
+
+_I suppose, however, that the majority of at least competent votes
+would, all things considered, be divided between_ Emma _and the present
+book; and perhaps the vulgar verdict (if indeed a fondness for Miss
+Austen be not of itself a patent of exemption from any possible charge
+of vulgarity) would go for_ Emma. _It is the larger, the more varied, the
+more popular; the author had by the time of its composition seen rather
+more of the world, and had improved her general, though not her most
+peculiar and characteristic dialogue; such figures as Miss Bates, as the
+Eltons, cannot but unite the suffrages of everybody. On the other hand,
+I, for my part, declare for_ Pride and Prejudice _unhesitatingly. It
+seems to me the most perfect, the most characteristic, the most
+eminently quintessential of its author’s works; and for this contention
+in such narrow space as is permitted to me, I propose here to show
+cause._
+
+_In the first place, the book (it may be barely necessary to remind the
+reader) was in its first shape written very early, somewhere about 1796,
+when Miss Austen was barely twenty-one; though it was revised and
+finished at Chawton some fifteen years later, and was not published till
+1813, only four years before her death. I do not know whether, in this
+combination of the fresh and vigorous projection of youth, and the
+critical revision of middle life, there may be traced the distinct
+superiority in point of construction, which, as it seems to me, it
+possesses over all the others. The plot, though not elaborate, is almost
+regular enough for Fielding; hardly a character, hardly an incident
+could be retrenched without loss to the story. The elopement of Lydia
+and Wickham is not, like that of Crawford and Mrs. Rushworth, a_ coup de
+théâtre; _it connects itself in the strictest way with the course of the
+story earlier, and brings about the denouement with complete propriety.
+All the minor passages--the loves of Jane and Bingley, the advent of Mr.
+Collins, the visit to Hunsford, the Derbyshire tour--fit in after the
+same unostentatious, but masterly fashion. There is no attempt at the
+hide-and-seek, in-and-out business, which in the transactions between
+Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax contributes no doubt a good deal to the
+intrigue of_ Emma, _but contributes it in a fashion which I do not think
+the best feature of that otherwise admirable book. Although Miss Austen
+always liked something of the misunderstanding kind, which afforded her
+opportunities for the display of the peculiar and incomparable talent to
+be noticed presently, she has been satisfied here with the perfectly
+natural occasions provided by the false account of Darcy’s conduct given
+by Wickham, and by the awkwardness (arising with equal naturalness) from
+the gradual transformation of Elizabeth’s own feelings from positive
+aversion to actual love. I do not know whether the all-grasping hand of
+the playwright has ever been laid upon_ Pride and Prejudice; _and I dare
+say that, if it were, the situations would prove not startling or
+garish enough for the footlights, the character-scheme too subtle and
+delicate for pit and gallery. But if the attempt were made, it would
+certainly not be hampered by any of those loosenesses of construction,
+which, sometimes disguised by the conveniences of which the novelist can
+avail himself, appear at once on the stage._
+
+_I think, however, though the thought will doubtless seem heretical to
+more than one school of critics, that construction is not the highest
+merit, the choicest gift, of the novelist. It sets off his other gifts
+and graces most advantageously to the critical eye; and the want of it
+will sometimes mar those graces--appreciably, though not quite
+consciously--to eyes by no means ultra-critical. But a very badly-built
+novel which excelled in pathetic or humorous character, or which
+displayed consummate command of dialogue--perhaps the rarest of all
+faculties--would be an infinitely better thing than a faultless plot
+acted and told by puppets with pebbles in their mouths. And despite the
+ability which Miss Austen has shown in working out the story, I for one
+should put_ Pride and Prejudice _far lower if it did not contain what
+seem to me the very masterpieces of Miss Austen’s humour and of her
+faculty of character-creation--masterpieces who may indeed admit John
+Thorpe, the Eltons, Mrs. Norris, and one or two others to their company,
+but who, in one instance certainly, and perhaps in others, are still
+superior to them._
+
+_The characteristics of Miss Austen’s humour are so subtle and delicate
+that they are, perhaps, at all times easier to apprehend than to
+express, and at any particular time likely to be differently
+apprehended by different persons. To me this humour seems to possess a
+greater affinity, on the whole, to that of Addison than to any other of
+the numerous species of this great British genus. The differences of
+scheme, of time, of subject, of literary convention, are, of course,
+obvious enough; the difference of sex does not, perhaps, count for much,
+for there was a distinctly feminine element in “Mr. Spectator,” and in
+Jane Austen’s genius there was, though nothing mannish, much that was
+masculine. But the likeness of quality consists in a great number of
+common subdivisions of quality--demureness, extreme minuteness of touch,
+avoidance of loud tones and glaring effects. Also there is in both a
+certain not inhuman or unamiable cruelty. It is the custom with those
+who judge grossly to contrast the good nature of Addison with the
+savagery of Swift, the mildness of Miss Austen with the boisterousness
+of Fielding and Smollett, even with the ferocious practical jokes that
+her immediate predecessor, Miss Burney, allowed without very much
+protest. Yet, both in Mr. Addison and in Miss Austen there is, though a
+restrained and well-mannered, an insatiable and ruthless delight in
+roasting and cutting up a fool. A man in the early eighteenth century,
+of course, could push this taste further than a lady in the early
+nineteenth; and no doubt Miss Austen’s principles, as well as her heart,
+would have shrunk from such things as the letter from the unfortunate
+husband in the_ Spectator, _who describes, with all the gusto and all the
+innocence in the world, how his wife and his friend induce him to play
+at blind-man’s-buff. But another_ Spectator _letter--that of the damsel
+of fourteen who wishes to marry Mr. Shapely, and assures her selected
+Mentor that “he admires your_ Spectators _mightily”--might have been
+written by a rather more ladylike and intelligent Lydia Bennet in the
+days of Lydia’s great-grandmother; while, on the other hand, some (I
+think unreasonably) have found “cynicism” in touches of Miss Austen’s
+own, such as her satire of Mrs. Musgrove’s self-deceiving regrets over
+her son. But this word “cynical” is one of the most misused in the
+English language, especially when, by a glaring and gratuitous
+falsification of its original sense, it is applied, not to rough and
+snarling invective, but to gentle and oblique satire. If cynicism means
+the perception of “the other side,” the sense of “the accepted hells
+beneath,” the consciousness that motives are nearly always mixed, and
+that to seem is not identical with to be--if this be cynicism, then
+every man and woman who is not a fool, who does not care to live in a
+fool’s paradise, who has knowledge of nature and the world and life, is
+a cynic. And in that sense Miss Austen certainly was one. She may even
+have been one in the further sense that, like her own Mr. Bennet, she
+took an epicurean delight in dissecting, in displaying, in setting at
+work her fools and her mean persons. I think she did take this delight,
+and I do not think at all the worse of her for it as a woman, while she
+was immensely the better for it as an artist._
+
+_In respect of her art generally, Mr. Goldwin Smith has truly observed
+that “metaphor has been exhausted in depicting the perfection of it,
+combined with the narrowness of her field;” and he has justly added that
+we need not go beyond her own comparison to the art of a miniature
+painter. To make this latter observation quite exact we must not use the
+term miniature in its restricted sense, and must think rather of Memling
+at one end of the history of painting and Meissonier at the other, than
+of Cosway or any of his kind. And I am not so certain that I should
+myself use the word “narrow” in connection with her. If her world is a
+microcosm, the cosmic quality of it is at least as eminent as the
+littleness. She does not touch what she did not feel herself called to
+paint; I am not so sure that she could not have painted what she did not
+feel herself called to touch. It is at least remarkable that in two very
+short periods of writing--one of about three years, and another of not
+much more than five--she executed six capital works, and has not left a
+single failure. It is possible that the romantic paste in her
+composition was defective: we must always remember that hardly
+anybody born in her decade--that of the eighteenth-century
+seventies--independently exhibited the full romantic quality. Even Scott
+required hill and mountain and ballad, even Coleridge metaphysics and
+German to enable them to chip the classical shell. Miss Austen was an
+English girl, brought up in a country retirement, at the time when
+ladies went back into the house if there was a white frost which might
+pierce their kid shoes, when a sudden cold was the subject of the
+gravest fears, when their studies, their ways, their conduct were
+subject to all those fantastic limits and restrictions against which
+Mary Wollstonecraft protested with better general sense than particular
+taste or judgment. Miss Austen, too, drew back when the white frost
+touched her shoes; but I think she would have made a pretty good journey
+even in a black one._
+
+_For if her knowledge was not very extended, she knew two things which
+only genius knows. The one was humanity, and the other was art. On the
+first head she could not make a mistake; her men, though limited, are
+true, and her women are, in the old sense, “absolute.” As to art, if she
+has never tried idealism, her realism is real to a degree which makes
+the false realism of our own day look merely dead-alive. Take almost any
+Frenchman, except the late M. de Maupassant, and watch him laboriously
+piling up strokes in the hope of giving a complete impression. You get
+none; you are lucky if, discarding two-thirds of what he gives, you can
+shape a real impression out of the rest. But with Miss Austen the
+myriad, trivial, unforced strokes build up the picture like magic.
+Nothing is false; nothing is superfluous. When (to take the present book
+only) Mr. Collins changed his mind from Jane to Elizabeth “while Mrs.
+Bennet was stirring the fire” (and we know_ how _Mrs. Bennet would have
+stirred the fire), when Mr. Darcy “brought his coffee-cup back_
+himself,” _the touch in each case is like that of Swift--“taller by the
+breadth of my nail”--which impressed the half-reluctant Thackeray with
+just and outspoken admiration. Indeed, fantastic as it may seem, I
+should put Miss Austen as near to Swift in some ways, as I have put her
+to Addison in others._
+
+_This Swiftian quality appears in the present novel as it appears
+nowhere else in the character of the immortal, the ineffable Mr.
+Collins. Mr. Collins is really_ great; _far greater than anything Addison
+ever did, almost great enough for Fielding or for Swift himself. It has
+been said that no one ever was like him. But in the first place,_ he
+_was like him; he is there--alive, imperishable, more real than hundreds
+of prime ministers and archbishops, of “metals, semi-metals, and
+distinguished philosophers.” In the second place, it is rash, I think,
+to conclude that an actual Mr. Collins was impossible or non-existent at
+the end of the eighteenth century. It is very interesting that we
+possess, in this same gallery, what may be called a spoiled first
+draught, or an unsuccessful study of him, in John Dashwood. The
+formality, the under-breeding, the meanness, are there; but the portrait
+is only half alive, and is felt to be even a little unnatural. Mr.
+Collins is perfectly natural, and perfectly alive. In fact, for all the
+“miniature,” there is something gigantic in the way in which a certain
+side, and more than one, of humanity, and especially eighteenth-century
+humanity, its Philistinism, its well-meaning but hide-bound morality,
+its formal pettiness, its grovelling respect for rank, its materialism,
+its selfishness, receives exhibition. I will not admit that one speech
+or one action of this inestimable man is incapable of being reconciled
+with reality, and I should not wonder if many of these words and actions
+are historically true._
+
+_But the greatness of Mr. Collins could not have been so satisfactorily
+exhibited if his creatress had not adjusted so artfully to him the
+figures of Mr. Bennet and of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The latter, like
+Mr. Collins himself, has been charged with exaggeration. There is,
+perhaps, a very faint shade of colour for the charge; but it seems to me
+very faint indeed. Even now I do not think that it would be impossible
+to find persons, especially female persons, not necessarily of noble
+birth, as overbearing, as self-centred, as neglectful of good manners,
+as Lady Catherine. A hundred years ago, an earl’s daughter, the Lady
+Powerful (if not exactly Bountiful) of an out-of-the-way country parish,
+rich, long out of marital authority, and so forth, had opportunities of
+developing these agreeable characteristics which seldom present
+themselves now. As for Mr. Bennet, Miss Austen, and Mr. Darcy, and even
+Miss Elizabeth herself, were, I am inclined to think, rather hard on him
+for the “impropriety” of his conduct. His wife was evidently, and must
+always have been, a quite irreclaimable fool; and unless he had shot her
+or himself there was no way out of it for a man of sense and spirit but
+the ironic. From no other point of view is he open to any reproach,
+except for an excusable and not unnatural helplessness at the crisis of
+the elopement, and his utterances are the most acutely delightful in the
+consciously humorous kind--in the kind that we laugh with, not at--that
+even Miss Austen has put into the mouth of any of her characters. It is
+difficult to know whether he is most agreeable when talking to his wife,
+or when putting Mr. Collins through his paces; but the general sense of
+the world has probably been right in preferring to the first rank his
+consolation to the former when she maunders over the entail, “My dear,
+do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things.
+Let us flatter ourselves that_ I _may be the survivor;” and his inquiry
+to his colossal cousin as to the compliments which Mr. Collins has just
+related as made by himself to Lady Catherine, “May I ask whether these
+pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the
+result of previous study?” These are the things which give Miss Austen’s
+readers the pleasant shocks, the delightful thrills, which are felt by
+the readers of Swift, of Fielding, and we may here add, of Thackeray, as
+they are felt by the readers of no other English author of fiction
+outside of these four._
+
+_The goodness of the minor characters in_ Pride and Prejudice _has been
+already alluded to, and it makes a detailed dwelling on their beauties
+difficult in any space, and impossible in this. Mrs. Bennet we have
+glanced at, and it is not easy to say whether she is more exquisitely
+amusing or more horribly true. Much the same may be said of Kitty and
+Lydia; but it is not every author, even of genius, who would have
+differentiated with such unerring skill the effects of folly and
+vulgarity of intellect and disposition working upon the common
+weaknesses of woman at such different ages. With Mary, Miss Austen has
+taken rather less pains, though she has been even more unkind to her;
+not merely in the text, but, as we learn from those interesting
+traditional appendices which Mr. Austen Leigh has given us, in dooming
+her privately to marry “one of Mr. Philips’s clerks.” The habits of
+first copying and then retailing moral sentiments, of playing and
+singing too long in public, are, no doubt, grievous and criminal; but
+perhaps poor Mary was rather the scapegoat of the sins of blue stockings
+in that Fordyce-belectured generation. It is at any rate difficult not
+to extend to her a share of the respect and affection (affection and
+respect of a peculiar kind; doubtless), with which one regards Mr.
+Collins, when she draws the moral of Lydia’s fall. I sometimes wish
+that the exigencies of the story had permitted Miss Austen to unite
+these personages, and thus at once achieve a notable mating and soothe
+poor Mrs. Bennet’s anguish over the entail._
+
+_The Bingleys and the Gardiners and the Lucases, Miss Darcy and Miss de
+Bourgh, Jane, Wickham, and the rest, must pass without special comment,
+further than the remark that Charlotte Lucas (her egregious papa, though
+delightful, is just a little on the thither side of the line between
+comedy and farce) is a wonderfully clever study in drab of one kind, and
+that Wickham (though something of Miss Austen’s hesitation of touch in
+dealing with young men appears) is a not much less notable sketch in
+drab of another. Only genius could have made Charlotte what she is, yet
+not disagreeable; Wickham what he is, without investing him either with
+a cheap Don Juanish attractiveness or a disgusting rascality. But the
+hero and the heroine are not tints to be dismissed._
+
+_Darcy has always seemed to me by far the best and most interesting of
+Miss Austen’s heroes; the only possible competitor being Henry Tilney,
+whose part is so slight and simple that it hardly enters into
+comparison. It has sometimes, I believe, been urged that his pride is
+unnatural at first in its expression and later in its yielding, while
+his falling in love at all is not extremely probable. Here again I
+cannot go with the objectors. Darcy’s own account of the way in which
+his pride had been pampered, is perfectly rational and sufficient; and
+nothing could be, psychologically speaking, a_ causa verior _for its
+sudden restoration to healthy conditions than the shock of Elizabeth’s
+scornful refusal acting on a nature_ ex hypothesi _generous. Nothing in
+even our author is finer and more delicately touched than the change of
+his demeanour at the sudden meeting in the grounds of Pemberley. Had he
+been a bad prig or a bad coxcomb, he might have been still smarting
+under his rejection, or suspicious that the girl had come
+husband-hunting. His being neither is exactly consistent with the
+probable feelings of a man spoilt in the common sense, but not really
+injured in disposition, and thoroughly in love. As for his being in
+love, Elizabeth has given as just an exposition of the causes of that
+phenomenon as Darcy has of the conditions of his unregenerate state,
+only she has of course not counted in what was due to her own personal
+charm._
+
+_The secret of that charm many men and not a few women, from Miss Austen
+herself downwards, have felt, and like most charms it is a thing rather
+to be felt than to be explained. Elizabeth of course belongs to the_
+allegro _or_ allegra _division of the army of Venus. Miss Austen was
+always provokingly chary of description in regard to her beauties; and
+except the fine eyes, and a hint or two that she had at any rate
+sometimes a bright complexion, and was not very tall, we hear nothing
+about her looks. But her chief difference from other heroines of the
+lively type seems to lie first in her being distinctly clever--almost
+strong-minded, in the better sense of that objectionable word--and
+secondly in her being entirely destitute of ill-nature for all her
+propensity to tease and the sharpness of her tongue. Elizabeth can give
+at least as good as she gets when she is attacked; but she never
+“scratches,” and she never attacks first. Some of the merest
+obsoletenesses of phrase and manner give one or two of her early
+speeches a slight pertness, but that is nothing, and when she comes to
+serious business, as in the great proposal scene with Darcy (which is,
+as it should be, the climax of the interest of the book), and in the
+final ladies’ battle with Lady Catherine, she is unexceptionable. Then
+too she is a perfectly natural girl. She does not disguise from herself
+or anybody that she resents Darcy’s first ill-mannered personality with
+as personal a feeling. (By the way, the reproach that the ill-manners of
+this speech are overdone is certainly unjust; for things of the same
+kind, expressed no doubt less stiltedly but more coarsely, might have
+been heard in more than one ball-room during this very year from persons
+who ought to have been no worse bred than Darcy.) And she lets the
+injury done to Jane and the contempt shown to the rest of her family
+aggravate this resentment in the healthiest way in the world._
+
+_Still, all this does not explain her charm, which, taking beauty as a
+common form of all heroines, may perhaps consist in the addition to her
+playfulness, her wit, her affectionate and natural disposition, of a
+certain fearlessness very uncommon in heroines of her type and age.
+Nearly all of them would have been in speechless awe of the magnificent
+Darcy; nearly all of them would have palpitated and fluttered at the
+idea of proposals, even naughty ones, from the fascinating Wickham.
+Elizabeth, with nothing offensive, nothing_ viraginous, _nothing of the
+“New Woman” about her, has by nature what the best modern (not “new”)
+women have by education and experience, a perfect freedom from the idea
+that all men may bully her if they choose, and that most will away with
+her if they can. Though not in the least “impudent and mannish grown,”
+she has no mere sensibility, no nasty niceness about her. The form of
+passion common and likely to seem natural in Miss Austen’s day was so
+invariably connected with the display of one or the other, or both of
+these qualities, that she has not made Elizabeth outwardly passionate.
+But I, at least, have not the slightest doubt that she would have
+married Darcy just as willingly without Pemberley as with it, and
+anybody who can read between lines will not find the lovers’
+conversations in the final chapters so frigid as they might have looked
+to the Della Cruscans of their own day, and perhaps do look to the Della
+Cruscans of this._
+
+_And, after all, what is the good of seeking for the reason of
+charm?--it is there. There were better sense in the sad mechanic
+exercise of determining the reason of its absence where it is not. In
+the novels of the last hundred years there are vast numbers of young
+ladies with whom it might be a pleasure to fall in love; there are at
+least five with whom, as it seems to me, no man of taste and spirit can
+help doing so. Their names are, in chronological order, Elizabeth
+Bennet, Diana Vernon, Argemone Lavington, Beatrix Esmond, and Barbara
+Grant. I should have been most in love with Beatrix and Argemone; I
+should, I think, for mere occasional companionship, have preferred Diana
+and Barbara. But to live with and to marry, I do not know that any one
+of the four can come into competition with Elizabeth._
+
+_GEORGE SAINTSBURY._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: List of Illustrations.]
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+Frontispiece                                                          iv
+
+Title-page                                                             v
+
+Dedication                                                           vii
+
+Heading to Preface                                                    ix
+
+Heading to List of Illustrations                                     xxv
+
+Heading to Chapter I.                                                  1
+
+“He came down to see the place”                                        2
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Bennet                                                    5
+
+“I hope Mr. Bingley will like it”                                      6
+
+“I’m the tallest”                                                      9
+
+“He rode a black horse”                                               10
+
+“When the party entered”                                              12
+
+“She is tolerable”                                                    15
+
+Heading to Chapter IV.                                                18
+
+Heading to Chapter V.                                                 22
+
+“Without once opening his lips”                                       24
+
+Tailpiece to Chapter V.                                               26
+
+Heading to Chapter VI.                                                27
+
+“The entreaties of several”                                           31
+
+“A note for Miss Bennet”                                              36
+
+“Cheerful prognostics”                                                40
+
+“The apothecary came”                                                 43
+
+“Covering a screen”                                                   45
+
+“Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest girls”                              53
+
+Heading to Chapter X.                                                 60
+
+“No, no; stay where you are”                                          67
+
+“Piling up the fire”                                                  69
+
+Heading to Chapter XII.                                               75
+
+Heading to Chapter XIII.                                              78
+
+Heading to Chapter XIV.                                               84
+
+“Protested that he never read novels”                                 87
+
+Heading to Chapter XV.                                                89
+
+Heading to Chapter XVI.                                               95
+
+“The officers of the ----shire”                                       97
+
+“Delighted to see their dear friend again”                           108
+
+Heading to Chapter XVIII.                                            113
+
+“Such very superior dancing is not often seen”                       118
+
+“To assure you in the most animated language”                        132
+
+Heading to Chapter XX.                                               139
+
+“They entered the breakfast-room”                                    143
+
+Heading to Chapter XXI.                                              146
+
+“Walked back with them”                                              148
+
+Heading to Chapter XXII.                                             154
+
+“So much love and eloquence”                                         156
+
+“Protested he must be entirely mistaken”                             161
+
+“Whenever she spoke in a low voice”                                  166
+
+Heading to Chapter XXIV.                                             168
+
+Heading to Chapter XXV.                                              175
+
+“Offended two or three young ladies”                                 177
+
+“Will you come and see me?”                                          181
+
+“On the stairs”                                                      189
+
+“At the door”                                                        194
+
+“In conversation with the ladies”                                    198
+
+“Lady Catherine,” said she, “you have given me a treasure”           200
+
+Heading to Chapter XXX.                                              209
+
+“He never failed to inform them”                                     211
+
+“The gentlemen accompanied him”                                      213
+
+Heading to Chapter XXXI.                                             215
+
+Heading to Chapter XXXII.                                            221
+
+“Accompanied by their aunt”                                          225
+
+“On looking up”                                                      228
+
+Heading to Chapter XXXIV.                                            235
+
+“Hearing herself called”                                             243
+
+Heading to Chapter XXXVI.                                            253
+
+“Meeting accidentally in town”                                       256
+
+“His parting obeisance”                                              261
+
+“Dawson”                                                             263
+
+“The elevation of his feelings”                                      267
+
+“They had forgotten to leave any message”                            270
+
+“How nicely we are crammed in!”                                      272
+
+Heading to Chapter XL.                                               278
+
+“I am determined never to speak of it again”                         283
+
+“When Colonel Miller’s regiment went away”                           285
+
+“Tenderly flirting”                                                  290
+
+The arrival of the Gardiners                                         294
+
+“Conjecturing as to the date”                                        301
+
+Heading to Chapter XLIV.                                             318
+
+“To make herself agreeable to all”                                   321
+
+“Engaged by the river”                                               327
+
+Heading to Chapter XLVI.                                             334
+
+“I have not an instant to lose”                                      339
+
+“The first pleasing earnest of their welcome”                        345
+
+The Post                                                             359
+
+“To whom I have related the affair”                                  363
+
+Heading to Chapter XLIX.                                             368
+
+“But perhaps you would like to read it”                              370
+
+“The spiteful old ladies”                                            377
+
+“With an affectionate smile”                                         385
+
+“I am sure she did not listen”                                       393
+
+“Mr. Darcy with him”                                                 404
+
+“Jane happened to look round”                                        415
+
+“Mrs. Long and her nieces”                                           420
+
+“Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak to you”                             422
+
+Heading to Chapter LVI.                                              431
+
+“After a short survey”                                               434
+
+“But now it comes out”                                               442
+
+“The efforts of his aunt”                                            448
+
+“Unable to utter a syllable”                                         457
+
+“The obsequious civility”                                            466
+
+Heading to Chapter LXI.                                              472
+
+The End                                                              476
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ·PRIDE AND PREJUDICE·
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I.]
+
+
+It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession
+of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
+
+However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his
+first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds
+of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful
+property of some one or other of their daughters.
+
+“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that
+Netherfield Park is let at last?”
+
+Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
+
+“But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she
+told me all about it.”
+
+Mr. Bennet made no answer.
+
+“Do not you want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife, impatiently.
+
+“_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“He came down to see the place”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+This was invitation enough.
+
+“Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken
+by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came
+down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much
+delighted with it that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is
+to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be
+in the house by the end of next week.”
+
+“What is his name?”
+
+“Bingley.”
+
+“Is he married or single?”
+
+“Oh, single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or
+five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”
+
+“How so? how can it affect them?”
+
+“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome? You
+must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”
+
+“Is that his design in settling here?”
+
+“Design? Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he
+_may_ fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as
+soon as he comes.”
+
+“I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go--or you may send
+them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better; for as you are
+as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the
+party.”
+
+“My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of beauty, but
+I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five
+grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty.”
+
+“In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of.”
+
+“But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into
+the neighbourhood.”
+
+“It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”
+
+“But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would
+be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go,
+merely on that account; for in general, you know, they visit no new
+comers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to visit
+him, if you do not.”
+
+“You are over scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very
+glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my
+hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls--though
+I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.”
+
+“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the
+others: and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so
+good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the preference.”
+
+“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he: “they are
+all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of
+quickness than her sisters.”
+
+“Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take
+delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.”
+
+“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They
+are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration
+these twenty years at least.”
+
+“Ah, you do not know what I suffer.”
+
+“But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four
+thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.”
+
+“It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not
+visit them.”
+
+“Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them
+all.”
+
+Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour,
+reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had
+been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. _Her_ mind
+was less difficult to develope. She was a woman of mean understanding,
+little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she
+fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her
+daughters married: its solace was visiting and news.
+
+[Illustration: M^{r.} & M^{rs.} Bennet
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“I hope Mr. Bingley will like it”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He
+had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his
+wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was
+paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following
+manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he
+suddenly addressed her with,--
+
+“I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy.”
+
+“We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes,” said her mother,
+resentfully, “since we are not to visit.”
+
+“But you forget, mamma,” said Elizabeth, “that we shall meet him at the
+assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him.”
+
+“I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces
+of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion
+of her.”
+
+“No more have I,” said Mr. Bennet; “and I am glad to find that you do
+not depend on her serving you.”
+
+Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply; but, unable to contain
+herself, began scolding one of her daughters.
+
+“Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven’s sake! Have a little
+compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.”
+
+“Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father; “she times
+them ill.”
+
+“I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty, fretfully. “When
+is your next ball to be, Lizzy?”
+
+“To-morrow fortnight.”
+
+“Ay, so it is,” cried her mother, “and Mrs. Long does not come back till
+the day before; so, it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for
+she will not know him herself.”
+
+“Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce
+Mr. Bingley to _her_.”
+
+“Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him
+myself; how can you be so teasing?”
+
+“I honour your circumspection. A fortnight’s acquaintance is certainly
+very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a
+fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture, somebody else will; and after
+all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance; and, therefore,
+as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I
+will take it on myself.”
+
+The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, “Nonsense,
+nonsense!”
+
+“What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?” cried he. “Do
+you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on
+them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you _there_. What say you,
+Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read
+great books, and make extracts.”
+
+Mary wished to say something very sensible, but knew not how.
+
+“While Mary is adjusting her ideas,” he continued, “let us return to Mr.
+Bingley.”
+
+“I am sick of Mr. Bingley,” cried his wife.
+
+“I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did you not tell me so before? If I
+had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called on
+him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we
+cannot escape the acquaintance now.”
+
+The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished--that of Mrs.
+Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though when the first tumult of joy
+was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the
+while.
+
+“How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should
+persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to
+neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! And it is such a
+good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning, and never said a
+word about it till now.”
+
+“Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose,” said Mr. Bennet; and,
+as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.
+
+“What an excellent father you have, girls,” said she, when the door was
+shut. “I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness;
+or me either, for that matter. At our time of life, it is not so
+pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances every day; but
+for your sakes we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you _are_
+the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next
+ball.”
+
+“Oh,” said Lydia, stoutly, “I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the
+youngest, I’m the tallest.”
+
+The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would
+return Mr. Bennet’s visit, and determining when they should ask him to
+dinner.
+
+[Illustration: “I’m the tallest”]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “He rode a black horse”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five
+daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her
+husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him
+in various ways, with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and
+distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all; and they were at
+last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour,
+Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been
+delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely
+agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly
+with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of
+dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively
+hopes of Mr. Bingley’s heart were entertained.
+
+“If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,”
+said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, “and all the others equally well
+married, I shall have nothing to wish for.”
+
+In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet’s visit, and sat about ten
+minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of being
+admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard
+much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat more
+fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining, from an upper
+window, that he wore a blue coat and rode a black horse.
+
+An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards despatched; and already had
+Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her
+housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley
+was obliged to be in town the following day, and consequently unable to
+accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite
+disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town
+so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that
+he might always be flying about from one place to another, and never
+settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a
+little by starting the idea of his
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “When the Party entered”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+being gone to London only to get a large party for the ball; and a
+report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and
+seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a
+number of ladies; but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing
+that, instead of twelve, he had brought only six with him from London,
+his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party entered the
+assembly-room, it consisted of only five altogether: Mr. Bingley, his
+two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man.
+
+Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike: he had a pleasant
+countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women,
+with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely
+looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention
+of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and
+the report, which was in general circulation within five minutes after
+his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen
+pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he was
+much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great
+admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust
+which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be
+proud, to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his
+large estate in Derbyshire could save him from having a most forbidding,
+disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his
+friend.
+
+Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal
+people in the room: he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance,
+was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one
+himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for
+themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced
+only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being
+introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in
+walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.
+His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in
+the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again.
+Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of
+his general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his
+having slighted one of her daughters.
+
+Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit
+down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been
+standing near enough for her to overhear a conversation between him and
+Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes to press his
+friend to join it.
+
+“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you
+standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better
+dance.”
+
+“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am
+particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it
+would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not
+another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to
+stand up with.”
+
+“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a
+kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my
+life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see,
+uncommonly pretty.”
+
+“_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr.
+Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.
+
+“Oh, she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one
+of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I
+dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“She is tolerable”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+“Which do you mean?” and turning round, he looked for a moment at
+Elizabeth, till, catching her eye, he withdrew his own, and coldly said,
+“She is tolerable: but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; and I am in no
+humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted
+by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her
+smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
+
+Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth
+remained with no very cordial feelings towards him. She told the story,
+however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively,
+playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.
+
+The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs.
+Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield
+party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been
+distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as her
+mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane’s
+pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most
+accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been
+fortunate enough to be never without partners, which was all that they
+had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned, therefore, in good
+spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they
+were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a
+book, he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a
+good deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised
+such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that all his wife’s
+views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found that he
+had a very different story to hear.
+
+“Oh, my dear Mr. Bennet,” as she entered the room, “we have had a most
+delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there.
+Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well
+she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with
+her twice. Only think of _that_, my dear: he actually danced with her
+twice; and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second
+time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand
+up with her; but, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody
+can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going
+down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and
+asked her for the two next. Then, the two third he danced with Miss
+King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane
+again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the _Boulanger_----”
+
+“If he had had any compassion for _me_,” cried her husband impatiently,
+“he would not have danced half so much! For God’s sake, say no more of
+his partners. O that he had sprained his ancle in the first dance!”
+
+“Oh, my dear,” continued Mrs. Bennet, “I am quite delighted with him. He
+is so excessively handsome! and his sisters are charming women. I never
+in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the
+lace upon Mrs. Hurst’s gown----”
+
+Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any
+description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch
+of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit, and some
+exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.
+
+“But I can assure you,” she added, “that Lizzy does not lose much by not
+suiting _his_ fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at
+all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited, that there was no enduring
+him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very
+great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my
+dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in
+her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very much
+she admired him.
+
+“He is just what a young-man ought to be,” said she, “sensible,
+good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners! so much ease,
+with such perfect good breeding!”
+
+“He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth, “which a young man ought
+likewise to be if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.”
+
+“I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I
+did not expect such a compliment.”
+
+“Did not you? _I_ did for you. But that is one great difference between
+us. Compliments always take _you_ by surprise, and _me_ never. What
+could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help
+seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in
+the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is
+very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a
+stupider person.”
+
+“Dear Lizzy!”
+
+“Oh, you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general.
+You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable
+in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life.”
+
+“I would wish not to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak
+what I think.”
+
+“I know you do: and it is _that_ which makes the wonder. With _your_
+good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of
+others! Affectation of candour is common enough; one meets with it
+everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design,--to take the
+good of everybody’s character and make it still better, and say nothing
+of the bad,--belongs to you alone. And so, you like this man’s sisters,
+too, do you? Their manners are not equal to his.”
+
+“Certainly not, at first; but they are very pleasing women when you
+converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep
+his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming
+neighbour in her.”
+
+Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced: their behaviour at
+the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more
+quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and
+with a judgment, too, unassailed by any attention to herself, she was
+very little disposed to approve them. They were, in fact, very fine
+ladies; not deficient in good-humour when they were pleased, nor in the
+power of being agreeable where they chose it; but proud and conceited.
+They were rather handsome; had been educated in one of the first private
+seminaries in town; had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds; were in the
+habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with people
+of rank; and were, therefore, in every respect entitled to think well of
+themselves and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in
+the north of England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their
+memories than that their brother’s fortune and their own had been
+acquired by trade.
+
+Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred
+thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate,
+but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and
+sometimes made choice of his county; but, as he was now provided with a
+good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those
+who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the
+remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to
+purchase.
+
+His sisters were very anxious for his having an estate of his own; but
+though he was now established only as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no
+means unwilling to preside at his table; nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had
+married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider
+his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of
+age two years when he was tempted, by an accidental recommendation, to
+look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it, for half an
+hour; was pleased with the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied
+with what the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.
+
+Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of a
+great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the
+easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition
+could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he
+never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy’s regard, Bingley
+had the firmest reliance, and of his judgment the highest opinion. In
+understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means
+deficient; but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty,
+reserved, and fastidious; and his manners, though well bred, were not
+inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley
+was sure of being liked wherever he appeared; Darcy was continually
+giving offence.
+
+The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently
+characteristic. Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or prettier
+girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to him;
+there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted
+with all the room; and as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel
+more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people
+in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had
+felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or
+pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty; but she smiled too
+much.
+
+Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so; but still they admired
+her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom
+they should not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore
+established as a sweet girl; and their brother felt authorized by such
+commendation to think of her as he chose.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: [_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets
+were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade
+in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the
+honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. The
+distinction had, perhaps, been felt too strongly. It had given him a
+disgust to his business and to his residence in a small market town;
+and, quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about
+a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge; where he
+could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by
+business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For,
+though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the
+contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive,
+friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. James’s had made him
+courteous.
+
+Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a
+valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest
+of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was
+Elizabeth’s intimate friend.
+
+That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a
+ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly
+brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.
+
+“_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs. Bennet, with civil
+self-command, to Miss Lucas. “_You_ were Mr. Bingley’s first choice.”
+
+“Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.”
+
+“Oh, you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be
+sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her--indeed, I rather believe he
+_did_--I heard something about it--but I hardly know what--something
+about Mr. Robinson.”
+
+“Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson: did not
+I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson’s asking him how he liked our Meryton
+assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty
+women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his
+answering immediately to the last question, ‘Oh, the eldest Miss Bennet,
+beyond a doubt: there cannot be two opinions on that point.’”
+
+“Upon my word! Well, that was very decided, indeed--that does seem as
+if--but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.”
+
+“_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza,” said
+Charlotte. “Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend,
+is he? Poor Eliza! to be only just _tolerable_.”
+
+“I beg you will not put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by his
+ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man that it would be quite
+a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he
+sat close to her for half an hour without once opening his lips.”
+
+[Illustration: “Without once opening his lips”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+“Are you quite sure, ma’am? Is not there a little mistake?” said Jane.
+“I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her.”
+
+“Ay, because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he
+could not help answering her; but she said he seemed very angry at being
+spoke to.”
+
+“Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much unless
+among his intimate acquaintance. With _them_ he is remarkably
+agreeable.”
+
+“I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very
+agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it
+was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had
+heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had to come
+to the ball in a hack chaise.”
+
+“I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,” said Miss Lucas, “but I
+wish he had danced with Eliza.”
+
+“Another time, Lizzy,” said her mother, “I would not dance with _him_,
+if I were you.”
+
+“I believe, ma’am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with him.”
+
+“His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend _me_ so much as pride
+often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so
+very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour,
+should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_
+to be proud.”
+
+“That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive
+_his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_.”
+
+“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her
+reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have
+ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human
+nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us
+who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some
+quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different
+things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be
+proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of
+ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
+
+“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his
+sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of
+foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”
+
+“Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said Mrs.
+Bennet; “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle
+directly.”
+
+The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she
+would; and the argument ended only with the visit.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit
+was returned in due form. Miss Bennet’s pleasing manners grew on the
+good-will of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was
+found to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to,
+a wish of being better acquainted with _them_ was expressed towards the
+two eldest. By Jane this attention was received with the greatest
+pleasure; but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of
+everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them;
+though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value, as arising,
+in all probability, from the influence of their brother’s admiration. It
+was generally evident, whenever they met, that he _did_ admire her; and
+to _her_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference
+which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a
+way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it
+was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane
+united with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and an
+uniform cheerfulness of manner, which would guard her from the
+suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend, Miss
+Lucas.
+
+“It may, perhaps, be pleasant,” replied Charlotte, “to be able to impose
+on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be
+so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill
+from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and
+it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the
+dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every
+attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all
+_begin_ freely--a slight preference is natural enough; but there are
+very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without
+encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show _more_
+affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he
+may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.”
+
+“But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If _I_ can
+perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton indeed not to
+discover it too.”
+
+“Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane’s disposition as you do.”
+
+“But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavor to conceal
+it, he must find it out.”
+
+“Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But though Bingley and Jane
+meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and as they
+always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that
+every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should
+therefore make the most of every half hour in which she can command his
+attention. When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling
+in love as much as she chooses.”
+
+“Your plan is a good one,” replied Elizabeth, “where nothing is in
+question but the desire of being well married; and if I were determined
+to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But
+these are not Jane’s feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet she
+cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its
+reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four
+dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house,
+and has since dined in company with him four times. This is not quite
+enough to make her understand his character.”
+
+“Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might
+only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must
+remember that four evenings have been also spent together--and four
+evenings may do a great deal.”
+
+“Yes: these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both
+like Vingt-un better than Commerce, but with respect to any other
+leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded.”
+
+“Well,” said Charlotte, “I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if
+she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a
+chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a
+twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If
+the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or
+ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the
+least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to
+have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as
+possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your
+life.”
+
+“You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not
+sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.”
+
+Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley’s attention to her sister, Elizabeth
+was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some
+interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely
+allowed her to be pretty: he had looked at her without admiration at the
+ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no
+sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had
+hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered
+uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To
+this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had
+detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry
+in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and
+pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those
+of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of
+this she was perfectly unaware: to her he was only the man who made
+himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough
+to dance with.
+
+He began to wish to know more of her; and, as a step towards conversing
+with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so
+drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas’s, where a large party were
+assembled.
+
+“What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she to Charlotte, “by listening to my
+conversation with Colonel Forster?”
+
+“That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer.”
+
+“But if he does it any more, I shall certainly let him know that I see
+what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by
+being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”
+
+[Illustration: “The entreaties of several” [_Copyright 1894 by George
+Allen._]]
+
+On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have
+any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such
+a subject to him, which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she
+turned to him and said,--
+
+“Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well
+just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at
+Meryton?”
+
+“With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady
+energetic.”
+
+“You are severe on us.”
+
+“It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased,” said Miss Lucas. “I am going
+to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows.”
+
+“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!--always wanting me
+to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a
+musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would
+really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of
+hearing the very best performers.” On Miss Lucas’s persevering, however,
+she added, “Very well; if it must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing
+at Mr. Darcy, “There is a very fine old saying, which everybody here is
+of course familiar with--‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge,’--and
+I shall keep mine to swell my song.”
+
+Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song
+or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she
+would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her
+sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in
+the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always
+impatient for display.
+
+Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her
+application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited
+manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she
+had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with
+much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the
+end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by
+Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who with
+some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in
+dancing at one end of the room.
+
+Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of
+passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too
+much engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas
+was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began:--
+
+“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is
+nothing like dancing, after all. I consider it as one of the first
+refinements of polished societies.”
+
+“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst
+the less polished societies of the world: every savage can dance.”
+
+Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully,” he
+continued, after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; “and I doubt
+not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
+
+“You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir.”
