Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

Sperm Whale Outlines

Among the four known outlines of the great Sperm Whale, Beale’s drawings are the finest, with all of them being good except the middle figure in a picture of three whales in various attitudes from his second chapter. Beale’s frontispiece depicting boats attacking Sperm Whales is described as admirably correct and life-like in its general effect.

Right Whale Illustrations

For the Right Whale, the best outline pictures are found in Scoresby’s work, though they are drawn on too small a scale to convey a desirable impression. Scoresby has only one picture of whaling scenes, which the narrator considers a sad deficiency since only well-executed pictures can provide a truthful idea of the living whale as seen by his hunters.

French Engravings by Garnery

The finest presentations of whales and whaling scenes are two large French engravings taken from paintings by Garnery. The first engraving depicts a noble Sperm Whale in full majesty, just risen beneath the boat, with the wrecked boat balanced on the monster’s spine. An oarsman is shown leaping from the prow amid the whale’s spout, while the crew’s heads are scattered in expressions of fright and the ship bears down in the stormy distance. The second engraving shows a boat alongside a barnacled Right Whale, with sea fowls pecking at creatures on the whale’s back. The foreground shows raging commotion, while the background presents a becalmed sea with a dead whale and the flag of capture. The narrator credits Garnery with either practical experience or tutelage from experienced whalemen.

French Whaling Art

The natural aptitude of the French for seizing the picturesqueness of things is particularly evident in their whaling paintings and engravings. Despite having far less experience in the fishery than England or America, the French have furnished both nations with the only finished sketches capable of conveying the real spirit of the whale hunt. English and American whale draughtsmen seem content with merely the mechanical outline, such as the vacant profile of a whale, which offers little picturesqueness. Even Scoresby, despite his renowned credentials, included technical engravings of boat hooks and other equipment rather than focusing on the living whale.

Durand’s Whaling Engravings

Two other notable French engravings come from an artist signing himself “H. Durand.” One depicts a quiet noon scene among Pacific islands with a French whaler anchored in a calm, taking water on board while palms droop in the breezeless air. The other shows a far more dramatic scene: a ship hove-to in Leviathanic life with a Right Whale alongside during the cutting-in process. A boat pushes off to chase distant whales while harpoons and lances are readied and a sudden roll of sea lifts the small craft like a rearing horse. Smoke from the boiling whale rises like smoke over smithies while a black cloud promises approaching squalls.

KAPITEL 57. Of Whales in Paint; in Teeth; in Wood; in Sheet-Iron; in

This chapter explores the myriad ways in which whales have been represented in human art and culture, as well as their surprising appearances in natural formations. Melville examines whales rendered in paint, carved in teeth and bone, sculpted in wood, forged in metal, fossilized in stone, glimpsed in mountain profiles, and imagined among the stars. The chapter celebrates the whaleman’s intimate connection with his quarry by tracing how the creature pervades both material craftsmanship and celestial imagination.

Of Whales in Stone, Mountains, and Stars

Melville introduces the chapter’s thematic range, encompassing whales found in geological formations and celestial observation. He prepares the reader for a survey spanning from petrified leviathans embedded in the earth to the whale-like profiles glimpsed along mountain ridges and the starry formations that suggest cosmic cetaceans. This broad introduction establishes that the whaleman’s world extends far beyond the ocean’s surface into stone, landscape, and the heavens above.

The Beggar’s Whale

The chapter opens with a striking portrait of a crippled beggar on Tower-hill near the London docks, commonly called a “kedger” by sailors. This man displays a painted board depicting the tragic scene in which he lost his leg—three whales pursue three boats, with one boat being crushed in a whale’s jaws, presumably containing his severed limb. For ten years, Melville reports, this beggar has displayed his stump to an incredulous world alongside this remarkable picture. Now, however, Melville vouches for the artistic merit of the painted whales, declaring them as fine as any published in Wapping, and the stump an unquestionable artifact of whaling’s violence. Yet the pathetic irony persists: though forever mounted on that stump, the former whaleman never delivers a stump-speech, instead standing with downcast eyes, contemplating his own amputation in silent rue.