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Stendhal - "L'Abbesse de Castro"

Charles G. Leland - "The Breitmann Ballads"

Bertrand Russell - "Proposed Roads To Freedom"

Thomas Carlyle - "Heroes and Hero Worship"

A Romance of the South Sea

H >> Herman Melville >> A Romance of the South Sea




Dana is, indeed, great. There is nothing in literature more
remarkable than the impression produced by Dana's portraiture of
the homely inner life of a little brig's forecastle.

I beg that you will accept my thanks for the kindly spirit in
which you have read my books. I wish it were in my power to
cross the Atlantic, for you assuredly would be the first whom it
would be my happiness to visit.

The condition of my right hand obliges me to dictate this to my
son; but painful as it is to me to hold a pen, I cannot suffer
this letter to reach the hands of a man of so admirable genitis
as Herman Melville without begging him to believe me to be, with
my own hand, his most respectful and hearty admirer,
W. Clark Russell.

It should be noted here that Melville's increased reputation in
England at the period of this letter was chiefly owing to a
series of articles on his work written by Mr. Russell. I am
sorry to say that few English papers made more than a passing
reference to Melville's death. The American press discussed his
life and work in numerous and lengthy reviews. At the same time,
there always has been a steady sale of his books in England, and
some of them never have been out of print in that country since
the publication of 'Typee.' One result of this friendship
between the two authors was the dedication of new volumes to each
other in highly complimentary terms--Mr. Melville's 'John Marr
and Other Sailors,' of which twenty-five copies only were
printed, on the one hand, and Mr. Russell's 'An Ocean Tragedy,'
on the other, of which many thousand have been printed, not to
mention unnumbered pirated copies.

Beside Hawthorne, Mr. Richard Henry Stoddard, of American
writers, specially knew and appreciated Herman Melville. Mr.
Stoddard was connected with the New York dock department at the
time of Mr. Melville's appointment to a custom-house position,
and they at once became acquainted. For a good many years,
during the period in which our author remained in seclusion, much
that appeared in print in America concerning Melville came from
the pen of Mr. Stoddard. Nevertheless, the sailor author's
presence in New York was well known to the literary guild. He
was invited to join in all new movements, but as often felt
obliged to excuse himself from doing so. The present writer
lived for some time within a short distance of his house, but
found no opportunity to meet him until it became necessary to
obtain his portrait for an anthology in course of publication.
The interview was brief, and the interviewer could not help
feeling although treated with pleasant courtesy, that more
important matters were in hand than the perpetuation of a
romancer's countenance to future generations; but a friendly
family acquaintance grew up from the incident, and will remain an
abiding memory.

Mr. Melville died at his home in New York City early on the
morning of September 28, 1891. His serious illness had lasted a
number of months, so that the end came as a release. True to his
ruling passion, philosophy had claimed him to the last, a set of
Schopenhauer's works receiving his attention when able to study;
but this was varied with readings in the 'Mermaid Series' of old
plays, in which he took much pleasure. His library, in addition
to numerous works on philosophy and the fine arts, was composed
of standard books of all classes, including, of course, a
proportion of nautical literature. Especially interesting are
fifteen or twenty first editions of Hawthorne's books inscribed
to Mr. and Mrs. Melville by the author and his wife.

The immediate acceptance of 'Typee' by John Murray was followed
by an arrangement with the London agent of an American publisher,
for its simultaneous publication in the United States. I
understand that Murray did not then publish fiction. At any
rate, the book was accepted by him on the assurance of Gansevoort
Melville that it contained nothing not actually experienced by
his brother. Murray brought it out early in 1846, in his
Colonial and Home Library, as 'A Narrative of a Four Months'
Residence among the Natives of a Valley of the Marquesas Islands;
or, a Peep at Polynesian Life,' or, more briefly, 'Melville's
Marquesas Islands.' It was issued in America with the author's
own title, 'Typee,' and in the outward shape of a work of
fiction. Mr. Melville found himself famous at once. Many
discussions were carried on as to the genuineness of the author's
name and the reality of the events portrayed, but English and
American critics alike recognised the book's importance as a
contribution to literature.