+
+“Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do
+you often dance at St. James’s?”
+
+“Never, sir.”
+
+“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”
+
+“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”
+
+“You have a house in town, I conclude?”
+
+Mr. Darcy bowed.
+
+“I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself, for I am fond of
+superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of
+London would agree with Lady Lucas.”
+
+He paused in hopes of an answer: but his companion was not disposed to
+make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was
+struck with the notion of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to
+her,--
+
+“My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow
+me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You
+cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.”
+And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though
+extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly
+drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William,--
+
+“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you
+not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”
+
+Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of
+her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at
+all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.
+
+“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me
+the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the
+amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us
+for one half hour.”
+
+“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling.
+
+“He is, indeed: but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we
+cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a
+partner?”
+
+Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured
+her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some
+complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley,--
+
+“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”
+
+“I should imagine not.”
+
+“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many
+evenings in this manner,--in such society; and, indeed, I am quite of
+your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the
+noise--the nothingness, and yet the self-importance, of all these
+people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”
+
+“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more
+agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure
+which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”
+
+Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he
+would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.
+Mr. Darcy replied, with great intrepidity,--
+
+“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
+
+“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment.
+How long has she been such a favourite? and pray when am I to wish you
+joy?”
+
+“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s
+imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love
+to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.”
+
+“Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as
+absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and
+of course she will be always at Pemberley with you.”
+
+He listened to her with perfect indifference, while she chose to
+entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her
+that all was safe, her wit flowed along.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “A note for Miss Bennet”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mr. Bennet’s property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two
+thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed,
+in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother’s
+fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply
+the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and
+had left her four thousand pounds.
+
+She had a sister married to a Mr. Philips, who had been a clerk to their
+father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in
+London in a respectable line of trade.
+
+The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most
+convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted
+thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt, and
+to a milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family,
+Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions:
+their minds were more vacant than their sisters’, and when nothing
+better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning
+hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and, however bare of
+news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn
+some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both
+with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in
+the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was
+the head-quarters.
+
+Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most interesting
+intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the
+officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret,
+and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Philips
+visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a source of felicity
+unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr.
+Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their
+mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of
+an ensign.
+
+After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr.
+Bennet coolly observed,--
+
+“From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two
+of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but
+I am now convinced.”
+
+Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect
+indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and
+her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the
+next morning to London.
+
+“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so
+ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly
+of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own, however.”
+
+“If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.”
+
+“Yes; but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.”
+
+“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I
+had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must
+so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly
+foolish.”
+
+“My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of
+their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will
+not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I
+liked a red coat myself very well--and, indeed, so I do still at my
+heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year,
+should want one of my girls, I shall not say nay to him; and I thought
+Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William’s in
+his regimentals.”
+
+“Mamma,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain
+Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did when they first
+came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke’s library.”
+
+Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a
+note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited
+for an answer. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was
+eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,--
+
+“Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well,
+Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.”
+
+“It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and then read it aloud.
+
+     /* NIND “My dear friend, */
+
+     “If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and
+     me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our
+     lives; for a whole day’s _tête-à-tête_ between two women can never
+     end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the receipt of
+     this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.
+     Yours ever,
+
+“CAROLINE BINGLEY.”
+
+“With the officers!” cried Lydia: “I wonder my aunt did not tell us of
+_that_.”
+
+“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet; “that is very unlucky.”
+
+“Can I have the carriage?” said Jane.
+
+“No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to
+rain; and then you must stay all night.”
+
+“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure that
+they would not offer to send her home.”
+
+“Oh, but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley’s chaise to go to Meryton;
+and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”
+
+“I had much rather go in the coach.”
+
+“But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are
+wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are not they?”
+
+[Illustration: Cheerful prognostics]
+
+“They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.”
+
+“But if you have got them to-day,” said Elizabeth, “my mother’s purpose
+will be answered.”
+
+She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses
+were engaged; Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her
+mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad
+day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it
+rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was
+delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission;
+Jane certainly could not come back.
+
+“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet, more than
+once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next
+morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her
+contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield
+brought the following note for Elizabeth:--
+
+     /* NIND “My dearest Lizzie, */
+
+     “I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be
+     imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will
+     not hear of my returning home till I am better. They insist also on
+     my seeing Mr. Jones--therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear
+     of his having been to me--and, excepting a sore throat and a
+     headache, there is not much the matter with me.
+
+“Yours, etc.”
+
+“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note
+aloud, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness--if she
+should die--it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of
+Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.”
+
+“Oh, I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of little
+trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays
+there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the
+carriage.”
+
+Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, determined to go to her, though the
+carriage was not to be had: and as she was no horsewoman, walking was
+her only alternative. She declared her resolution.
+
+“How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such a
+thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get
+there.”
+
+“I shall be very fit to see Jane--which is all I want.”
+
+“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the
+horses?”
+
+“No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing,
+when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.”
+
+“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but every
+impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,
+exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.”
+
+“We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and Lydia.
+Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off
+together.
+
+“If we make haste,” said Lydia, as they walked along, “perhaps we may
+see something of Captain Carter, before he goes.”
+
+In Meryton they parted: the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one
+of the officers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing
+field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing
+over puddles, with impatient activity, and finding herself at last
+within view of the house, with weary ancles, dirty stockings, and a face
+glowing with the warmth of exercise.
+
+She was shown into the breakfast parlour, where all but Jane were
+assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise.
+That she should have walked three miles so early in the day in such
+dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and
+Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt
+for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their
+brother’s manners there was something better than politeness--there was
+good-humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst
+nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the
+brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion and doubt as to
+the occasion’s justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was
+thinking only of his breakfast.
+
+Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss
+Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well
+enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her
+immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving
+alarm or inconvenience, from expressing in her note how much she longed
+for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal,
+however, to much conversation; and when Miss Bingley left them together,
+could attempt little beside expressions of gratitude for the
+extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended
+her.
+
+When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth
+began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and
+solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary came; and having
+examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a
+violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it;
+advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice
+was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head
+ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment, nor were
+the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact
+nothing to do elsewhere.
+
+When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very
+unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only
+wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern
+at parting with her that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer
+of the chaise into an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the
+present. Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was
+despatched to Longbourn, to acquaint the family with her stay, and bring
+back a supply of clothes.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“The Apothecary came”
+]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“covering a screen”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+At five o’clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six
+Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then
+poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the
+much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley, she could not make a very
+favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing
+this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how
+shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked
+being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their
+indifference towards Jane, when not immediately before them, restored
+Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike.
+
+Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could
+regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his
+attentions to herself most pleasing; and they prevented her feeling
+herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the
+others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was
+engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr.
+Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to
+eat, drink, and play at cards, who, when he found her prefer a plain
+dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.
+
+When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley
+began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were
+pronounced to be very bad indeed,--a mixture of pride and impertinence:
+she had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst
+thought the same, and added,--
+
+“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent
+walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really
+looked almost wild.”
+
+“She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very
+nonsensical to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering about the
+country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy, so blowzy!”
+
+“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep
+in mud, I am absolutely certain, and the gown which had been let down to
+hide it not doing its office.”
+
+“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; “but this was
+all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well
+when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite
+escaped my notice.”
+
+“_You_ observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley; “and I am
+inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your sister_ make such
+an exhibition.”
+
+“Certainly not.”
+
+“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is,
+above her ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by
+it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence,
+a most country-town indifference to decorum.”
+
+“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said
+Bingley.
+
+“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley, in a half whisper,
+“that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine
+eyes.”
+
+“Not at all,” he replied: “they were brightened by the exercise.” A
+short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again,--
+
+“I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet,--she is really a very sweet
+girl,--and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such
+a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no
+chance of it.”
+
+“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in
+Meryton?”
+
+“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”
+
+“That is capital,” added her sister; and they both laughed heartily.
+
+“If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it
+would not make them one jot less agreeable.”
+
+“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any
+consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.
+
+To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their
+hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of
+their dear friend’s vulgar relations.
+
+With a renewal of tenderness, however, they repaired to her room on
+leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.
+She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till
+late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and
+when it appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she should go
+down stairs herself. On entering the drawing-room, she found the whole
+party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting
+them to be playing high, she declined it, and making her sister the
+excuse, said she would amuse herself, for the short time she could stay
+below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.
+
+“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”
+
+“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great
+reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”
+
+“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Elizabeth; “I
+am _not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”
+
+“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Bingley; “and
+I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well.”
+
+Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a table
+where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her
+others; all that his library afforded.
+
+“And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own
+credit; but I am an idle fellow; and though I have not many, I have more
+than I ever looked into.”
+
+Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those
+in the room.
+
+“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “that my father should have left
+so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at
+Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!”
+
+“It ought to be good,” he replied: “it has been the work of many
+generations.”
+
+“And then you have added so much to it yourself--you are always buying
+books.”
+
+“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as
+these.”
+
+“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of
+that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_ house, I wish it may be
+half as delightful as Pemberley.”
+
+“I wish it may.”
+
+“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that
+neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a
+finer county in England than Derbyshire.”
+
+“With all my heart: I will buy Pemberley itself, if Darcy will sell it.”
+
+“I am talking of possibilities, Charles.”
+
+“Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get
+Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.”
+
+Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, as to leave her very little
+attention for her book; and, soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near
+the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest
+sister, to observe the game.
+
+“Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?” said Miss Bingley: “will
+she be as tall as I am?”
+
+“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or
+rather taller.”
+
+“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me
+so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished
+for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”
+
+“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience
+to be so very accomplished as they all are.”
+
+“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”
+
+“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and
+net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this; and I am
+sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without
+being informed that she was very accomplished.”
+
+“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has
+too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no
+otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen; but I am very
+far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I
+cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen in the whole range of my
+acquaintance that are really accomplished.”
+
+“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.
+
+“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your
+idea of an accomplished woman.”
+
+“Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it.”
+
+“Oh, certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really
+esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met
+with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing,
+dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and, besides all
+this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of
+walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word
+will be but half deserved.”
+
+“All this she must possess,” added Darcy; “and to all she must yet add
+something more substantial in the improvement of her mind by extensive
+reading.”
+
+“I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women.
+I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_.”
+
+“Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all
+this?”
+
+“_I_ never saw such a woman. _I_ never saw such capacity, and taste, and
+application, and elegance, as you describe, united.”
+
+Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her
+implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who
+answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with
+bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all
+conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the
+room.
+
+“Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, “is
+one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other
+sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I daresay, it
+succeeds; but, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”
+
+“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed,
+“there is meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies sometimes condescend
+to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is
+despicable.”
+
+Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to
+continue the subject.
+
+Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and
+that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones’s being sent for
+immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could
+be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most
+eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so
+unwilling to comply with their brother’s proposal; and it was settled
+that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet
+were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters
+declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness,
+however, by duets after supper; while he could find no better relief to
+his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every
+possible attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+M^{rs} Bennet and her two youngest girls
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister’s room, and in the
+morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the
+inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid,
+and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his
+sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a
+note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her
+own judgment of her situation. The note was immediately despatched, and
+its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her
+two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.
+
+Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been
+very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was
+not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her
+restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She
+would not listen, therefore, to her daughter’s proposal of being carried
+home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think
+it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss
+Bingley’s appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all
+attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes
+that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.
+
+“Indeed I have, sir,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be
+moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass
+a little longer on your kindness.”
+
+“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am
+sure, will not hear of her removal.”
+
+“You may depend upon it, madam,” said Miss Bingley, with cold civility,
+“that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she
+remains with us.”
+
+Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.
+
+“I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends, I do not
+know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a
+vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is
+always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest
+temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to
+_her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect
+over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is
+equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I
+hope, though you have but a short lease.”
+
+“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied he; “and therefore if I
+should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five
+minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.”
+
+“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Elizabeth.
+
+“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” cried he, turning towards her.
+
+“Oh yes--I understand you perfectly.”
+
+“I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen
+through, I am afraid, is pitiful.”
+
+“That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep,
+intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.”
+
+“Lizzy,” cried her mother, “remember where you are, and do not run on in
+the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.”
+
+“I did not know before,” continued Bingley, immediately, “that you were
+a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”
+
+“Yes; but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at
+least that advantage.”
+
+“The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but few subjects for
+such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and
+unvarying society.”
+
+“But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be
+observed in them for ever.”
+
+“Yes, indeed,” cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a
+country neighbourhood. “I assure you there is quite as much of _that_
+going on in the country as in town.”
+
+Everybody was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment,
+turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete
+victory over him, continued her triumph,--
+
+“I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for
+my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal
+pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?”
+
+“When I am in the country,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it; and
+when I am in town, it is pretty much the same. They have each their
+advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”
+
+“Ay, that is because you have the right disposition. But that
+gentleman,” looking at Darcy, “seemed to think the country was nothing
+at all.”
+
+“Indeed, mamma, you are mistaken,” said Elizabeth, blushing for her
+mother. “You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not
+such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which
+you must acknowledge to be true.”
+
+“Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with
+many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few
+neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families.”
+
+Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his
+countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eye towards
+Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of
+saying something that might turn her mother’s thoughts, now asked her if
+Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away.
+
+“Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir
+William is, Mr. Bingley--is not he? so much the man of fashion! so
+genteel and so easy! He has always something to say to everybody. _That_
+is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very
+important and never open their mouths quite mistake the matter.”
+
+“Did Charlotte dine with you?”
+
+“No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For
+my part, Mr. Bingley, _I_ always keep servants that can do their own
+work; _my_ daughters are brought up differently. But everybody is to
+judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I
+assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that _I_ think
+Charlotte so _very_ plain; but then she is our particular friend.”
+
+“She seems a very pleasant young woman,” said Bingley.
+
+“Oh dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself
+has often said so, and envied me Jane’s beauty. I do not like to boast
+of my own child; but to be sure, Jane--one does not often see anybody
+better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own
+partiality. When she was only fifteen there was a gentleman at my
+brother Gardiner’s in town so much in love with her, that my
+sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away.
+But, however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he
+wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.”
+
+“And so ended his affection,” said Elizabeth, impatiently. “There has
+been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first
+discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!”
+
+“I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love,” said Darcy.
+
+“Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is
+strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I
+am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”
+
+Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth
+tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to
+speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs.
+Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to
+Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was
+unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be
+civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part,
+indeed, without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and
+soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of
+her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to
+each other during the whole visit; and the result of it was, that the
+youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming
+into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.
+
+Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion
+and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose
+affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high
+animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the
+attentions of the officers, to whom her uncle’s good dinners and her
+own easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was
+very equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the
+ball, and abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be
+the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer
+to this sudden attack was delightful to her mother’s ear.
+
+“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and, when
+your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of
+the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill?”
+
+Lydia declared herself satisfied. “Oh yes--it would be much better to
+wait till Jane was well; and by that time, most likely, Captain Carter
+would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball,” she
+added, “I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel
+Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not.”
+
+Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned
+instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations’ behaviour to the
+remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however,
+could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_, in spite of
+all Miss Bingley’s witticisms on _fine eyes_.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss
+Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who
+continued, though slowly, to mend; and, in the evening, Elizabeth joined
+their party in the drawing-room. The loo table, however, did not appear.
+Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching
+the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by
+messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and
+Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.
+
+Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in
+attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual
+commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness
+of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern
+with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was
+exactly in unison with her opinion of each.
+
+“How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!”
+
+He made no answer.
+
+“You write uncommonly fast.”
+
+“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.”
+
+“How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a
+year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!”
+
+“It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours.”
+
+“Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.”
+
+“I have already told her so once, by your desire.”
+
+“I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend
+pens remarkably well.”
+
+“Thank you--but I always mend my own.”
+
+“How can you contrive to write so even?”
+
+He was silent.
+
+“Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp,
+and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful
+little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss
+Grantley’s.”
+
+“Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At
+present I have not room to do them justice.”
+
+“Oh, it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you
+always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?”
+
+“They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me
+to determine.”
+
+“It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with
+ease cannot write ill.”
+
+“That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline,” cried her
+brother, “because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much
+for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?”
+
+“My style of writing is very different from yours.”
+
+“Oh,” cried Miss Bingley, “Charles writes in the most careless way
+imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest.”
+
+“My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them; by which
+means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents.”
+
+“Your humility, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth, “must disarm reproof.”
+
+“Nothing is more deceitful,” said Darcy, “than the appearance of
+humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an
+indirect boast.”
+
+“And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?”
+
+“The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in
+writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of
+thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you
+think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with
+quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any
+attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs.
+Bennet this morning, that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield
+you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of
+panegyric, of compliment to yourself; and yet what is there so very
+laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business
+undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?”
+
+“Nay,” cried Bingley, “this is too much, to remember at night all the
+foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I
+believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this
+moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless
+precipitance merely to show off before the ladies.”
+
+“I daresay you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you
+would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as
+dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were
+mounting your horse, a friend were to say, ‘Bingley, you had better stay
+till next week,’ you would probably do it--you would probably not
+go--and, at another word, might stay a month.”
+
+“You have only proved by this,” cried Elizabeth, “that Mr. Bingley did
+not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much
+more than he did himself.”
+
+“I am exceedingly gratified,” said Bingley, “by your converting what my
+friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am
+afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means
+intend; for he would certainly think the better of me if, under such a
+circumstance, I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I
+could.”
+
+“Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention
+as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?”
+
+“Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter--Darcy must speak for
+himself.”
+
+“You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine,
+but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to
+stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet,
+that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and
+the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering
+one argument in favour of its propriety.”
+
+“To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit
+with you.”
+
+“To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of
+either.”
+
+“You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of
+friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make
+one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason
+one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have
+supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the
+circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour
+thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases, between friend and friend,
+where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no
+very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying
+with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?”
+
+“Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange
+with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to
+appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting
+between the parties?”
+
+“By all means,” cried Bingley; “let us hear all the particulars, not
+forgetting their comparative height and size, for that will have more
+weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure
+you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with
+myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not
+know a more awful object than Darcy on particular occasions, and in
+particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening,
+when he has nothing to do.”
+
+Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was
+rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly
+resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her
+brother for talking such nonsense.
+
+“I see your design, Bingley,” said his friend. “You dislike an argument,
+and want to silence this.”
+
+“Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss
+Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very
+thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me.”
+
+“What you ask,” said Elizabeth, “is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr.
+Darcy had much better finish his letter.”
+
+Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.
+
+When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth
+for the indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to
+the pianoforte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead the
+way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she
+seated herself.
+
+Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister; and while they were thus employed,
+Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books
+that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed
+on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of
+admiration to so great a man, and yet that he should look at her because
+he disliked her was still more strange. She could only imagine, however,
+at last, that she drew his notice because there was something about her
+more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in
+any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked
+him too little to care for his approbation.
+
+After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a
+lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near
+Elizabeth, said to her,--
+
+“Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an
+opportunity of dancing a reel?”
+
+She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some
+surprise at her silence.
+
+“Oh,” said she, “I heard you before; but I could not immediately
+determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes,’
+that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always
+delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of
+their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell
+you that I do not want to dance a reel at all; and now despise me if you
+dare.”
+
+“Indeed I do not dare.”
+
+Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his
+gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her
+manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody, and Darcy had
+never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really
+believed that, were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he
+should be in some danger.
+
+Miss Bingley saw, or suspected, enough to be jealous; and her great
+anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane received some
+assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.
+
+She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of
+their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.
+
+“I hope,” said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the
+next day, “you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this
+desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue;
+and if you can compass it, to cure the younger girls of running after
+the officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to
+check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence,
+which your lady possesses.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “No, no; stay where you are”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+“Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?”
+
+“Oh yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be placed
+in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the
+judge. They are in the same profession, you know, only in different
+lines. As for your Elizabeth’s picture, you must not attempt to have it
+taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?”
+
+“It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression; but their
+colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be
+copied.”
+
+At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and
+Elizabeth herself.
+
+“I did not know that you intended to walk,” said Miss Bingley, in some
+confusion, lest they had been overheard.
+
+“You used us abominably ill,” answered Mrs. Hurst, “running away without
+telling us that you were coming out.”
+
+Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk
+by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness,
+and immediately said,--
+
+“This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the
+avenue.”
+
+But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them,
+laughingly answered,--
+
+“No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear to
+uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a
+fourth. Good-bye.”
+
+She then ran gaily off, rejoicing, as she rambled about, in the hope of
+being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered
+as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Piling up the fire”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+When the ladies removed after dinner Elizabeth ran up to her sister, and
+seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the drawing-room,
+where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of
+pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were
+during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers
+of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment
+with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their
+acquaintance with spirit.
+
+But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object;
+Miss Bingley’s eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had
+something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed
+himself directly to Miss Bennet with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst
+also made her a slight bow, and said he was “very glad;” but diffuseness
+and warmth remained for Bingley’s salutation. He was full of joy and
+attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she
+should suffer from the change of room; and she removed, at his desire,
+to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the
+door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone else.
+Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great
+delight.
+
+When tea was over Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the
+card-table--but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr.
+Darcy did not wish for cards, and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open
+petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the
+silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr.
+Hurst had, therefore, nothing to do but to stretch himself on one of the
+sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book. Miss Bingley did the same;
+and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and
+rings, joined now and then in her brother’s conversation with Miss
+Bennet.
+
+Miss Bingley’s attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr.
+Darcy’s progress through _his_ book, as in reading her own; and she was
+perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She
+could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her
+question and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be
+amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the
+second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, “How pleasant it
+is to spend an evening in this way! I declare, after all, there is no
+enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a
+book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not
+an excellent library.”
+
+No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and
+cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement; when, hearing
+her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly
+towards him and said,--
+
+“By the bye Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at
+Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult
+the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not
+some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a
+pleasure.”
+
+“If you mean Darcy,” cried her brother, “he may go to bed, if he
+chooses, before it begins; but as for the ball, it is quite a settled
+thing, and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send
+round my cards.”
+
+“I should like balls infinitely better,” she replied, “if they were
+carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably
+tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much
+more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the
+day.”
+
+“Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say; but it would not be
+near so much like a ball.”
+
+Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards got up and walked about
+the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but Darcy, at
+whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the
+desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more; and,
+turning to Elizabeth, said,--
+
+“Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a
+turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so
+long in one attitude.”
+
+Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley
+succeeded no less in the real object of her civility: Mr. Darcy looked
+up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as
+Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was
+directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that
+he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down
+the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would
+interfere. What could he mean? She was dying to know what could be his
+meaning--and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him.
+
+“Not at all,” was her answer; “but, depend upon it, he means to be
+severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask
+nothing about it.”
+
+Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in
+anything, and persevered, therefore, in requiring an explanation of his
+two motives.
+
+“I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,” said he, as soon
+as she allowed him to speak. “You either choose this method of passing
+the evening because you are in each other’s confidence, and have secret
+affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures
+appear to the greatest advantage in walking: if the first, I should be
+completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better
+as I sit by the fire.”
+
+“Oh, shocking!” cried Miss Bingley. “I never heard anything so
+abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?”
+
+“Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,” said Elizabeth. “We
+can all plague and punish one another. Tease him--laugh at him. Intimate
+as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”
+
+“But upon my honour I do _not_. I do assure you that my intimacy has not
+yet taught me _that_. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No,
+no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose
+ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr.
+Darcy may hug himself.”
+
+“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!” cried Elizabeth. “That is an
+uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would
+be a great loss to _me_ to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a
+laugh.”
+
+“Miss Bingley,” said he, “has given me credit for more than can be. The
+wisest and best of men,--nay, the wisest and best of their actions,--may
+be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a
+joke.”
+
+“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth, “there are such people, but I hope I am
+not one of _them_. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies
+and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, _do_ divert me, I own, and I
+laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what
+you are without.”
+
+“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of
+my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong
+understanding to ridicule.”
+
+“Such as vanity and pride.”
+
+“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real
+superiority of mind--pride will be always under good regulation.”
+
+Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.
+
+“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley;
+“and pray what is the result?”
+
+“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it
+himself without disguise.”
+
+“No,” said Darcy, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough,
+but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch
+for. It is, I believe, too little yielding; certainly too little for the
+convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of
+others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My
+feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper
+would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for
+ever.”
+
+“_That_ is a failing, indeed!” cried Elizabeth. “Implacable resentment
+_is_ a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I
+really cannot _laugh_ at it. You are safe from me.”
+
+“There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular
+evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”
+
+“And _your_ defect is a propensity to hate everybody.”
+
+“And yours,” he replied, with a smile, “is wilfully to misunderstand
+them.”
+
+“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a
+conversation in which she had no share. “Louisa, you will not mind my
+waking Mr. Hurst.”
+
+Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was
+opened; and Darcy, after a few moments’ recollection, was not sorry for
+it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the
+next morning to her mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for
+them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on
+her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which
+would exactly finish Jane’s week, could not bring herself to receive
+them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at
+least not to Elizabeth’s wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs.
+Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage
+before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley
+and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very
+well. Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively
+resolved--nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the
+contrary, of being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long,
+she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley’s carriage immediately, and at
+length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield
+that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.
+
+The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was
+said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work on
+Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was
+then sorry that she had proposed the delay; for her jealousy and dislike
+of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.
+
+The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so
+soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be
+safe for her--that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where
+she felt herself to be right.
+
+To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence: Elizabeth had been at
+Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked; and Miss
+Bingley was uncivil to _her_ and more teasing than usual to himself. He
+wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration
+should _now_ escape him--nothing that could elevate her with the hope of
+influencing his felicity; sensible that, if such an idea had been
+suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight
+in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke
+ten words to her through the whole of Saturday: and though they were at
+one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most
+conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.
+
+On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost
+all, took place. Miss Bingley’s civility to Elizabeth increased at last
+very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted,
+after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to
+see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most
+tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of
+the whole party in the liveliest spirits.
+
+They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet
+wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much
+trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. But their
+father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really
+glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The
+evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its
+animation, and almost all its sense, by the absence of Jane and
+Elizabeth.
+
+They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough bass and human
+nature; and had some new extracts to admire and some new observations of
+threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information
+for them of a different sort. Much had been done, and much had been said
+in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers
+had dined lately with their uncle; a private had been flogged; and it
+had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at
+breakfast the next morning, “that you have ordered a good dinner to-day,
+because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”
+
+“Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure,
+unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in; and I hope _my_ dinners
+are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home.”
+
+“The person of whom I speak is a gentleman and a stranger.”
+
+Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled. “A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr.
+Bingley, I am sure. Why, Jane--you never dropped a word of this--you sly
+thing! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley.
+But--good Lord! how unlucky! there is not a bit of fish to be got
+to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill this
+moment.”
+
+“It is _not_ Mr. Bingley,” said her husband; “it is a person whom I
+never saw in the whole course of my life.”
+
+This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being
+eagerly questioned by his wife and five daughters at once.
+
+After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus
+explained:--“About a month ago I received this letter, and about a
+fortnight ago I answered it; for I thought it a case of some delicacy,
+and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who,
+when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he
+pleases.”
+
+“Oh, my dear,” cried his wife, “I cannot bear to hear that mentioned.
+Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing
+in the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your own
+children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago
+to do something or other about it.”
+
+Jane and Elizabeth attempted to explain to her the nature of an entail.
+They had often attempted it before: but it was a subject on which Mrs.
+Bennet was beyond the reach of reason; and she continued to rail
+bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of
+five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.
+
+“It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said Mr. Bennet; “and
+nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn.
+But if you will listen to his letter, you may, perhaps, be a little
+softened by his manner of expressing himself.”
+
+“No, that I am sure I shall not: and I think it was very impertinent of
+him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false
+friends. Why could not he keep on quarrelling with you, as his father
+did before him?”
+
+“Why, indeed, he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that
+head, as you will hear.”
+
+     /* RIGHT “Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, _15th October_. */
+
+“Dear Sir,
+
+     “The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured
+     father always gave me much uneasiness; and, since I have had the
+     misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the
+     breach: but, for some time, I was kept back by my own doubts,
+     fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be
+     on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be
+     at variance.”--‘There, Mrs. Bennet.’--“My mind, however, is now
+     made up on the subject; for, having received ordination at Easter,
+     I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of
+     the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis
+     de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the
+     valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest
+     endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her
+     Ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies
+     which are instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman,
+     moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing
+     of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on
+     these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures of
+     good-will are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my
+     being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly
+     overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered
+     olive branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the
+     means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to
+     apologize for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make
+     them every possible amends; but of this hereafter. If you should
+     have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself
+     the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday,
+     November 18th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your
+     hospitality till the Saturday se’nnight following, which I can do
+     without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting
+     to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other
+     clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day. I remain, dear sir,
+     with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your
+     well-wisher and friend,
+
+“WILLIAM COLLINS.”
+
+“At four o’clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,”
+said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. “He seems to be a most
+conscientious and polite young man, upon my word; and, I doubt not, will
+prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so
+indulgent as to let him come to us again.”
+
+“There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however; and, if
+he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to
+discourage him.”
+
+“Though it is difficult,” said Jane, “to guess in what way he can mean
+to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his
+credit.”
+
+Elizabeth was chiefly struck with his extraordinary deference for Lady
+Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying
+his parishioners whenever it were required.
+
+“He must be an oddity, I think,” said she. “I cannot make him out. There
+is something very pompous in his style. And what can he mean by
+apologizing for being next in the entail? We cannot suppose he would
+help it, if he could. Can he be a sensible man, sir?”
+
+“No, my dear; I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the
+reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his
+letter which promises well. I am impatient to see him.”
+
+“In point of composition,” said Mary, “his letter does not seem
+defective. The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I
+think it is well expressed.”
+
+To Catherine and Lydia neither the letter nor its writer were in any
+degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should
+come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had
+received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As for
+their mother, Mr. Collins’s letter had done away much of her ill-will,
+and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure which
+astonished her husband and daughters.
+
+Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great
+politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the
+ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in need
+of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a tall,
+heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and
+stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated
+before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of
+daughters, said he had heard much of their beauty, but that, in this
+instance, fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not
+doubt her seeing them all in due time well disposed of in marriage. This
+gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs.
+Bennet, who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most readily,--
+
+“You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may
+prove so; for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so
+oddly.”
+
+“You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate.”
+
+“Ah, sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you
+must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with _you_, for such things,
+I know, are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates
+will go when once they come to be entailed.”
+
+“I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and
+could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing
+forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come
+prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more, but, perhaps,
+when we are better acquainted----”
+
+He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each
+other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins’s admiration. The
+hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised;
+and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet’s
+heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his
+own future property. The dinner, too, in its turn, was highly admired;
+and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellence of its
+cookery was owing. But here he was set right by Mrs. Bennet, who assured
+him, with some asperity, that they were very well able to keep a good
+cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged
+pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared
+herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologize for about a
+quarter of an hour.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants
+were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his
+guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to
+shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady
+Catherine de Bourgh’s attention to his wishes, and consideration for his
+comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen
+better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him
+to more than usual solemnity of manner; and with a most important aspect
+he protested that he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a
+person of rank--such affability and condescension, as he had himself
+experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to
+approve of both the discourses which he had already had the honour of
+preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings,
+and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of
+quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many
+people, he knew, but _he_ had never seen anything but affability in her.
+She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she
+made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the
+neighbourhood, nor to his leaving his parish occasionally for a week or
+two to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to
+marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had
+once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly
+approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed
+to suggest some herself,--some shelves in the closets upstairs.
+
+“That is all very proper and civil, I am sure,” said Mrs. Bennet, “and I
+dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies
+in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?”
+
+“The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane
+from Rosings Park, her Ladyship’s residence.”
+
+“I think you said she was a widow, sir? has she any family?”
+
+“She has one only daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very
+extensive property.”
+
+“Ah,” cried Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is better off than
+many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?”
+
+“She is a most charming young lady, indeed. Lady Catherine herself says
+that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the
+handsomest of her sex; because there is that in her features which marks
+the young woman of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly
+constitution, which has prevented her making that progress in many
+accomplishments which she could not otherwise have failed of, as I am
+informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still
+resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends
+to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies.”
+
+“Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at
+court.”
+
+“Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town;
+and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, has deprived
+the British Court of its brightest ornament. Her Ladyship seemed pleased
+with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to
+offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to
+ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her
+charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess; and that the most
+elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by
+her. These are the kind of little things which please her Ladyship, and
+it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to
+pay.”
+
+“You judge very properly,” said Mr. Bennet; “and it is happy for you
+that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask
+whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the
+moment, or are the result of previous study?”
+
+“They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time; and though I
+sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant
+compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to
+give them as unstudied an air as possible.”
+
+Mr. Bennet’s expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd
+as he had hoped; and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment,
+maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance,
+and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner
+in his pleasure.
+
+By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad
+to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and when tea was over,
+glad to invite him
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“Protested
+that he never read novels”      H.T Feb 94
+]
+
+to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented, and a book
+was produced; but on beholding it (for everything announced it to be
+from a circulating library) he started back, and, begging pardon,
+protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia
+exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some deliberation he
+chose “Fordyce’s Sermons.” Lydia gaped as he opened the volume; and
+before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she
+interrupted him with,--
+
+“Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Philips talks of turning away
+Richard? and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me
+so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more
+about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town.”
+
+Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr.
+Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said,--
+
+“I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books
+of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes
+me, I confess; for certainly there can be nothing so advantageous to
+them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin.”
+
+Then, turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at
+backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted
+very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs.
+Bennet and her daughters apologized most civilly for Lydia’s
+interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would
+resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his
+young cousin no ill-will, and should never resent her behaviour as any
+affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared
+for backgammon.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had
+been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of
+his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and
+miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he
+had merely kept the necessary terms without forming at it any useful
+acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had
+given him originally great humility of manner; but it was now a good
+deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in
+retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected
+prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de
+Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he
+felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness,
+mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a
+clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of
+pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.
+
+Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to
+marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had
+a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found
+them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report.
+This was his plan of amends--of atonement--for inheriting their father’s
+estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and
+suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own
+part.
+
+His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet’s lovely face
+confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what
+was due to seniority; and for the first evening _she_ was his settled
+choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter
+of an hour’s _tête-à-tête_ with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a
+conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally
+to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress for it might be found at
+Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general
+encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. “As to
+her _younger_ daughters, she could not take upon her to say--she could
+not positively answer--but she did not _know_ of any prepossession;--her
+_eldest_ daughter she must just mention--she felt it incumbent on her to
+hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.”
+
+Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth--and it was soon
+done--done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally
+next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.
+
+Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have
+two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of
+the day before, was now high in her good graces.
+
+Lydia’s intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten: every sister
+except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them,
+at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him,
+and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed
+him after breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally engaged with
+one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr.
+Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such
+doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been
+always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told
+Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the
+house, he was used to be free from them there: his civility, therefore,
+was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their
+walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker
+than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book, and
+go.
+
+In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his
+cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of
+the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by _him_. Their eyes
+were immediately wandering up the street in quest of the officers, and
+nothing less than a very smart bonnet, indeed, or a really new muslin in
+a shop window, could recall them.
+
+But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom
+they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking
+with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very
+Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and
+he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger’s air, all
+wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible
+to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting
+something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the
+pavement, when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same
+spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to
+introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day
+before from town, and, he was happy to say, had accepted a commission in
+their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted
+only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was
+greatly in his favour: he had all the best parts of beauty, a fine
+countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction
+was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation--a
+readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the
+whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably,
+when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were
+seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group
+the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual
+civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the
+principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on
+purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and
+was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they
+were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger; and Elizabeth
+happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other,
+was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour,
+one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments,
+touched his hat--a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return.
+What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine; it was
+impossible not to long to know.
+
+In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what
+passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.
+
+Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of
+Mr. Philips’s house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia’s
+pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs.
+Philips’s throwing up the parlour window, and loudly seconding the
+invitation.
+
+Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, from
+their recent absence, were particularly welcome; and she was eagerly
+expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own
+carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if
+she had not happened to see Mr. Jones’s shopboy in the street, who had
+told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield,
+because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed
+towards Mr. Collins by Jane’s introduction of him. She received him with
+her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more,
+apologizing for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with
+her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be
+justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to
+her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good
+breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end to
+by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she
+could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had
+brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant’s
+commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the last hour,
+she said, as he walked up and down the street,--and had Mr. Wickham
+appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation;
+but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the
+officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become “stupid,
+disagreeable fellows.” Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the
+next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr.
+Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn
+would come in the evening. This was agreed to; and Mrs. Philips
+protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery
+tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such
+delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr.
+Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured,
+with unwearying civility, that they were perfectly needless.
+
+As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass
+between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or
+both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such
+behaviour than her sister.
+
+Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs.
+Philips’s manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady
+Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for
+she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but had even
+pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although
+utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be
+attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so
+much attention in the whole course of his life.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+As no objection was made to the young people’s engagement with their
+aunt, and all Mr. Collins’s scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for
+a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach
+conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the
+girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room,
+that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle’s invitation, and was then in
+the house.
+
+When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr.
+Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much
+struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he
+might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour
+at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much
+gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings
+was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the
+description of only one of Lady Catherine’s drawing-rooms, and found
+that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all
+the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison
+with the housekeeper’s room.
+
+In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion,
+with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and the
+improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the
+gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive
+listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she
+heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as
+soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin,
+and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine
+their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantel-piece, the
+interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last, however.
+The gentlemen did approach: and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room,
+Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking
+of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The
+officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable,
+gentlemanlike set and the best of them were of the present party; but
+Mr, Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and
+walk, as _they_ were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips,
+breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“The officers of the ----shire”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was
+turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated
+himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into
+conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the
+probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest,
+dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the
+skill of the speaker.
+
+With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the
+officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young
+ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind
+listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly
+supplied with coffee and muffin.
+
+When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging her,
+in return, by sitting down to whist.
+
+“I know little of the game at present,” said he, “but I shall be glad to
+improve myself; for in my situation of life----” Mrs. Philips was very
+thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.
+
+Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he
+received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there
+seemed danger of Lydia’s engrossing him entirely, for she was a most
+determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets,
+she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets
+and exclaiming after prizes, to have attention for anyone in particular.
+Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore
+at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him,
+though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told,
+the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even
+mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly
+relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far
+Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in
+a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
+
+“About a month,” said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject
+drop, added, “he is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I
+understand.”
+
+“Yes,” replied Wickham; “his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten
+thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of
+giving you certain information on that head than myself--for I have been
+connected with his family, in a particular manner, from my infancy.”
+
+Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
+
+“You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after
+seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting
+yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”
+
+“As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Elizabeth, warmly. “I have spent
+four days in the same house with him, and I think him very
+disagreeable.”
+
+“I have no right to give _my_ opinion,” said Wickham, “as to his being
+agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him
+too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for _me_ to
+be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general
+astonish--and, perhaps, you would not express it quite so strongly
+anywhere else. Here you are in your own family.”
+
+“Upon my word I say no more _here_ than I might say in any house in the
+neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in
+Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find
+him more favourably spoken of by anyone.”
+
+“I cannot pretend to be sorry,” said Wickham, after a short
+interruption, “that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond
+their deserts; but with _him_ I believe it does not often happen. The
+world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his
+high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.”
+
+“I should take him, even on _my_ slight acquaintance, to be an
+ill-tempered man.”
+
+Wickham only shook his head.
+
+“I wonder,” said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, “whether he is
+likely to be in this country much longer.”
+
+“I do not at all know; but I _heard_ nothing of his going away when I
+was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will
+not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.”
+
+“Oh no--it is not for _me_ to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If _he_
+wishes to avoid seeing _me_ he must go. We are not on friendly terms,
+and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for
+avoiding _him_ but what I might proclaim to all the world--a sense of
+very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is.
+His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men
+that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be
+in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a
+thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been
+scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and
+everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the
+memory of his father.”
+
+Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with
+all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.
+
+Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the
+neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he
+had yet seen, and speaking of the latter, especially, with gentle but
+very intelligible gallantry.
+
+“It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,” he added,
+“which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I know it to be a
+most respectable, agreeable corps; and my friend Denny tempted me
+further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great
+attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them.
+Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and
+my spirits will not bear solitude. I _must_ have employment and society.
+A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have
+now made it eligible. The church _ought_ to have been my profession--I
+was brought up for the church; and I should at this time have been in
+possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we
+were speaking of just now.”
+
+“Indeed!”
+
+“Yes--the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best
+living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me.
+I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply,
+and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given
+elsewhere.”
+
+“Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but how could _that_ be? How could his
+will be disregarded? Why did not you seek legal redress?”
+
+“There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to
+give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the
+intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it--or to treat it as a merely
+conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim
+to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short, anything or nothing.
+Certain it is that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I
+was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no
+less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done
+anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm unguarded temper, and I
+may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion _of_ him, and _to_ him, too
+freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very
+different sort of men, and that he hates me.”
+
+“This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced.”
+
+“Some time or other he _will_ be--but it shall not be by _me_. Till I
+can forget his father, I can never defy or expose _him_.”
+
+Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than
+ever as he expressed them.
+
+“But what,” said she, after a pause, “can have been his motive? what can
+have induced him to behave so cruelly?”
+
+“A thorough, determined dislike of me--a dislike which I cannot but
+attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me
+less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father’s uncommon
+attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He had
+not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood--the sort
+of preference which was often given me.”
+
+“I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this--though I have never liked
+him, I had not thought so very ill of him--I had supposed him to be
+despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of
+descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as
+this!”
+
+After a few minutes’ reflection, however, she continued, “I _do_
+remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of
+his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition
+must be dreadful.”
+
+“I will not trust myself on the subject,” replied Wickham; “_I_ can
+hardly be just to him.”
+
+Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, “To
+treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his
+father!” She could have added, “A young man, too, like _you_, whose very
+countenance may vouch for your being amiable.” But she contented herself
+with--“And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from
+childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest
+manner.”
+
+“We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest
+part of our youth was passed together: inmates of the same house,
+sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. _My_
+father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips,
+appears to do so much credit to; but he gave up everything to be of use
+to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the
+Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most
+intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to
+be under the greatest obligations to my father’s active superintendence;
+and when, immediately before my father’s death, Mr. Darcy gave him a
+voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it
+to be as much a debt of gratitude to _him_ as of affection to myself.”
+
+“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “How abominable! I wonder that the very
+pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you. If from no better
+motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest,--for
+dishonesty I must call it.”
+
+“It _is_ wonderful,” replied Wickham; “for almost all his actions may be
+traced to pride; and pride has often been his best friend. It has
+connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none
+of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me there were stronger
+impulses even than pride.”
+
+“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?”
+
+“Yes; it has often led him to be liberal and generous; to give his money
+freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the
+poor. Family pride, and _filial_ pride, for he is very proud of what his
+father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to
+degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the
+Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also _brotherly_ pride,
+which, with _some_ brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and
+careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up
+as the most attentive and best of brothers.”
+
+“What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?”
+
+He shook his head. “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to
+speak ill of a Darcy; but she is too much like her brother,--very, very
+proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond
+of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is
+nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen,
+and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father’s death her
+home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her
+education.”
+
+After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not
+help reverting once more to the first, and saying,--
+
+“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley. How can Mr. Bingley,
+who seems good-humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable,
+be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you
+know Mr. Bingley?”
+
+“Not at all.”
+
+“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr.
+Darcy is.”
+
+“Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not
+want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth
+his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a
+very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride
+never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just,
+sincere, rational, honourable, and, perhaps, agreeable,--allowing
+something for fortune and figure.”
+
+The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round
+the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin
+Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips. The usual inquiries as to his success were
+made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point;
+but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured
+her, with much earnest gravity, that it was not of the least importance;
+that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not
+make herself uneasy.
+
+“I know very well, madam,” said he, “that when persons sit down to a
+card table they must take their chance of these things,--and happily I
+am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There
+are, undoubtedly, many who could not say the same; but, thanks to Lady
+Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding
+little matters.”
+
+Mr. Wickham’s attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for
+a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relations
+were very intimately acquainted with the family of De Bourgh.
+
+“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she replied, “has very lately given him a
+living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her
+notice, but he certainly has not known her long.”
+
+“You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy
+were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy.”
+
+“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine’s
+connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before
+yesterday.”
+
+“Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is
+believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.”
+
+This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss
+Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her
+affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already
+self-destined to another.
+
+“Mr. Collins,” said she, “speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her
+daughter; but, from some particulars that he has related of her
+Ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him; and that, in spite of
+her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman.”
+
+“I believe her to be both in a great degree,” replied Wickham; “I have
+not seen her for many years; but I very well remember that I never liked
+her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the
+reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe
+she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from
+her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who
+chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of
+the first class.”
+
+Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and
+they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put
+an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr.
+Wickham’s attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise of
+Mrs. Philips’s supper party, but his manners recommended him to
+everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done
+gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could
+think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all
+the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as
+they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia
+talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the
+fish she had won; and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and
+Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses
+at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing
+that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage
+before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “delighted to see their dear friend again”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth related to Jane, the next day, what had passed between Mr.
+Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern: she
+knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr.
+Bingley’s regard; and yet it was not in her nature to question the
+veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham. The
+possibility of his having really endured such unkindness was enough to
+interest all her tender feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be
+done but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and
+throw into the account of accident or mistake whatever could not be
+otherwise explained.
+
+“They have both,” said she, “been deceived, I dare say, in some way or
+other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps
+misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to
+conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them,
+without actual blame on either side.”
+
+“Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say in
+behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the
+business? Do clear _them_, too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of
+somebody.”
+
+“Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my
+opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light
+it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father’s favourite in such a
+manner,--one whom his father had promised to provide for. It is
+impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his
+character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so
+excessively deceived in him? Oh no.”
+
+“I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley’s being imposed on than that
+Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me last
+night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony. If it be not
+so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his looks.”
+
+“It is difficult, indeed--it is distressing. One does not know what to
+think.”
+
+“I beg your pardon;--one knows exactly what to think.”
+
+But Jane could think with certainty on only one point,--that Mr.
+Bingley, if he _had been_ imposed on, would have much to suffer when
+the affair became public.
+
+The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where this
+conversation passed, by the arrival of some of the very persons of whom
+they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their
+personal invitation for the long expected ball at Netherfield, which was
+fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see
+their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and
+repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their
+separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention;
+avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth,
+and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from
+their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and
+hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet’s civilities.
+
+The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every
+female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in
+compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by
+receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a
+ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the
+society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and
+Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr.
+Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy’s look
+and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended
+less on any single event, or any particular person; for though they
+each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham,
+he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball
+was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she
+had no disinclination for it.
+
+“While I can have my mornings to myself,” said she, “it is enough. I
+think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements.
+Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who
+consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for
+everybody.”
+
+Elizabeth’s spirits were so high on the occasion, that though she did
+not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking
+him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley’s invitation, and if he
+did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening’s
+amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no
+scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke,
+either from the Archbishop or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to
+dance.
+
+“I am by no means of opinion, I assure you,” said he, “that a ball of
+this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can
+have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing
+myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair
+cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of
+soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially; a
+preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right
+cause, and not to any disrespect for her.”
+
+Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being
+engaged by Wickham for those very dances; and to have Mr. Collins
+instead!--her liveliness had been never worse timed. There was no help
+for it, however. Mr. Wickham’s happiness and her own was perforce
+delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins’s proposal accepted with as
+good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his
+gallantry, from the idea it suggested of something more. It now first
+struck her, that _she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy of
+being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a
+quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors.
+The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing
+civilities towards herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a
+compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than
+gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before
+her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage
+was exceedingly agreeable to _her_. Elizabeth, however, did not choose
+to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the
+consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and,
+till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.
+
+If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the
+younger Miss Bennets would have been in a pitiable state at this time;
+for, from the day of the invitation to the day of the ball, there was
+such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No
+aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after; the very shoe-roses
+for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have found some
+trial of her patience in weather which totally suspended the improvement
+of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than a dance on
+Tuesday could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday
+endurable to Kitty and Lydia.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in
+vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a
+doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty of
+meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that
+might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than
+usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all
+that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than
+might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose the
+dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted, for Mr. Darcy’s
+pleasure, in the Bingleys’ invitation to the officers; and though this
+was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was
+pronounced by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and
+who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business
+the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant
+smile,--
+
+“I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if
+he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here.”
+
+This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by
+Elizabeth; and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for
+Wickham’s absence than if her first surmise had been just, every feeling
+of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate
+disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to
+the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.
+Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She
+was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away
+with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in
+speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.
+
+But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect
+of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her
+spirits; and, having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she
+had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary
+transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her
+particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of
+distress: they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and
+solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong
+without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a
+disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her
+release from him was ecstasy.
+
+She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of
+Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances
+were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with
+her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took
+her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without
+knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again
+immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of
+mind: Charlotte tried to console her.
+
+“I dare say you will find him very agreeable.”
+
+“Heaven forbid! _That_ would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find
+a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an
+evil.”
+
+When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her
+hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a
+simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant
+in the eyes of a man often times his consequence. Elizabeth made no
+answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which
+she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and
+reading in her neighbours’ looks their equal amazement in beholding it.
+They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to
+imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and, at
+first, was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it
+would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk,
+she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again
+silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time,
+with--
+
+“It is _your_ turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. _I_ talked about the
+dance, and _you_ ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the
+room, or the number of couples.”
+
+He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be
+said.
+
+“Very well; that reply will do for the present. Perhaps, by-and-by, I
+may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones; but
+_now_ we may be silent.”
+
+“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”
+
+“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be
+entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet, for the advantage of
+_some_, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the
+trouble of saying as little as possible.”
+
+“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you
+imagine that you are gratifying mine?”
+
+“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly; “for I have always seen a great
+similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial,
+taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say
+something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to
+posterity with all the _éclat_ of a proverb.”
+
+“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,”
+said he. “How near it may be to _mine_, I cannot pretend to say. _You_
+think it a faithful portrait, undoubtedly.”
+
+“I must not decide on my own performance.”
+
+He made no answer; and they were again silent till they had gone down
+the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often
+walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative; and, unable to resist
+the temptation, added, “When you met us there the other day, we had just
+been forming a new acquaintance.”
+
+The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of _hauteur_ overspread his
+features, but he said not a word; and Elizabeth, though blaming herself
+for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a
+constrained manner said,--
+
+“Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may insure his
+_making_ friends; whether he may be equally capable of _retaining_ them,
+is less certain.”
+
+“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,” replied Elizabeth,
+with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all
+his life.”
+
+Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At
+that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass
+through the set to the other side of the room; but, on perceiving Mr.
+Darcy, he stopped, with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on
+his dancing and his partner.
+
+“I have been most highly gratified, indeed, my dear sir; such very
+superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the
+first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not
+disgrace you: and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated,
+especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza (glancing
+at her sister and Bingley), shall take place. What congratulations will
+then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy;--but let me not interrupt you, sir.
+You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of
+that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“Such very superior dancing is not
+often seen.”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir
+William’s allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his
+eyes were directed, with a very serious expression, towards Bingley and
+Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly,
+he turned to his partner, and said,--
+
+“Sir William’s interruption has made me forget what we were talking
+of.”
+
+“I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have
+interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for
+themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success,
+and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.”
+
+“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.
+
+“Books--oh no!--I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same
+feelings.”
+
+“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be
+no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”
+
+“No--I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of
+something else.”
+
+“The _present_ always occupies you in such scenes--does it?” said he,
+with a look of doubt.
+
+“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said; for her
+thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared
+by her suddenly exclaiming, “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy,
+that you hardly ever forgave;--that your resentment, once created, was
+unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its _being
+created_?”
+
+“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.
+
+“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”
+
+“I hope not.”
+
+“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion,
+to be secure of judging properly at first.”
+
+“May I ask to what these questions tend?”
+
+“Merely to the illustration of _your_ character,” said she, endeavouring
+to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.”
+
+“And what is your success?”
+
+She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different
+accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
+
+“I can readily believe,” answered he, gravely, “that reports may vary
+greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were
+not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to
+fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”
+
+“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another
+opportunity.”
+
+“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied.
+She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in
+silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree; for
+in Darcy’s breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towards her,
+which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against
+another.
+
+They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and,
+with an expression of civil disdain, thus accosted her,--
+
+“So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham?
+Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand
+questions; and I find that the young man forgot to tell you, among his
+other communications, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr.
+Darcy’s steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give
+implicit confidence to all his assertions; for, as to Mr. Darcy’s using
+him ill, it is perfectly false: for, on the contrary, he has been always
+remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy in a
+most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very
+well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame; that he cannot bear
+to hear George Wickham mentioned; and that though my brother thought he
+could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he
+was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way.
+His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and
+I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this
+discovery of your favourite’s guilt; but really, considering his
+descent, one could not expect much better.”
+
+“His guilt and his descent appear, by your account, to be the same,”
+said Elizabeth, angrily; “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing
+worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward, and of _that_, I can
+assure you, he informed me himself.”
+
+“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.
+“Excuse my interference; it was kindly meant.”
+
+“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself. “You are much mistaken if
+you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see
+nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.
+Darcy.” She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make
+inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of
+such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently
+marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.
+Elizabeth instantly read her feelings; and, at that moment, solicitude
+for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave
+way before the hope of Jane’s being in the fairest way for happiness.
+
+“I want to know,” said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her
+sister’s, “what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have
+been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person, in which case
+you may be sure of my pardon.”
+
+“No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing
+satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his
+history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have
+principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct,
+the probity and honour, of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that
+Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has
+received; and I am sorry to say that by his account, as well as his
+sister’s, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am
+afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy’s
+regard.”
+
+“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself.”
+
+“No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.”
+
+“This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am
+perfectly satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”
+
+“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard
+them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to
+him _conditionally_ only.”
+
+“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley’s sincerity,” said Elizabeth warmly,
+“but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr.
+Bingley’s defence of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but
+since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt
+the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture still to think of
+both gentlemen as I did before.”
+
+She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on
+which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with
+delight to the happy though modest hopes which Jane entertained of
+Bingley’s regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence
+in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew
+to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last
+partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them,
+and told her with great exultation, that he had just been so fortunate
+as to make a most important discovery.
+
+“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now
+in the room a near relation to my patroness. I happened to overhear the
+gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of
+this house the names of his cousin Miss De Bourgh, and of her mother,
+Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would
+have thought of my meeting with--perhaps--a nephew of Lady Catherine de
+Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made
+in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do,
+and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total
+ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.”
+
+“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?”
+
+“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier.
+I believe him to be Lady Catherine’s _nephew_. It will be in my power to
+assure him that her Ladyship was quite well yesterday se’nnight.”
+
+Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme; assuring him
+that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as
+an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it
+was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either
+side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in
+consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her with
+the determined air of following his own inclination, and when she ceased
+speaking, replied thus,--
+
+“My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world of your
+excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your
+understanding, but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference
+between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity and those
+which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that I consider
+the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank
+in the kingdom--provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the
+same time maintained. You must, therefore, allow me to follow the
+dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which lead me to perform
+what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by
+your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide,
+though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education
+and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like
+yourself;” and with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose
+reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at
+being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with
+a solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if
+hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,”
+“Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed her to see him
+expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with
+unrestrained wonder; and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him to speak,
+replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not
+discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy’s contempt seemed
+abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech; and at the
+end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way: Mr.
+Collins then returned to Elizabeth.
+
+“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my
+reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered
+me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying,
+that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine’s discernment as to be
+certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very
+handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.”
+
+As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned
+her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the
+train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to made
+her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in that
+very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could
+bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring
+even to like Bingley’s two sisters. Her mother’s thoughts she plainly
+saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her,
+lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore,
+she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within
+one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was
+talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing
+else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married to Mr.
+Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable
+of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such
+a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them,
+were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a
+comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be
+certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It
+was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as
+Jane’s marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men;
+and, lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to
+consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might
+not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary
+to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such
+occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs.
+Bennet to find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She
+concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally
+fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no
+chance of it.
+
+In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother’s
+words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible
+whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation she could perceive that the
+chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her
+mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.
+
+“What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am
+sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say
+nothing _he_ may not like to hear.”
+
+“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be to you
+to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by
+so doing.”
+
+Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would
+talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and
+blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently
+glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what
+she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was
+convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression
+of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and
+steady gravity.
+
+At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who
+had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no
+likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.
+Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of
+tranquillity; for when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she
+had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty,
+preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent
+entreaties did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of
+complaisance,--but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an
+opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song.
+Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on her, with most painful sensations; and
+she watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience
+which was very ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving
+amongst the thanks of the table the hint of a hope that she might be
+prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute
+began another. Mary’s powers were by no means fitted for such a display;
+her voice was weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies.
+She looked at Jane to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly
+talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making
+signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued, however,
+impenetrably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his
+interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint,
+and, when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud,--
+
+“That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.
+Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”
+
+Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and
+Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father’s speech, was afraid
+her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.
+
+“If I,” said Mr. Collins, “were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I
+should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an
+air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly
+compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however,
+to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to
+music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The
+rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make such
+an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not
+offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time
+that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care
+and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making
+as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance
+that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards
+everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I
+cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who
+should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody
+connected with the family.” And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded
+his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the
+room. Many stared--many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr.
+Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for
+having spoken so sensibly, and observed, in a half-whisper to Lady
+Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.
+
+To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an agreement to
+expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would
+have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit, or
+finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister
+that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his
+feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he
+must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should
+have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough; and
+she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or
+the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.
+
+The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by
+Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side; and though he
+could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of her
+power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with
+somebody else, and offered to introduce him to any young lady in the
+room. He assured her that, as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent
+to it; that his chief object was, by delicate attentions, to recommend
+himself to her; and that he should therefore make a point of remaining
+close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a
+project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who
+often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins’s conversation
+to herself.
+
+She was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy’s further notice:
+though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite
+disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the
+probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in
+it.
+
+The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and by a
+manœuvre of Mrs. Bennet had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an
+hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how
+heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her
+sister scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue, and
+were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed
+every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and, by so doing, threw a
+languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long
+speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his
+sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and
+politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said
+nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene.
+Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together a little detached from the
+rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a
+silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too
+much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of “Lord,
+how tired I am!” accompanied by a violent yawn.
+
+When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly
+civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and
+addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy
+he would make them, by eating a family dinner with them at any time,
+without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful
+pleasure; and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of
+waiting on her after his return from London, whither he was obliged to
+go the next day for a short time.
+
+Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house under the
+delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of
+settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly
+see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four
+months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins she thought
+with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure.
+Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the
+man and the match were quite good enough for _her_, the worth of each
+was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “to assure you in the most animated language”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his
+declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as
+his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having
+no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at the
+moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the
+observances which he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding
+Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon
+after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words,--
+
+“May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth,
+when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the
+course of this morning?”
+
+Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs.
+Bennet instantly answered,--
+
+“Oh dear! Yes, certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy--I am sure
+she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs.” And
+gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth
+called out,--
+
+“Dear ma’am, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse
+me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am
+going away myself.”
+
+“No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you will stay where you are.” And
+upon Elizabeth’s seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about
+to escape, she added, “Lizzy, I _insist_ upon your staying and hearing
+Mr. Collins.”
+
+Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction; and a moment’s
+consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it
+over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again, and tried
+to conceal, by incessant employment, the feelings which were divided
+between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as
+soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began,--
+
+“Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from
+doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You
+would have been less amiable in my eyes had there _not_ been this little
+unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected
+mother’s permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport
+of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to
+dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as
+soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my
+future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this
+subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for
+marrying--and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design
+of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.”
+
+The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away
+with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not
+use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him farther, and
+he continued,--
+
+“My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for
+every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example
+of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced it will add
+very greatly to my happiness; and, thirdly, which perhaps I ought to
+have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and
+recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling
+patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked
+too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I
+left Hunsford,--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was
+arranging Miss De Bourgh’s footstool,--that she said, ‘Mr. Collins, you
+must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a
+gentlewoman for _my_ sake, and for your _own_; let her be an active,
+useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small
+income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as
+you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.’ Allow me, by the
+way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and
+kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the
+advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond
+anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be
+acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect
+which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general
+intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views
+were directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I
+assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that
+being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured
+father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy
+myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that
+the loss to them might be as little as possible when the melancholy
+event takes place--which, however, as I have already said, may not be
+for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I
+flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing
+remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the
+violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and
+shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well
+aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds
+in the 4 per cents., which will not be yours till after your mother’s
+decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head,
+therefore, I shall be uniformly silent: and you may assure yourself that
+no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married.”
+
+It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
+
+“You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no
+answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for
+the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of
+your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline
+them.”
+
+“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the
+hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the
+man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their
+favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a
+third time. I am, therefore, by no means discouraged by what you have
+just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”
+
+“Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an
+extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not
+one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so
+daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second
+time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make _me_
+happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who
+would make _you_ so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I
+am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the
+situation.”
+
+“Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins,
+very gravely--“but I cannot imagine that her Ladyship would at all
+disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of
+seeing her again I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty,
+economy, and other amiable qualifications.”
+
+“Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must
+give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of
+believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by
+refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise.
+In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your
+feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn
+estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be
+considered, therefore, as finally settled.” And rising as she thus
+spoke, she would have quitted the room, had not Mr. Collins thus
+addressed her,--
+
+“When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject, I
+shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given
+me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I
+know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the
+first application, and, perhaps, you have even now said as much to
+encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the
+female character.”
+
+“Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth, with some warmth, “you puzzle me
+exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form
+of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as
+may convince you of its being one.”
+
+“You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your
+refusal of my addresses are merely words of course. My reasons for
+believing it are briefly these:--It does not appear to me that my hand
+is unworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer
+would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my
+connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your
+own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into
+further consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is
+by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you.
+Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo
+the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must,
+therefore, conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I
+shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by
+suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.”
+
+“I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind
+of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would
+rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you
+again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but
+to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect
+forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant
+female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the
+truth from her heart.”
+
+“You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward
+gallantry; “and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express
+authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of
+being acceptable.”
+
+To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make no
+reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, that if he
+persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering
+encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered
+in such a manner as must be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could
+not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his
+successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule
+to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open the
+door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she
+entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in
+warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins
+received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then
+proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result
+of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the
+refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow
+from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character.
+
+This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet: she would have been
+glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage
+him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it,
+and could not help saying so.
+
+“But depend upon it, Mr. Collins,” she added, “that Lizzy shall be
+brought to reason. I will speak to her about it myself directly. She is
+a very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest; but
+I will _make_ her know it.”
+
+“Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,” cried Mr. Collins; “but if she
+is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would
+altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who
+naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If, therefore, she
+actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to
+force her into accepting me, because, if liable to such defects of
+temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.”
+
+“Sir, you quite misunderstand me,” said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. “Lizzy is
+only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as
+good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and
+we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure.”
+
+She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her
+husband, called out, as she entered the library,--
+
+“Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar.
+You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will
+not have him; and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and
+not have _her_.”
+
+Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them
+on her face with a calm unconcern, which was not in the least altered by
+her communication.
+
+“I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” said he, when she had
+finished her speech. “Of what are you talking?”
+
+“Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins,
+and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy.”
+
+“And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems a hopeless business.”
+
+“Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her
+marrying him.”
+
+“Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion.”
+
+Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the
+library.
+
+“Come here, child,” cried her father as she appeared. “I have sent for
+you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made
+you an offer of marriage. Is it true?”
+
+Elizabeth replied that it was.
+
+“Very well--and this offer of marriage you have refused?”
+
+“I have, sir.”
+
+“Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your
+accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?”
+
+“Yes, or I will never see her again.”
+
+“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must
+be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you
+again if you do _not_ marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again
+if you _do_.”
+
+Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning;
+but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the
+affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed.
+
+“What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, by talking in this way? You promised me
+to _insist_ upon her marrying him.”
+
+“My dear,” replied her husband, “I have two small favours to request.
+First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the
+present occasion; and, secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the
+library to myself as soon as may be.”
+
+Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did
+Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again;
+coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane in
+her interest, but Jane, with all possible mildness, declined
+interfering; and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness, and
+sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner
+varied, however, her determination never did.
+
+Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed.
+He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin
+could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other
+way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her
+deserving her mother’s reproach prevented his feeling any regret.
+
+While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend
+the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to
+her, cried in a half whisper, “I am glad you are come, for there is such
+fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Collins has
+made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “they entered the breakfast room”
+]
+
+Charlotte had hardly time to answer before they were joined by Kitty,
+who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the
+breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on
+the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating
+her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of her
+family. “Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas,” she added, in a melancholy tone;
+“for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me; I am cruelly used,
+nobody feels for my poor nerves.”
+
+Charlotte’s reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.
+
+“Ay, there she comes,” continued Mrs. Bennet, “looking as unconcerned as
+may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided she
+can have her own way. But I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take it
+into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way,
+you will never get a husband at all--and I am sure I do not know who is
+to maintain you when your father is dead. _I_ shall not be able to keep
+you--and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told
+you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again,
+and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking
+to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking
+to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have
+no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it
+is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.”
+
+Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any
+attempt to reason with or soothe her would only increase the irritation.
+She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them till
+they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered with an air more stately
+than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to the girls,--
+
+“Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and
+let Mr. Collins and me have a little conversation together.”
+
+Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but
+Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte,
+detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after
+herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little
+curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending
+not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet thus began the projected
+conversation:--
+
+“Oh, Mr. Collins!”
+
+“My dear madam,” replied he, “let us be for ever silent on this point.
+Far be it from me,” he presently continued, in a voice that marked his
+displeasure, “to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation to
+inevitable evils is the duty of us all: the peculiar duty of a young man
+who has been so fortunate as I have been, in early preferment; and, I
+trust, I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my
+positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; for I
+have often observed, that resignation is never so perfect as when the
+blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation.
+You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect to your
+family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your
+daughter’s favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the
+compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf.
+My conduct may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my
+dismission from your daughter’s lips instead of your own; but we are all
+liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair.
+My object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due
+consideration for the advantage of all your family; and if my _manner_
+has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologize.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The discussion of Mr. Collins’s offer was now nearly at an end, and
+Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily
+attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusion of her mother.
+As for the gentleman himself, _his_ feelings were chiefly expressed, not
+by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by
+stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to
+her; and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of
+himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose
+civility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, and
+especially to her friend.
+
+The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet’s ill humour or ill
+health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth
+had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did
+not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on
+Saturday, and to Saturday he still meant to stay.
+
+After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton, to inquire if Mr. Wickham
+were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball.
+He joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their
+aunt’s, where his regret and vexation and the concern of everybody were
+well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged
+that the necessity of his absence _had_ been self-imposed.
+
+“I found,” said he, “as the time drew near, that I had better not meet
+Mr. Darcy;--that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so
+many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes
+might arise unpleasant to more than myself.”
+
+She highly approved his forbearance; and they had leisure for a full
+discussion of it, and for all the commendations which they civilly
+bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back with
+them to Longbourn, and during the walk he particularly attended to her.
+His accompanying them was a double advantage: she felt all the
+compliment it offered to herself; and it was most acceptable as an
+occasion of introducing him to her father and mother.
+
+[Illustration: “Walked back with them”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it came
+from Netherfield, and was opened immediately. The envelope contained a
+sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady’s
+fair, flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister’s countenance change as
+she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages.
+Jane recollected herself soon; and putting the letter away, tried to
+join, with her usual cheerfulness, in the general conversation: but
+Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which drew off her attention
+even from Wickham; and no sooner had he and his companion taken leave,
+than a glance from Jane invited her to follow her upstairs. When they
+had gained their own room, Jane, taking out her letter, said, “This is
+from Caroline Bingley: what it contains has surprised me a good deal.
+The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are on their way
+to town; and without any intention of coming back again. You shall hear
+what she says.”
+
+She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information
+of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly,
+and of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor Street, where Mr.
+Hurst had a house. The next was in these words:--“‘I do not pretend to
+regret anything I shall leave in Hertfordshire except your society, my
+dearest friend; but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many
+returns of that delightful intercourse we have known, and in the
+meanwhile may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most
+unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that.’” To these
+high-flown expressions Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of
+distrust; and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she
+saw nothing in it really to lament: it was not to be supposed that their
+absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley’s being there; and as
+to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must soon
+cease to regard it in the enjoyment of his.
+
+“It is unlucky,” said she, after a short pause, “that you should not be
+able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not
+hope that the period of future happiness, to which Miss Bingley looks
+forward, may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful
+intercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with yet greater
+satisfaction as sisters? Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by
+them.”
+
+“Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into
+Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you.
+
+“‘When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which
+took him to London might be concluded in three or four days; but as we
+are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when
+Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have
+determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend
+his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintance are
+already there for the winter: I wish I could hear that you, my dearest
+friend, had any intention of making one in the crowd, but of that I
+despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in
+the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux
+will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of
+whom we shall deprive you.’
+
+“It is evident by this,” added Jane, “that he comes back no more this
+winter.”
+
+“It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean he _should_.”
+
+“Why will you think so? It must be his own doing; he is his own master.
+But you do not know _all_. I _will_ read you the passage which
+particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from _you_. ‘Mr. Darcy is
+impatient to see his sister; and to confess the truth, _we_ are scarcely
+less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has
+her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection
+she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still
+more interesting from the hope we dare to entertain of her being
+hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to
+you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the country
+without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them
+unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have
+frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her
+relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister’s
+partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most
+capable of engaging any woman’s heart. With all these circumstances to
+favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest
+Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness
+of so many?’ What think you of _this_ sentence, my dear Lizzy?” said
+Jane, as she finished it. “Is it not clear enough? Does it not expressly
+declare that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister;
+that she is perfectly convinced of her brother’s indifference; and that
+if she suspects the nature of my feelings for him she means (most
+kindly!) to put me on my guard. Can there be any other opinion on the
+subject?”
+
+“Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?”
+
+“Most willingly.”
+
+“You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is
+in love with you and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to
+town in the hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he
+does not care about you.”
+
+Jane shook her head.
+
+“Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you
+together can doubt his affection; Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot: she
+is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr.
+Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the
+case is this:--we are not rich enough or grand enough for them; and she
+is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion
+that when there has been _one_ inter-marriage, she may have less trouble
+in achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and I
+dare say it would succeed if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But, my
+dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that, because Miss Bingley
+tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest
+degree less sensible of _your_ merit than when he took leave of you on
+Tuesday; or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, instead
+of being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend.”
+
+“If we thought alike of Miss Bingley,” replied Jane, “your
+representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the
+foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving
+anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is, that she is deceived
+herself.”
+
+“That is right. You could not have started a more happy idea, since you
+will not take comfort in mine: believe her to be deceived, by all means.
+You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer.”
+
+“But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in
+accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry
+elsewhere?”
+
+“You must decide for yourself,” said Elizabeth; “and if, upon mature
+deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is
+more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you,
+by all means, to refuse him.”
+
+“How can you talk so?” said Jane, faintly smiling; “you must know, that,
+though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could
+not hesitate.”
+
+“I did not think you would; and that being the case, I cannot consider
+your situation with much compassion.”
+
+“But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be
+required. A thousand things may arise in six months.”
+
+The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost
+contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline’s
+interested wishes; and she could not for a moment suppose that those
+wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man
+so totally independent of everyone.
+
+She represented to her sister, as forcibly as possible, what she felt on
+the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect.
+Jane’s temper was not desponding; and she was gradually led to hope,
+though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that
+Bingley would return to Netherfield, and answer every wish of her heart.
+
+They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the
+family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman’s conduct;
+but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern,
+and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen
+to go away just as they were all getting so intimate together. After
+lamenting it, however, at some length, she had the consolation of
+thinking that Mr. Bingley would be soon down again, and soon dining at
+Longbourn; and the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration,
+that, though he had been invited only to a family dinner, she would take
+care to have two full courses.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases; and again, during the
+chief of the day, was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins.
+Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. “It keeps him in good
+humour,” said she, “and I am more obliged to you than I can express.”
+
+Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and
+that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was
+very amiable; but Charlotte’s kindness extended farther than Elizabeth
+had any conception of:--its object was nothing less than to secure her
+from any return of Mr. Collins’s addresses, by engaging them towards
+herself. Such was Miss Lucas’s scheme; and appearances were so
+favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost
+sure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very soon.
+But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his
+character; for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next
+morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw
+himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins,
+from a conviction that, if they saw him depart, they could not fail to
+conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known
+till its success could be known likewise; for, though feeling almost
+secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging,
+he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. His
+reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas
+perceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and
+instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had
+she dared to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.
+
+In as short a time as Mr. Collins’s long speeches would allow,
+everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as
+they entered the house, he earnestly entreated her to name the day that
+was to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must
+be waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with
+his happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must
+guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its
+continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure and
+disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that
+establishment were gained.
+
+Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent;
+and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins’s present
+circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom
+they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were
+exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with more
+interest than the matter had ever
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “So much love and eloquence”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+excited before, how many years longer Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and
+Sir William gave it as his decided opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins
+should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it would be highly
+expedient that both he and his wife should make their appearance at St.
+James’s. The whole family in short were properly overjoyed on the
+occasion. The younger girls formed hopes of _coming out_ a year or two
+sooner than they might otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved
+from their apprehension of Charlotte’s dying an old maid. Charlotte
+herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had time
+to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr.
+Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable: his society was
+irksome, and his attachment to her must be imaginary. But still he would
+be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony,
+marriage had always been her object: it was the only honourable
+provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and, however
+uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative
+from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at the age of
+twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all the good
+luck of it. The least agreeable circumstance in the business was the
+surprise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she
+valued beyond that of any other person. Elizabeth would wonder, and
+probably would blame her; and though her resolution was not to be
+shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved
+to give her the information herself; and therefore charged Mr. Collins,
+when he returned to Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had
+passed before any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course very
+dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the
+curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct
+questions on his return, as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was
+at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to
+publish his prosperous love.
+
+As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of
+the family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies
+moved for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness and
+cordiality, said how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again,
+whenever his other engagements might allow him to visit them.
+
+“My dear madam,” he replied, “this invitation is particularly
+gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and you
+may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as
+possible.”
+
+They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for
+so speedy a return, immediately said,--
+
+“But is there not danger of Lady Catherine’s disapprobation here, my
+good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of
+offending your patroness.”
+
+“My dear sir,” replied Mr. Collins, “I am particularly obliged to you
+for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so
+material a step without her Ladyship’s concurrence.”
+
+“You cannot be too much on your guard. Risk anything rather than her
+displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us
+again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home,
+and be satisfied that _we_ shall take no offence.”
+
+“Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such
+affectionate attention; and, depend upon it, you will speedily receive
+from me a letter of thanks for this as well as for every other mark of
+your regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins,
+though my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall
+now take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting
+my cousin Elizabeth.”
+
+With proper civilities, the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally
+surprised to find that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished
+to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of
+her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him.
+She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others: there was a
+solidity in his reflections which often struck her; and though by no
+means so clever as herself, she thought that, if encouraged to read and
+improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very
+agreeable companion. But on the following morning every hope of this
+kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a
+private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.
+
+The possibility of Mr. Collins’s fancying himself in love with her
+friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two: but
+that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from possibility
+as that she could encourage him herself; and her astonishment was
+consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and
+she could not help crying out,--
+
+“Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte, impossible!”
+
+The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her
+story gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a
+reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained
+her composure, and calmly replied,--
+
+“Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it incredible
+that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman’s good opinion,
+because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?”
+
+But Elizabeth had now recollected herself; and, making a strong effort
+for it, was able to assure her, with tolerable firmness, that the
+prospect of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she
+wished her all imaginable happiness.
+
+“I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte; “you must be surprised,
+very much surprised, so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you.
+But when you have had time to think it all over, I hope you will be
+satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know. I never
+was. I ask only a comfortable home; and, considering Mr. Collins’s
+character, connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my
+chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on
+entering the marriage state.”
+
+Elizabeth quietly answered “undoubtedly;” and, after an awkward pause,
+they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much
+longer; and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It
+was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so
+unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins’s making two offers
+of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now
+accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony was
+not exactly like her own; but she could not have supposed it possible
+that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better
+feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte, the wife of Mr. Collins, was a
+most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing
+herself, and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction
+that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot
+she had chosen.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Protested he must be entirely mistaken.”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what
+she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorized to mention it,
+when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter to
+announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them,
+and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the
+houses, he unfolded the matter,--to an audience not merely wondering,
+but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than
+politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Lydia, always
+unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed,--
+
+“Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you know
+that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?”
+
+Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne
+without anger such treatment: but Sir William’s good-breeding carried
+him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the
+truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the
+most forbearing courtesy.
+
+Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant
+a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by
+mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and
+endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters,
+by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she
+was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the
+happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character
+of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.
+
+Mrs. Bennet was, in fact, too much overpowered to say a great deal while
+Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings
+found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving
+the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins
+had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be happy
+together; and, fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two
+inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that
+Elizabeth was the real cause of all the mischief; and the other, that
+she herself had been barbarously used by them all; and on these two
+points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could
+console and nothing appease her. Nor did that day wear out her
+resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without
+scolding her: a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William
+or Lady Lucas without being rude; and many months were gone before she
+could at all forgive their daughter.
+
+Mr. Bennet’s emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such
+as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for
+it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had
+been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and
+more foolish than his daughter!
+
+Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match: but she said
+less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness;
+nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and
+Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a
+clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news
+to spread at Meryton.
+
+Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort on
+Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and she
+called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was,
+though Mrs. Bennet’s sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been
+enough to drive happiness away.
+
+Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept them
+mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that no
+real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her
+disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her
+sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could
+never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, as
+Bingley had now been gone a week, and nothing was heard of his return.
+
+Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting
+the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised
+letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to their
+father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a
+twelve-month’s abode in the family might have prompted. After
+discharging his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them,
+with many rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the
+affection of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained
+that it was merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had
+been so ready to close with their kind wish of seeing him again at
+Longbourn, whither he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight;
+for Lady Catherine, he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that
+she wished it to take place as soon as possible, which he trusted would
+be an unanswerable argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early
+day for making him the happiest of men.
+
+Mr. Collins’s return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of
+pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary, she was as much disposed to
+complain of it as her husband. It was very strange that he should come
+to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient
+and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the house
+while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the
+most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and they
+gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley’s continued
+absence.
+
+Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after
+day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the
+report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to
+Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs.
+Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous
+falsehood.
+
+Even Elizabeth began to fear--not that Bingley was indifferent--but that
+his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she
+was to admit an idea so destructive to Jane’s happiness, and so
+dishonourable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its
+frequently recurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters,
+and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss
+Darcy and the amusements of London, might be too much, she feared, for
+the strength of his attachment.
+
+As for Jane, _her_ anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more
+painful than Elizabeth’s: but whatever she felt she was desirous of
+concealing; and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject
+was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an
+hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her
+impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he
+did not come back she should think herself very ill-used. It needed all
+Jane’s steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable
+tranquillity.
+
+Mr. Collins returned most punctually on the Monday fortnight, but his
+reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his
+first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention;
+and, luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them
+from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by
+him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time
+to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “_Whenever she spoke in a low voice_”
+]
+
+Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of
+anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill-humour, and
+wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight of
+Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she
+regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see
+them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; and
+whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that
+they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself
+and her daughters out of the house as soon as Mr. Bennet was dead. She
+complained bitterly of all this to her husband.
+
+“Indeed, Mr. Bennet,” said she, “it is very hard to think that Charlotte
+Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that _I_ should be forced
+to make way for _her_, and live to see her take my place in it!”
+
+“My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for
+better things. Let us flatter ourselves that _I_ may be the survivor.”
+
+This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet; and, therefore, instead of
+making any answer, she went on as before.
+
+“I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was
+not for the entail, I should not mind it.”
+
+“What should not you mind?”
+
+“I should not mind anything at all.”
+
+“Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such
+insensibility.”
+
+“I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. How
+anyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one’s own
+daughters I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins, too!
+Why should _he_ have it more than anybody else?”
+
+“I leave it to yourself to determine,” said Mr. Bennet.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Miss Bingley’s letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first
+sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for
+the winter, and concluded with her brother’s regret at not having had
+time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left
+the country.
+
+Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest of
+the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the
+writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy’s praise occupied
+the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on; and Caroline
+boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict
+the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former
+letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother’s being an
+inmate of Mr. Darcy’s house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of
+the latter with regard to new furniture.
+
+Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this,
+heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern
+for her sister and resentment against all others. To Caroline’s
+assertion of her brother’s being partial to Miss Darcy, she paid no
+credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she
+had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she
+could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness
+of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave
+of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice his own happiness to
+the caprice of their inclinations. Had his own happiness, however, been
+the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in
+whatever manner he thought best; but her sister’s was involved in it, as
+she thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short, on
+which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She
+could think of nothing else; and yet, whether Bingley’s regard had
+really died away, or were suppressed by his friends’ interference;
+whether he had been aware of Jane’s attachment, or whether it had
+escaped his observation; whichever were the case, though her opinion of
+him must be materially affected by the difference, her sister’s
+situation remained the same, her peace equally wounded.
+
+A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to
+Elizabeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet’s leaving them together, after a
+longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could
+not help saying,--
+
+“O that my dear mother had more command over herself! she can have no
+idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I
+will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall
+all be as we were before.”
+
+Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said
+nothing.
+
+“You doubt me,” cried Jane, slightly colouring; “indeed, you have no
+reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my
+acquaintance but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, and
+nothing to reproach him with. Thank God I have not _that_ pain. A little
+time, therefore--I shall certainly try to get the better----”
+
+With a stronger voice she soon added, “I have this comfort immediately,
+that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it
+has done no harm to anyone but myself.”
+
+“My dear Jane,” exclaimed Elizabeth, “you are too good. Your sweetness
+and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to
+you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you
+deserve.”
+
+Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back
+the praise on her sister’s warm affection.