Melville, in a letter to Hawthorne, speaks of himself as having
no development at all until his twenty-fifth year, the time of
his return from the Pacific; but surely the process of
development must have been well advanced to permit of so virile
and artistic a creation as 'Typee.' While the narrative does not
always run smoothly, yet the style for the most part is graceful
and alluring, so that we pass from one scene of Pacific
enchantment to another quite oblivious of the vast amount of
descriptive detail which is being poured out upon us. It is the
varying fortune of the hero which engrosses our attention. We
follow his adventures with breathless interest, or luxuriate with
him in the leafy bowers of the 'Happy Valley,' surrounded by
joyous children of nature. When all is ended, we then for the
first time realise that we know these people and their ways as if
we too had dwelt among them.

I do not believe that 'Typee' will ever lose its position as a
classic of American Literature. The pioneer in South Sea
romance- -for the mechanical descriptions of earlier voyagers are
not worthy of comparison--this book has as yet met with no
superior, even in French literature; nor has it met with a rival
in any other language than the French. The character of
'Fayaway,' and, no less, William S. Mayo's 'Kaloolah,' the
enchanting dreams of many a youthful heart, will retain their
charm; and this in spite of endless variations by modern
explorers in the same domain. A faint type of both characters
may be found in the Surinam Yarico of Captain John Gabriel
Stedman, whose 'Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition' appeared
in 1796.

'Typee,' as written, contained passages reflecting with
considerable severity on the methods pursued by missionaries in
the South Seas. The manuscript was printed in a complete form in
England, and created much discussion on this account, Melville
being accused of bitterness; but he asserted his lack of
prejudice. The passages referred to were omitted in the first
and all subsequent American editions. They have been restored in
the present issue, which is complete save for a few paragraphs
excluded by written direction of the author. I have, with the
consent of his family, changed the long and cumbersome sub-title
of the book, calling it a 'Real-Romance of the South Seas,' as
best expressing its nature.

The success of his first volume encouraged Melville to proceed in
his work, and 'Omoo,' the sequel to 'Typee,' appeared in England
and America in l847. Here we leave, for the most part, the
dreamy pictures of island life, and find ourselves sharing the
extremely realistic discomforts of a Sydney whaler in the early
forties. The rebellious crew's experiences in the Society Islands
are quite as realistic as events on board ship and very
entertaining, while the whimsical character, Dr. Long Ghost, next
to Captain Ahab in 'Moby Dick,' is Melville's most striking
delineation. The errors of the South Sea missions are pointed
out with even more force than in 'Typee,' and it is a fact that
both these books have ever since been of the greatest value to
outgoing missionaries on account of the exact information
contained in them with respect to the islanders.

Melville's power in describing and investing with romance scenes
and incidents witnessed and participated in by himself, and his
frequent failure of success as an inventor of characters and
situations, were early pointed out by his critics. More recently
Mr. Henry S. Salt has drawn the same distinction very carefully
in an excellent article contributed to the Scottish Art Review.
In a prefatory note to 'Mardi' (1849), Melville declares that, as
his former books have been received as romance instead of
reality, he will now try his hand at pure fiction. 'Mardi' may
be called a splendid failure. It must have been soon after the
completion of 'Omoo' that Melville began to study the writings of
Sir Thomas Browne. Heretofore our author's style was rough in
places, but marvellously simple and direct. 'Mardi' is burdened
with an over-rich diction, which Melville never entirely outgrew.
The scene of this romance, which opens well, is laid in the South
Seas, but everything soon becomes overdrawn and fantastical, and
the thread of the story loses itself in a mystical allegory.