+
+“Nay,” said Elizabeth, “this is not fair. _You_ wish to think all the
+world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. _I_ only want
+to think _you_ perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be
+afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your
+privilege of universal good-will. You need not. There are few people
+whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see
+of the world the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms
+my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the
+little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit
+or sense. I have met with two instances lately: one I will not mention,
+the other is Charlotte’s marriage. It is unaccountable! in every view it
+is unaccountable!”
+
+“My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will
+ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of
+situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins’s respectability, and
+Charlotte’s prudent, steady character. Remember that she is one of a
+large family; that as to fortune it is a most eligible match; and be
+ready to believe, for everybody’s sake, that she may feel something like
+regard and esteem for our cousin.”
+
+“To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything, but no one else
+could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that
+Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her
+understanding than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a
+conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man: you know he is, as well as
+I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who marries him
+cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though
+it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one individual,
+change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade
+yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of
+danger security for happiness.”
+
+“I must think your language too strong in speaking of both,” replied
+Jane; “and I hope you will be convinced of it, by seeing them happy
+together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You
+mentioned _two_ instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat
+you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking _that person_ to blame, and
+saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy
+ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man
+to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but
+our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than
+it does.”
+
+“And men take care that they should.”
+
+“If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea
+of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.”
+
+“I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley’s conduct to design,”
+said Elizabeth; “but, without scheming to do wrong, or to make others
+unhappy, there may be error and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness,
+want of attention to other people’s feelings, and want of resolution,
+will do the business.”
+
+“And do you impute it to either of those?”
+
+“Yes; to the last. But if I go on I shall displease you by saying what I
+think of persons you esteem. Stop me, whilst you can.”
+
+“You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him?”
+
+“Yes, in conjunction with his friend.”
+
+“I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can
+only wish his happiness; and if he is attached to me no other woman can
+secure it.”
+
+“Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his
+happiness: they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they
+may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great
+connections, and pride.”
+
+“Beyond a doubt they do wish him to choose Miss Darcy,” replied Jane;
+“but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have
+known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they love
+her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely
+they should have opposed their brother’s. What sister would think
+herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very
+objectionable? If they believed him attached to me they would not try to
+part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an
+affection, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most
+unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been
+mistaken--or, at least, it is slight, it is nothing in comparison of
+what I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it
+in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood.”
+
+Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley’s
+name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.
+
+Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no
+more; and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account
+for it clearly, there seemed little chance of her ever considering it
+with less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what
+she did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely
+the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw
+her no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at
+the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet’s best
+comfort was, that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer.
+
+Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. “So, Lizzy,” said he, one
+day, “your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next
+to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and
+then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction
+among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to
+be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough at
+Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham
+be your man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably.”
+
+“Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not
+all expect Jane’s good fortune.”
+
+“True,” said Mr. Bennet; “but it is a comfort to think that, whatever of
+that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will
+always make the most of it.”
+
+Mr. Wickham’s society was of material service in dispelling the gloom
+which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn
+family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now
+added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already
+heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him,
+was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was
+pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they
+had known anything of the matter.
+
+Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any
+extenuating circumstances in the case unknown to the society of
+Hertfordshire: her mild and steady candour always pleaded for
+allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes; but by everybody else
+Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, Mr.
+Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of
+Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on his
+side by preparations for the reception of his bride, as he had reason to
+hope, that shortly after his next return into Hertfordshire, the day
+would be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave
+of his relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before; wished
+his fair cousins health and happiness again, and promised their father
+another letter of thanks.
+
+On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her
+brother and his wife, who came, as usual, to spend the Christmas at
+Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly
+superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield
+ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by
+trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so
+well-bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger
+than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant
+woman, and a great favourite with her Longbourn nieces. Between the two
+eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a very particular regard.
+They had frequently been staying with her in town.
+
+The first part of Mrs. Gardiner’s business, on her arrival, was to
+distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was
+done, she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen.
+Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They
+had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her
+girls had been on the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing
+in it.
+
+“I do not blame Jane,” she continued, “for Jane would have got Mr.
+Bingley if she could. But, Lizzy! Oh, sister! it is very hard to think
+that she might have been Mr. Collins’s wife by this time, had not it
+been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room,
+and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have
+a daughter married before I have, and that Longbourn estate is just as
+much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people, indeed,
+sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of
+them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted
+so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves
+before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the
+greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us of
+long sleeves.”
+
+Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in
+the course of Jane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her, made her
+sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the
+conversation.
+
+When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject.
+“It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane,” said she. “I
+am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man,
+such as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty
+girl for a few weeks, and, when accident separates them, so easily
+forgets her, that these sort of inconstancies are very frequent.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Offended two or three young ladies”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+“An excellent consolation in its way,” said Elizabeth; “but it will not
+do for _us_. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen
+that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of
+independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in
+love with only a few days before.”
+
+“But that expression of ‘violently in love’ is so hackneyed, so
+doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as
+often applied to feelings which arise only from a half hour’s
+acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how _violent was_
+Mr. Bingley’s love?”
+
+“I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite
+inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time
+they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he
+offended two or three young ladies by not asking them to dance; and I
+spoke to him twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be
+finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?”
+
+“Oh, yes! of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor
+Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get
+over it immediately. It had better have happened to _you_, Lizzy; you
+would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she would
+be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of
+service--and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as
+anything.”
+
+Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded
+of her sister’s ready acquiescence.
+
+“I hope,” added Mrs. Gardiner, “that no consideration with regard to
+this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of
+town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go
+out so little, that it is very improbable they should meet at all,
+unless he really comes to see her.”
+
+“And _that_ is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his
+friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a
+part of London! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may,
+perhaps, have _heard_ of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he
+would hardly think a month’s ablution enough to cleanse him from its
+impurities, were he once to enter it; and, depend upon it, Mr. Bingley
+never stirs without him.”
+
+“So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane
+correspond with his sister? _She_ will not be able to help calling.”
+
+“She will drop the acquaintance entirely.”
+
+But, in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this
+point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley’s being
+withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which
+convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely
+hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that
+his affection might be re-animated, and the influence of his friends
+successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane’s
+attractions.
+
+Miss Bennet accepted her aunt’s invitation with pleasure; and the
+Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the same time than as she
+hoped, by Caroline’s not living in the same house with her brother, she
+might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of
+seeing him.
+
+The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses,
+the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its
+engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment
+of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family
+dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always
+made part of it, of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and
+on these occasions Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth’s
+warm commendation of him, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing
+them, from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference
+of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and she
+resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left
+Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such
+an attachment.
+
+To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure,
+unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago,
+before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part
+of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many
+acquaintance in common; and, though Wickham had been little there since
+the death of Darcy’s father, five years before, it was yet in his power
+to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends than she had been
+in the way of procuring.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by
+character perfectly well. Here, consequently, was an inexhaustible
+subject of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with
+the minute description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her
+tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was
+delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with the
+present Mr. Darcy’s treatment of him, she tried to remember something of
+that gentleman’s reputed disposition, when quite a lad, which might
+agree with it; and was confident, at last, that she recollected having
+heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud,
+ill-natured boy.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Will you come and see me?”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mrs. Gardiner’s caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given on
+the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone: after
+honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on:--
+
+“You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you
+are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking
+openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve
+yourself, or endeavour to involve him, in an affection which the want of
+fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against
+_him_: he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune he
+ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is--you
+must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all
+expect you to use it. Your father would depend on _your_ resolution and
+good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father.”
+
+“My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed.”
+
+“Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise.”
+
+“Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of
+myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I
+can prevent it.”
+
+“Elizabeth, you are not serious now.”
+
+“I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present I am not in love with
+Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison,
+the most agreeable man I ever saw--and if he becomes really attached to
+me--I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence
+of it. Oh, _that_ abominable Mr. Darcy! My father’s opinion of me does
+me the greatest honour; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My
+father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I
+should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but
+since we see, every day, that where there is affection young people are
+seldom withheld, by immediate want of fortune, from entering into
+engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many
+of my fellow-creatures, if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that
+it would be wiser to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is
+not to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his
+first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In
+short, I will do my best.”
+
+“Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very
+often. At least you should not _remind_ your mother of inviting him.”
+
+“As I did the other day,” said Elizabeth, with a conscious smile; “very
+true, it will be wise in me to refrain from _that_. But do not imagine
+that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been
+so frequently invited this week. You know my mother’s ideas as to the
+necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my
+honour, I will try to do what I think to be wisest; and now I hope you
+are satisfied.”
+
+Her aunt assured her that she was; and Elizabeth, having thanked her for
+the kindness of her hints, they parted,--a wonderful instance of advice
+being given on such a point without being resented.
+
+Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted
+by the Gardiners and Jane; but, as he took up his abode with the
+Lucases, his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His
+marriage was now fast approaching; and she was at length so far resigned
+as to think it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say, in an ill-natured
+tone, that she “_wished_ they might be happy.” Thursday was to be the
+wedding-day, and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and
+when she rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother’s
+ungracious and reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself,
+accompanied her out of the room. As they went down stairs together,
+Charlotte said,--
+
+“I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza.”
+
+“_That_ you certainly shall.”
+
+“And I have another favour to ask. Will you come and see me?”
+
+“We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire.”
+
+“I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to
+come to Hunsford.”
+
+Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the
+visit.
+
+“My father and Maria are to come to me in March,” added Charlotte, “and
+I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be
+as welcome to me as either of them.”
+
+The wedding took place: the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from
+the church door, and everybody had as much to say or to hear on the
+subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend, and their
+correspondence was as regular and frequent as it ever had been: that it
+should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never
+address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over;
+and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the
+sake of what had been rather than what was. Charlotte’s first letters
+were received with a good deal of eagerness: there could not but be
+curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would
+like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to
+be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte
+expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She
+wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing
+which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and
+roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine’s behaviour was most
+friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins’s picture of Hunsford and
+Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait
+for her own visit there, to know the rest.
+
+Jane had already written a few lines to her sister, to announce their
+safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it
+would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys.
+
+Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience
+generally is. Jane had been a week in town, without either seeing or
+hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that
+her last letter to her friend from Longbourn had by some accident been
+lost.
+
+“My aunt,” she continued, “is going to-morrow into that part of the
+town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor Street.”
+
+She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley.
+“I did not think Caroline in spirits,” were her words, “but she was very
+glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming
+to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her.
+I inquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much
+engaged with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that
+Miss Darcy was expected to dinner: I wish I could see her. My visit was
+not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall
+soon see them here.”
+
+Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that
+accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister’s being in town.
+
+Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to
+persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be
+blind to Miss Bingley’s inattention. After waiting at home every morning
+for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the
+visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and, yet
+more, the alteration of her manner, would allow Jane to deceive herself
+no longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister
+will prove what she felt:--
+
+     “My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in
+     her better judgment, at my expense, when I confess myself to have
+     been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley’s regard for me. But, my
+     dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me
+     obstinate if I still assert that, considering what her behaviour
+     was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at
+     all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me; but,
+     if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should
+     be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday;
+     and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime. When she
+     did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it; she
+     made a slight, formal apology for not calling before, said not a
+     word of wishing to see me again, and was, in every respect, so
+     altered a creature, that when she went away I was perfectly
+     resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I
+     cannot help blaming, her. She was very wrong in singling me out as
+     she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on
+     her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been
+     acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her
+     brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and
+     though _we_ know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she
+     feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so
+     deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may
+     feel on his behalf is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder,
+     however, at her having any such fears now, because if he had at all
+     cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my
+     being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and
+     yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to
+     persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot
+     understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be
+     almost tempted to say, that there is a strong appearance of
+     duplicity in all this. I will endeavour to banish every painful
+     thought, and think only of what will make me happy, your affection,
+     and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear
+     from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never
+     returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not
+     with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely
+     glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at
+     Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am
+     sure you will be very comfortable there.
+
+“Yours, etc.”
+
+This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned, as she
+considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least.
+All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not
+even wish for any renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every
+review of it; and, as a punishment for him, as well as a possible
+advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr.
+Darcy’s sister, as, by Wickham’s account, she would make him abundantly
+regret what he had thrown away.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise
+concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth had
+such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to
+herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over,
+he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to
+see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain.
+Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied
+with believing that _she_ would have been his only choice, had fortune
+permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most
+remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself
+agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than
+in Charlotte’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence.
+Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and, while able to
+suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was
+ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very
+sincerely wish him happy.
+
+All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and, after relating the
+circumstances, she thus went on:--“I am now convinced, my dear aunt,
+that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that
+pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name,
+and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial
+towards _him_, they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find
+out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think
+her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My
+watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more
+interesting object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love
+with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance.
+Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take
+his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways
+of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that
+handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the
+plain.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “On the Stairs”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise
+diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and
+sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to take
+Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of
+going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the
+plan, and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater
+pleasure as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire
+of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins.
+There was novelty in the scheme; and as, with such a mother and such
+uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change
+was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would, moreover, give
+her a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have
+been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly,
+and was finally settled according to Charlotte’s first sketch. She was
+to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of
+spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became as
+perfect as plan could be.
+
+The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her,
+and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he
+told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.
+
+The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on
+his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that
+Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the
+first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner
+of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what
+she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their
+opinion of her--their opinion of everybody--would always coincide, there
+was a solicitude, an interest, which she felt must ever attach her to
+him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced, that,
+whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable
+and pleasing.
+
+Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her think
+him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a
+good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say
+that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much
+delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but
+she had known Sir William’s too long. He could tell her nothing new of
+the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were
+worn out, like his information.
+
+It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early
+as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner’s
+door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival: when
+they entered the passage, she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth,
+looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and
+lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls,
+whose eagerness for their cousin’s appearance would not allow them to
+wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her
+for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and
+kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and
+shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.
+
+Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was her
+sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to
+her minute inquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her
+spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to
+hope that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the
+particulars also of Miss Bingley’s visit in Gracechurch Street, and
+repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and
+herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the
+acquaintance.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham’s desertion, and
+complimented her on bearing it so well.
+
+“But, my dear Elizabeth,” she added, “what sort of girl is Miss King? I
+should be sorry to think our friend mercenary.”
+
+“Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs,
+between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end,
+and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me,
+because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get a
+girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is
+mercenary.”
+
+“If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know
+what to think.”
+
+“She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her.”
+
+“But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather’s death
+made her mistress of this fortune?”
+
+“No--why should he? If it were not allowable for him to gain _my_
+affections, because I had no money, what occasion could there be for
+making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally
+poor?”
+
+“But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her so
+soon after this event.”
+
+“A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant
+decorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it,
+why should _we_?”
+
+“_Her_ not objecting does not justify _him_. It only shows her being
+deficient in something herself--sense or feeling.”
+
+“Well,” cried Elizabeth, “have it as you choose. _He_ shall be
+mercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish.”
+
+“No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know,
+to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire.”
+
+“Oh, if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in
+Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are not
+much better. I am sick of them all. Thank heaven! I am going to-morrow
+where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has
+neither manners nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones
+worth knowing, after all.”
+
+“Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.”
+
+Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the
+unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in
+a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.
+
+“We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us,” said Mrs.
+Gardiner; “but perhaps, to the Lakes.”
+
+No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her
+acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. “My dear, dear
+aunt,” she rapturously cried, “what delight! what felicity! You give me
+fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men
+to rocks and mountains? Oh, what hours of transport we shall spend! And
+when we _do_ return, it shall not be like other travellers, without
+being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We _will_ know where
+we have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains,
+and rivers, shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, when
+we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling
+about its relative situation. Let _our_ first effusions be less
+insupportable than those of the generality of travellers.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “At the door”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Every object in the next day’s journey was new and interesting to
+Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had
+seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health,
+and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.
+
+When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in
+search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view.
+The paling of Rosings park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth
+smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants.
+
+At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the
+road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge,
+everything declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte
+appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate, which
+led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of
+the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing
+at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the
+liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with
+coming, when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw
+instantly that her cousin’s manners were not altered by his marriage:
+his formal civility was just what it had been; and he detained her some
+minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all her
+family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the
+neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were
+in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatious
+formality, to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife’s
+offers of refreshment.
+
+Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help
+fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect,
+and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if
+wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though
+everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him
+by any sigh of repentance; and rather looked with wonder at her friend,
+that she could have so cheerful an air with such a companion. When Mr.
+Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be ashamed,
+which certainly was not seldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on
+Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general
+Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire
+every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the
+fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had
+happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the
+garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of
+which he attended himself. To work in his garden was one of his most
+respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance
+with which Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and
+owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way
+through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an
+interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out
+with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the
+fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in
+the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which
+the country or the kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with
+the prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that
+bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a
+handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground.
+
+From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows;
+but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white
+frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte
+took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased,
+probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband’s
+help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything
+was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency, of which
+Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be
+forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by
+Charlotte’s evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often
+forgotten.
+
+She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It
+was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining
+in, observed,--
+
+“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine
+de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will
+be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I
+doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when
+service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying that she will
+include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she
+honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is
+charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to
+walk home. Her Ladyship’s carriage is regularly ordered for us. I
+_should_ say, one of her Ladyship’s carriages, for she has several.”
+
+“Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman, indeed,” added
+Charlotte, “and a most attentive neighbour.”
+
+“Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of
+woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference.”
+
+The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and
+telling again what had been already written; and when it closed,
+Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon
+Charlotte’s degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding,
+and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it
+was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would
+pass, the quiet tenour of their usual employments, the vexatious
+interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse
+with Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all.
+
+About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready
+for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in
+confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running
+upstairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened
+the door, and met Maria in the landing-place, who, breathless with
+agitation, cried out,--
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “In Conversation with the ladies”
+
+[Copyright 1894 by George Allen.]]
+
+“Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for
+there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make
+haste, and come down this moment.”
+
+Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more;
+and down they ran into the dining-room which fronted the lane, in quest
+of this wonder; it was two ladies, stopping in a low phaeton at the
+garden gate.
+
+“And is this all?” cried Elizabeth. “I expected at least that the pigs
+were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her
+daughter!”
+
+“La! my dear,” said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, “it is not Lady
+Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them. The
+other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little
+creature. Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!”
+
+“She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind.
+Why does she not come in?”
+
+“Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours
+when Miss De Bourgh comes in.”
+
+“I like her appearance,” said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. “She
+looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will
+make him a very proper wife.”
+
+Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation
+with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth’s high diversion, was
+stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness
+before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh looked that
+way.
+
+At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and
+the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two
+girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which
+Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked
+to dine at Rosings the next day.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     ‘Lady Catherine, said she, you have given me a treasure.’
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mr. Collins’s triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete.
+The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering
+visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his
+wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of
+doing it should be given so soon was such an instance of Lady
+Catherine’s condescension as he knew not how to admire enough.
+
+“I confess,” said he, “that I should not have been at all surprised by
+her Ladyship’s asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening
+at Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that
+it would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this?
+Who could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine
+there (an invitation, moreover, including the whole party) so
+immediately after your arrival?”
+
+“I am the less surprised at what has happened,” replied Sir William,
+“from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which
+my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, such
+instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon.”
+
+Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their
+visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what
+they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and
+so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them.
+
+When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to
+Elizabeth,--
+
+“Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady
+Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which
+becomes herself and daughter. I would advise you merely to put on
+whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest--there is no occasion
+for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for
+being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank
+preserved.”
+
+While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different
+doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much
+objected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of
+her Ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas,
+who had been little used to company; and she looked forward to her
+introduction at Rosings with as much apprehension as her father had done
+to his presentation at St. James’s.
+
+As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile
+across the park. Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and
+Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such
+raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but
+slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the
+house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally
+cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh.
+
+When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria’s alarm was every moment
+increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm.
+Elizabeth’s courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Lady
+Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or
+miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money and rank she
+thought she could witness without trepidation.
+
+From the entrance hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a
+rapturous air, the fine proportion and finished ornaments, they followed
+the servants through an antechamber to the room where Lady Catherine,
+her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her Ladyship, with great
+condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had settled it
+with her husband that the office of introduction should be hers, it was
+performed in a proper manner, without any of those apologies and thanks
+which he would have thought necessary.
+
+In spite of having been at St. James’s, Sir William was so completely
+awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage
+enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word;
+and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge
+of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself
+quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her
+composedly. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked
+features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not
+conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her
+visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by
+silence: but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone as
+marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately to
+Elizabeth’s mind; and, from the observation of the day altogether, she
+believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he had represented.
+
+When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment
+she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the
+daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria’s astonishment at her
+being so thin and so small. There was neither in figure nor face any
+likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly: her
+features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very
+little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance
+there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening
+to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before
+her eyes.
+
+After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows to
+admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its beauties,
+and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much better worth
+looking at in the summer.
+
+The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants,
+and all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he
+had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by
+her Ladyship’s desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish
+nothing greater. He carved and ate and praised with delighted alacrity;
+and every dish was commended first by him, and then by Sir William, who
+was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law said, in a
+manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear. But Lady
+Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most
+gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved a novelty
+to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth was ready
+to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between
+Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh--the former of whom was engaged in
+listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all
+the dinnertime. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how
+little Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish and
+fearing she was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question,
+and the gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.
+
+When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be
+done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any
+intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every
+subject in so decisive a manner as proved that she was not used to have
+her judgment controverted. She inquired into Charlotte’s domestic
+concerns familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice as
+to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be
+regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her as to the
+care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was
+beneath this great lady’s attention which could furnish her with an
+occasion for dictating to others. In the intervals of her discourse with
+Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and
+Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew
+the least, and who, she observed to Mrs. Collins, was a very genteel,
+pretty kind of girl. She asked her at different times how many sisters
+she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of
+them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they
+had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been her
+mother’s maiden name? Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of her
+questions, but answered them very composedly. Lady Catherine then
+observed,--
+
+“Your father’s estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think? For your
+sake,” turning to Charlotte, “I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no
+occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought
+necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s family. Do you play and sing, Miss
+Bennet?”
+
+“A little.”
+
+“Oh then--some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our
+instrument is a capital one, probably superior to ---- you shall try it
+some day. Do your sisters play and sing?”
+
+“One of them does.”
+
+“Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss
+Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. Do
+you draw?”
+
+“No, not at all.”
+
+“What, none of you?”
+
+“Not one.”
+
+“That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother
+should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters.”
+
+“My mother would have no objection, but my father hates London.”
+
+“Has your governess left you?”
+
+“We never had any governess.”
+
+“No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home
+without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must
+have been quite a slave to your education.”
+
+Elizabeth could hardly help smiling, as she assured her that had not
+been the case.
+
+“Then who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess, you must
+have been neglected.”
+
+“Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as
+wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to
+read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be
+idle certainly might.”
+
+“Ay, no doubt: but that is what a governess will prevent; and if I had
+known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage
+one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady
+and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is
+wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that
+way. I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces
+of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; and
+it was but the other day that I recommended another young person, who
+was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite
+delighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalfe’s
+calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. ‘Lady
+Catherine,’ said she, ‘you have given me a treasure.’ Are any of your
+younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?”
+
+“Yes, ma’am, all.”
+
+“All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The
+younger ones out before the elder are married! Your younger sisters must
+be very young?”
+
+“Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps _she_ is full young to be much
+in company. But really, ma’am, I think it would be very hard upon
+younger sisters that they should not have their share of society and
+amusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to
+marry early. The last born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth
+as the first. And to be kept back on _such_ a motive! I think it would
+not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind.”
+
+“Upon my word,” said her Ladyship, “you give your opinion very decidedly
+for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?”
+
+“With three younger sisters grown up,” replied Elizabeth, smiling, “your
+Ladyship can hardly expect me to own it.”
+
+Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer;
+and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever
+dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.
+
+“You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure,--therefore you need not
+conceal your age.”
+
+“I am not one-and-twenty.”
+
+When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card tables
+were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat
+down to quadrille; and as Miss De Bourgh chose to play at cassino, the
+two girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her
+party. Their table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable was
+uttered that did not relate to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson
+expressed her fears of Miss De Bourgh’s being too hot or too cold, or
+having too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the
+other table. Lady Catherine was generally speaking--stating the mistakes
+of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins
+was employed in agreeing to everything her Ladyship said, thanking her
+for every fish he won, and apologizing if he thought he won too many.
+Sir William did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes
+and noble names.
+
+When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose,
+the tables were broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins,
+gratefully accepted, and immediately ordered. The party then gathered
+round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were
+to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by the
+arrival of the coach; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr.
+Collins’s side, and as many bows on Sir William’s, they departed. As
+soon as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her
+cousin to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which,
+for Charlotte’s sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But
+her commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means
+satisfy Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her Ladyship’s
+praise into his own hands.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford; but his visit was long
+enough to convince him of his daughter’s being most comfortably settled,
+and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not
+often met with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his
+mornings to driving him out in his gig, and showing him the country: but
+when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments,
+and Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her
+cousin by the alteration; for the chief of the time between breakfast
+and dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden, or in
+reading and writing, and looking out of window in his own book room,
+which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards.
+Elizabeth at first had rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer
+the dining parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a
+pleasanter aspect: but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent
+reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been
+much less in his own apartment had they sat in one equally lively; and
+she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement.
+
+From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and
+were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went
+along, and how often especially Miss De Bourgh drove by in her phaeton,
+which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened
+almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had
+a few minutes’ conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever
+prevailed on to get out.
+
+Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and
+not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise;
+and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings
+to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many
+hours. Now and then they were honoured with a call from her Ladyship,
+and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during
+these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work,
+and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement
+of the furniture, or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she
+accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding
+out that Mrs. Collins’s joints of meat were too large for her family.
+
+Elizabeth soon perceived, that though this great lady was not in the
+commission of the peace for the county, she was a most active magistrate
+in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by
+Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be
+quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the
+village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold
+them into harmony and plenty.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “he never failed to inform them”
+]
+
+The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week;
+and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one
+card-table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart
+of the first. Their other engagements were few, as the style of living
+of the neighbourhood in general was beyond the Collinses’ reach. This,
+however, was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time
+comfortably enough: there were half hours of pleasant conversation with
+Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she
+had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where
+she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was
+along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was
+a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and
+where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine’s curiosity.
+
+In this quiet way the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away.
+Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an
+addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be
+important. Elizabeth had heard, soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy
+was expected there in the course of a few weeks; and though there were
+not many of her acquaintance whom she did not prefer, his coming would
+furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and
+she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley’s designs on him
+were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined
+by Lady Catherine, who talked of his coming with the greatest
+satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and
+seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by
+Miss Lucas and herself.
+
+His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage; for Mr. Collins was walking
+the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane,
+in order to have
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“The gentlemen accompanied him.”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+the earliest assurance of it; and, after making his bow as the carriage
+turned into the park, hurried home with the great intelligence. On the
+following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his respects. There were
+two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for Mr. Darcy had brought
+with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of his uncle, Lord ----;
+and, to the great surprise of all the party, when Mr. Collins returned,
+the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen them from her
+husband’s room, crossing the road, and immediately running into the
+other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding,--
+
+“I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would
+never have come so soon to wait upon me.”
+
+Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment
+before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly
+afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam,
+who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and
+address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been
+used to look in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments, with his usual
+reserve, to Mrs. Collins; and whatever might be his feelings towards her
+friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely
+courtesied to him, without saying a word.
+
+Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly, with the
+readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but
+his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and
+garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody.
+At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of
+Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual
+way; and, after a moment’s pause, added,--
+
+“My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never
+happened to see her there?”
+
+She was perfectly sensible that he never had: but she wished to see
+whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the
+Bingleys and Jane; and she thought he looked a little confused as he
+answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The
+subject was pursued no further, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went
+away.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“At Church”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners were very much admired at the Parsonage,
+and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of
+their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they
+received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the
+house they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day,
+almost a week after the gentlemen’s arrival, that they were honoured by
+such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to
+come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little
+of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called
+at the Parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had
+only seen at church.
+
+The invitation was accepted, of course, and at a proper hour they joined
+the party in Lady Catherine’s drawing-room. Her Ladyship received them
+civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so
+acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact,
+almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy,
+much more than to any other person in the room.
+
+Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them: anything was a
+welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins’s pretty friend had,
+moreover, caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and
+talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying
+at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so
+well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much
+spirit and flow as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, as
+well as of Mr. Darcy. _His_ eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned
+towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her Ladyship, after a
+while, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not
+scruple to call out,--
+
+“What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking
+of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.”
+
+“We were talking of music, madam,” said he, when no longer able to avoid
+a reply.
+
+“Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I
+must have my share in the conversation, if you are speaking of music.
+There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true
+enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever
+learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her
+health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have
+performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?”
+
+Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister’s proficiency.
+
+“I am very glad to hear such a good account of her,” said Lady
+Catherine; “and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel,
+if she does not practise a great deal.”
+
+“I assure you, madam,” he replied, “that she does not need such advice.
+She practises very constantly.”
+
+“So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write
+to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often
+tell young ladies, that no excellence in music is to be acquired without
+constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will
+never play really well, unless she practises more; and though Mrs.
+Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told
+her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs.
+Jenkinson’s room. She would be in nobody’s way, you know, in that part
+of the house.”
+
+Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt’s ill-breeding, and made
+no answer.
+
+When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having
+promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He
+drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then
+talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away from
+her, and moving with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte,
+stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer’s
+countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first
+convenient pause turned to him with an arch smile, and said,--
+
+“You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear
+me. But I will not be alarmed, though your sister _does_ play so well.
+There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at
+the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to
+intimidate me.”
+
+“I shall not say that you are mistaken,” he replied, “because you could
+not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I
+have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you
+find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which, in fact,
+are not your own.”
+
+Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to
+Colonel Fitzwilliam, “Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of
+me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky
+in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a
+part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree
+of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention
+all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire--and, give me
+leave to say, very impolitic too--for it is provoking me to retaliate,
+and such things may come out as will shock your relations to hear.”
+
+“I am not afraid of you,” said he, smilingly.
+
+“Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,” cried Colonel
+Fitzwilliam. “I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.”
+
+“You shall hear, then--but prepare for something very dreadful. The
+first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at
+a ball--and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four
+dances! I am sorry to pain you, but so it was. He danced only four
+dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more
+than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy,
+you cannot deny the fact.”
+
+“I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly
+beyond my own party.”
+
+“True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel
+Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.”
+
+“Perhaps,” said Darcy, “I should have judged better had I sought an
+introduction, but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”
+
+“Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, still
+addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and
+education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend
+himself to strangers?”
+
+“I can answer your question,” said Fitzwilliam, “without applying to
+him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”
+
+“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy,
+“of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot
+catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their
+concerns, as I often see done.”
+
+“My fingers,” said Elizabeth, “do not move over this instrument in the
+masterly manner which I see so many women’s do. They have not the same
+force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I
+have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I would not take
+the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe _my_ fingers
+as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.”
+
+Darcy smiled and said, “You are perfectly right. You have employed your
+time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can
+think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers.”
+
+Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know
+what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again.
+Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said
+to Darcy,--
+
+“Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if she practised more, and
+could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion
+of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne’s. Anne would have
+been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn.”
+
+Elizabeth looked at Darcy, to see how cordially he assented to his
+cousin’s praise: but neither at that moment nor at any other could she
+discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss
+De Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have
+been just as likely to marry _her_, had she been his relation.
+
+Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth’s performance, mixing
+with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received
+them with all the forbearance of civility; and at the request of the
+gentlemen remained at the instrument till her Ladyship’s carriage was
+ready to take them all home.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane,
+while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village,
+when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a
+visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be
+Lady Catherine; and under that apprehension was putting away her
+half-finished letter, that she might escape all impertinent questions,
+when the door opened, and to her very great surprise Mr. Darcy, and Mr.
+Darcy only, entered the room.
+
+He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologized for his
+intrusion, by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to
+be within.
+
+They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Rosings were made,
+seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely
+necessary, therefore, to think of something; and in this emergency
+recollecting _when_ she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling
+curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty
+departure, she observed,--
+
+“How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy!
+It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you
+all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day
+before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?”
+
+“Perfectly so, I thank you.”
+
+She found that she was to receive no other answer; and, after a short
+pause, added,--
+
+“I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever
+returning to Netherfield again?”
+
+“I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend
+very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is
+at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually
+increasing.”
+
+“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the
+neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we
+might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did
+not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as
+for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same
+principle.”
+
+“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he were to give it up as
+soon as any eligible purchase offers.”
+
+Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his
+friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the
+trouble of finding a subject to him.
+
+He took the hint and soon began with, “This seems a very comfortable
+house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr.
+Collins first came to Hunsford.”
+
+“I believe she did--and I am sure she could not have bestowed her
+kindness on a more grateful object.”
+
+“Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”
+
+“Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of
+the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made
+him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding--though
+I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest
+thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however; and, in a
+prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.”
+
+“It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a
+distance of her own family and friends.”
+
+“An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.”
+
+“And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s
+journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”
+
+“I should never have considered the distance as one of the _advantages_
+of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins
+was settled _near_ her family.”
+
+“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond
+the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”
+
+As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth fancied she
+understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and
+Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered,--
+
+“I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her
+family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many
+varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expense of
+travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the
+case _here_. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not
+such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my
+friend would not call herself _near_ her family under less than _half_
+the present distance.”
+
+Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “_You_ cannot
+have a right to such very strong local attachment. _You_ cannot have
+been always at Longbourn.”
+
+Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of
+feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and,
+glancing over it, said, in a colder voice,--
+
+“Are you pleased with Kent?”
+
+A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side
+calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte
+and her sister, just returned from their walk. The _tête-à-tête_
+surprised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his
+intruding on Miss Bennet, and, after sitting a few minutes longer,
+without saying much to anybody, went away.
+
+[Illustration: “Accompanied by their aunt”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was
+gone. “My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never
+have called on us in this familiar way.”
+
+But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely,
+even to Charlotte’s wishes, to be the case; and, after various
+conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from
+the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable
+from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there
+was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be
+always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the
+pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the
+two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither
+almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes
+separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their
+aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he
+had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended
+him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in
+being with him, as well as by his evident admiration, of her former
+favourite, George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw there
+was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners, she
+believed he might have the best informed mind.
+
+But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage it was more difficult
+to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there
+ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it
+seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice--a sacrifice to
+propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really
+animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel
+Fitzwilliam’s occasionally laughing at his stupidity proved that he was
+generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told
+her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of
+love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself
+seriously to work to find it out: she watched him whenever they were at
+Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He
+certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that
+look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often
+doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it
+seemed nothing but absence of mind.
+
+She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his
+being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs.
+Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of
+raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her
+opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend’s dislike would
+vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.
+
+In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying
+Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was, beyond comparison, the pleasantest man: he
+certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but,
+to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage
+in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: “On looking up”]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park,
+unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the
+mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought; and, to
+prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him, at first,
+that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time,
+therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even the third. It seemed like
+wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance; for on these occasions it was
+not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away,
+but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He
+never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking
+or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third
+encounter that he was asking some odd unconnected questions--about her
+pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her
+opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins’s happiness; and that in speaking of
+Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to
+expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying
+_there_ too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel
+Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must
+mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed her
+a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the
+pales opposite the Parsonage.
+
+She was engaged one day, as she walked, in re-perusing Jane’s last
+letter, and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not
+written in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy,
+she saw, on looking up, that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her.
+Putting away the letter immediately, and forcing a smile, she said,--
+
+“I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”
+
+“I have been making the tour of the park,” he replied, “as I generally
+do every year, and intended to close it with a call at the Parsonage.
+Are you going much farther?”
+
+“No, I should have turned in a moment.”
+
+And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage
+together.
+
+“Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?” said she.
+
+“Yes--if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He
+arranges the business just as he pleases.”
+
+“And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least
+great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems
+more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy.”
+
+“He likes to have his own way very well,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam.
+“But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than
+many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak
+feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and
+dependence.”
+
+“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of
+either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and
+dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going
+wherever you chose or procuring anything you had a fancy for?”
+
+“These are home questions--and perhaps I cannot say that I have
+experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater
+weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry
+where they like.”
+
+“Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often
+do.”
+
+“Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in
+my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to
+money.”
+
+“Is this,” thought Elizabeth, “meant for me?” and she coloured at the
+idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, “And pray, what is
+the usual price of an earl’s younger son? Unless the elder brother is
+very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.”
+
+He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt
+a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed,
+she soon afterwards said,--
+
+“I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of
+having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a
+lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well
+for the present; and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he
+likes with her.”
+
+“No,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “that is an advantage which he must
+divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy.”
+
+“Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of a guardian do you make? Does
+your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes
+a little difficult to manage; and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she
+may like to have her own way.”
+
+As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the manner
+in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to
+give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other
+got pretty near the truth. She directly replied,--
+
+“You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare
+say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a
+very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and
+Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them.”
+
+“I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant, gentlemanlike
+man--he is a great friend of Darcy’s.”
+
+“Oh yes,” said Elizabeth drily--“Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr.
+Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him.”
+
+“Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcy _does_ take care of him in
+those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me
+in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted
+to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose
+that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”
+
+“What is it you mean?”
+
+“It is a circumstance which Darcy of course could not wish to be
+generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady’s family it
+would be an unpleasant thing.”
+
+“You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”
+
+“And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be
+Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself
+on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most
+imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other
+particulars; and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him
+the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from
+knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.”
+
+“Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?”
+
+“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the
+lady.”
+
+“And what arts did he use to separate them?”
+
+“He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He
+only told me what I have now told you.”
+
+Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with
+indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she
+was so thoughtful.
+
+“I am thinking of what you have been telling me,” said she. “Your
+cousin’s conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the
+judge?”
+
+“You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?”
+
+“I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his
+friend’s inclination; or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to
+determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy. But,”
+she continued, recollecting herself, “as we know none of the
+particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed
+that there was much affection in the case.”
+
+“That is not an unnatural surmise,” said Fitzwilliam; “but it is
+lessening the honour of my cousin’s triumph very sadly.”
+
+This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to her so just a picture of
+Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer; and,
+therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent
+matters till they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room,
+as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption
+of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other
+people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There
+could not exist in the world _two_ men over whom Mr. Darcy could have
+such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures
+taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, she had never doubted; but she
+had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and
+arrangement of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him,
+_he_ was the cause--his pride and caprice were the cause--of all that
+Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a
+while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart
+in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have
+inflicted.
+
+“There were some very strong objections against the lady,” were Colonel
+Fitzwilliam’s words; and these strong objections probably were, her
+having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in
+business in London.
+
+“To Jane herself,” she exclaimed, “there could be no possibility of
+objection,--all loveliness and goodness as she is! Her understanding
+excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could
+anything be urged against my father, who, though with some
+peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain,
+and respectability which he will probably never reach.” When she thought
+of her mother, indeed, her confidence gave way a little; but she would
+not allow that any objections _there_ had material weight with Mr.
+Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from
+the want of importance in his friend’s connections than from their want
+of sense; and she was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly
+governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of
+retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister.
+
+The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned brought on a
+headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that, added to
+her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her
+cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins,
+seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go, and as much
+as possible prevented her husband from pressing her; but Mr. Collins
+could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine’s being rather
+displeased by her staying at home.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as
+much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the
+examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her
+being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any
+revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering.
+But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that
+cheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which,
+proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindly
+disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth
+noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an
+attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy’s
+shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict gave her a
+keener sense of her sister’s sufferings. It was some consolation to
+think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next,
+and a still greater that in less than a fortnight she should herself be
+with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her
+spirits, by all that affection could do.
+
+She could not think of Darcy’s leaving Kent without remembering that his
+cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear
+that he had no intentions at all, and, agreeable as he was, she did not
+mean to be unhappy about him.
+
+While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the
+door-bell; and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its
+being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in
+the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her. But
+this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently
+affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the
+room. In a hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her
+health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better.
+She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and
+then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but
+said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her
+in an agitated manner, and thus began:--
+
+“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be
+repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love
+you.”
+
+Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured,
+doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement,
+and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her immediately
+followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the
+heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of
+tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority, of its being a
+degradation, of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed
+to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the
+consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his
+suit.
+
+In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to
+the compliment of such a man’s affection, and though her intentions did
+not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to
+receive; till roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lost
+all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to
+answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with
+representing to her the strength of that attachment which in spite of
+all his endeavours he had found impossible to conquer; and with
+expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of
+his hand. As he said this she could easily see that he had no doubt of a
+favourable answer. He _spoke_ of apprehension and anxiety, but his
+countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only
+exasperate farther; and when he ceased the colour rose into her cheeks
+and she said,--
+
+“In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to
+express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however
+unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be
+felt, and if I could _feel_ gratitude, I would now thank you. But I
+cannot--I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly
+bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to
+anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be
+of short duration. The feelings which you tell me have long prevented
+the acknowledgment of your regard can have little difficulty in
+overcoming it after this explanation.”
+
+Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantel-piece with his eyes fixed
+on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than
+surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of
+his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the
+appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed
+himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth’s feelings
+dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said,--
+
+“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I
+might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little _endeavour_ at
+civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”
+
+“I might as well inquire,” replied she, “why, with so evident a design
+of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me
+against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?
+Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I _was_ uncivil? But I have
+other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided
+against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been
+favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept
+the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the
+happiness of a most beloved sister?”
+
+As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion
+was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she
+continued,--
+
+“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can
+excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted _there_. You dare not,
+you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means
+of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the
+world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for
+disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest
+kind.”
+
+She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening
+with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse.
+He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.
+
+“Can you deny that you have done it?” she repeated.
+
+With assumed tranquillity he then replied, “I have no wish of denying
+that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your
+sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards _him_ I have been
+kinder than towards myself.”
+
+Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection,
+but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.
+
+“But it is not merely this affair,” she continued, “on which my dislike
+is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was
+decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received
+many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to
+say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself?
+or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon others?”
+
+“You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns,” said Darcy,
+in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.
+
+“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an
+interest in him?”
+
+“His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy, contemptuously,--“yes, his
+misfortunes have been great indeed.”
+
+“And of your infliction,” cried Elizabeth, with energy; “You have
+reduced him to his present state of poverty--comparative poverty. You
+have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed
+for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that
+independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done
+all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with
+contempt and ridicule.”
+
+“And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room,
+“is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I
+thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this
+calculation, are heavy indeed! But, perhaps,” added he, stopping in his
+walk, and turning towards her, “these offences might have been
+overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the
+scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These
+bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater
+policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my
+being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by
+reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.
+Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just.
+Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your
+connections?--to congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose
+condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”
+
+Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to
+the utmost to speak with composure when she said,--
+
+“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your
+declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the
+concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a
+more gentlemanlike manner.”
+
+She saw him start at this; but he said nothing, and she continued,--
+
+“You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way
+that would have tempted me to accept it.”
+
+Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an
+expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on,--
+
+“From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my
+acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest
+belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the
+feelings of others, were such as to form that groundwork of
+disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immovable a
+dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the
+last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
+
+“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your
+feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been.
+Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best
+wishes for your health and happiness.”
+
+And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him
+the next moment open the front door and quit the house. The tumult of
+her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself,
+and, from actual weakness, sat down and cried for half an hour. Her
+astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by
+every review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from
+Mr. Darcy! that he should have been in love with her for so many months!
+so much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections
+which had made him prevent his friend’s marrying her sister, and which
+must appear at least with equal force in his own case, was almost
+incredible! it was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong
+an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride, his shameless avowal
+of what he had done with respect to Jane, his unpardonable assurance in
+acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner
+which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not
+attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his
+attachment had for a moment excited.
+
+She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady
+Catherine’s carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter
+Charlotte’s observation, and hurried her away to her room.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“Hearing herself called”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations
+which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the
+surprise of what had happened: it was impossible to think of anything
+else; and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after
+breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding
+directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy’s
+sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park,
+she turned up the lane which led her farther from the turnpike road. The
+park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one
+of the gates into the ground.
+
+After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was
+tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and
+look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had
+made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the
+verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her
+walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove
+which edged the park: he was moving that way; and fearful of its being
+Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was
+now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness,
+pronounced her name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called,
+though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again
+towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also; and, holding out
+a letter, which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty
+composure, “I have been walking in the grove some time, in the hope of
+meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?” and
+then, with a slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon
+out of sight.
+
+With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity,
+Elizabeth opened the letter, and to her still increasing wonder,
+perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written
+quite through, in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise
+full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated
+from Rosings, at eight o’clock in the morning, and was as follows:--
+
+“Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of
+its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those
+offers, which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any
+intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes,
+which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the
+effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion,
+should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written
+and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand
+your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I
+demand it of your justice.
+
+“Two offences of a very different nature, and by no means of equal
+magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was,
+that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley
+from your sister,--and the other, that I had, in defiance of various
+claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate
+prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. Wilfully and
+wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged
+favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other
+dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect
+its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young
+persons whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could
+bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last
+night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope
+to be in future secured, when the following account of my actions and
+their motives has been read. If, in the explanation of them which is due
+to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be
+offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must
+be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd. I had not been long in
+Hertfordshire before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley
+preferred your elder sister to any other young woman in the country. But
+it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any
+apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. I had often seen him
+in love before. At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with
+you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas’s accidental
+information, that Bingley’s attentions to your sister had given rise to
+a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain
+event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I
+observed my friend’s behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive
+that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed
+in him. Your sister I also watched. Her look and manners were open,
+cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar
+regard; and I remained convinced, from the evening’s scrutiny, that
+though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite
+them by any participation of sentiment. If _you_ have not been mistaken
+here, _I_ must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your
+sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled
+by such error to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been
+unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert, that the serenity of
+your sister’s countenance and air was such as might have given the most
+acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart
+was not likely to be easily touched. That I was desirous of believing
+her indifferent is certain; but I will venture to say that my
+investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or
+fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it; I
+believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason.
+My objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night
+acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside
+in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to
+my friend as to me. But there were other causes of repugnance; causes
+which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both
+instances, I had myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not
+immediately before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The
+situation of your mother’s family, though objectionable, was nothing in
+comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost
+uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and
+occasionally even by your father:--pardon me,--it pains me to offend
+you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations,
+and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you
+consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid
+any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on
+you and your eldest sister than it is honourable to the sense and
+disposition of both. I will only say, farther, that from what passed
+that evening my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every
+inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my
+friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left
+Netherfield for London on the day following, as you, I am certain,
+remember, with the design of soon returning. The part which I acted is
+now to be explained. His sisters’ uneasiness had been equally excited
+with my own: our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered; and, alike
+sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we
+shortly resolved on joining him directly in London. We accordingly
+went--and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my
+friend the certain evils of such a choice. I described and enforced them
+earnestly. But however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed
+his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have
+prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by the assurance, which
+I hesitated not in giving, of your sister’s indifference. He had before
+believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal,
+regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger
+dependence on my judgment than on his own. To convince him, therefore,
+that he had deceived himself was no very difficult point. To persuade
+him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been
+given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for
+having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct, in the whole
+affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I
+condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him
+your sister’s being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss
+Bingley; but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might
+have met without ill consequence is, perhaps, probable; but his regard
+did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some
+danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. It is
+done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have
+nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your
+sister’s feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which
+governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not
+yet learnt to condemn them.--With respect to that other, more weighty
+accusation, of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by
+laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he
+has _particularly_ accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I
+shall relate I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.
+Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years
+the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct in
+the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service
+to him; and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was
+therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and
+afterwards at Cambridge; most important assistance, as his own father,
+always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to
+give him a gentleman’s education. My father was not only fond of this
+young man’s society, whose manners were always engaging, he had also the
+highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be his profession,
+intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years
+since I first began to think of him in a very different manner. The
+vicious propensities, the want of principle, which he was careful to
+guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the
+observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who
+had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy
+could not have. Here again I shall give you pain--to what degree you
+only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has
+created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding
+his real character. It adds even another motive. My excellent father
+died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the
+last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommended it to me to
+promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might
+allow, and if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living
+might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of
+one thousand pounds. His own father did not long survive mine; and
+within half a year from these events Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me
+that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should
+not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate
+pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he could not be
+benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, and I
+must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very
+insufficient support therein. I rather wished than believed him to be
+sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to his
+proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The
+business was therefore soon settled. He resigned all claim to assistance
+in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to
+receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection
+between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him
+to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town, I believe, he
+chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence; and being
+now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and
+dissipation. For about three years I heard little of him; but on the
+decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him,
+he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His
+circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it,
+were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study,
+and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present
+him to the living in question--of which he trusted there could be little
+doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other person to provide for,
+and I could not have forgotten my revered father’s intentions. You will
+hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for
+resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in proportion to
+the distress of his circumstances--and he was doubtless as violent in
+his abuse of me to others as in his reproaches to myself. After this
+period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived, I
+know not. But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my
+notice. I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget
+myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me
+to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of
+your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left
+to the guardianship of my mother’s nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and
+myself. About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an
+establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with
+the lady who presided over it to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr.
+Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior
+acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were
+most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid he so far
+recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a
+strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was
+persuaded to believe herself in love and to consent to an elopement. She
+was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her
+imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to
+herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended
+elopement; and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving
+and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father,
+acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I
+acted. Regard for my sister’s credit and feelings prevented any public
+exposure; but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately,
+and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham’s
+chief object was unquestionably my sister’s fortune, which is thirty
+thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging
+himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been
+complete indeed. This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in
+which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely
+reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty
+towards Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of
+falsehood, he has imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be
+wondered at, ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning
+either. Detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly
+not in your inclination. You may possibly wonder why all this was not
+told you last night. But I was not then master enough of myself to know
+what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here
+related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel
+Fitzwilliam, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and
+still more as one of the executors of my father’s will, has been
+unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If
+your abhorrence of _me_ should make _my_ assertions valueless, you
+cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and
+that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour
+to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the
+course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.
+
+“FITZWILLIAM DARCY.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to
+contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of
+its contents. But such as they were, it may be well supposed how eagerly
+she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited.
+Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did
+she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power;
+and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanation to
+give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong
+prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of
+what had happened at Netherfield. She read with an eagerness which
+hardly left her power of comprehension; and from impatience of knowing
+what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the
+sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister’s
+insensibility she instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the
+real, the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to have any
+wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done
+which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all
+pride and insolence.
+
+But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham--when
+she read, with somewhat clearer attention, a relation of events which,
+if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which
+bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself--her feelings
+were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition.
+Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished
+to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, “This must be false!
+This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!”--and when she had
+gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the
+last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not
+regard it, that she would never look in it again.
+
+In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on
+nothing, she walked on; but it would not do: in half a minute the letter
+was unfolded again; and collecting herself as well as she could, she
+again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and
+commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence.
+The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly
+what he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy,
+though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his
+own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to
+the will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living
+was fresh in her memory; and as she recalled his very words, it was
+impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the
+other, and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did
+not err. But when she read and re-read, with the closest attention, the
+particulars immediately following of Wickham’s resigning all pretensions
+to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three
+thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down the
+letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be
+impartiality--deliberated on the probability of each statement--but with
+little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read on.
+But every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had
+believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to
+render Mr. Darcy’s conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a
+turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.
+
+The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay to
+Mr. Wickham’s charge exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could
+bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his
+entrance into the ----shire militia, in which he had engaged at the
+persuasion of the young man, who, on meeting him accidentally in town,
+had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life,
+nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Meeting accidentally in Town”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+himself. As to his real character, had information been in her power,
+she had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and
+manner, had established him at once in the possession of every virtue.
+She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished
+trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the
+attacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone
+for those casual errors, under which she would endeavour to class what
+Mr. Darcy had described as the idleness and vice of many years’
+continuance. But no such recollection befriended her. She could see him
+instantly before her, in every charm of air and address, but she could
+remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the
+neighbourhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in
+the mess. After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once
+more continued to read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his
+designs on Miss Darcy, received some confirmation from what had passed
+between Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at
+last she was referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel
+Fitzwilliam himself--from whom she had previously received the
+information of his near concern in all his cousin’s affairs and whose
+character she had no reason to question. At one time she had almost
+resolved on applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness
+of the application, and at length wholly banished by the conviction that
+Mr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been
+well assured of his cousin’s corroboration.
+
+She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation
+between Wickham and herself in their first evening at Mr. Philips’s.
+Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was _now_
+struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and
+wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting
+himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions
+with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear
+of seeing Mr. Darcy--that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that
+_he_ should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball
+the very next week. She remembered, also, that till the Netherfield
+family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but
+herself; but that after their removal, it had been everywhere discussed;
+that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy’s
+character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would
+always prevent his exposing the son.
+
+How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! His
+attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and
+hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer
+the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything.
+His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive: he had
+either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying
+his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most
+incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter
+and fainter; and in further justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not
+but allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago
+asserted his blamelessness in the affair;--that, proud and repulsive as
+were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their
+acquaintance--an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much
+together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways--seen anything
+that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust--anything that spoke him
+of irreligious or immoral habits;--that among his own connections he was
+esteemed and valued;--that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a
+brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his
+sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling;--that had his
+actions been what Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of
+everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and
+that friendship between a person capable of it and such an amiable man
+as Mr. Bingley was incomprehensible.
+
+She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham
+could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial,
+prejudiced, absurd.
+
+“How despicably have I acted!” she cried. “I, who have prided myself on
+my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have
+often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my
+vanity in useless or blameless distrust. How humiliating is this
+discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not
+have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my
+folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect
+of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted
+prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away where either were
+concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself.”
+
+From herself to Jane, from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line
+which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy’s explanation
+_there_ had appeared very insufficient; and she read it again. Widely
+different was the effect of a second perusal. How could she deny that
+credit to his assertions, in one instance, which she had been obliged to
+give in the other? He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious
+of her sister’s attachment; and she could not help remembering what
+Charlotte’s opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice
+of his description of Jane. She felt that Jane’s feelings, though
+fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant
+complacency in her air and manner, not often united with great
+sensibility.
+
+When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were
+mentioned, in tones of such mortifying, yet merited, reproach, her sense
+of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly
+for denial; and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as
+having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first
+disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind
+than on hers.
+
+The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but
+it could not console her for the contempt which had been thus
+self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered that
+Jane’s disappointment had, in fact, been the work of her nearest
+relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt
+by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she
+had ever known before.
+
+After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every
+variety of thought, reconsidering events, determining probabilities, and
+reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so
+important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made her at
+length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of appearing
+cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as
+must make her unfit for conversation.
+
+She was immediately told, that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each
+called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a few minutes, to take
+leave, but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at least
+an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her
+till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just _affect_ concern in
+missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no
+longer an object. She could think only of her letter.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“His parting obeisance”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning; and Mr. Collins having
+been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was
+able to bring home the pleasing intelligence of their appearing in very
+good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the
+melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then
+hastened to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return
+brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her Ladyship,
+importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of
+having them all to dine with her.
+
+Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that, had
+she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as her
+future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her
+Ladyship’s indignation would have been. “What would she have said? how
+would she have behaved?” were the questions with which she amused
+herself.
+
+Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings’ party. “I assure
+you, I feel it exceedingly,” said Lady Catherine; “I believe nobody
+feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly
+attached to these young men; and know them to be so much attached to me!
+They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear
+Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy
+seemed to feel it most acutely--more, I think, than last year. His
+attachment to Rosings certainly increases.”
+
+Mr. Collins had a compliment and an allusion to throw in here, which
+were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter.
+
+Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed out of
+spirits; and immediately accounting for it herself, by supposing that
+she did not like to go home again so soon, she added,--
+
+“But if that is the case, you must write to your mother to beg that you
+may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your
+company, I am sure.”
+
+“I am much obliged to your Ladyship for your kind invitation,” replied
+Elizabeth; “but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town
+next Saturday.”
+
+“Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected
+you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There
+can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly
+spare you for another fortnight.”
+
+“But my father cannot. He wrote last week to hurry my return.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“Dawson”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+“Oh, your father, of course, may spare you, if your mother can.
+Daughters are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will
+stay another _month_ complete, it will be in my power to take one of you
+as far as London, for I am going there early in June, for a week; and
+as Dawson does not object to the barouche-box, there will be very good
+room for one of you--and, indeed, if the weather should happen to be
+cool, I should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you
+large.”
+
+“You are all kindness, madam; but I believe we must abide by our
+original plan.”
+
+Lady Catherine seemed resigned. “Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant
+with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea
+of two young women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper.
+You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the
+world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly
+guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my
+niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her
+having two men-servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr.
+Darcy of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with
+propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those
+things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I am
+glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be
+discreditable to _you_ to let them go alone.”
+
+“My uncle is to send a servant for us.”
+
+“Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you
+have somebody who thinks of those things. Where shall you change horses?
+Oh, Bromley, of course. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be
+attended to.”
+
+Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey;
+and as she did not answer them all herself attention was
+necessary--which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her; or, with a
+mind so occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection
+must be reserved for solitary hours: whenever she was alone, she gave
+way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a
+solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of
+unpleasant recollections.
+
+Mr. Darcy’s letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She
+studied every sentence; and her feelings towards its writer were at
+times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address,
+she was still full of indignation: but when she considered how unjustly
+she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against
+herself; and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion.
+His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect: but she
+could not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, or
+feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. In her own past
+behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret: and in
+the unhappy defects of her family, a subject of yet heavier chagrin.
+They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at
+them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his
+youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right
+herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently
+united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine
+and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother’s indulgence,
+what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited,
+irritable, and completely under Lydia’s guidance, had been always
+affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would
+scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While
+there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while
+Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there for
+ever.
+
+Anxiety on Jane’s behalf was another prevailing concern; and Mr. Darcy’s
+explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion,
+heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was proved to
+have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any
+could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How
+grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every
+respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane had
+been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own family!
+
+When to these recollections was added the development of Wickham’s
+character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which had
+seldom been depressed before were now so much affected as to make it
+almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful.
+
+Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of
+her stay as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent
+there; and her Ladyship again inquired minutely into the particulars of
+their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing,
+and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right
+way, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the
+work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.
+
+When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them
+a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year;
+and Miss de Bourgh exerted herself so far as to courtesy and hold out
+her hand to both.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“The elevation of his feelings.”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast a few
+minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of
+paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary.
+
+“I know not, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, “whether Mrs. Collins has yet
+expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us; but I am very
+certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for
+it. The favour of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We know
+how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble abode. Our plain
+manner of living, our small rooms, and few domestics, and the little we
+see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like
+yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension,
+and that we have done everything in our power to prevent you spending
+your time unpleasantly.”
+
+Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She had
+spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with
+Charlotte, and the kind attention she had received, must make _her_ feel
+the obliged. Mr. Collins was gratified; and with a more smiling
+solemnity replied,--
+
+“It gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that you have passed your
+time not disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most
+fortunately having it in our power to introduce you to very superior
+society, and from our connection with Rosings, the frequent means of
+varying the humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that
+your Hunsford visit cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation
+with regard to Lady Catherine’s family is, indeed, the sort of
+extraordinary advantage and blessing which few can boast. You see on
+what a footing we are. You see how continually we are engaged there. In
+truth, I must acknowledge, that, with all the disadvantages of this
+humble parsonage, I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of
+compassion, while they are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings.”
+
+Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was
+obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility
+and truth in a few short sentences.
+
+“You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into
+Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself, at least, that you will
+be able to do so. Lady Catherine’s great attentions to Mrs. Collins you
+have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear
+that your friend has drawn an unfortunate--but on this point it will be
+as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth,
+that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in
+marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of
+thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of
+character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each
+other.”
+
+Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was
+the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believed
+and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to
+have the recital of them interrupted by the entrance of the lady from
+whom they sprang. Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to leave her to such
+society! But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently
+regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for
+compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry,
+and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.
+
+At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcels
+placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate
+parting between the friends, Elizabeth was attended to the carriage by
+Mr. Collins; and as they walked down the garden, he was commissioning
+her with his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks
+for the kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his
+compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then handed
+her in, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of being closed,
+when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had
+hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies of Rosings.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“They had forgotten to leave any message”
+]
+
+“But,” he added, “you will of course wish to have your humble respects
+delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you
+while you have been here.”
+
+Elizabeth made no objection: the door was then allowed to be shut, and
+the carriage drove off.
+
+“Good gracious!” cried Maria, after a few minutes’ silence, “it seems
+but a day or two since we first came! and yet how many things have
+happened!”
+
+“A great many indeed,” said her companion, with a sigh.
+
+“We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice!
+How much I shall have to tell!”
+
+Elizabeth privately added, “And how much I shall have to conceal!”
+
+Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; and
+within four hours of their leaving Hunsford they reached Mr. Gardiner’s
+house, where they were to remain a few days.
+
+Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her
+spirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of her aunt
+had reserved for them. But Jane was to go home with her, and at
+Longbourn there would be leisure enough for observation.
+
+It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait even for
+Longbourn, before she told her sister of Mr. Darcy’s proposals. To know
+that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish
+Jane, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her own
+vanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptation
+to openness as nothing could have conquered, but the state of indecision
+in which she remained as to the extent of what she should communicate,
+and her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried into
+repeating something of Bingley, which might only grieve her sister
+further.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “How nicely we are crammed in”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+It was the second week in May, in which the three young ladies set out
+together from Gracechurch Street for the town of ----, in Hertfordshire;
+and, as they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet’s carriage was
+to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman’s
+punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a dining-room upstairs.
+These two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employed
+in visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard, and
+dressing a salad and cucumber.
+
+After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table set
+out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming,
+“Is not this nice? is not this an agreeable surprise?”
+
+“And we mean to treat you all,” added Lydia; “but you must lend us the
+money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there.” Then showing
+her purchases,--“Look here, I have bought this bonnet. I do not think it
+is very pretty; but I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall
+pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see if I can make it up any
+better.”
+
+And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect
+unconcern, “Oh, but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and
+when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I
+think it will be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify what
+one wears this summer, after the ----shire have left Meryton, and they
+are going in a fortnight.”
+
+“Are they, indeed?” cried Elizabeth, with the greatest satisfaction.
+
+“They are going to be encamped near Brighton; and I do so want papa to
+take us all there for the summer! It would be such a delicious scheme,
+and I dare say would hardly cost anything at all. Mamma would like to
+go, too, of all things! Only think what a miserable summer else we shall
+have!”
+
+“Yes,” thought Elizabeth; “_that_ would be a delightful scheme, indeed,
+and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton and a whole
+campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poor
+regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton!”
+
+“Now I have got some news for you,” said Lydia, as they sat down to
+table. “What do you think? It is excellent news, capital news, and about
+a certain person that we all like.”
+
+Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the waiter was told that he
+need not stay. Lydia laughed, and said,--
+
+“Ay, that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought the
+waiter must not hear, as if he cared! I dare say he often hears worse
+things said than I am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad
+he is gone. I never saw such a long chin in my life. Well, but now for
+my news: it is about dear Wickham; too good for the waiter, is not it?
+There is no danger of Wickham’s marrying Mary King--there’s for you! She
+is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool; gone to stay. Wickham is safe.”
+
+“And Mary King is safe!” added Elizabeth; “safe from a connection
+imprudent as to fortune.”
+
+“She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him.”
+
+“But I hope there is no strong attachment on either side,” said Jane.
+
+“I am sure there is not on _his_. I will answer for it, he never cared
+three straws about her. Who _could_ about such a nasty little freckled
+thing?”
+
+Elizabeth was shocked to think that, however incapable of such
+coarseness of _expression_ herself, the coarseness of the _sentiment_
+was little other than her own breast had formerly harboured and fancied
+liberal!
+
+As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage was
+ordered; and, after some contrivance, the whole party, with all their
+boxes, workbags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Kitty’s and
+Lydia’s purchases, were seated in it.
+
+“How nicely we are crammed in!” cried Lydia. “I am glad I brought my
+bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another band-box! Well, now
+let us be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh all the way
+home. And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you all
+since you went away. Have you seen any pleasant men? Have you had any
+flirting? I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husband
+before you came back. Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare.
+She is almost three-and-twenty! Lord! how ashamed I should be of not
+being married before three-and-twenty! My aunt Philips wants you so to
+get husbands you can’t think. She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr.
+Collins; but _I_ do not think there would have been any fun in it. Lord!
+how I should like to be married before any of you! and then I would
+_chaperon_ you about to all the balls. Dear me! we had such a good piece
+of fun the other day at Colonel Forster’s! Kitty and me were to spend
+the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the
+evening; (by-the-bye, Mrs. Forster and me are _such_ friends!) and so
+she asked the two Harringtons to come: but Harriet was ill, and so Pen
+was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We
+dressed up Chamberlayne in woman’s clothes, on purpose to pass for a
+lady,--only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs.
+Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow
+one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny,
+and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they
+did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs.
+Forster. I thought I should have died. And _that_ made the men suspect
+something, and then they soon found out what was the matter.”
+
+With such kind of histories of their parties and good jokes did Lydia,
+assisted by Kitty’s hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her
+companions all the way to Longbourn. Elizabeth listened as little as she
+could, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of Wickham’s name.
+
+Their reception at home was most kind. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane
+in undiminished beauty; and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet
+say voluntarily to Elizabeth,----
+
+“I am glad you are come back, Lizzy.”
+
+Their party in the dining-room was large, for almost all the Lucases
+came to meet Maria and hear the news; and various were the subjects
+which occupied them: Lady Lucas was inquiring of Maria, across the
+table, after the welfare and poultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet
+was doubly engaged, on one hand collecting an account of the present
+fashions from Jane, who sat some way below her, and on the other,
+retailing them all to the younger Miss Lucases; and Lydia, in a voice
+rather louder than any other person’s, was enumerating the various
+pleasures of the morning to anybody who would hear her.
+
+“Oh, Mary,” said she, “I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun!
+as we went along Kitty and me drew up all the blinds, and pretended
+there was nobody in the coach; and I should have gone so all the way, if
+Kitty had not been sick; and when we got to the George, I do think we
+behaved very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest
+cold luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have
+treated you too. And then when we came away it was such fun! I thought
+we never should have got into the coach. I was ready to die of laughter.
+And then we were so merry all the way home! we talked and laughed so
+loud, that anybody might have heard us ten miles off!”
+
+To this, Mary very gravely replied, “Far be it from me, my dear sister,
+to depreciate such pleasures. They would doubtless be congenial with the
+generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for
+_me_. I should infinitely prefer a book.”
+
+But of this answer Lydia heard not a word. She seldom listened to
+anybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all.
+
+In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk to
+Meryton, and see how everybody went on; but Elizabeth steadily opposed
+the scheme. It should not be said, that the Miss Bennets could not be at
+home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers. There was
+another reason, too, for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Wickham
+again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. The comfort to
+_her_, of the regiment’s approaching removal, was indeed beyond
+expression. In a fortnight they were to go, and once gone, she hoped
+there could be nothing more to plague her on his account.
+
+She had not been many hours at home, before she found that the Brighton
+scheme, of which Lydia had given them a hint at the inn, was under
+frequent discussion between her parents. Elizabeth saw directly that her
+father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers were
+at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often
+disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth’s impatience to acquaint Jane with what had happened could no
+longer be overcome; and at length resolving to suppress every particular
+in which her sister was concerned, and preparing her to be surprised,
+she related to her the next morning the chief of the scene between Mr.
+Darcy and herself.
+
+Miss Bennet’s astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly
+partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly
+natural; and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She was
+sorry that Mr. Darcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so
+little suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for the
+unhappiness which her sister’s refusal must have given him.
+
+“His being so sure of succeeding was wrong,” said she, “and certainly
+ought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase his
+disappointment.”
+
+“Indeed,” replied Elizabeth, “I am heartily sorry for him; but he has
+other feelings which will probably soon drive away his regard for me.
+You do not blame me, however, for refusing him?”
+
+“Blame you! Oh, no.”
+
+“But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham?”
+
+“No--I do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did.”
+
+“But you _will_ know it, when I have told you what happened the very
+next day.”
+
+She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as far
+as they concerned George Wickham. What a stroke was this for poor Jane,
+who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that
+so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind as was here
+collected in one individual! Nor was Darcy’s vindication, though
+grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery.
+Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, and
+seek to clear one, without involving the other.
+
+“This will not do,” said Elizabeth; “you never will be able to make both
+of them good for anything. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied
+with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just
+enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting
+about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all Mr.
+Darcy’s, but you shall do as you choose.”
+
+It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Jane.
+
+“I do not know when I have been more shocked,” said she. “Wickham so
+very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy! dear Lizzy,
+only consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and
+with the knowledge of your ill opinion too! and having to relate such a
+thing of his sister! It is really too distressing, I am sure you must
+feel it so.”
+
+“Oh no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so full
+of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am growing
+every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion makes me
+saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will be as
+light as a feather.”
+
+“Poor Wickham! there is such an expression of goodness in his
+countenance! such an openness and gentleness in his manner.”
+
+“There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those
+two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the
+appearance of it.”
+
+“I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the _appearance_ of it as you
+used to do.”
+
+“And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike
+to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one’s genius, such an
+opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually
+abusive without saying anything just; but one cannot be always laughing
+at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty.”
+
+“Lizzy, when you first read that letter, I am sure you could not treat
+the matter as you do now.”
+
+“Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortable enough, I was very
+uncomfortable--I may say unhappy. And with no one to speak to of what I
+felt, no Jane to comfort me, and say that I had not been so very weak,
+and vain, and nonsensical, as I knew I had! Oh, how I wanted you!”
+
+“How unfortunate that you should have used such very strong expressions
+in speaking of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they _do_ appear wholly
+undeserved.”
+
+“Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is a most
+natural consequence of the prejudices I had been encouraging. There is
+one point on which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I
+ought, or ought not, to make our acquaintance in general understand
+Wickham’s character.”
+
+Miss Bennet paused a little, and then replied, “Surely there can be no
+occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your own opinion?”
+
+“That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorized me to
+make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular
+relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to
+myself; and if I endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of his
+conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy is
+so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people in
+Meryton, to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal to
+it. Wickham will soon be gone; and, therefore, it will not signify to
+anybody here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found
+out, and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before.
+At present I will say nothing about it.”
+
+“You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him for
+ever. He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to
+re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate.”
+
+The tumult of Elizabeth’s mind was allayed by this conversation. She
+had got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for a
+fortnight, and was certain of a willing listener in Jane, whenever she
+might wish to talk again of either. But there was still something
+lurking behind, of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not
+relate the other half of Mr. Darcy’s letter, nor explain to her sister
+how sincerely she had been valued by his friend. Here was knowledge in
+which no one could partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than
+a perfect understanding between the parties could justify her in
+throwing off this last encumbrance of mystery. “And then,” said she, “if
+that very improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be
+able to tell what Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner
+himself. The liberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost
+all its value!”
+
+She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the real
+state of her sister’s spirits. Jane was not happy. She still cherished a
+very tender affection for Bingley. Having never even fancied herself in
+love before, her regard had all the warmth of first attachment, and from
+her age and disposition, greater steadiness than first attachments often
+boast; and so fervently did she value his remembrance, and prefer him to
+every other man, that all her good sense, and all her attention to the
+feelings of her friends, were requisite to check the indulgence of those
+regrets which must have been injurious to her own health and their
+tranquillity.
+
+“Well, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet, one day, “what is your opinion _now_ of
+this sad business of Jane’s? For my part, I am determined never to speak
+of it again to anybody. I told my sister Philips so the other day. But I
+cannot find out that Jane saw anything of him in London. Well, he is a
+very undeserving young man--and I do not suppose there is the least
+chance in the world of her ever getting him now. There is no talk of his
+coming to Netherfield again in the summer; and I have inquired of
+everybody, too, who is likely to know.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “I am determined never to speak of it again”
+]
+
+“I do not believe that he will ever live at Netherfield any more.”
+
+“Oh, well! it is just as he chooses. Nobody wants him to come; though I
+shall always say that he used my daughter extremely ill; and, if I was
+her, I would not have put up with it. Well, my comfort is, I am sure
+Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he
+has done.”
+
+But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from any such expectation she
+made no answer.
+
+“Well, Lizzy,” continued her mother, soon afterwards, “and so the
+Collinses live very comfortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope it
+will last. And what sort of table do they keep? Charlotte is an
+excellent manager, I dare say. If she is half as sharp as her mother,
+she is saving enough. There is nothing extravagant in _their_
+housekeeping, I dare say.”
+
+“No, nothing at all.”
+
+“A great deal of good management, depend upon it. Yes, yes. _They_ will
+take care not to outrun their income. _They_ will never be distressed
+for money. Well, much good may it do them! And so, I suppose, they often
+talk of having Longbourn when your father is dead. They look upon it
+quite as their own, I dare say, whenever that happens.”
+
+“It was a subject which they could not mention before me.”
+
+“No; it would have been strange if they had. But I make no doubt they
+often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an
+estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. _I_ should be
+ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“When Colonel Miller’s regiment went away”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was
+the last of the regiment’s stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies in
+the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost
+universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink,
+and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very
+frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and
+Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such
+hard-heartedness in any of the family.
+
+“Good Heaven! What is to become of us? What are we to do?” would they
+often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. “How can you be smiling so,
+Lizzy?”
+
+Their affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered what
+she had herself endured on a similar occasion five-and-twenty years ago.
+
+“I am sure,” said she, “I cried for two days together when Colonel
+Miller’s regiment went away. I thought I should have broke my heart.”
+
+“I am sure I shall break _mine_,” said Lydia.
+
+“If one could but go to Brighton!” observed Mrs. Bennet.
+
+“Oh yes!--if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so disagreeable.”
+
+“A little sea-bathing would set me up for ever.”
+
+“And my aunt Philips is sure it would do _me_ a great deal of good,”
+added Kitty.
+
+Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through
+Longbourn House. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them; but all sense
+of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy’s
+objections; and never had she before been so much disposed to pardon his
+interference in the views of his friend.
+
+But the gloom of Lydia’s prospect was shortly cleared away; for she
+received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the
+regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a
+very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good-humour
+and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of
+their _three_ months’ acquaintance they had been intimate _two_.
+
+The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster,
+the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely
+to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister’s feelings, Lydia flew
+about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone’s
+congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever;
+whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate
+in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish.
+
+“I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask _me_ as well as Lydia,”
+said she, “though I am _not_ her particular friend. I have just as much
+right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older.”
+
+In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to make
+her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from
+exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she
+considered it as the death-warrant of all possibility of common sense
+for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her, were it
+known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her
+go. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia’s general
+behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of
+such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more
+imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must
+be greater than at home. He heard her attentively, and then said,--
+
+“Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public
+place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so little
+expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present
+circumstances.”
+
+“If you were aware,” said Elizabeth, “of the very great disadvantage to
+us all, which must arise from the public notice of Lydia’s unguarded and
+imprudent manner, nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you
+would judge differently in the affair.”
+
+“Already arisen!” repeated Mr. Bennet. “What! has she frightened away
+some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast down. Such
+squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity
+are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of the pitiful fellows
+who have been kept aloof by Lydia’s folly.”
+
+“Indeed, you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not
+of peculiar, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our
+importance, our respectability in the world, must be affected by the
+wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark
+Lydia’s character. Excuse me,--for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear
+father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and
+of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of
+her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character
+will be fixed; and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt
+that ever made herself and her family ridiculous;--a flirt, too, in the
+worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond
+youth and a tolerable person; and, from the ignorance and emptiness of
+her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal
+contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty
+is also comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain,
+ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh, my dear father, can you
+suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever
+they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the
+disgrace?”
+
+Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject; and,
+affectionately taking her hand, said, in reply,--
+
+“Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known,
+you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less
+advantage for having a couple of--or I may say, three--very silly
+sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to
+Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will
+keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an
+object of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance
+even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find
+women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being
+there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow
+many degrees worse, without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest
+of her life.”
+
+With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion
+continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not
+in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them.
+She was confident of having performed her duty; and to fret over
+unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her
+disposition.
+
+Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her
+father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their
+united volubility. In Lydia’s imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised
+every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye
+of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place covered with officers.
+She saw herself the object of attention to tens and to scores of them at
+present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp: its tents
+stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young
+and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she
+saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six
+officers at once.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“Tenderly flirting”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+Had she known that her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and
+such realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could
+have been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the
+same. Lydia’s going to Brighton was all that consoled her for the
+melancholy conviction of her husband’s never intending to go there
+himself.
+
+But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their raptures
+continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia’s leaving
+home.
+
+Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been
+frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty
+well over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even
+learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her,
+an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present
+behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure;
+for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those attentions which
+had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after
+what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in
+finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous
+gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the
+reproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatever
+cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified,
+and her preference secured, at any time, by their renewal.
+
+On the very last day of the regiment’s remaining in Meryton, he dined,
+with others of the officers, at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth
+disposed to part from him in good-humour, that, on his making some
+inquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she
+mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam’s and Mr. Darcy’s having both spent three
+weeks at Rosings, and asked him if he were acquainted with the former.
+
+He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but, with a moment’s
+recollection, and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seen
+him often; and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man,
+asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour.
+With an air of indifference, he soon afterwards added, “How long did you
+say that he was at Rosings?”
+
+“Nearly three weeks.”
+
+“And you saw him frequently?”
+
+“Yes, almost every day.”
+
+“His manners are very different from his cousin’s.”
+
+“Yes, very different; but I think Mr. Darcy improves on acquaintance.”
+
+“Indeed!” cried Wickham, with a look which did not escape her. “And pray
+may I ask--” but checking himself, he added, in a gayer tone, “Is it in
+address that he improves? Has he deigned to add aught of civility to his
+ordinary style? for I dare not hope,” he continued, in a lower and more
+serious tone, “that he is improved in essentials.”
+
+“Oh, no!” said Elizabeth. “In essentials, I believe, he is very much
+what he ever was.”
+
+While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to
+rejoice over her words or to distrust their meaning. There was a
+something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive
+and anxious attention, while she added,--
+
+“When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that
+either his mind or manners were in a state of improvement; but that,
+from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood.”
+
+Wickham’s alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated
+look; for a few minutes he was silent; till, shaking off his
+embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of
+accents,--
+
+“You, who so well know my feelings towards Mr. Darcy, will readily
+comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume
+even the _appearance_ of what is right. His pride, in that direction,
+may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must deter
+him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only fear that
+the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been alluding, is
+merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good opinion and
+judgment he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always operated, I
+know, when they were together; and a good deal is to be imputed to his
+wish of forwarding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which I am certain he
+has very much at heart.”
+
+Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a
+slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on
+the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge
+him. The rest of the evening passed with the _appearance_, on his side,
+of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish
+Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a
+mutual desire of never meeting again.
+
+When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton,
+from whence they were to set out early the next morning. The separation
+between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the
+only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs.
+Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter,
+and impressive in her injunctions that she would not miss the
+opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible,--advice which there
+was every reason to believe would be attended to; and, in the clamorous
+happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle adieus
+of her sisters were uttered without being heard.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+The arrival of the
+Gardiners
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Had Elizabeth’s opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could
+not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic
+comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance
+of good-humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a
+woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in
+their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect,
+esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views of
+domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of a
+disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own
+imprudence had brought on in any of those pleasures which too often
+console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of
+the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal
+enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted than as
+her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not
+the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his
+wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true
+philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.
+
+Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her
+father’s behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but
+respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of
+herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to
+banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation
+and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own
+children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so
+strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so
+unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising
+from so ill-judged a direction of talents--talents which, rightly used,
+might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even
+if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.
+
+When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham’s departure, she found little
+other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties
+abroad were less varied than before; and at home she had a mother and
+sister, whose constant repinings at the dulness of everything around
+them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty
+might in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers
+of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition
+greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her
+folly and assurance, by a situation of such double danger as a
+watering-place and a camp. Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what
+has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had looked
+forward with impatient desire, did not, in taking place, bring all the
+satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to
+name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity; to have
+some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by
+again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the
+present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes
+was now the object of her happiest thoughts: it was her best consolation
+for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of her mother
+and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in the
+scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.
+
+“But it is fortunate,” thought she, “that I have something to wish for.
+Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain.
+But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my
+sister’s absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of
+pleasure realized. A scheme of which every part promises delight can
+never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by
+the defence of some little peculiar vexation.”
+
+When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely
+to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and
+always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that
+they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers
+had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as
+made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which
+she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a
+violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going to the
+camp; and from her correspondence with her sister there was still less
+to be learnt, for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were much
+too full of lines under the words to be made public.
+
+After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health,
+good-humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything
+wore a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter
+came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs.
+Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and by the middle
+of June Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton
+without tears,--an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth
+hope, that by the following Christmas she might be so tolerably
+reasonable as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless, by
+some cruel and malicious arrangement at the War Office, another regiment
+should be quartered in Meryton.
+
+The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast
+approaching; and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter
+arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and
+curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from
+setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again
+within a month; and as that left too short a period for them to go so
+far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with
+the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up
+the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour; and, according to the
+present plan, were to go no farther northward than Derbyshire. In that
+county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three
+weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The
+town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where
+they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of
+her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth,
+Dovedale, or the Peak.
+
+Elizabeth was excessively disappointed: she had set her heart on seeing
+the Lakes; and still thought there might have been time enough. But it
+was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy;
+and all was soon right again.
+
+With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was
+impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its
+owner. “But surely,” said she, “I may enter his county with impunity,
+and rob it of a few petrified spars, without his perceiving me.”
+
+The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away
+before her uncle and aunt’s arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at
+Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two
+younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their cousin
+Jane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense and
+sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every
+way--teaching them, playing with them, and loving them.
+
+The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next
+morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One
+enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness as companions; a
+suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear
+inconveniences--cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure--and affection
+and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were
+disappointments abroad.
+
+It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire,
+nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither
+lay--Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, etc., are
+sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present
+concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner’s
+former residence, and where she had lately learned that some
+acquaintance still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen
+all the principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of
+Lambton, Elizabeth found, from her aunt, that Pemberley was situated. It
+was not in their direct road; nor more than a mile or two out of it. In
+talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed an
+inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his
+willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.