'Redburn,' already mentioned, succeeded 'Mardi' in the same year,
and was a partial return to the author's earlier style. In
'White-Jacket; or, the World in a Man-of-War' (1850), Melville
almost regained it. This book has no equal as a picture of life
aboard a sailing man-of-war, the lights and shadows of naval
existence being well contrasted.

With 'Moby Dick; or, the Whale' (1851), Melville reached the
topmost notch of his fame. The book represents, to a certain
extent, the conflict between the author's earlier and later
methods of composition, but the gigantic conception of the 'White
Whale,' as Hawthorne expressed it, permeates the whole work, and
lifts it bodily into the highest domain of romance. 'Moby Dick'
contains an immense amount of information concerning the habits
of the whale and the methods of its capture, but this is
characteristically introduced in a way not to interfere with the
narrative. The chapter entitled 'Stubb Kills a Whale' ranks with
the choicest examples of descriptive literature.

'Moby Dick' appeared, and Melville enjoyed to the full the
enhanced reputation it brought him. He did not, however, take
warning from 'Mardi,' but allowed himself to plunge more deeply
into the sea of philosophy and fantasy.

'Pierre; or, the Ambiguities' (1852) was published, and there
ensued a long series of hostile criticisms, ending with a severe,
though impartial, article by Fitz-James O'Brien in Putnam's
Monthly. About the same time the whole stock of the author's
books was destroyed by fire, keeping them out of print at a
critical moment; and public interest, which until then had been
on the increase, gradually began to diminish.

After this Mr. Melville contributed several short stories to
Putnam's Monthly and Harper's Magazine. Those in the former
periodical were collected in a volume as Piazza Tales (1856); and
of these 'Benito Cereno' and 'The Bell Tower' are equal to his
best previous efforts.

'Israel Potter: His Fifty Years of Exile' (1855), first printed
as a serial in Putnam's, is an historical romance of the American
Revolution, based on the hero's own account of his adventures, as
given in a little volume picked up by Mr. Melville at a
book-stall. The story is well told, but the book is hardly
worthy of the author of 'Typee.' 'The Confidence Man' (1857),
his last serious effort in prose fiction, does not seem to
require criticism.

Mr. Melville's pen had rested for nearly ten years, when it was
again taken up to celebrate the events of the Civil War. 'Battle
Pieces and Aspects of the War' appeared in 1866. Most of these
poems originated, according to the author, in an impulse imparted
by the fall of Richmond; but they have as subjects all the chief
incidents of the struggle. The best of them are "The Stone
Fleet,' 'In the Prison Pen,' 'The College Colonel,' 'The March to
the Sea,' 'Running the Batteries,' and 'Sheridan at Cedar Creek.'
Some of these had a wide circulation in the press, and were
preserved in various anthologies. 'Clarel, a Poem and Pilgrimage
in the Holy Land' (1876), is a long mystical poem requiring, as
some one has said, a dictionary, a cyclopaedia, and a copy of the
Bible for its elucidation. in the two privately printed volumes,
the arrangement of which occupied Mr. Melville during his last
illness, there are several fine lyrics. The titles of these
books are, 'John Marr and Other Sailors' (1888), and 'Timoleon'
(1891).

There is no question that Mr. Melville's absorption in
philosophical studies was quite as responsible as the failure of
his later books for his cessation from literary productiveness.
That he sometimes realised the situation will be seen by a
passage in 'Moby Dick':--

'Didn't I tell you so?' said 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 own 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 forever keep trimming boat. Oh,
ye foolish! throw all these thunderheads overboard, and then you
will float right and light.'

Mr. Melville would have been more than mortal if he had been
indifferent to his loss of popularity. Yet he seemed contented
to preserve an entirely independent attitude, and to trust to the
verdict of the future. The smallest amount of activity would
have kept him before the public; but his reserve would not permit
this. That reinstatement of his reputation cannot be doubted.