+
+“My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so
+much?” said her aunt. “A place, too, with which so many of your
+acquaintance are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you
+know.”
+
+Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at
+Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She
+must own that she was tired of great houses: after going over so many,
+she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. “If it were merely a fine house
+richly furnished,” said she, “I should not care about it myself; but the
+grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the
+country.”
+
+Elizabeth said no more; but her mind could not acquiesce. The
+possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly
+occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea; and
+thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt, than to run such
+a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved
+that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries as to the
+absence of the family were unfavourably answered.
+
+Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid
+whether Pemberley were not a very fine place, what was the name of its
+proprietor, and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for
+the summer? A most welcome negative followed the last question; and her
+alarms being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of
+curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the
+next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and
+with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike
+to the scheme.
+
+To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Conjecturing as to the date”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of
+Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they turned
+in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.
+
+The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They
+entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through
+a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent.
+
+Elizabeth’s mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired
+every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for
+half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable
+eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by
+Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of the valley, into which
+the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone
+building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high
+woody hills; and in front a stream of some natural importance was
+swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks
+were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She
+had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural
+beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were
+all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that
+to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!
+
+They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and,
+while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of
+meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been
+mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the
+hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to
+wonder at her being where she was.
+
+The housekeeper came; a respectable looking elderly woman, much less
+fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They
+followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned
+room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went
+to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from
+which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the
+distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was
+good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered
+on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace
+it, with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were
+taking different positions; but from every window there were beauties
+to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture
+suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with
+admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly
+fine,--with less of splendour, and more real elegance, than the
+furniture of Rosings.
+
+“And of this place,” thought she, “I might have been mistress! With
+these rooms I might have now been familiarly acquainted! Instead of
+viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and
+welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But, no,” recollecting
+herself, “that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost to
+me; I should not have been allowed to invite them.”
+
+This was a lucky recollection--it saved her from something like regret.
+
+She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master were really
+absent, but had not courage for it. At length, however, the question was
+asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs. Reynolds
+replied, that he was; adding, “But we expect him to-morrow, with a large
+party of friends.” How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own journey had
+not by any circumstance been delayed a day!
+
+Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw
+the likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other
+miniatures, over the mantel-piece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how
+she liked it. The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was the
+picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master’s steward, who
+had been brought up by him at his own expense. “He is now gone into the
+army,” she added; “but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”
+
+Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not
+return it.
+
+“And that,” said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures,
+“is my master--and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the
+other--about eight years ago.”
+
+“I have heard much of your master’s fine person,” said Mrs. Gardiner,
+looking at the picture; “it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell
+us whether it is like or not.”
+
+Mrs. Reynolds’ respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this
+intimation of her knowing her master.
+
+“Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?”
+
+Elizabeth coloured, and said, “A little.”
+
+“And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma’am?”
+
+“Yes, very handsome.”
+
+“I am sure _I_ know none so handsome; but in the gallery upstairs you
+will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late
+master’s favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to
+be then. He was very fond of them.”
+
+This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham’s being among them.
+
+Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn
+when she was only eight years old.
+
+“And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?” said Mr. Gardiner.
+
+“Oh, yes--the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so
+accomplished! She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a
+new instrument just come down for her--a present from my master: she
+comes here to-morrow with him.”
+
+Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged her
+communicativeness by his questions and remarks: Mrs. Reynolds, either
+from pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her
+master and his sister.
+
+“Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?”
+
+“Not so much as I could wish, sir: but I dare say he may spend half his
+time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months.”
+
+“Except,” thought Elizabeth, “when she goes to Ramsgate.”
+
+“If your master would marry, you might see more of him.”
+
+“Yes, sir; but I do not know when _that_ will be. I do not know who is
+good enough for him.”
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, “It is
+very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so.”
+
+“I say no more than the truth, and what everybody will say that knows
+him,” replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far;
+and she listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added,
+“I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him
+ever since he was four years old.”
+
+This was praise of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her
+ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion.
+Her keenest attention was awakened: she longed to hear more; and was
+grateful to her uncle for saying,--
+
+“There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in
+having such a master.”
+
+“Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could not
+meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are
+good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he
+was always the sweetest tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the
+world.”
+
+Elizabeth almost stared at her. “Can this be Mr. Darcy?” thought she.
+
+“His father was an excellent man,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
+
+“Yes, ma’am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him--just
+as affable to the poor.”
+
+Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs.
+Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects
+of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the
+furniture in vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family
+prejudice, to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her
+master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his
+many merits, as they proceeded together up the great staircase.
+
+“He is the best landlord, and the best master,” said she, “that ever
+lived. Not like the wild young men now-a-days, who think of nothing but
+themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will
+give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never
+saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle
+away like other young men.”
+
+“In what an amiable light does this place him!” thought Elizabeth.
+
+“This fine account of him,” whispered her aunt as they walked, “is not
+quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend.”
+
+“Perhaps we might be deceived.”
+
+“That is not very likely; our authority was too good.”
+
+On reaching the spacious lobby above, they were shown into a very pretty
+sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than
+the apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to
+give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room, when
+last at Pemberley.
+
+“He is certainly a good brother,” said Elizabeth, as she walked towards
+one of the windows.
+
+Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy’s delight, when she should enter
+the room. “And this is always the way with him,” she added. “Whatever
+can give his sister any pleasure, is sure to be done in a moment. There
+is nothing he would not do for her.”
+
+The picture gallery, and two or three of the principal bed-rooms, were
+all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings:
+but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already
+visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss
+Darcy’s, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and
+also more intelligible.
+
+In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have
+little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked on in quest
+of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it
+arrested her--and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy, with
+such a smile over the face, as she remembered to have sometimes seen,
+when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in
+earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the
+gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them, that it had been taken in his
+father’s lifetime.
+
+There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth’s mind, a more gentle
+sensation towards the original than she had ever felt in the height of
+their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds
+was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise
+of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she
+considered how many people’s happiness were in his guardianship! How
+much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow! How much of good
+or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by
+the housekeeper was favourable to his character; and as she stood before
+the canvas, on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon
+herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude
+than it had ever raised before: she remembered its warmth, and softened
+its impropriety of expression.
+
+When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen,
+they returned down stairs; and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were
+consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door.
+
+As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back
+to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also; and while the former was
+conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself
+suddenly came forward from the road which led behind it to the stables.
+
+They were within twenty yards of each other; and so abrupt was his
+appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes
+instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest
+blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from
+surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party,
+and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least
+of perfect civility.
+
+She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach,
+received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be
+overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture
+they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two
+that they now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener’s expression of surprise, on
+beholding his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little
+aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused,
+scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she
+returned to his civil inquiries after her family. Amazed at the
+alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he
+uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the
+impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few
+minutes in which they continued together were some of the most
+uncomfortable of her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he
+spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his
+inquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her stay
+in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the
+distraction of his thoughts.
+
+At length, every idea seemed to fail him; and after standing a few
+moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took
+leave.
+
+The others then joined her, and expressed their admiration of his
+figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by her own
+feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and
+vexation. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged
+thing in the world! How strange must it appear to him! In what a
+disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if
+she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come?
+or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been
+only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his
+discrimination; for it was plain that he was that moment arrived, that
+moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and
+again over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so
+strikingly altered,--what could it mean? That he should even speak to
+her was amazing!--but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her
+family! Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified,
+never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting.
+What a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when
+he put his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to
+account for it.
+
+They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and
+every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer
+reach of the woods to which they were approaching: but it was some time
+before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered
+mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed
+to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she
+distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that
+one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then
+was. She longed to know what at that moment was passing in his mind; in
+what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything,
+she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he
+felt himself at ease; yet there had been _that_ in his voice, which was
+not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing
+her, she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with
+composure.
+
+At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind
+roused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.
+
+They entered the woods, and, bidding adieu to the river for a while,
+ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening
+of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of
+the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods
+overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner
+expressed a wish of going round the whole park, but feared it might be
+beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile, they were told, that it was ten
+miles round. It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed
+circuit; which brought them again, after some time, in a descent among
+hanging woods, to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts.
+They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of
+the scene: it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and
+the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the
+stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered
+it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed
+the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner,
+who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only of
+returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was,
+therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house
+on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their
+progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the
+taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the
+occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the man
+about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this
+slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth’s astonishment was
+quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy
+approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here less
+sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they
+met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an
+interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with
+calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed,
+she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea
+lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the
+turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance she saw that
+he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness,
+she began as they met to admire the beauty of the place; but she had not
+got beyond the words “delightful,” and “charming,” when some unlucky
+recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from
+her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said
+no more.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked
+her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends.
+This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and
+she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the
+acquaintance of some of those very people, against whom his pride had
+revolted, in his offer to herself. “What will be his surprise,” thought
+she, “when he knows who they are! He takes them now for people of
+fashion.”
+
+The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named their
+relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore
+it; and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he
+could from such disgraceful companions. That he was _surprised_ by the
+connection was evident: he sustained it, however, with fortitude: and,
+so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into
+conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased,
+could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had some
+relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most
+attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every
+expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence,
+his taste, or his good manners.
+
+The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy
+invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he
+chose, while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same
+time to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of
+the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was
+walking arm in arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of her
+wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the
+compliment must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was
+extreme; and continually was she repeating, “Why is he so altered? From
+what can it proceed? It cannot be for _me_, it cannot be for _my_ sake
+that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not
+work such a change as this. It is impossible that he should still love
+me.”
+
+After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two
+gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the
+brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious
+water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in
+Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found
+Elizabeth’s arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred
+her husband’s. Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on
+together. After a short silence the lady first spoke. She wished him to
+know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the
+place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been
+very unexpected--“for your housekeeper,” she added, “informed us that
+you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and, indeed, before we
+left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in
+the country.” He acknowledged the truth of it all; and said that
+business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours
+before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. “They
+will join me early to-morrow,” he continued, “and among them are some
+who will claim an acquaintance with you,--Mr. Bingley and his sisters.”
+
+Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly
+driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley’s name had been last mentioned
+between them; and if she might judge from his complexion, _his_ mind was
+not very differently engaged.
+
+“There is also one other person in the party,” he continued after a
+pause, “who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow
+me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance
+during your stay at Lambton?”
+
+The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great
+for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt
+that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her,
+must be the work of her brother, and without looking farther, it was
+satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made
+him think really ill of her.
+
+They now walked on in silence; each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth
+was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and
+pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of
+the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others; and when they had
+reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a
+mile behind.
+
+He then asked her to walk into the house--but she declared herself not
+tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might
+have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but
+there seemed an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected that
+she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dovedale with
+great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly--and her patience
+and her ideas were nearly worn out before the _tête-à-tête_ was over.
+
+On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s coming up they were all pressed to go into
+the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they
+parted on each side with the utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the
+ladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him
+walking slowly towards the house.
+
+The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them
+pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected.
+
+“He is perfectly well-behaved, polite, and unassuming,” said her uncle.
+
+“There _is_ something a little stately in him, to be sure,” replied her
+aunt; “but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now
+say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud,
+_I_ have seen nothing of it.”
+
+“I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more
+than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such
+attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling.”
+
+“To be sure, Lizzy,” said her aunt, “he is not so handsome as Wickham;
+or rather he has not Wickham’s countenance, for his features are
+perfectly good. But how came you to tell us that he was so
+disagreeable?”
+
+Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could: said that she had liked
+him better when they met in Kent than before, and that she had never
+seen him so pleasant as this morning.
+
+“But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,” replied
+her uncle. “Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him
+at his word about fishing, as he might change his mind another day, and
+warn me off his grounds.”
+
+Elizabeth felt that they had entirely mistaken his character, but said
+nothing.
+
+“From what we have seen of him,” continued Mrs. Gardiner, “I really
+should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by
+anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look.
+On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he
+speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance, that would
+not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the
+good lady who showed us the house did give him a most flaming character!
+I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal
+master, I suppose, and _that_, in the eye of a servant, comprehends
+every virtue.”
+
+Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of
+his behaviour to Wickham; and, therefore, gave them to understand, in as
+guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from his
+relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different
+construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor
+Wickham’s so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In
+confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary
+transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming
+her authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned: but as they were now
+approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to
+the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out
+to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs, to think of
+anything else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning’s walk, they had
+no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former
+acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of an
+intercourse renewed after many years’ discontinuance.
+
+The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth
+much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing
+but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy’s civility, and, above
+all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit
+her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was, consequently,
+resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning.
+But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their own
+arrival at Lambton these visitors came. They had been walking about the
+place with some of their new friends, and were just returned to the inn
+to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a
+carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and lady in a
+curricle driving up the street. Elizabeth, immediately recognizing the
+livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of surprise
+to her relations, by acquainting them with the honour which she
+expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the embarrassment
+of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many
+of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on
+the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they now felt
+that there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such
+a quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these
+newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of
+Elizabeth’s feelings was every moment increasing. She was quite amazed
+at her own discomposure; but, amongst other causes of disquiet, she
+dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much in
+her favour; and, more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally
+suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.
+
+She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walked
+up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of
+inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse.
+
+Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction
+took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new
+acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her
+being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud;
+but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was
+only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from
+her beyond a monosyllable.
+
+Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though
+little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance
+womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother, but there
+was sense and good-humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly
+unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as
+acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much
+relieved by discerning such different feelings.
+
+They had not been long together before Darcy told her that Bingley was
+also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to express her
+satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley’s quick step
+was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All
+Elizabeth’s anger against him had been long done away; but had she still
+felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected
+cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He
+inquired in a friendly, though general, way, after her family, and
+looked and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever done.
+
+To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage
+than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before
+them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just
+arisen of Mr. Darcy and their niece, directed their observation towards
+each with an earnest, though guarded, inquiry; and they soon drew from
+those inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew what
+it was to love. Of the lady’s sensations they remained a little in
+doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was
+evident enough.
+
+Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the
+feelings of each of her visitors, she wanted to compose her own, and to
+make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she
+feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom
+she endeavoured to give pleasure were pre-possessed in her favour.
+Bingley was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be
+pleased.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “To make herself agreeable to all”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and oh!
+how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed in a
+like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on
+former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion
+that, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But,
+though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his
+behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No
+look appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing
+occurred between them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On
+this point she was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances
+occurred ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted
+a recollection of Jane, not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of
+saying more that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He
+observed to her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and
+in a tone which had something of real regret, that it “was a very long
+time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her;” and, before she could
+reply, he added, “It is above eight months. We have not met since the
+26th of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.”
+
+Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards
+took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether
+_all_ her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not much in the question,
+nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which
+gave them meaning.
+
+It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; but
+whenever she did catch a glimpse she saw an expression of general
+complaisance, and in all that he said, she heard an accent so far
+removed from _hauteur_ or disdain of his companions, as convinced her
+that the improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed,
+however temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one
+day. When she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance, and courting the
+good opinion of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would
+have been a disgrace; when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself,
+but to the very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected
+their last lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage, the difference, the
+change was so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could
+hardly restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the
+company of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations
+at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from
+self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance could
+result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the
+acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed, would draw
+down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and
+Rosings.
+
+Their visitors stayed with them above half an hour; and when they arose
+to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing
+their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner
+at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a
+diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations,
+readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing
+how _she_, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its
+acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming, however,
+that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than
+any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of
+society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for
+her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.
+
+Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth
+again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to
+make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all
+this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased; and
+on this account, as well as some others, found herself, when their
+visitors left them, capable of considering the last half hour with some
+satisfaction, though while it was passing the enjoyment of it had been
+little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her
+uncle and aunt, she stayed with them only long enough to hear their
+favourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress.
+
+But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s curiosity; it was
+not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was
+much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of;
+it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to
+interest, but nothing to justify inquiry.
+
+Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far
+as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could
+not be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his character
+from their own feelings and his servant’s report, without any reference
+to any other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known
+would not have recognized it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest,
+however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible
+that the authority of a servant, who had known him since he was four
+years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be
+hastily rejected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of
+their Lambton friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had
+nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not,
+it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market town
+where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he
+was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor.
+
+With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not held
+there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with the
+son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well-known
+fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind
+him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged.
+
+As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than
+the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not
+long enough to determine her feelings towards _one_ in that mansion; and
+she lay awake two whole hours, endeavouring to make them out. She
+certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she
+had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him,
+that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his
+valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some
+time ceased to be repugnant to her feelings; and it was now heightened
+into somewhat of a friendlier nature by the testimony so highly in his
+favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light,
+which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem,
+there was a motive within her of good-will which could not be
+overlooked. It was gratitude;--gratitude, not merely for having once
+loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the
+petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the
+unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been
+persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this
+accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance; and
+without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner,
+where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good
+opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such
+a change in a man of so much pride excited not only astonishment but
+gratitude--for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and, as
+such, its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no
+means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected,
+she esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his
+welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to
+depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both
+that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still
+possessed, of bringing on the renewal of his addresses.
+
+It had been settled in the evening, between the aunt and niece, that
+such a striking civility as Miss Darcy’s, in coming to them on the very
+day of her arrival at Pemberley--for she had reached it only to a late
+breakfast--ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled, by
+some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that it
+would be highly expedient to wait on her at Pemberley the following
+morning. They were, therefore, to go. Elizabeth was pleased; though when
+she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply.
+
+Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been
+renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting
+some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Engaged by the river”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley’s dislike of her had
+originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how very unwelcome
+her appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know
+with how much civility on that lady’s side the acquaintance would now
+be renewed.
+
+On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon,
+whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows,
+opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody
+hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts
+which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.
+
+In this room they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there
+with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in
+London. Georgiana’s reception of them was very civil, but attended with
+all that embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the
+fear of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves
+inferior the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and
+her niece, however, did her justice, and pitied her.
+
+By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a courtesy; and
+on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be,
+succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a
+genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind
+of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the
+others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from
+Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she
+wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a
+short sentence, when there was least danger of its being heard.
+
+Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley,
+and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without
+calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her
+from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an
+inconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity
+of saying much: her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every
+moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room: she wished, she
+feared, that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whether
+she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After
+sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour, without hearing Miss
+Bingley’s voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her a cold
+inquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equal
+indifference and brevity, and the other said no more.
+
+The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the
+entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the
+finest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after many a
+significant look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been
+given, to remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole
+party; for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the
+beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches, soon collected
+them round the table.
+
+While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whether
+she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by the
+feelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but
+a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to
+regret that he came.
+
+He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other
+gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river; and had left him
+only on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to
+Georgiana that morning. No sooner did he appear, than Elizabeth wisely
+resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed;--a resolution the more
+necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she
+saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them,
+and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour
+when he first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive
+curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley’s, in spite of the
+smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its
+objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions
+to Mr. Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother’s
+entrance, exerted herself much more to talk; and Elizabeth saw that he
+was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded,
+as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Miss
+Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the
+first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility,--
+
+“Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ----shire militia removed from Meryton?
+They must be a great loss to _your_ family.”
+
+In Darcy’s presence she dared not mention Wickham’s name: but Elizabeth
+instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the
+various recollections connected with him gave her a moment’s distress;
+but, exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she
+presently answered the question in a tolerably disengaged tone. While
+she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy with a heightened
+complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with
+confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what
+pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would have
+refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose
+Elizabeth, by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed
+her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in
+Darcy’s opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies
+and absurdities by which some part of her family were connected with
+that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy’s
+meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy
+was possible, except to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley’s connections
+her brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from that very wish
+which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming
+hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan; and without
+meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss
+Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern
+for the welfare of his friend.
+
+Elizabeth’s collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and
+as Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to
+Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be able
+to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely
+recollected her interest in the affair; and the very circumstance which
+had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth, seemed to have
+fixed them on her more and more cheerfully.
+
+Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above
+mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage,
+Miss Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth’s
+person, behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her
+brother’s recommendation was enough to insure her favour: his judgment
+could not err; and he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth, as to leave
+Georgiana without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and
+amiable. When Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help
+repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.
+
+“How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy,” she cried: “I
+never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter.
+She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we
+should not have known her again.”
+
+However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented
+himself with coolly replying, that he perceived no other alteration than
+her being rather tanned,--no miraculous consequence of travelling in the
+summer.
+
+“For my own part,” she rejoined, “I must confess that I never could see
+any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no
+brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants
+character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are
+tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which
+have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive anything
+extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not
+like at all; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency
+without fashion, which is intolerable.”
+
+Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not
+the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always
+wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the
+success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however; and, from a
+determination of making him speak, she continued,--
+
+“I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all
+were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect
+your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, ‘_She_
+a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.’ But afterwards she
+seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at
+one time.”
+
+“Yes,” replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, “but _that_
+was only when I first knew her; for it is many months since I have
+considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
+
+He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of
+having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their
+visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them
+both. The looks and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed,
+except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked
+of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit, of everything but
+himself; yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of
+him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece’s
+beginning the subject.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XLVI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from
+Jane on their first arrival at Lambton; and this disappointment had been
+renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but on
+the third her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the
+receipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that
+it had been mis-sent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as
+Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.
+
+They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and her
+uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by
+themselves. The one mis-sent must be first attended to; it had been
+written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their
+little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded;
+but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident
+agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect:--
+
+“Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a
+most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you--be
+assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia.
+An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed,
+from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland
+with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our
+surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am
+very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing
+to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood.
+Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and
+let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is
+disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing.
+Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How
+thankful am I, that we never let them know what has been said against
+him; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about
+twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at
+eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have
+passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect
+him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of
+their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor
+mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly
+know what I have written.”
+
+Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing
+what she felt, Elizabeth, on finishing this letter, instantly seized the
+other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows: it
+had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first.
+
+“By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I
+wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my
+head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest
+Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you,
+and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr. Wickham
+and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has
+taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone
+to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the
+day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia’s short
+letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna
+Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that W.
+never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated
+to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B.,
+intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but
+no farther; for on entering that place, they removed into a
+hackney-coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom.
+All that is known after this is, that they were seen to continue the
+London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible
+inquiry on that side of London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire,
+anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet
+and Hatfield, but without any success,--no such people had been seen to
+pass through. With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and
+broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart.
+I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. F.; but no one can throw any
+blame on them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and
+mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many
+circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married
+privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if _he_
+could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia’s connections,
+which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything?
+Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed
+to depend upon their marriage: he shook his head when I expressed my
+hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother
+is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be
+better, but this is not to be expected; and as to my father, I never in
+my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has anger for having concealed
+their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot
+wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared
+something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is
+over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish,
+however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu! I take up my pen
+again to do, what I have just told you I would not; but circumstances
+are such, that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as
+soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well, that I am not
+afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of
+the former. My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly,
+to try to discover her. What he means to do, I am sure I know not; but
+his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the
+best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton
+again to-morrow evening. In such an exigence my uncle’s advice and
+assistance would be everything in the world; he will immediately
+comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.”
+
+“Oh! where, where is my uncle?” cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat
+as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing a
+moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door, it was
+opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale face and
+impetuous manner made him start, and before he could recover himself
+enough to speak, she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Lydia’s
+situation, hastily exclaimed, “I beg your pardon, but I must leave you.
+I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment on business that cannot be delayed;
+I have not an instant to lose.”
+
+“Good God! what is the matter?” cried he, with more feeling than
+politeness; then recollecting himself, “I will not detain you a minute;
+but let me, or let the servant, go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are
+not well enough; you cannot go yourself.”
+
+Elizabeth hesitated; but her knees trembled under her, and she felt how
+little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back
+the servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless an
+accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and
+mistress home instantly.
+
+On his quitting the room, she sat down, unable to support herself, and
+looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her,
+or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration,
+“Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you
+present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill.”
+
+“No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There
+is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well, I am only distressed by
+some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn.”
+
+She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could
+not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say
+something indistinctly of his
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “I have not an instant to lose”
+]
+
+concern, and observe her in compassionate silence. At length she spoke
+again. “I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. It
+cannot be concealed from anyone. My youngest sister has left all her
+friends--has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of--of Mr.
+Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. _You_ know him too
+well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that
+can tempt him to--she is lost for ever.”
+
+Darcy was fixed in astonishment.
+
+“When I consider,” she added, in a yet more agitated voice, “that _I_
+might have prevented it! _I_ who knew what he was. Had I but explained
+some part of it only--some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had
+his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all,
+all too late now.”
+
+“I am grieved, indeed,” cried Darcy: “grieved--shocked. But is it
+certain, absolutely certain?”
+
+“Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced
+almost to London, but not beyond: they are certainly not gone to
+Scotland.”
+
+“And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?”
+
+“My father has gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle’s
+immediate assistance, and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour. But
+nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is
+such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have
+not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!”
+
+Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.
+
+“When _my_ eyes were opened to his real character, oh! had I known what
+I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not--I was afraid of doing too
+much. Wretched, wretched mistake!”
+
+Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up
+and down the room in earnest meditation; his brow contracted, his air
+gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her power
+was sinking; everything _must_ sink under such a proof of family
+weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither
+wonder nor condemn; but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing
+consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It
+was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own
+wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved
+him, as now, when all love must be vain.
+
+But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia--the
+humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all--soon swallowed up
+every private care; and covering her face with her handkerchief,
+Elizabeth was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of
+several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the
+voice of her companion, who, in a manner which, though it spoke
+compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said,--
+
+“I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything
+to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing concern.
+Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part,
+that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment
+you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks.
+This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the
+pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley to-day.”
+
+“Oh, yes! Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that
+urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as
+long as it is possible. I know it cannot be long.”
+
+He readily assured her of his secrecy, again expressed his sorrow for
+her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present
+reason to hope, and, leaving his compliments for her relations, with
+only one serious parting look, went away.
+
+As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they
+should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as had
+marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a
+retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of
+contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those
+feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would
+formerly have rejoiced in its termination.
+
+If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth’s
+change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if
+otherwise, if the regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or
+unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a
+first interview with its object, and even before two words have been
+exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given
+somewhat of a trial to the latter method, in her partiality for Wickham,
+and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorize her to seek the other
+less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go
+with regret; and in this early example of what Lydia’s infamy must
+produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretched
+business. Never since reading Jane’s second letter had she entertained a
+hope of Wickham’s meaning to marry her. No one but Jane, she thought,
+could flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise was the least
+of all her feelings on this development. While the contents of the first
+letter remained on her mind, she was all surprise, all astonishment,
+that Wickham should marry a girl whom it was impossible he could marry
+for money; and how Lydia could ever have attached him had appeared
+incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment
+as this, she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not
+suppose Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement, without the
+intention of marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that neither
+her virtue nor her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy
+prey.
+
+She had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that
+Lydia had any partiality for him; but she was convinced that Lydia had
+wanted only encouragement to attach herself to anybody. Sometimes one
+officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions
+raised them in her opinion. Her affections had been continually
+fluctuating, but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and
+mistaken indulgence towards such a girl--oh! how acutely did she now
+feel it!
+
+She was wild to be at home--to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to
+share with Jane in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in a
+family so deranged; a father absent, a mother incapable of exertion, and
+requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing
+could be done for Lydia, her uncle’s interference seemed of the utmost
+importance, and till he entered the room the misery of her impatience
+was severe. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing,
+by the servant’s account, that their niece was taken suddenly ill; but
+satisfying them instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the
+cause of their summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on
+the postscript of the last with trembling energy. Though Lydia had never
+been a favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be
+deeply affected. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after
+the first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner readily
+promised every assistance in his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no
+less, thanked him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated
+by one spirit, everything relating to their journey was speedily
+settled. They were to be off as soon as possible. “But what is to be
+done about Pemberley?” cried Mrs. Gardiner. “John told us Mr. Darcy was
+here when you sent for us;--was it so?”
+
+“Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement.
+_That_ is all settled.”
+
+“What is all settled?” repeated the other, as she ran into her room to
+prepare. “And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real
+truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!”
+
+But wishes were vain; or, at best, could serve only to amuse her in the
+hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure
+to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was
+impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of
+business as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to
+be written to all their friends at Lambton, with false excuses for their
+sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr.
+Gardiner, meanwhile, having settled his account at the inn, nothing
+remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth, after all the misery of
+the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could
+have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “The first pleasing earnest of their welcome”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth,” said her uncle, as they
+drove from the town; “and really, upon serious consideration, I am much
+more inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does of the
+matter. It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should form
+such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or
+friendless, and who was actually staying in his Colonel’s family, that I
+am strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends
+would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the
+regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is
+not adequate to the risk.”
+
+“Do you really think so?” cried Elizabeth, brightening up for a moment.
+
+“Upon my word,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “I begin to be of your uncle’s
+opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and
+interest, for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very ill of
+Wickham. Can you, yourself, Lizzie, so wholly give him up, as to believe
+him capable of it?”
+
+“Not perhaps of neglecting his own interest. But of every other neglect
+I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare not
+hope it. Why should they not go on to Scotland, if that had been the
+case?”
+
+“In the first place,” replied Mr. Gardiner, “there is no absolute proof
+that they are not gone to Scotland.”
+
+“Oh, but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach is such a
+presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the
+Barnet road.”
+
+“Well, then,--supposing them to be in London--they may be there, though
+for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptionable purpose. It is
+not likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and it
+might strike them that they could be more economically, though less
+expeditiously, married in London, than in Scotland.”
+
+“But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their
+marriage be private? Oh, no, no--this is not likely. His most particular
+friend, you see by Jane’s account, was persuaded of his never intending
+to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He
+cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia, what attractions has she
+beyond youth, health, and good humour, that could make him for her sake
+forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to what
+restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on a
+dishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I know
+nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your
+other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has no
+brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father’s
+behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever
+seemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ would
+do as little and think as little about it, as any father could do, in
+such a matter.”
+
+“But can you think that Lydia is so lost to everything but love of him,
+as to consent to live with him on any other terms than marriage?”
+
+“It does seem, and it is most shocking, indeed,” replied Elizabeth, with
+tears in her eyes, “that a sister’s sense of decency and virtue in such
+a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say.
+Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young: she has never
+been taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half year,
+nay, for a twelvemonth, she has been given up to nothing but amusement
+and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle
+and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way.
+Since the ----shire were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love,
+flirtation, and officers, have been in her head. She has been doing
+everything in her power, by thinking and talking on the subject, to give
+greater--what shall I call it?--susceptibility to her feelings; which
+are naturally lively enough. And we all know that Wickham has every
+charm of person and address that can captivate a woman.”
+
+“But you see that Jane,” said her aunt, “does not think so ill of
+Wickham, as to believe him capable of the attempt.”
+
+“Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be
+their former conduct, that she would believe capable of such an attempt,
+till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what
+Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every
+sense of the word; that he has neither integrity nor honour; that he is
+as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.”
+
+“And do you really know all this?” cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity
+as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive.
+
+“I do, indeed,” replied Elizabeth, colouring. “I told you the other day
+of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and you, yourself, when last at
+Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved with
+such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other
+circumstances which I am not at liberty--which it is not worth while to
+relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From
+what he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud,
+reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He
+must know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found
+her.”
+
+“But does Lydia know nothing of this? can she be ignorant of what you
+and Jane seem so well to understand?”
+
+“Oh, yes!--that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw
+so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was
+ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home the ----shire
+was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight’s time. As that was the
+case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it
+necessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could it
+apparently be to anyone, that the good opinion, which all the
+neighbourhood had of him, should then be overthrown? And even when it
+was settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of
+opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That _she_ could
+be in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such a
+consequence as _this_ should ensue, you may easily believe was far
+enough from my thoughts.”
+
+“When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, I
+suppose, to believe them fond of each other?”
+
+“Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either
+side; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware
+that ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. When first
+he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we all
+were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for
+the first two months: but he never distinguished _her_ by any particular
+attention; and, consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and
+wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment,
+who treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites.”
+
+It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added
+to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject by
+its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during
+the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth’s thoughts it was never absent.
+Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could
+find no interval of ease or forgetfulness.
+
+They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and sleeping one night on
+the road, reached Longbourn by dinnertime the next day. It was a comfort
+to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been wearied by long
+expectations.
+
+The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing
+on the steps of the house, as they entered the paddock; and when the
+carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their
+faces and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of
+capers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome.
+
+Elizabeth jumped out; and after giving each of them a hasty kiss,
+hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running downstairs from
+her mother’s apartment, immediately met her.
+
+Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the
+eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had been
+heard of the fugitives.
+
+“Not yet,” replied Jane. “But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope
+everything will be well.”
+
+“Is my father in town?”
+
+“Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word.”
+
+“And have you heard from him often?”
+
+“We have heard only once. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday, to say
+that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I
+particularly begged him to do. He merely added, that he should not write
+again, till he had something of importance to mention.”
+
+“And my mother--how is she? How are you all?”
+
+“My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly
+shaken. She is upstairs, and will have great satisfaction in seeing you
+all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank
+Heaven! are quite well.”
+
+“But you--how are you?” cried Elizabeth. “You look pale. How much you
+must have gone through!”
+
+Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and their
+conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were
+engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach of
+the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and
+thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears.
+
+When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabeth
+had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon
+found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good,
+however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yet
+deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that
+every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father,
+to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce the marriage.
+
+Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes’
+conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with
+tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous
+conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage;
+blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the
+errors of her daughter must be principally owing.
+
+“If I had been able,” said she, “to carry my point in going to Brighton
+with all my family, _this_ would not have happened: but poor dear Lydia
+had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out
+of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their
+side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had
+been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have
+the charge of her; but I was over-ruled, as I always am. Poor, dear
+child! And now here’s Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight
+Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and what is
+to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out, before he is cold
+in his grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what
+we shall do.”
+
+They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after
+general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her
+that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr.
+Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia.
+
+“Do not give way to useless alarm,” added he: “though it is right to be
+prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain.
+It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more, we
+may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married,
+and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as
+lost. As soon as I get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make him
+come home with me to Gracechurch Street, and then we may consult
+together as to what is to be done.”
+
+“Oh, my dear brother,” replied Mrs. Bennet, “that is exactly what I
+could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out,
+wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them
+marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but
+tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them,
+after they are married. And, above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from
+fighting. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in--that I am frightened
+out of my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings all over me,
+such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at my
+heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear
+Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me,
+for she does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother, how
+kind you are! I know you will contrive it all.”
+
+But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours
+in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in
+her hopes as her fears; and after talking with her in this manner till
+dinner was on table, they left her to vent all her feelings on the
+housekeeper, who attended in the absence of her daughters.
+
+Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real
+occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to
+oppose it; for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her
+tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it
+better that _one_ only of the household, and the one whom they could
+most trust, should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the
+subject.
+
+In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been
+too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearance
+before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette. The
+faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible
+in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger
+which she had herself incurred in the business, had given something more
+of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was
+mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance
+of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table,--
+
+“This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked of.
+But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of
+each other the balm of sisterly consolation.”
+
+Then perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added,
+“Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful
+lesson:--that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable, that one
+false step involves her in endless ruin, that her reputation is no less
+brittle than it is beautiful, and that she cannot be too much guarded in
+her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.”
+
+Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to
+make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such
+kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.
+
+In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for half an
+hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of the
+opportunity of making any inquiries which Jane was equally eager to
+satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel
+of this event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss
+Bennet could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued
+the subject by saying, “But tell me all and everything about it which I
+have not already heard. Give me further particulars. What did Colonel
+Forster say? Had they no apprehension of anything before the elopement
+took place? They must have seen them together for ever.”
+
+“Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality,
+especially on Lydia’s side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so
+grieved for him. His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He
+_was_ coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he had
+any idea of their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehension
+first got abroad, it hastened his journey.”
+
+“And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he know of
+their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?”
+
+“Yes; but when questioned by _him_, Denny denied knowing anything of
+their plan, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did not
+repeat his persuasion of their not marrying, and from _that_ I am
+inclined to hope he might have been misunderstood before.”
+
+“And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained a
+doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?”
+
+“How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains? I felt a
+little uneasy--a little fearful of my sister’s happiness with him in
+marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quite
+right. My father and mother knew nothing of that; they only felt how
+imprudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural
+triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia’s last letter
+she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their
+being in love with each other many weeks.”
+
+“But not before they went to Brighton?”
+
+“No, I believe not.”
+
+“And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill of Wickham himself? Does he
+know his real character?”
+
+“I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he formerly
+did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant; and since this sad
+affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt:
+but I hope this may be false.”
+
+“Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him,
+this could not have happened!”
+
+“Perhaps it would have been better,” replied her sister.
+
+“But to expose the former faults of any person, without knowing what
+their present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable.”
+
+“We acted with the best intentions.”
+
+“Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia’s note to his
+wife?”
+
+“He brought it with him for us to see.”
+
+Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth. These
+were the contents:--
+
+     /* NIND “My dear Harriet, */
+
+     “You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help
+     laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am
+     missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with
+     who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the
+     world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without
+     him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at
+     Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the
+     surprise the greater when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia
+     Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for
+     laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my
+     engagement, and dancing with him to-night. Tell him I hope he will
+     excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at
+     the next ball we meet with great pleasure. I shall send for my
+     clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to
+     mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed
+     up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will
+     drink to our good journey.
+
+“Your affectionate friend,
+
+“LYDIA BENNET.”
+
+
+“Oh, thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!” cried Elizabeth when she had
+finished it. “What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment! But
+at least it shows that _she_ was serious in the object of her journey.
+Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her side a
+_scheme_ of infamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!”
+
+“I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word for full ten
+minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in
+such confusion!”
+
+“Oh, Jane,” cried Elizabeth, “was there a servant belonging to it who
+did not know the whole story before the end of the day?”
+
+“I do not know: I hope there was. But to be guarded at such a time is
+very difficult. My mother was in hysterics; and though I endeavoured to
+give her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so much
+as I might have done. But the horror of what might possibly happen
+almost took from me my faculties.”
+
+“Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do not look
+well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had every care and anxiety
+upon yourself alone.”
+
+“Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every
+fatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right for either of them.
+Kitty is slight and delicate, and Mary studies so much that her hours of
+repose should not be broken in on. My aunt Philips came to Longbourn on
+Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till
+Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all, and Lady
+Lucas has been very kind: she walked here on Wednesday morning to
+condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters, if
+they could be of use to us.”
+
+“She had better have stayed at home,” cried Elizabeth: “perhaps she
+_meant_ well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see too
+little of one’s neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence,
+insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.”
+
+She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her father had
+intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter.
+
+“He meant, I believe,” replied Jane, “to go to Epsom, the place where
+they last changed horses, see the postilions, and try if anything could
+be made out from them. His principal object must be to discover the
+number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had come
+with a fare from London; and as he thought the circumstance of a
+gentleman and lady’s removing from one carriage into another might be
+remarked, he meant to make inquiries at Clapham. If he could anyhow
+discover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he
+determined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible
+to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any
+other designs that he had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone,
+and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding
+out even so much as this.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     The Post
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next
+morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him.
+His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and
+dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion.
+They were forced to conclude, that he had no pleasing intelligence to
+send; but even of _that_ they would have been glad to be certain. Mr.
+Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.
+
+When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant
+information of what was going on; and their uncle promised, at parting,
+to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn as soon as he could, to
+the great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the only
+security for her husband’s not being killed in a duel.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few
+days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceable to
+her nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a
+great comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also
+visited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of
+cheering and heartening them up--though, as she never came without
+reporting some fresh instance of Wickham’s extravagance or irregularity,
+she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found
+them.
+
+All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months
+before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt
+to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with
+the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman’s family.
+Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world; and
+everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted the
+appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above
+half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of
+her sister’s ruin still more certain; and even Jane, who believed still
+less of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now
+come, when, if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before
+entirely despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some
+news of them.
+
+Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday, his wife received a
+letter from him: it told them, that on his arrival he had immediately
+found out his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street.
+That Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham, before his arrival, but
+without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was now
+determined to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet
+thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first
+coming to London, before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself
+did not expect any success from this measure; but as his brother was
+eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added, that Mr.
+Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave London, and
+promised to write again very soon. There was also a postscript to this
+effect:--
+
+“I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if
+possible, from some of the young man’s intimates in the regiment,
+whether Wickham has any relations or connections who would be likely to
+know in what part of the town he has now concealed himself. If there
+were anyone that one could apply to, with a probability of gaining such
+a clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we have
+nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in
+his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps
+Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now living better than any
+other person.”
+
+Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference for
+her authority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any
+information of so satisfactory a nature as the compliment deserved.
+
+She had never heard of his having had any relations, except a father
+and mother, both of whom had been dead many years. It was possible,
+however, that some of his companions in the ----shire might be able to
+give more information; and though she was not very sanguine in expecting
+it, the application was a something to look forward to.
+
+Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious
+part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters was
+the first grand object of every morning’s impatience. Through letters,
+whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated; and every
+succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance.
+
+But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for
+their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane
+had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence,
+she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his
+letters always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as
+follows:--
+
+     /* “My dear Sir, */
+
+     “I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation
+     in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now
+     suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter
+     from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and
+     myself sincerely sympathize with you, and all your respectable
+     family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest
+     kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No
+     arguments shall be wanting on my part, that can alleviate so severe
+     a misfortune; or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that
+     must be, of all others, most afflicting to a parent’s mind. The
+     death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of
+     this. And it is the more to be lamented, because there is reason to
+     suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness
+     of behaviour in your
+
+     [Illustration:
+
+“To whom I have related the affair”
+
+     [_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+     daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence; though,
+     at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet,
+     I am inclined to think that her own disposition must be naturally
+     bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity, at so early an
+     age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously to be pitied; in
+     which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by
+     Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair.
+     They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one
+     daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others: for
+     who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect
+     themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads me,
+     moreover, to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain
+     event of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been
+     involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me advise you, then,
+     my dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off
+     your unworthy child from your affection for ever, and leave her to
+     reap the fruits of her own heinous offence.
+
+“I am, dear sir,” etc., etc.
+
+Mr. Gardiner did not write again, till he had received an answer from
+Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send.
+It was not known that Wickham had a single relation with whom he kept up
+any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one living. His
+former acquaintance had been numerous; but since he had been in the
+militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of particular friendship
+with any of them. There was no one, therefore, who could be pointed out
+as likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state of his own
+finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to
+his fear of discovery by Lydia’s relations; for it had just transpired
+that he had left gaming debts behind him to a very considerable amount.
+Colonel Forster believed that more than a thousand pounds would be
+necessary to clear his expenses at Brighton. He owed a good deal in the
+town, but his debts of honour were still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner
+did not attempt to conceal these particulars from the Longbourn family;
+Jane heard them with horror. “A gamester!” she cried. “This is wholly
+unexpected; I had not an idea of it.”
+
+Mr. Gardiner added, in his letter, that they might expect to see their
+father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. Rendered
+spiritless by the ill success of all their endeavours, he had yielded to
+his brother-in-law’s entreaty that he would return to his family and
+leave it to him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable
+for continuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did
+not express so much satisfaction as her children expected, considering
+what her anxiety for his life had been before.
+
+“What! is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?” she cried. “Sure he
+will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham,
+and make him marry her, if he comes away?”
+
+As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she
+and her children should go to London at the same time that Mr. Bennet
+came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their
+journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn.
+
+Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her
+Derbyshire friend, that had attended her from that part of the world.
+His name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece;
+and the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of
+their being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing.
+Elizabeth had received none since her return, that could come from
+Pemberley.
+
+The present unhappy state of the family rendered any other excuse for
+the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be
+fairly conjectured from _that_,--though Elizabeth, who was by this time
+tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware
+that, had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of
+Lydia’s infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought,
+one sleepless night out of two.
+
+When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual
+philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the
+habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him
+away; and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of
+it.
+
+It was not till the afternoon, when he joined them at tea, that
+Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly
+expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, “Say
+nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing,
+and I ought to feel it.”
+
+“You must not be too severe upon yourself,” replied Elizabeth.
+
+“You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone to
+fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have
+been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression.
+It will pass away soon enough.”
+
+“Do you suppose them to be in London?”
+
+“Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?”
+
+“And Lydia used to want to go to London,” added Kitty.
+
+“She is happy, then,” said her father, drily; “and her residence there
+will probably be of some duration.”
+
+Then, after a short silence, he continued, “Lizzy, I bear you no
+ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last May, which,
+considering the event, shows some greatness of mind.”
+
+They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother’s
+tea.
+
+“This is a parade,” cried he, “which does one good; it gives such an
+elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my
+library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as
+I can,--or perhaps I may defer it till Kitty runs away.”
+
+“I am not going to run away, papa,” said Kitty, fretfully. “If _I_
+should ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia.”
+
+“_You_ go to Brighton! I would not trust you so near it as Eastbourne,
+for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at least learnt to be cautious, and
+you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house
+again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely
+prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters. And you are
+never to stir out of doors, till you can prove that you have spent ten
+minutes of every day in a rational manner.”
+
+Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry.
+
+“Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good
+girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of
+them.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Two days after Mr. Bennet’s return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walking
+together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper
+coming towards them, and concluding that she came to call them to their
+mother, went forward to meet her; but instead of the expected summons,
+when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, “I beg your pardon,
+madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some
+good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask.”
+
+“What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town.”
+
+“Dear madam,” cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, “don’t you know
+there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been here
+this half hour, and master has had a letter.”
+
+Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They
+ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the
+library;--their father was in neither; and they were on the point of
+seeking him upstairs with their mother, when they were met by the
+butler, who said,--
+
+“If you are looking for my master, ma’am, he is walking towards the
+little copse.”
+
+Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once more,
+and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberately
+pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock.
+
+Jane, who was not so light, nor so much in the habit of running as
+Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath,
+came up with him, and eagerly cried out,--
+
+“Oh, papa, what news? what news? have you heard from my uncle?”
+
+“Yes, I have had a letter from him by express.”
+
+“Well, and what news does it bring--good or bad?”
+
+“What is there of good to be expected?” said he, taking the letter from
+his pocket; “but perhaps you would like to read it.”
+
+Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up.
+
+“Read it aloud,” said their father, “for I hardly know myself what it is
+about.”
+
+     /* RIGHT “Gracechurch Street, _Monday, August 2_. */
+
+“My dear Brother,
+
+     “At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such
+     as, upon the whole, I hope will give you satisfaction. Soon after
+     you left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what
+     part of London they were. The particulars I reserve till we meet.
+     It is enough to know they are discovered: I have seen them
+     both----”
+
+     [Illustration:
+
+“But perhaps you would like to read it”
+
+     [_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+     “Then it is as I always hoped,” cried Jane: “they are married!”
+
+     Elizabeth read on: “I have seen them both. They are not married,
+     nor can I find there was any intention of being so; but if you are
+     willing to perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on
+     your side, I hope it will not be long before they are. All that is
+     required of you is, to assure to your daughter, by settlement, her
+     equal share of the five thousand pounds, secured among your
+     children after the decease of yourself and my sister; and,
+     moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during your
+     life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions which,
+     considering everything, I had no hesitation in complying with, as
+     far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by
+     express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You
+     will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham’s
+     circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to
+     be. The world has been deceived in that respect; and I am happy to
+     say, there will be some little money, even when all his debts are
+     discharged, to settle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune.
+     If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full powers to act
+     in your name throughout the whole of this business, I will
+     immediately give directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper
+     settlement. There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming
+     to town again; therefore stay quietly at Longbourn, and depend on
+     my diligence and care. Send back your answer as soon as you can,
+     and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it best that my
+     niece should be married from this house, of which I hope you will
+     approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as
+     anything more is determined on. Yours, etc.
+
+“EDW. GARDINER.”
+
+“Is it possible?” cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. “Can it be
+possible that he will marry her?”
+
+“Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we have thought him,” said her
+sister. “My dear father, I congratulate you.”
+
+“And have you answered the letter?” said Elizabeth.
+
+“No; but it must be done soon.”
+
+Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no more time before he
+wrote.
+
+“Oh! my dear father,” she cried, “come back and write immediately.
+Consider how important every moment is in such a case.”
+
+“Let me write for you,” said Jane, “if you dislike the trouble
+yourself.”
+
+“I dislike it very much,” he replied; “but it must be done.”
+
+And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the house.
+
+“And--may I ask?” said Elizabeth; “but the terms, I suppose, must be
+complied with.”
+
+“Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little.”
+
+“And they _must_ marry! Yet he is _such_ a man.”
+
+“Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there
+are two things that I want very much to know:--one is, how much money
+your uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how I am ever
+to pay him.”
+
+“Money! my uncle!” cried Jane, “what do you mean, sir?”
+
+“I mean that no man in his proper senses would marry Lydia on so slight
+a temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am
+gone.”
+
+“That is very true,” said Elizabeth; “though it had not occurred to me
+before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh,
+it must be my uncle’s doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has
+distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this.”
+
+“No,” said her father. “Wickham’s a fool if he takes her with a farthing
+less than ten thousand pounds: I should be sorry to think so ill of him,
+in the very beginning of our relationship.”
+
+“Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be
+repaid?”
+
+Mr. Bennet made no answer; and each of them, deep in thought, continued
+silent till they reached the house. Their father then went to the
+library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room.
+
+“And they are really to be married!” cried Elizabeth, as soon as they
+were by themselves. “How strange this is! and for _this_ we are to be
+thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness,
+and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice! Oh, Lydia!”
+
+“I comfort myself with thinking,” replied Jane, “that he certainly would
+not marry Lydia, if he had not a real regard for her. Though our kind
+uncle has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe that ten
+thousand pounds, or anything like it, has been advanced. He has children
+of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half ten thousand
+pounds?”
+
+“If we are ever able to learn what Wickham’s debts have been,” said
+Elizabeth, “and how much is settled on his side on our sister, we shall
+exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for them, because Wickham has
+not sixpence of his own. The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never be
+requited. Their taking her home, and affording her their personal
+protection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as
+years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is
+actually with them! If such goodness does not make her miserable now,
+she will never deserve to be happy! What a meeting for her, when she
+first sees my aunt!”
+
+“We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side,” said
+Jane: “I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to marry
+her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of
+thinking. Their mutual affection will steady them; and I flatter myself
+they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in
+time make their past imprudence forgotten.”
+
+“Their conduct has been such,” replied Elizabeth, “as neither you, nor
+I, nor anybody, can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it.”
+
+It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood
+perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library,
+therefore, and asked their father whether he would not wish them to make
+it known to her. He was writing, and, without raising his head, coolly
+replied,--
+
+“Just as you please.”
+
+“May we take my uncle’s letter to read to her?”
+
+“Take whatever you like, and get away.”
+
+Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table, and they went upstairs
+together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one communication
+would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news,
+the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As
+soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner’s hope of Lydia’s being soon married,
+her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its
+exuberance. She was now in an irritation as violent from delight as she
+had ever been fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her daughter
+would be married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her
+felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct.
+
+“My dear, dear Lydia!” she cried: “this is delightful indeed! She will
+be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! My
+good, kind brother! I knew how it would be--I knew he would manage
+everything. How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the
+clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about
+them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how
+much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell,
+Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear
+Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!”
+
+Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of
+these transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr.
+Gardiner’s behaviour laid them all under.
+
+“For we must attribute this happy conclusion,” she added, “in a great
+measure to his kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself to
+assist Mr. Wickham with money.”
+
+“Well,” cried her mother, “it is all very right; who should do it but
+her own uncle? If he had not had a family of his own, I and my children
+must have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we have
+ever had anything from him except a few presents. Well! I am so happy.
+In a short time, I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well
+it sounds! And she was only sixteen last June. My dear Jane, I am in
+such a flutter, that I am sure I can’t write; so I will dictate, and you
+write for me. We will settle with your father about the money
+afterwards; but the things should be ordered immediately.”
+
+She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, and
+cambric, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had
+not Jane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait till her
+father was at leisure to be consulted. One day’s delay, she observed,
+would be of small importance; and her mother was too happy to be quite
+so obstinate as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head.
+
+“I will go to Meryton,” said she, “as soon as I am dressed, and tell the
+good, good news to my sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call on
+Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run down and order the carriage. An
+airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do
+anything for you in Meryton? Oh! here comes Hill. My dear Hill, have you
+heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall
+all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding.”
+
+Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her
+congratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took
+refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom. Poor Lydia’s
+situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was no worse, she
+had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, in looking forward,
+neither rational happiness, nor worldly prosperity could be justly
+expected for her sister, in looking back to what they had feared, only
+two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had gained.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“The spiteful old ladies”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mr. Bennet had very often wished, before this period of his life, that,
+instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum, for
+the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived
+him. He now wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that
+respect, Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle for whatever of
+honour or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of
+prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain to
+be her husband might then have rested in its proper place.
+
+He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone
+should be forwarded at the sole expense of his brother-in-law; and he
+was determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance,
+and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could.
+
+When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly
+useless; for, of course, they were to have a son. This son was to join
+in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow
+and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters
+successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs.
+Bennet, for many years after Lydia’s birth, had been certain that he
+would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too
+late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy; and her
+husband’s love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their
+income.
+
+Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet and
+the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst the
+latter depended on the will of the parents. This was one point, with
+regard to Lydia at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet
+could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In
+terms of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother, though
+expressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect
+approbation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the
+engagements that had been made for him. He had never before supposed
+that, could Wickham be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it would be
+done with so little inconvenience to himself as by the present
+arrangement. He would scarcely be ten pounds a year the loser, by the
+hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and pocket
+allowance, and the continual presents in money which passed to her
+through her mother’s hands, Lydia’s expenses had been very little within
+that sum.
+
+That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was
+another very welcome surprise; for his chief wish at present was to have
+as little trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports
+of rage which had produced his activity in seeking her were over, he
+naturally returned to all his former indolence. His letter was soon
+despatched; for though dilatory in undertaking business, he was quick in
+its execution. He begged to know further particulars of what he was
+indebted to his brother; but was too angry with Lydia to send any
+message to her.
+
+The good news quickly spread through the house; and with proportionate
+speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent
+philosophy. To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage of
+conversation, had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the
+happiest alternative, been secluded from the world in some distant
+farm-house. But there was much to be talked of, in marrying her; and the
+good-natured wishes for her well-doing, which had proceeded before from
+all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton, lost but little of their spirit
+in this change of circumstances, because with such a husband her misery
+was considered certain.
+
+It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been down stairs, but on this
+happy day she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in
+spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her
+triumph. The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object of
+her wishes since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of
+accomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on those
+attendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, and
+servants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for a
+proper situation for her daughter; and, without knowing or considering
+what their income might be, rejected many as deficient in size and
+importance.
+
+“Haye Park might do,” said she, “if the Gouldings would quit it, or the
+great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is
+too far off. I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for
+Purvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful.”
+
+Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while the
+servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her, “Mrs.
+Bennet, before you take any, or all of these houses, for your son and
+daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into _one_ house in this
+neighbourhood they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the
+imprudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn.”
+
+A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm: it
+soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror,
+that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his
+daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of
+affection whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend
+it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable
+resentment as to refuse his daughter a privilege, without which her
+marriage would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all that she could believe
+possible. She was more alive to the disgrace, which her want of new
+clothes must reflect on her daughter’s nuptials, than to any sense of
+shame at her eloping and living with Wickham a fortnight before they
+took place.
+
+Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of
+the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for
+her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the proper
+termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its
+unfavourable beginning from all those who were not immediately on the
+spot.
+
+She had no fear of its spreading farther, through his means. There were
+few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended;
+but at the same time there was no one whose knowledge of a sister’s
+frailty would have mortified her so much. Not, however, from any fear of
+disadvantage from it individually to herself; for at any rate there
+seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Lydia’s marriage been
+concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that
+Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family, where to every other
+objection would now be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest
+kind with the man whom he so justly scorned.
+
+From such a connection she could not wonder that he should shrink. The
+wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his
+feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a
+blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she
+hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no
+longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there
+seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that
+she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they
+should meet.
+
+What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the
+proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago would now
+have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she
+doubted not, as the most generous of his sex. But while he was mortal,
+there must be a triumph.
+
+She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in
+disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and
+temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It
+was an union that must have been to the advantage of both: by her ease
+and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved;
+and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must
+have received benefit of greater importance.
+
+But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what
+connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and
+precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their
+family.
+
+How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable independence she
+could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could belong to
+a couple who were only brought together because their passions were
+stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture.
+
+Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet’s
+acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurances of his eagerness to
+promote the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreaties
+that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal
+purport of his letter was to inform them, that Mr. Wickham had resolved
+on quitting the militia.
+
+“It was greatly my wish that he should do so,” he added, “as soon as his
+marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in
+considering a removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on his
+account and my niece’s. It is Mr. Wickham’s intention to go into the
+Regulars; and, among his former friends, there are still some who are
+able and willing to assist him in the army. He has the promise of an
+ensigncy in General----’s regiment, now quartered in the north. It is
+an advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. He
+promises fairly; and I hope among different people, where they may each
+have a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent. I have
+written to Colonel Forster, to inform him of our present arrangements,
+and to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Wickham
+in and near Brighton with assurances of speedy payment, for which I have
+pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carrying
+similar assurances to his creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin
+a list, according to his information? He has given in all his debts; I
+hope at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions, and
+all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment,
+unless they are first invited to Longbourn; and I understand from Mrs.
+Gardiner that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before she
+leaves the south. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered to
+you and her mother.--Yours, etc.
+
+“E. GARDINER.”
+
+Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham’s
+removal from the ----shire, as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But
+Mrs. Bennet was not so well pleased with it. Lydia’s being settled in
+the north, just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her
+company, for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in
+Hertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a
+pity that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted
+with everybody, and had so many favourites.
+
+“She is so fond of Mrs. Forster,” said she, “it will be quite shocking
+to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she
+likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General----’s
+regiment.”
+
+His daughter’s request, for such it might be considered, of being
+admitted into her family again, before she set off for the north,
+received at first an absolute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth, who
+agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister’s feelings and
+consequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents,
+urged him so earnestly, yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her
+and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married, that he was
+prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their
+mother had the satisfaction of knowing, that she should be able to show
+her married daughter in the neighbourhood, before she was banished to
+the north. When Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, therefore, he
+sent his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that, as soon
+as the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth
+was surprised, however, that Wickham should consent to such a scheme;
+and, had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him
+would have been the last object of her wishes.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“With an affectionate smile”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Their sister’s wedding-day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her
+probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet
+them at----, and they were to return in it by dinnertime. Their arrival
+was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets--and Jane more especially, who
+gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had _she_
+been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister
+must endure.
+
+They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast-room to receive
+them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet, as the carriage drove up to
+the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed,
+anxious, uneasy.
+
+Lydia’s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and
+she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and
+welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand with an affectionate smile to
+Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy, with an
+alacrity which showed no doubt of their happiness.
+
+Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite
+so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely
+opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was
+enough to provoke him.
+
+Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was shocked. Lydia was
+Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned
+from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations; and when at
+length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of
+some little alteration in it, and observed, with a laugh, that it was a
+great while since she had been there.
+
+Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself; but his manners
+were always so pleasing, that, had his character and his marriage been
+exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he
+claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth
+had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat
+down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the
+impudence of an impudent man. _She_ blushed, and Jane blushed; but the
+cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of
+colour.
+
+There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither
+of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near
+Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood,
+with a good-humoured ease, which she felt very unable to equal in her
+replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the
+world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led
+voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for
+the world.
+
+“Only think of its being three months,” she cried, “since I went away:
+it seems but a fortnight, I declare; and yet there have been things
+enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure
+I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I
+thought it would be very good fun if I was.”
+
+Her father lifted up his eyes, Jane was distressed, Elizabeth looked
+expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of
+which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued,--
+
+“Oh, mamma, do the people hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was
+afraid they might not; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle,
+so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side glass
+next to him, and took off my glove and let my hand just rest upon the
+window frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and
+smiled like anything.”
+
+Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room;
+and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to
+the dining-parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with
+anxious parade, walk up to her mother’s right hand, and hear her say to
+her eldest sister,--
+
+“Ah, Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a
+married woman.”
+
+It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment
+from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good
+spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and all
+their other neighbours, and to hear herself called “Mrs. Wickham” by
+each of them; and in the meantime she went after dinner to show her ring
+and boast of being married to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.
+
+“Well, mamma,” said she, when they were all returned to the
+breakfast-room, “and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a
+charming man? I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they
+may have half my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the
+place to get husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go!”
+
+“Very true; and if I had my will we should. But, my dear Lydia, I don’t
+at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?”
+
+“Oh, Lord! yes; there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all things.
+You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We shall be at
+Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some balls, and I
+will take care to get good partners for them all.”
+
+“I should like it beyond anything!” said her mother.
+
+“And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters
+behind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the
+winter is over.”
+
+“I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizabeth; “but I do not
+particularly like your way of getting husbands.”
+
+Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham
+had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join
+his regiment at the end of a fortnight.
+
+No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; and
+she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and
+having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to
+all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did
+think than such as did not.
+
+Wickham’s affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected to
+find it; not equal to Lydia’s for him. She had scarcely needed her
+present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that
+their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love rather
+than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring
+for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain
+that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and
+if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity
+of having a companion.
+
+Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every
+occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did
+everything best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds
+on the first of September than anybody else in the country.
+
+One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two
+elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth,--
+
+“Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You were
+not by, when I told mamma, and the others, all about it. Are not you
+curious to hear how it was managed?”
+
+“No, really,” replied Elizabeth; “I think there cannot be too little
+said on the subject.”
+
+“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were
+married, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’s lodgings were in
+that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven
+o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others
+were to meet us at the church.
+
+“Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid,
+you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should
+have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was
+dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a
+sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was
+thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether
+he would be married in his blue coat.
+
+“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual: I thought it would never
+be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand that my uncle and aunt
+were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe
+me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a
+fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything! To be sure, London was
+rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open.
+
+“Well, and so, just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was
+called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you
+know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so
+frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away;
+and if we were beyond the hour we could not be married all day. But,
+luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time, and then we all set
+out. However, I recollected afterwards, that if he _had_ been prevented
+going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as
+well.”
+
+“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.
+
+“Oh, yes! he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But, gracious me!
+I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised
+them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”
+
+“If it was to be a secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the
+subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”
+
+“Oh, certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; “we will
+ask you no questions.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Lydia; “for if you did, I should certainly tell you
+all, and then Wickham would be so angry.”
+
+On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her
+power, by running away.
+
+But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it
+was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her
+sister’s wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people,
+where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go.
+Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her
+brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as
+placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She
+could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper,
+wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what
+Lydia had dropped, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been
+intended.
+
+“You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to
+know how a person unconnected with any of us, and, comparatively
+speaking, a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such
+a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is,
+for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to
+think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with
+ignorance.”
+
+“Not that I _shall_, though,” she added to herself, and she finished the
+letter; “and, my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable
+manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it
+out.”
+
+Jane’s delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to
+Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad of
+it:--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any
+satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“I am sure she did not listen.”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as
+soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it, than
+hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to be
+interrupted, she sat down on one of the benches, and prepared to be
+happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not
+contain a denial.
+
+     /* RIGHT “Gracechurch Street, _Sept. 6_. */
+
+“My dear Niece,
+
+     “I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole
+     morning to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing will
+     not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself
+     surprised by your application; I did not expect it from _you_.
+     Don’t think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know,
+     that I had not imagined such inquiries to be necessary on _your_
+     side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my
+     impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am; and nothing
+     but the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed
+     him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and
+     ignorant, I must be more explicit. On the very day of my coming
+     home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr.
+     Darcy called, and was shut up with him several hours. It was all
+     over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked
+     as _yours_ seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he
+     had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that he
+     had seen and talked with them both--Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once.
+     From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after
+     ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for
+     them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to
+     himself that Wickham’s worthlessness had not been so well known as
+     to make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or
+     confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken
+     pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to
+     lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to
+     speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step
+     forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on
+     by himself. If he _had another_ motive, I am sure it would never
+     disgrace him. He had been some days in town before he was able to
+     discover them; but he had something to direct his search, which was
+     more than _we_ had; and the consciousness of this was another
+     reason for his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a
+     Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was
+     dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation, though
+     he did not say what. She then took a large house in Edward Street,
+     and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings. This Mrs.
+     Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wickham; and he
+     went to her for intelligence of him, as soon as he got to town. But
+     it was two or three days before he could get from her what he
+     wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery
+     and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be
+     found. Wickham, indeed, had gone to her on their first arrival in
+     London; and had she been able to receive them into her house, they
+     would have taken up their abode with her. At length, however, our
+     kind friend procured the wished-for direction. They were in ----
+     Street. He saw Wickham, and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia.
+     His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade
+     her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return to her
+     friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her,
+     offering his assistance as far as it would go. But he found Lydia
+     absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared for none
+     of her friends; she wanted no help of his; she would not hear of
+     leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married some time or
+     other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her
+     feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a
+     marriage, which, in his very first conversation with Wickham, he
+     easily learnt had never been _his_ design. He confessed himself
+     obliged to leave the regiment on account of some debts of honour
+     which were very pressing; and scrupled not to lay all the ill
+     consequences of Lydia’s flight on her own folly alone. He meant to
+     resign his commission immediately; and as to his future situation,
+     he could conjecture very little about it. He must go somewhere, but
+     he did not know where, and he knew he should have nothing to live
+     on. Mr. Darcy asked why he did not marry your sister at once.
+     Though Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have
+     been able to do something for him, and his situation must have been
+     benefited by marriage. But he found, in reply to this question,
+     that Wickham still cherished the hope of more effectually making
+     his fortune by marriage, in some other country. Under such
+     circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof against the
+     temptation of immediate relief. They met several times, for there
+     was much to be discussed. Wickham, of course, wanted more than he
+     could get; but at length was reduced to be reasonable. Everything
+     being settled between _them_, Mr. Darcy’s next step was to make
+     your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch
+     Street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not
+     be seen; and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father
+     was still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did
+     not judge your father to be a person whom he could so properly
+     consult as your uncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing him
+     till after the departure of the former. He did not leave his name,
+     and till the next day it was only known that a gentleman had called
+     on business. On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your
+     uncle at home, and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk
+     together. They met again on Sunday, and then _I_ saw him too. It
+     was not all settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express
+     was sent off to Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I
+     fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character,
+     after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times;
+     but _this_ is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not
+     do himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak it to be thanked,
+     therefore say nothing about it) your uncle would most readily have
+     settled the whole. They battled it together for a long time, which
+     was more than either the gentleman or lady concerned in it
+     deserved. But at last your uncle was forced to yield, and instead
+     of being allowed to be of use to his niece, was forced to put up
+     with only having the probable credit of it, which went sorely
+     against the grain; and I really believe your letter this morning
+     gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation that
+     would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where
+     it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no further than yourself, or
+     Jane at most. You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done
+     for the young people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, I
+     believe, to considerably more than a thousand pounds, another
+     thousand in addition to her own settled upon _her_, and his
+     commission purchased. The reason why all this was to be done by him
+     alone, was such as I have given above. It was owing to him, to his
+     reserve and want of proper consideration, that Wickham’s character
+     had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he had been
+     received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in
+     _this_; though I doubt whether _his_ reserve, or _anybody’s_
+     reserve can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this
+     fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured that
+     your uncle would never have yielded, if we had not given him credit
+     for _another interest_ in the affair. When all this was resolved
+     on, he returned again to his friends, who were still staying at
+     Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in London once more
+     when the wedding took place, and all money matters were then to
+     receive the last finish. I believe I have now told you everything.
+     It is a relation which you tell me is to give you great surprise; I
+     hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to
+     us, and Wickham had constant admission to the house. _He_ was
+     exactly what he had been when I knew him in Hertfordshire; but I
+     would not tell you how little I was satisfied with _her_ behaviour
+     while she stayed with us, if I had not perceived, by Jane’s letter
+     last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming home was exactly of a
+     piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you can give you no
+     fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner,
+     representing to her the wickedness of what she had done, and all
+     the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If she heard me, it
+     was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was sometimes
+     quite provoked; but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth and Jane,
+     and for their sakes had patience with her. Mr. Darcy was punctual
+     in his return, and, as Lydia informed you, attended the wedding. He
+     dined with us the next day, and was to leave town again on
+     Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my dear
+     Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold
+     enough to say before) how much I like him? His behaviour to us has,
+     in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire.
+     His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but
+     a little more liveliness, and _that_, if he marry _prudently_, his
+     wife may teach him. I thought him very sly; he hardly ever
+     mentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion. Pray forgive
+     me, if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so
+     far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy till I
+     have been all round the park. A low phaeton with a nice little pair
+     of ponies would be the very thing. But I must write no more. The
+     children have been wanting me this half hour.
+
+“Yours, very sincerely,
+
+“M. GARDINER.”
+
+
+The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits,
+in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the
+greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had
+produced, of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her
+sister’s match--which she had feared to encourage, as an exertion of
+goodness too great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be
+just, from the pain of obligation--were proved beyond their greatest
+extent to be true! He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken
+on himself all the trouble and mortification attendant on such a
+research; in which supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he
+must abominate and despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently
+meet, reason with, persuade, and finally bribe the man whom he always
+most wished to avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to
+pronounce. He had done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard
+nor esteem. Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it
+was a hope shortly checked by other considerations; and she soon felt
+that even her vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his
+affection for her, for a woman who had already refused him, as able to
+overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with
+Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from
+the connection. He had, to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think
+how much. But he had given a reason for his interference, which asked no
+extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel
+he had been wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising
+it; and though she would not place herself as his principal inducement,
+she could perhaps believe, that remaining partiality for her might
+assist his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be
+materially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that
+they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a
+return. They owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, everything to
+him. Oh, how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she
+had ever encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards
+him! For herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him,--proud that
+in a cause of compassion and honour he had been able to get the better
+of himself. She read over her aunt’s commendation of him again and
+again. It was hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even sensible
+of some pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly
+both she and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence
+subsisted between Mr. Darcy and herself.
+
+She was roused from her seat and her reflections, by someone’s approach;
+and, before she could strike into another path, she was overtaken by
+Wickham.
+
+“I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?” said he,
+as he joined her.
+
+“You certainly do,” she replied with a smile; “but it does not follow
+that the interruption must be unwelcome.”
+
+“I should be sorry, indeed, if it were. _We_ were always good friends,
+and now we are better.”
+
+“True. Are the others coming out?”
+
+“I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to
+Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find, from our uncle and aunt, that
+you have actually seen Pemberley.”
+
+She replied in the affirmative.
+
+“I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much
+for me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the
+old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of
+me. But of course she did not mention my name to you.”
+
+“Yes, she did.”
+
+“And what did she say?”
+
+“That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had--not turned
+out well. At such a distance as _that_, you know, things are strangely
+misrepresented.”
+
+“Certainly,” he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped she had
+silenced him; but he soon afterwards said,--
+
+“I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed each other
+several times. I wonder what he can be doing there.”
+
+“Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh,” said
+Elizabeth. “It must be something particular to take him there at this
+time of year.”
+
+“Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought I
+understood from the Gardiners that you had.”
+
+“Yes; he introduced us to his sister.”
+
+“And do you like her?”
+
+“Very much.”
+
+“I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year
+or two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I am very glad
+you liked her. I hope she will turn out well.”
+
+“I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age.”
+
+“Did you go by the village of Kympton?”
+
+“I do not recollect that we did.”
+
+“I mention it because it is the living which I ought to have had. A most
+delightful place! Excellent parsonage-house! It would have suited me in
+every respect.”
+
+“How should you have liked making sermons?”
+
+“Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and
+the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to repine; but,
+to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The quiet, the
+retirement of such a life, would have answered all my ideas of
+happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the
+circumstance when you were in Kent?”
+
+“I _have_ heard from authority, which I thought _as good_, that it was
+left you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron.”
+
+“You have! Yes, there was something in _that_; I told you so from the
+first, you may remember.”
+
+“I _did_ hear, too, that there was a time when sermon-making was not so
+palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually
+declared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business
+had been compromised accordingly.”
+
+“You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember
+what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it.”
+
+They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast
+to get rid of him; and unwilling, for her sister’s sake, to provoke him,
+she only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile,--
+
+“Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not let us
+quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one
+mind.”
+
+She held out her hand: he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though
+he hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“Mr. Darcy with him.”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation, that he
+never again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth,
+by introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she
+had said enough to keep him quiet.
+
+The day of his and Lydia’s departure soon came; and Mrs. Bennet was
+forced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means
+entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to
+continue at least a twelvemonth.
+
+“Oh, my dear Lydia,” she cried, “when shall we meet again?”
+
+“Oh, Lord! I don’t know. Not these two or three years, perhaps.”
+
+“Write to me very often, my dear.”
+
+“As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for
+writing. My sisters may write to _me_. They will have nothing else to
+do.”
+
+Mr. Wickham’s adieus were much more affectionate than his wife’s. He
+smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.
+
+“He is as fine a fellow,” said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of
+the house, “as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us
+all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas
+himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law.”
+
+The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days.
+
+“I often think,” said she, “that there is nothing so bad as parting with
+one’s friends. One seems so forlorn without them.”
+
+“This is the consequence, you see, madam, of marrying a daughter,” said
+Elizabeth. “It must make you better satisfied that your other four are
+single.”
+
+“It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married;
+but only because her husband’s regiment happens to be so far off. If
+that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon.”
+
+But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortly
+relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an
+article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper
+at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her
+master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several
+weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and
+smiled, and shook her head, by turns.
+
+“Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister,” (for Mrs.
+Philips first brought her the news). “Well, so much the better. Not that
+I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I
+never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to come to
+Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what _may_ happen? But that
+is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to mention
+a word about it. And so, it is quite certain he is coming?”
+
+“You may depend on it,” replied the other, “for Mrs. Nichols was in
+Meryton last night: I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose
+to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certainly true. He
+comes down on Thursday, at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was
+going to the butcher’s, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on
+Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks just fit to be killed.”
+
+Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changing
+colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to
+Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said,--
+
+“I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present
+report; and I know I appeared distressed; but don’t imagine it was from
+any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt that
+I _should_ be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect
+me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comes
+alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid of
+_myself_, but I dread other people’s remarks.”
+
+Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had she not seen him in
+Derbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there with no
+other view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partial
+to Jane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming
+there _with_ his friend’s permission, or being bold enough to come
+without it.
+
+“Yet it is hard,” she sometimes thought, “that this poor man cannot come
+to a house, which he has legally hired, without raising all this
+speculation! I _will_ leave him to himself.”
+
+In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her
+feelings, in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily
+perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed,
+more unequal, than she had often seen them.
+
+The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents,
+about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again.
+
+“As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “you
+will wait on him, of course.”
+
+“No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if I
+went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in
+nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool’s errand again.”
+
+His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention
+would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to
+Netherfield.
+
+“’Tis an _etiquette_ I despise,” said he. “If he wants our society, let
+him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend _my_ hours in
+running after my neighbours every time they go away and come back
+again.”
+
+“Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait
+on him. But, however, that shan’t prevent my asking him to dine here, I
+am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will
+make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for
+him.”
+
+Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her
+husband’s incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her
+neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before
+_they_ did. As the day of his arrival drew near,--
+
+“I begin to be sorry that he comes at all,” said Jane to her sister. “It
+would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference; but I can
+hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well;
+but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she
+says. Happy shall I be when his stay at Netherfield is over!”
+
+“I wish I could say anything to comfort you,” replied Elizabeth; “but it
+is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction
+of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have
+always so much.”
+
+Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants,
+contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety
+and fretfulness on her side be as long as it could. She counted the days
+that must intervene before their invitation could be sent--hopeless of
+seeing him before. But on the third morning after his arrival in
+Hertfordshire, she saw him from her dressing-room window enter the
+paddock, and ride towards the house.
+
+Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely
+kept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went
+to the window--she looked--she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down
+again by her sister.
+
+“There is a gentleman with him, mamma,” said Kitty; “who can it be?”
+
+“Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not
+know.”
+
+“La!” replied Kitty, “it looks just like that man that used to be with
+him before. Mr. what’s his name--that tall, proud man.”
+
+“Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!--and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of
+Mr. Bingley’s will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must
+say that I hate the very sight of him.”
+
+Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little
+of their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness
+which must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time
+after receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable
+enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their
+mother talked on of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be
+civil to him only as Mr. Bingley’s friend, without being heard by either
+of them. But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not yet be
+suspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to show Mrs.
+Gardiner’s letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards
+him. To Jane, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused,
+and whose merits she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive
+information, he was the person to whom the whole family were indebted
+for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an
+interest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just, as
+what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming--at his
+coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again,
+was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered
+behaviour in Derbyshire.
+
+The colour which had been driven from her face returned for half a
+minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to
+her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection and
+wishes must still be unshaken; but she would not be secure.
+
+“Let me first see how he behaves,” said she; “it will then be early
+enough for expectation.”
+
+She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to
+lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her
+sister as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little
+paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the
+gentlemen’s appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with
+tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any
+symptom of resentment, or any unnecessary complaisance.
+
+Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down
+again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She
+had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious as usual; and,
+she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as
+she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps, he could not in her
+mother’s presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a
+painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.
+
+Bingley she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period
+saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs.
+Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed,
+especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of
+her courtesy and address of his friend.
+
+Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter the
+preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was
+hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill
+applied.
+
+Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did--a question
+which she could not answer without confusion--said scarcely anything. He
+was not seated by her: perhaps that was the reason of his silence; but
+it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her friends
+when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed, without
+bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist
+the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she as often
+found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but
+the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when
+they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, and angry
+with herself for being so.
+
+“Could I expect it to be otherwise?” said she. “Yet why did he come?”
+
+She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to
+him she had hardly courage to speak.
+
+She inquired after his sister, but could do no more.
+
+“It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away,” said Mrs. Bennet.
+
+He readily agreed to it.
+
+“I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People _did_ say,
+you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope
+it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood
+since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled: and one of my
+own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have
+seen it in the papers. It was in the ‘Times’ and the ‘Courier,’ I know;
+though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, ‘Lately,
+George Wickham, Esq., to Miss Lydia Bennet,’ without there being a
+syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything.
+It was my brother Gardiner’s drawing up, too, and I wonder how he came
+to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?”
+
+Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth
+dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could
+not tell.
+
+“It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,”
+continued her mother; “but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very
+hard to have her taken away from me. They are gone down to Newcastle, a
+place quite northward it seems, and there they are to stay, I do not
+know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have heard of
+his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the Regulars.
+Thank heaven! he has _some_ friends, though, perhaps, not so many as he
+deserves.”
+
+Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery
+of shame that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, however,
+the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done
+before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in the
+country at present. A few weeks, he believed.
+
+“When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,” said her mother,
+“I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please on Mr.
+Bennet’s manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and
+will save all the best of the coveys for you.”
+
+Elizabeth’s misery increased at such unnecessary, such officious
+attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present, as had
+flattered them a year ago, everything, she was persuaded, would be
+hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant she felt,
+that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for
+moments of such painful confusion.
+
+“The first wish of my heart,” said she to herself, “is never more to be
+in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure
+that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either
+one or the other again!”
+
+Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no
+compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing
+how much the beauty of her sister rekindled the admiration of her former
+lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little, but every
+five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He found her
+as handsome as she had been last year; as good-natured, and as
+unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no
+difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded
+that she talked as much as ever; but her mind was so busily engaged,
+that she did not always know when she was silent.
+
+When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her
+intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at
+Longbourn in a few days’ time.
+
+“You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley,” she added; “for when
+you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with
+us as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure you
+I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your
+engagement.”
+
+Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of
+his concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away.
+
+Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine
+there that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did
+not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man
+on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride
+of one who had ten thousand a year.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Jane happened to look round”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits;
+or, in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects
+which must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy’s behaviour astonished and vexed
+her.
+
+“Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent,” said she,
+“did he come at all?”
+
+She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure.
+
+“He could be still amiable, still pleasing to my uncle and aunt, when he
+was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If he
+no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing man! I will think
+no more about him.”
+
+Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach
+of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look which showed her
+better satisfied with their visitors than Elizabeth.
+
+“Now,” said she, “that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly
+easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by
+his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly
+seen, that on both sides we meet only as common and indifferent
+acquaintance.”
+
+“Yes, very indifferent, indeed,” said Elizabeth, laughingly. “Oh, Jane!
+take care.”
+
+“My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak as to be in danger now.”
+
+“I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with
+you as ever.”
+
+They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in
+the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes which the
+good-humour and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour’s visit,
+had revived.
+
+On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two
+who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality as
+sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the
+dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take
+the place which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by
+her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to
+invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to
+hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was
+decided. He placed himself by her.
+
+Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. He
+bore it with noble indifference; and she would have imagined that
+Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes
+likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing
+alarm.
+
+His behaviour to her sister was such during dinnertime as showed an
+admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded
+Elizabeth, that, if left wholly to himself, Jane’s happiness, and his
+own, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the
+consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It
+gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in
+no cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her as the table
+could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little
+such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to
+advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse; but
+she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and
+cold was their manner whenever they did. Her mother’s ungraciousness
+made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth’s mind;
+and she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tell
+him, that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of
+the family.
+
+She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of
+bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away
+without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation,
+than the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and
+uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room before the gentlemen
+came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her uncivil.
+She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all her
+chance of pleasure for the evening must depend.
+
+“If he does not come to me, _then_,” said she, “I shall give him up for
+ever.”
+
+The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have
+answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table,
+where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee,
+in so close a confederacy, that there was not a single vacancy near her
+which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen’s approaching, one of
+the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper,--
+
+“The men shan’t come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them;
+do we?”
+
+Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with
+her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough
+to help anybody to coffee, and then was enraged against herself for
+being so silly!
+
+“A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to
+expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex who would not
+protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman?
+There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings.”
+
+She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee-cup
+himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying,--
+
+“Is your sister at Pemberley still?”
+
+“Yes; she will remain there till Christmas.”
+
+“And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?”
+
+“Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough
+these three weeks.”
+
+She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse
+with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for
+some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady’s whispering
+to Elizabeth again, he walked away.
+
+When the tea things were removed, and the card tables placed, the ladies
+all rose; and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, when
+all her views were overthrown, by seeing him fall a victim to her
+mother’s rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated
+with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure.
+They were confined for the evening at different tables; and she had
+nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side
+of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself.
+
+Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to
+supper; but their carriage was, unluckily, ordered before any of the
+others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them.
+
+“Well, girls,” said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, “what
+say you to the day? I think everything has passed off uncommonly well, I
+assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The
+venison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said, they never saw so fat
+a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the
+Lucases’ last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged that the partridges
+were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French
+cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater
+beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And
+what do you think she said besides? ‘Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her
+at Netherfield at last!’ She did, indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as
+good a creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved
+girls, and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “M^{rs}. Long and her nieces.”
+]
+
+Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits: she had seen enough of
+Bingley’s behaviour to Jane to be convinced that she would get him at
+last; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy
+humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at
+not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals.
+
+“It has been a very agreeable day,” said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. “The
+party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we
+may often meet again.”
+
+Elizabeth smiled.
+
+“Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. I
+assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an
+agreeable and sensible young man without having a wish beyond it. I am
+perfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never had
+any design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed with
+greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally
+pleasing, than any other man.”
+
+“You are very cruel,” said her sister, “you will not let me smile, and
+are provoking me to it every moment.”
+
+“How hard it is in some cases to be believed! And how impossible in
+others! But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I
+acknowledge?”
+
+“That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to
+instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive
+me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make _me_ your
+confidante.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak to you.”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His
+friend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home in
+ten days’ time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably
+good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many
+expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere.
+
+“Next time you call,” said she, “I hope we shall be more lucky.”
+
+He should be particularly happy at any time, etc., etc.; and if she
+would give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on
+them.
+
+“Can you come to-morrow?”
+
+Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was
+accepted with alacrity.
+
+He came, and in such very good time, that the ladies were none of them
+dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughters’ room, in her
+dressing-gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out,--
+
+“My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come--Mr. Bingley is
+come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss
+Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss
+Lizzy’s hair.”
+
+“We will be down as soon as we can,” said Jane; “but I dare say Kitty is
+forwarder than either of us, for she went upstairs half an hour ago.”
+
+“Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come, be quick, be quick!
+where is your sash, my dear?”
+
+But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go down
+without one of her sisters.
+
+The same anxiety to get them by themselves was visible again in the
+evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his
+custom, and Mary went upstairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of the
+five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at
+Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any
+impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last
+Kitty did, she very innocently said, “What is the matter, mamma? What do
+you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?”
+
+“Nothing, child, nothing. I did not wink at you.” She then sat still
+five minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she
+suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty,--
+
+“Come here, my love, I want to speak to you,” took her out of the room.
+Jane instantly gave a look at Elizabeth which spoke her distress at such
+premeditation, and her entreaty that _she_ would not give in to it. In a
+few minutes, Mrs. Bennet half opened the door and called out,--
+
+“Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you.”
+
+Elizabeth was forced to go.
+
+“We may as well leave them by themselves, you know,” said her mother as
+soon as she was in the hall. “Kitty and I are going upstairs to sit in
+my dressing-room.”
+
+Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained
+quietly in the hall till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned
+into the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs. Bennet’s schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was
+everything that was charming, except the professed lover of her
+daughter. His ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable
+addition to their evening party; and he bore with the ill-judged
+officiousness of the mother, and heard all her silly remarks with a
+forbearance and command of countenance particularly grateful to the
+daughter.
+
+He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went away
+an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs. Bennet’s
+means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband.
+
+After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed
+between the sisters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in the
+happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy
+returned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably
+persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman’s
+concurrence.
+
+Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spent the
+morning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more
+agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption
+or folly in Bingley that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him into
+silence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric, than the
+other had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner;
+and in the evening Mrs. Bennet’s invention was again at work to get
+everybody away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter to
+write, went into the breakfast-room for that purpose soon after tea; for
+as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be
+wanted to counteract her mother’s schemes.
+
+But on her returning to the drawing-room, when her letter was finished,
+she saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her
+mother had been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she
+perceived her sister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as
+if engaged in earnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion,
+the faces of both, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each
+other, would have told it all. _Their_ situation was awkward enough; but
+_hers_ she thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by
+either; and Elizabeth was on the point of going away again, when
+Bingley, who as well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and,
+whispering a few words to her sister, ran out of the room.
+
+Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would give
+pleasure; and, instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliest
+emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world.
+
+“’Tis too much!” she added, “by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh,
+why is not everybody as happy?”
+
+Elizabeth’s congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a
+delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of
+kindness was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not
+allow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be
+said, for the present.
+
+“I must go instantly to my mother,” she cried. “I would not on any
+account trifle with her affectionate solicitude, or allow her to hear it
+from anyone but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh, Lizzy, to
+know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear
+family! how shall I bear so much happiness?”
+
+She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the
+card-party, and was sitting upstairs with Kitty.
+
+Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease
+with which an affair was finally settled, that had given them so many
+previous months of suspense and vexation.
+
+“And this,” said she, “is the end of all his friend’s anxious
+circumspection! of all his sister’s falsehood and contrivance! the
+happiest, wisest, and most reasonable end!”
+
+In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her
+father had been short and to the purpose.
+
+“Where is your sister?” said he hastily, as he opened the door.
+
+“With my mother upstairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say.”
+
+He then shut the door, and, coming up to her, claimed the good wishes
+and affection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed her
+delight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with
+great cordiality; and then, till her sister came down, she had to listen
+to all he had to say of his own happiness, and of Jane’s perfections;
+and in spite of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his
+expectations of felicity to be rationally founded, because they had for
+basis the excellent understanding and super-excellent disposition of
+Jane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her and
+himself.
+
+It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of
+Miss Bennet’s mind gave such a glow of sweet animation to her face, as
+made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped
+her turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent, or
+speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings,
+though she talked to Bingley of nothing else, for half an hour; and when
+Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed
+how really happy he was.
+
+Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their
+visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he
+turned to his daughter and said,--
+
+“Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman.”
+
+Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his
+goodness.
+
+“You are a good girl,” he replied, “and I have great pleasure in
+thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your
+doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are
+each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so
+easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will
+always exceed your income.”
+
+“I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be
+unpardonable in _me_.”
+
+“Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet,” cried his wife, “what are you
+talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely
+more.” Then addressing her daughter, “Oh, my dear, dear Jane, I am so
+happy! I am sure I shan’t get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it
+would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not
+be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when
+he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was
+that you should come together. Oh, he is the handsomest young man that
+ever was seen!”
+
+Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her
+favourite child. At that moment she cared for no other. Her younger
+sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness
+which she might in future be able to dispense.
+
+Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty
+begged very hard for a few balls there every winter.
+
+Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn;
+coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after
+supper; unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough
+detested, had given him an invitation to dinner, which he thought
+himself obliged to accept.
+
+Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for
+while he was present Jane had no attention to bestow on anyone else: but
+she found herself considerably useful to both of them, in those hours of
+separation that must sometimes occur. In the absence of Jane, he always
+attached himself to Elizabeth for the pleasure of talking of her; and
+when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of relief.
+
+“He has made me so happy,” said she, one evening, “by telling me that he
+was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed
+it possible.”
+
+“I suspected as much,” replied Elizabeth. “But how did he account for
+it?”
+
+“It must have been his sisters’ doing. They were certainly no friends to
+his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have
+chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see,
+as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will
+learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again: though we
+can never be what we once were to each other.”
+
+“That is the most unforgiving speech,” said Elizabeth, “that I ever
+heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again
+the dupe of Miss Bingley’s pretended regard.”
+
+“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November he
+really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of _my_ being indifferent
+would have prevented his coming down again?”
+
+“He made a little mistake, to be sure; but it is to the credit of his
+modesty.”
+
+This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and
+the little value he put on his own good qualities.
+
+Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference
+of his friend; for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving
+heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice
+her against him.
+
+“I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!” cried
+Jane. “Oh, Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed
+above them all? If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such
+another man for you!”
+
+“If you were to give me forty such men I never could be so happy as you.
+Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your
+happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very
+good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.”
+
+The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a
+secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips, and
+she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her
+neighbours in Meryton.
+
+The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the
+world; though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away,
+they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+One morning, about a week after Bingley’s engagement with Jane had been
+formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the
+dining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window by the
+sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up the
+lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors; and besides, the
+equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses
+were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who
+preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that
+somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid
+the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the
+shrubbery. They both set off; and the conjectures of the remaining three
+continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown
+open, and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
+
+They were of course all intending to be surprised: but their
+astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs.
+Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even
+inferior to what Elizabeth felt.
+
+She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no
+other reply to Elizabeth’s salutation than a slight inclination of the
+head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her
+name to her mother on her Ladyship’s entrance, though no request of
+introduction had been made.
+
+Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such
+high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting
+for a moment in silence, she said, very stiffly, to Elizabeth,--
+
+“I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your
+mother?”
+
+Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.
+
+“And _that_, I suppose, is one of your sisters?”
+
+“Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a Lady Catherine.
+“She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married,
+and my eldest is somewhere about the ground, walking with a young man,
+who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family.”
+
+“You have a very small park here,” returned Lady Catherine, after a
+short silence.
+
+“It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my Lady, I dare say; but, I
+assure you, it is much larger than Sir William Lucas’s.”
+
+“This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room for the evening in
+summer: the windows are full west.”
+
+Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner; and then
+added,--
+
+“May I take the liberty of asking your Ladyship whether you left Mr. and
+Mrs. Collins well?”
+
+“Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last.”
+
+Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from
+Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no
+letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.
+
+Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her Ladyship to take some
+refreshment: but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely,
+declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to Elizabeth,--
+
+“Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness
+on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you
+will favour me with your company.”
+
+“Go, my dear,” cried her mother, “and show her Ladyship about the
+different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage.”
+
+Elizabeth obeyed; and, running into her own room for her parasol,
+attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the hall,
+Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and
+drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be
+decent-looking rooms, walked on.
+
+Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her
+waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk
+that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for
+conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and
+disagreeable.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“After a short survey”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+“How could I ever think her like her nephew?” said she, as she looked in
+her face.
+
+As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following
+manner:--
+
+“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my
+journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I
+come.”
+
+Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.
+
+“Indeed, you are mistaken, madam; I have not been at all able to account
+for the honour of seeing you here.”
+
+“Miss Bennet,” replied her Ladyship, in an angry tone, “you ought to
+know that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere _you_ may
+choose to be, you shall not find _me_ so. My character has ever been
+celebrated for its sincerity and frankness; and in a cause of such
+moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most
+alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told, that not only your
+sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that
+_you_--that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would, in all likelihood, be soon
+afterwards united to my nephew--my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I
+_know_ it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him
+so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on
+setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to
+you.”
+
+“If you believed it impossible to be true,” said Elizabeth, colouring
+with astonishment and disdain, “I wonder you took the trouble of coming
+so far. What could your Ladyship propose by it?”
+
+“At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.”
+
+“Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family,” said Elizabeth
+coolly, “will be rather a confirmation of it--if, indeed, such a report
+is in existence.”
+
+“If! do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been
+industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a
+report is spread abroad?”
+
+“I never heard that it was.”
+
+“And can you likewise declare, that there is no _foundation_ for it?”
+
+“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your Ladyship. _You_
+may ask questions which _I_ shall not choose to answer.”
+
+“This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has
+he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?”
+
+“Your Ladyship has declared it to be impossible.”
+
+“It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his
+reason. But _your_ arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation,
+have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You
+may have drawn him in.”
+
+“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”
+
+“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such
+language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world,
+and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”
+
+“But you are not entitled to know _mine_; nor will such behaviour as
+this ever induce me to be explicit.”
+
+“Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the
+presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is
+engaged to _my daughter_. Now, what have you to say?”
+
+“Only this,--that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will
+make an offer to me.”
+
+Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied,--
+
+“The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy,
+they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of
+_his_ mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles we planned the
+union; and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be
+accomplished, is their marriage to be prevented by a young woman of
+inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to
+the family? Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends--to his
+tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of
+propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say, that from his
+earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?”
+
+“Yes; and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no
+other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be
+kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry
+Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the
+marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by
+honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make
+another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?”
+
+“Because honour, decorum, prudence--nay, interest--forbid it. Yes, Miss
+Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or
+friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will
+be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him.
+Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned
+by any of us.”
+
+“These are heavy misfortunes,” replied Elizabeth. “But the wife of Mr.
+Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily
+attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause
+to repine.”
+
+“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude
+for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that
+score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came
+here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I
+be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person’s
+whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”
+
+“_That_ will make your Ladyship’s situation at present more pitiable;
+but it will have no effect on _me_.”
+
+“I will not be interrupted! Hear me in silence. My daughter and my
+nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal
+side, from the same noble line; and, on the father’s, from respectable,
+honourable, and ancient, though untitled, families. Their fortune on
+both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of
+every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide
+them?--the upstart pretensions of a young woman without family,
+connections, or fortune! Is this to be endured? But it must not, shall
+not be! If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to
+quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.”
+
+“In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that
+sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s daughter; so far we are
+equal.”
+
+“True. You _are_ a gentleman’s daughter. But what was your mother? Who
+are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their
+condition.”
+
+“Whatever my connections may be,” said Elizabeth, “if your nephew does
+not object to them, they can be nothing to _you_.”
+
+“Tell me, once for all, are you engaged to him?”
+
+Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady
+Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a
+moment’s deliberation,--
+
+“I am not.”
+
+Lady Catherine seemed pleased.
+
+“And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”
+
+“I will make no promise of the kind.”
+
+“Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more
+reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I
+will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the
+assurance I require.”
+
+“And I certainly _never_ shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into
+anything so wholly unreasonable. Your Ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry
+your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make
+_their_ marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to
+me, would _my_ refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on
+his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with
+which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as
+frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my
+character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these.
+How far your nephew might approve of your interference in _his_ affairs,
+I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in
+mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no further on the
+subject.”
+
+“Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the
+objections I have already urged I have still another to add. I am no
+stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister’s infamous
+elopement. I know it all; that the young man’s marrying her was a
+patched-up business, at the expense of your father and uncle. And is
+_such_ a girl to be my nephew’s sister? Is _her_ husband, who is the son
+of his late father’s steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!--of
+what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”
+
+“You can _now_ have nothing further to say,” she resentfully answered.
+“You have insulted me, in every possible method. I must beg to return to
+the house.”
+
+And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned
+back. Her Ladyship was highly incensed.
+
+“You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew!
+Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you
+must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?”
+
+“Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments.”
+
+“You are then resolved to have him?”
+
+“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner,
+which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without
+reference to _you_, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”
+
+“It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the
+claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in
+the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world.”
+
+“Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude,” replied Elizabeth, “has any
+possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either
+would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the
+resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former
+_were_ excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment’s
+concern--and the world in general would have too much sense to join in
+the scorn.”
+
+“And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I
+shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your
+ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you
+reasonable; but depend upon it I will carry my point.”
+
+In this manner Lady Catherine talked on till they were at the door of
+the carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added,--
+
+“I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your
+mother. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased.”
+
+Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her
+Ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She
+heard the carriage drive away as she proceeded upstairs. Her mother
+impatiently met her at the door of her dressing-room, to ask why Lady
+Catherine would not come in again and rest herself.
+
+“She did not choose it,” said her daughter; “she would go.”
+
+“She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously
+civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were well.
+She is on her road somewhere, I dare say; and so, passing through
+Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had
+nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?”
+
+Elizabeth was forced to give in to a little falsehood here; for to
+acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “But now it comes out”
+]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The discomposure of spirits which this extraordinary visit threw
+Elizabeth into could not be easily overcome; nor could she for many
+hours learn to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine, it
+appeared, had actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings
+for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr.
+Darcy. It was a rational scheme, to be sure! but from what the report of
+their engagement could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine;
+till she recollected that _his_ being the intimate friend of Bingley,
+and _her_ being the sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the
+expectation of one wedding made everybody eager for another, to supply
+the idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her
+sister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours at
+Lucas Lodge, therefore, (for through their communication with the
+Collinses, the report, she concluded, had reached Lady Catherine,) had
+only set _that_ down as almost certain and immediate which _she_ had
+looked forward to as possible at some future time.
+
+In revolving Lady Catherine’s expressions, however, she could not help
+feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting
+in this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to
+prevent the marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate an
+application to her nephew; and how he might take a similar
+representation of the evils attached to a connection with her she dared
+not pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for his
+aunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it was natural to suppose
+that he thought much higher of her Ladyship than _she_ could do; and it
+was certain, that in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with _one_
+whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt would
+address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would
+probably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak
+and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning.
+
+If he had been wavering before, as to what he should do, which had often
+seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might
+settle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity
+unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady
+Catherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to
+Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way.
+
+“If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his
+friend within a few days,” she added, “I shall know how to understand
+it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his
+constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might
+have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him
+at all.”
+
+The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had
+been, was very great: but they obligingly satisfied it with the same
+kind of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet’s curiosity; and
+Elizabeth was spared from much teasing on the subject.
+
+The next morning, as she was going down stairs, she was met by her
+father, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand.
+
+“Lizzy,” said he, “I was going to look for you: come into my room.”
+
+She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to tell
+her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner
+connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it might
+be from Lady Catherine, and she anticipated with dismay all the
+consequent explanations.
+
+She followed her father to the fireplace, and they both sat down. He
+then said,--
+
+“I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me
+exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its
+contents. I did not know before that I had _two_ daughters on the brink
+of matrimony. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest.”
+
+The colour now rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks in the instantaneous
+conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt;
+and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained
+himself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to
+herself, when her father continued,--
+
+“You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters
+as these; but I think I may defy even _your_ sagacity to discover the
+name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins.”
+
+“From Mr. Collins! and what can _he_ have to say?”
+
+“Something very much to the purpose, of course. He begins with
+congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of
+which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping
+Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience by reading what he says
+on that point. What relates to yourself is as follows:--‘Having thus
+offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on
+this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another,
+of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter
+Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after
+her eldest sister has resigned it; and the chosen partner of her fate
+may be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages
+in this land.’ Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?
+‘This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with everything the
+heart of mortal can most desire,--splendid property, noble kindred, and
+extensive patronage. Yet, in spite of all these temptations, let me warn
+my cousin Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a
+precipitate closure with this gentleman’s proposals, which, of course,
+you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of.’ Have you any idea,
+Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out. ‘My motive for
+cautioning you is as follows:--We have reason to imagine that his aunt,
+Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with a friendly
+eye.’ _Mr. Darcy_, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I _have_
+surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man, within
+the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more
+effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any
+woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at _you_ in
+his life! It is admirable!”
+
+Elizabeth tried to join in her father’s pleasantry, but could only force
+one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so
+little agreeable to her.
+
+“Are you not diverted?”
+
+“Oh, yes. Pray read on.”
+
+“‘After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her Ladyship last
+night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she
+felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that, on the score of
+some family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give
+her consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my
+duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she
+and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run
+hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.’ Mr.
+Collins, moreover, adds, ‘I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia’s sad
+business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their
+living together before the marriage took place should be so generally
+known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain
+from declaring my amazement, at hearing that you received the young
+couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an
+encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should
+very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them as
+a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their
+names to be mentioned in your hearing.’ _That_ is his notion of
+Christian forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear
+Charlotte’s situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But,
+Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be
+_missish_, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For
+what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them
+in our turn?”
+
+“Oh,” cried Elizabeth, “I am exceedingly diverted. But it is so
+strange!”
+
+“Yes, _that_ is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man
+it would have been nothing; but _his_ perfect indifference and _your_
+pointed dislike make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate
+writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins’s correspondence for any
+consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving
+him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and
+hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine
+about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?”
+
+To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had
+been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his
+repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her
+feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh when she
+would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her by
+what he said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference; and she could do nothing but
+wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that, perhaps, instead of
+his seeing too _little_, she might have fancied too _much_.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“The efforts of his aunt”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as
+Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy
+with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine’s
+visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had time to
+tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat in
+momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed
+their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the
+habit of walking, Mary could never spare time, but the remaining five
+set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others to
+outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy
+were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty was
+too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a
+desperate resolution; and, perhaps, he might be doing the same.
+
+They walked towards the Lucases’, because Kitty wished to call upon
+Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern,
+when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the
+moment for her resolution to be executed; and while her courage was
+high, she immediately said,--
+
+“Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature, and for the sake of giving
+relief to my own feelings care not how much I may be wounding yours. I
+can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor
+sister. Ever since I have known it I have been most anxious to
+acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest
+of my family I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”
+
+“I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,” replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise
+and emotion, “that you have ever been informed of what may, in a
+mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner
+was so little to be trusted.”
+
+“You must not blame my aunt. Lydia’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to
+me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could
+not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again,
+in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced
+you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the
+sake of discovering them.”
+
+“If you _will_ thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone.
+That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other
+inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your
+_family_ owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought
+only of _you_.”
+
+Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause,
+her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your
+feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. _My_
+affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence
+me on this subject for ever.”
+
+Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of
+his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not
+very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone
+so material a change since the period to which he alluded, as to make
+her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The
+happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never
+felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as
+warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth
+been able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen how well the
+expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face became him: but
+though she could not look she could listen; and he told her of feelings
+which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection
+every moment more valuable.
+
+They walked on without knowing in what direction. There was too much to
+be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She
+soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding
+to the efforts of his aunt, who _did_ call on him in her return through
+London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the
+substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on
+every expression of the latter, which, in her Ladyship’s apprehension,
+peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance, in the belief that
+such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise from
+her nephew which _she_ had refused to give. But, unluckily for her
+Ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.
+
+“It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself
+to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that
+had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have
+acknowledged it to Lady Catherine frankly and openly.”
+
+Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, “Yes, you know enough of
+my _frankness_ to believe me capable of _that_. After abusing you so
+abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all
+your relations.”
+
+“What did you say of me that I did not deserve? For though your
+accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour
+to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was
+unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”
+
+“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that
+evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly
+examined, will be irreproachable; but since then we have both, I hope,
+improved in civility.”
+
+“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I
+then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of
+it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your
+reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: ‘Had you behaved in a
+more gentlemanlike manner.’ Those were your words. You know not, you can
+scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me; though it was some time, I
+confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.”
+
+“I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an
+impression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such
+a way.”
+
+“I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper
+feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never
+forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible
+way that would induce you to accept me.”
+
+“Oh, do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at
+all. I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it.”
+
+Darcy mentioned his letter. “Did it,” said he,--“did it _soon_ make you
+think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its
+contents?”
+
+She explained what its effects on her had been, and how gradually all
+her former prejudices had been removed.
+
+“I knew,” said he, “that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was
+necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part,
+especially the opening of it, which I should dread your having the power
+of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might justly
+make you hate me.”
+
+“The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the
+preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my
+opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily
+changed as that implies.”
+
+“When I wrote that letter,” replied Darcy, “I believed myself perfectly
+calm and cool; but I am since convinced that it was written in a
+dreadful bitterness of spirit.”
+
+“The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The
+adieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings
+of the person who wrote and the person who received it are now so widely
+different from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance
+attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my
+philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you
+pleasure.”
+
+“I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. _Your_
+retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment
+arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of
+ignorance. But with _me_, it is not so. Painful recollections will
+intrude, which cannot, which ought not to be repelled. I have been a
+selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a
+child I was taught what was _right_, but I was not taught to correct my
+temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride
+and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only _child_),
+I was spoiled by my parents, who, though good themselves, (my father
+particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable,) allowed, encouraged,
+almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond
+my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to
+_wish_ at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with
+my own. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might
+still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not
+owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most
+advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a
+doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my
+pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”
+
+“Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?”
+
+“Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be
+wishing, expecting my addresses.”
+
+“My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure
+you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me
+wrong. How you must have hated me after _that_ evening!”
+
+“Hate you! I was angry, perhaps, at first, but my anger soon began to
+take a proper direction.”
+
+“I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me when we met at
+Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?”
+
+“No, indeed, I felt nothing but surprise.”
+
+“Your surprise could not be greater than _mine_ in being noticed by you.
+My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I
+confess that I did not expect to receive _more_ than my due.”
+
+“My object _then_,” replied Darcy, “was to show you, by every civility
+in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped
+to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you
+see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes
+introduced themselves, I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half
+an hour after I had seen you.”
+
+He then told her of Georgiana’s delight in her acquaintance, and of her
+disappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to
+the cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of
+following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed
+before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness there
+had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must
+comprehend.
+
+She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to
+each to be dwelt on farther.
+
+After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know
+anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that
+it was time to be at home.
+
+“What could have become of Mr. Bingley and Jane?” was a wonder which
+introduced the discussion of _their_ affairs. Darcy was delighted with
+their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of
+it.
+
+“I must ask whether you were surprised?” said Elizabeth.
+
+“Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen.”
+
+“That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much.” And
+though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much
+the case.
+
+“On the evening before my going to London,” said he, “I made a
+confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told
+him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his
+affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had
+the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself
+mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent
+to him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was
+unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together.”
+
+Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his
+friend.
+
+“Did you speak from your own observation,” said she, “when you told him
+that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?”
+
+“From the former. I had narrowly observed her, during the two visits
+which I had lately made her here; and I was convinced of her affection.”
+
+“And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to
+him.”
+
+“It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had
+prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but
+his reliance on mine made everything easy. I was obliged to confess one
+thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not
+allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months
+last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was
+angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained
+in any doubt of your sister’s sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me
+now.”
+
+Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful
+friend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked
+herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, and
+it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness of
+Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he
+continued the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they
+parted.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “Unable to utter a syllable”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?” was a question
+which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered the room, and
+from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in
+reply, that they had wandered about till she was beyond her own
+knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anything
+else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.
+
+The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The
+acknowledged lovers talked and laughed; the unacknowledged were silent.
+Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth;
+and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy
+than _felt_ herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment,
+there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt in
+the family when her situation became known: she was aware that no one
+liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a
+_dislike_ which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.
+
+At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far
+from Miss Bennet’s general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.
+
+“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be! Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no,
+you shall not deceive me: I know it to be impossible.”
+
+“This is a wretched beginning, indeed! My sole dependence was on you;
+and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I
+am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we
+are engaged.”
+
+Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much
+you dislike him.”
+
+“You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot. Perhaps I
+did not always love him so well as I do now; but in such cases as these
+a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever
+remember it myself.”
+
+Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more
+seriously, assured her of its truth.
+
+“Good heaven! can it be really so? Yet now I must believe you,” cried
+Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would, I do congratulate you; but are you
+certain--forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be
+happy with him?”
+
+“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already that we
+are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane?
+Shall you like to have such a brother?”
+
+“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more
+delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you
+really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than
+marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought
+to do?”
+
+“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do when I
+tell you all.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am
+afraid you will be angry.”
+
+“My dearest sister, now be, _be_ serious. I want to talk very seriously.
+Let me know everything that I am to know without delay. Will you tell me
+how long you have loved him?”
+
+“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began;
+but I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds
+at Pemberley.”
+
+Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the
+desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of
+attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing
+further to wish.
+
+“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. I
+always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I
+must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley’s friend and your
+husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But,
+Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you
+tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know
+of it to another, not to you.”
+
+Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to
+mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made
+her equally avoid the name of his friend: but now she would no longer
+conceal from her his share in Lydia’s marriage. All was acknowledged,
+and half the night spent in conversation.
+
+“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next
+morning, “if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with
+our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always
+coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or
+other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him?
+Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley’s
+way.”
+
+Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet
+was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an
+epithet.
+
+As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and
+shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information;
+and he soon afterwards said aloud, “Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes
+hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?”
+
+“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk
+to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has
+never seen the view.”
+
+“It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr. Bingley; “but I am
+sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?”
+
+Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great
+curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently
+consented. As she went upstairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her,
+saying,--
+
+“I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that
+disagreeable man all to yourself; but I hope you will not mind it. It is
+all for Jane’s sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to
+him except just now and then; so do not put yourself to inconvenience.”
+
+During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet’s consent should be
+asked in the course of the evening: Elizabeth reserved to herself the
+application for her mother’s. She could not determine how her mother
+would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur
+would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man; but whether she
+were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it
+was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to
+her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the
+first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her
+disapprobation.
+
+In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw
+Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was
+extreme. She did not fear her father’s opposition, but he was going to
+be made unhappy, and that it should be through her means; that _she_,
+his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be
+filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched
+reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when,
+looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes
+he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while
+pretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, “Go to your father; he
+wants you in the library.” She was gone directly.
+
+Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious.
+“Lizzy,” said he, “what are you doing? Are you out of your senses to be
+accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?”
+
+How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more
+reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from
+explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give;
+but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion,
+of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.
+
+“Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be
+sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane.
+But will they make you happy?”
+
+“Have you any other objection,” said Elizabeth, “than your belief of my
+indifference?”
+
+“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but
+this would be nothing if you really liked him.”
+
+“I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tears in her eyes; “I love him.
+Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not
+know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in
+such terms.”
+
+“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given him my consent. He is the kind
+of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he
+condescended to ask. I now give it to _you_, if you are resolved on
+having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your
+disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor
+respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked
+up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the
+greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape
+discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing
+_you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are
+about.”
+
+Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply;
+and, at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the
+object of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her
+estimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that
+his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many
+months’ suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities,
+she did conquer her father’s incredulity, and reconcile him to the
+match.
+
+“Well, my dear,” said he, when she ceased speaking, “I have no more to
+say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with
+you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”
+
+To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy
+had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment.
+
+“This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did everything;
+made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow’s debts, and got him
+his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble
+and economy. Had it been your uncle’s doing, I must and _would_ have
+paid him; but these violent young lovers carry everything their own
+way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow, he will rant and storm about
+his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.”
+
+He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before on his reading
+Mr. Collins’s letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her
+at last to go, saying, as she quitted the room, “If any young men come
+for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.”
+
+Elizabeth’s mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after
+half an hour’s quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join
+the others with tolerable composure. Everything was too recent for
+gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer
+anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity
+would come in time.
+
+When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her,
+and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraordinary;
+for, on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to
+utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes, that she could
+comprehend what she heard, though not in general backward to credit what
+was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a
+lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in
+her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.
+
+“Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would
+have thought it? And is it really true? Oh, my sweetest Lizzy! how rich
+and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages
+you will have! Jane’s is nothing to it--nothing at all. I am so
+pleased--so happy. Such a charming man! so handsome! so tall! Oh, my
+dear Lizzy! pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I
+hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything
+that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh,
+Lord! what will become of me? I shall go distracted.”
+
+This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted; and
+Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself,
+soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room,
+her mother followed her.
+
+“My dearest child,” she cried, “I can think of nothing else. Ten
+thousand a year, and very likely more! ’Tis as good as a lord! And a
+special licence--you must and shall be married by a special licence.
+But, my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond
+of, that I may have it to-morrow.”
+
+This was a sad omen of what her mother’s behaviour to the gentleman
+himself might be; and Elizabeth found that, though in the certain
+possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations’
+consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow
+passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood
+in such awe of her intended son-in-law, that she ventured not to speak
+to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark
+her deference for his opinion.
+
+Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get
+acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising
+every hour in his esteem.
+
+“I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,” said he. “Wickham, perhaps,
+is my favourite; but I think I shall like _your_ husband quite as well
+as Jane’s.”
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+“The obsequious civility.”
+
+[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Elizabeth’s spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr.
+Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. “How could
+you begin?” said she. “I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when
+you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first
+place?”
+
+“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which
+laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I
+knew that I _had_ begun.”
+
+“My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviour
+to _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke
+to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now, be
+sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?”
+
+“For the liveliness of your mind I did.”
+
+“You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less.
+The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious
+attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking,
+and looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused and
+interested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been really
+amiable you would have hated me for it: but in spite of the pains you
+took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and
+in your heart you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously
+courted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it;
+and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly
+reasonable. To be sure you know no actual good of me--but nobody thinks
+of _that_ when they fall in love.”
+
+“Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she was
+ill at Netherfield?”
+
+“Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it
+by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are
+to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me
+to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may
+be; and I shall begin directly, by asking you what made you so unwilling
+to come to the point at last? What made you so shy of me, when you
+first called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you
+called, did you look as if you did not care about me?”
+
+“Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.”
+
+“But I was embarrassed.”
+
+“And so was I.”
+
+“You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.”
+
+“A man who had felt less might.”
+
+“How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that
+I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you
+_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when
+you _would_ have spoken if I had not asked you! My resolution of
+thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. _Too
+much_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort
+springs from a breach of promise, for I ought not to have mentioned the
+subject? This will never do.”
+
+“You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady
+Catherine’s unjustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means of
+removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to
+your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour to
+wait for an opening of yours. My aunt’s intelligence had given me hope,
+and I was determined at once to know everything.”
+
+“Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy,
+for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to
+Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed?
+or had you intended any more serious consequences?”
+
+“My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether I
+might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to
+myself, was to see whether your sister was still partial to Bingley, and
+if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made.”
+
+“Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to
+befall her?”
+
+“I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to
+be done; and if you will give me a sheet of paper it shall be done
+directly.”
+
+“And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, and
+admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But
+I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.”
+
+From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy
+had been overrated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner’s
+long letter; but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew would
+be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle and aunt
+had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as
+follows:--
+
+“I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done,
+for your long, kind, satisfactory detail of particulars; but, to say the
+truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed.
+But _now_ suppose as much as you choose; give a loose to your fancy,
+indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will
+afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly
+err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more
+than you did in your last. I thank you again and again, for not going to
+the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your idea of the
+ponies is delightful. We will go round the park every day. I am the
+happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so
+before, but no one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she
+only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that
+can be spared from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.
+Yours,” etc.
+
+Mr. Darcy’s letter to Lady Catherine was in a different style, and still
+different from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in return
+for his last.
+
+     /* “Dear Sir, */
+
+     “I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will
+     soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as
+     you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has
+     more to give.
+
+“Yours sincerely,” etc.
+
+Miss Bingley’s congratulations to her brother on his approaching
+marriage were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even to
+Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her former
+professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was affected; and
+though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing her a much
+kinder answer than she knew was deserved.
+
+The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information was
+as sincere as her brother’s in sending it. Four sides of paper were
+insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of
+being loved by her sister.
+
+Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulations
+to Elizabeth from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the
+Collinses were come themselves to Lucas Lodge. The reason of this
+sudden removal was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered so
+exceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew’s letter, that
+Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till
+the storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend
+was a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their
+meetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she
+saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of her
+husband. He bore it, however, with admirable calmness. He could even
+listen to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away
+the brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all
+meeting frequently at St. James’s, with very decent composure. If he did
+shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight.
+
+Mrs. Philips’s vulgarity was another, and, perhaps, a greater tax on his
+forbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood in
+too much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley’s
+good-humour encouraged; yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be
+vulgar. Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at
+all likely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could to
+shield him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to
+keep him to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might
+converse without mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings
+arising from all this took from the season of courtship much of its
+pleasure, it added to the hope of the future; and she looked forward
+with delight to the time when they should be removed from society so
+little pleasing to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their
+family party at Pemberley.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got
+rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride she
+afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may be
+guessed. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the
+accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of
+her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible,
+amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though, perhaps,
+it was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic
+felicity in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous
+and invariably silly.
+
+Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her
+drew him oftener from home than anything else could do. He delighted in
+going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected.
+
+Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near
+a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to
+_his_ easy temper, or _her_ affectionate heart. The darling wish of his
+sisters was then gratified: he bought an estate in a neighbouring county
+to Derbyshire; and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source
+of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other.
+
+Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with
+her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally
+known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a
+temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia’s example, she
+became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less
+ignorant, and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia’s
+society she was of course carefully kept; and though Mrs. Wickham
+frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of
+balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going.
+
+Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily
+drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet’s being quite
+unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but
+she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no
+longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters’ beauty and her own,
+it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without
+much reluctance.
+
+As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from
+the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that
+Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude
+and falsehood had before been unknown to her; and, in spite of
+everything, was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be
+prevailed on to make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which
+Elizabeth received from Lydia on her marriage explained to her that, by
+his wife at least, if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. The
+letter was to this effect:--
+
+     /* “My dear Lizzy, */
+
+     “I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half so well as I do my dear
+     Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you
+     so rich; and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will
+     think of us. I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very
+     much; and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live
+     upon without some help. Any place would do of about three or four
+     hundred a year; but, however, do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it,
+     if you had rather not.
+
+“Yours,” etc.
+
+As it happened that Elizabeth had much rather not, she endeavoured in
+her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind.
+Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice
+of what might be called economy in her own private expenses, she
+frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an
+income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in
+their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to
+their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or
+herself were sure of being applied to for some little assistance towards
+discharging their bills. Their manner of living, even when the
+restoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the
+extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a
+cheap situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection
+for her soon sunk into indifference: hers lasted a little longer; and,
+in spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to
+reputation which her marriage had given her. Though Darcy could never
+receive _him_ at Pemberley, yet, for Elizabeth’s sake, he assisted him
+further in his profession. Lydia was occasionally a visitor there, when
+her husband was gone to enjoy himself in London or Bath; and with the
+Bingleys they both of them frequently stayed so long, that even
+Bingley’s good-humour was overcome, and he proceeded so far as to _talk_
+of giving them a hint to be gone.
+
+Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy’s marriage; but as she
+thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she
+dropped all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as
+attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility
+to Elizabeth.
+
+Pemberley was now Georgiana’s home; and the attachment of the sisters
+was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each
+other, even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion
+in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with an
+astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive manner of
+talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect
+which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open
+pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen in
+her way. By Elizabeth’s instructions she began to comprehend that a
+woman may take liberties with her husband, which a brother will not
+always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself.
+
+Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew;
+and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character, in
+her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him
+language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time
+all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth’s persuasion,
+he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation;
+and, after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her
+resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity
+to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait on
+them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had
+received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the
+visits of her uncle and aunt from the city.
+
+With the Gardiners they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy,
+as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever
+sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing
+her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.
+
+                            [Illustration:
+
+                                  THE
+                                  END
+                                   ]
+
+
+
+
+             CHISWICK PRESS:--CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
+                  TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE ***
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diff --git a/main.py b/main.py
index f4118ef..436dd95 100644
--- a/main.py
+++ b/main.py
@@ -1,8 +1,47 @@
-"""Main entrypoint for bookbot"""
+"""Entrypoint for bookbot"""
+
+import sys
+
+from stats import count_characters_in_book, count_words_in_book, sort_character_counts
+
+
+def get_book_text(file_path: str) -> str:
+    """Retrieves the contents of the given file"""
+
+    with open(file_path, mode="r", encoding="utf-8") as f:
+        return f.read()
+
 
 def main():
     """Main method for bookbot"""
-    print("Hello from bookbot!")
+
+    if len(sys.argv) != 2:
+        print("Usage: python3 main.py <path_to_book>")
+        sys.exit(1)
+
+    book_path = sys.argv[1]
+    book_text = get_book_text(book_path)
+    word_count = count_words_in_book(book_text)
+    character_counts = count_characters_in_book(book_text)
+    sorted_counts = sort_character_counts(character_counts)
+
+    print("============ BOOKBOT ============")
+    print(f"Analyzing book found at {book_path}...")
+    print("----------- Word Count ----------")
+    print(f"Found {word_count} total words")
+    print("--------- Character Count -------")
+
+    for item in sorted_counts:
+        char = item["char"]
+
+        if not char.isalpha():
+            continue
+
+        print(f"{char}: {item["num"]}")
+
+    print("============= END ===============")
+
+
 
 if __name__ == "__main__":
     main()
diff --git a/pyproject.toml b/pyproject.toml
index 3e82783..280e591 100644
--- a/pyproject.toml
+++ b/pyproject.toml
@@ -5,3 +5,7 @@ description = "bookbot"
 readme = "README.md"
 requires-python = ">=3.12"
 dependencies = []
+
+[tool.pyright]
+include = ["."]
+extraPaths = ["."]
diff --git a/stats.py b/stats.py
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8476e17
--- /dev/null
+++ b/stats.py
@@ -0,0 +1,44 @@
+"""Provides functions to report statistics on books"""
+
+from typing import TypedDict
+
+
+class CharacterCount(TypedDict):
+    """Represents number of times a character is found in a book"""
+
+    char: str
+    num: int
+
+
+def count_words_in_book(book_content: str) -> int:
+    """Returns the count of words in the book"""
+
+    return len(book_content.split())
+
+
+def count_characters_in_book(book_content: str) -> dict[str, int]:
+    """Returns a dictionary of the number of times a character appears in the book"""
+
+    result = {}
+
+    for character in book_content:
+        normalized_character = character.lower()
+
+        if normalized_character in result:
+            result[normalized_character] += 1
+            continue
+
+        result[normalized_character] = 1
+
+    return result
+
+def sort_character_counts(counts: dict[str, int]) -> list[CharacterCount]:
+    """Returns a list of character counts in descending order"""
+    result: list[CharacterCount] = []
+
+    for entry in counts:
+        result.append({ "char": entry, "num": counts[entry] })
+
+    result.sort(reverse=True, key=lambda x: x["num"])
+
+    return result