In the editing of this reissue of 'Melville's Works,' I have been
much indebted to the scholarly aid of Dr. Titus Munson Coan,
whose familiarity with the languages of the Pacific has enabled
me to harmonise the spelling of foreign words in 'Typee' and
'Omoo,' though without changing the phonetic method of printing
adopted by Mr. Melville. Dr. Coan has also been most helpful
with suggestions in other directions. Finally, the delicate
fancy of La Fargehas supplemented the immortal pen-portrait of
the Typee maiden with a speaking impersonation of her beauty.

New York, June, 1892.



TYPEE

CHAPTER ONE

THE SEA--LONGINGS FOR SHORE--A LAND-SICK SHIP--DESTINATION OF THE
VOYAGERS--THE MARQUESAS--ADVENTURE OF A MISSIONARY'S WIFE AMONG
THE SAVAGES--CHARACTERISTIC ANECDOTE OF THE QUEEN OF NUKUHEVA

Six months at sea! Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of
sight of land; cruising after the sperm-whale beneath the
scorching sun of the Line, and tossed on the billows of the
wide-rolling Pacific--the sky above, the sea around, and nothing
else! Weeks and weeks ago our fresh provisions were all
exhausted. There is not a sweet potato left; not a single yam.
Those glorious bunches of bananas, which once decorated our stern
and quarter-deck, have, alas, disappeared! and the delicious
oranges which hung suspended from our tops and stays--they, too,
are gone! Yes, they are all departed, and there is nothing left
us but salt-horse and sea-biscuit. Oh! ye state-room sailors,
who make so much ado about a fourteen-days' passage across the
Atlantic; who so pathetically relate the privations and hardships
of the sea, where, after a day of breakfasting, lunching, dining
off five courses, chatting, playing whist, and drinking
champagne-punch, it was your hard lot to be shut up in little
cabinets of mahogany and maple, and sleep for ten hours, with
nothing to disturb you but 'those good-for-nothing tars, shouting
and tramping overhead',--what would ye say to our six months out
of sight of land?

Oh! for a refreshing glimpse of one blade of grass--for a snuff
at the fragrance of a handful of the loamy earth! Is there
nothing fresh around us? Is there no green thing to be seen?
Yes, the inside of our bulwarks is painted green; but what a vile
and sickly hue it is, as if nothing bearing even the semblance of
verdure could flourish this weary way from land. Even the bark
that once clung to the wood we use for fuel has been gnawed off
and devoured by the captain's pig; and so long ago, too, that the
pig himself has in turn been devoured.

There is but one solitary tenant in the chicken-coop, once a gay
and dapper young cock, bearing him so bravely among the coy hens.

But look at him now; there he stands, moping all the day long on
that everlasting one leg of his. He turns with disgust from the
mouldy corn before him, and the brackish water in his little
trough. He mourns no doubt his lost companions, literally
snatched from him one by one, and never seen again. But his days
of mourning will be few for Mungo, our black cook, told me
yesterday that the word had at last gone forth, and poor Pedro's
fate was sealed. His attenuated body will be laid out upon the
captain's table next Sunday, and long before night will be buried
with all the usual ceremonies beneath that worthy individual's
vest. Who would believe that there could be any one so cruel as
to long for the decapitation of the luckless Pedro; yet the
sailors pray every minute, selfish fellows, that the miserable
fowl may be brought to his end. They say the captain will never
point the ship for the land so long as he has in anticipation a
mess of fresh meat. This unhappy bird can alone furnish it; and
when he is once devoured, the captain will come to his senses. I
wish thee no harm, Pedro; but as thou art doomed, sooner or
later, to meet the fate of all thy race; and if putting a period
to thy existence is to be the signal for our deliverance,
why--truth to speak--I wish thy throat cut this very moment; for,
oh! how I wish to see the living earth again! The old ship
herself longs to look out upon the land from her hawse-holes once
more, and Jack Lewis said right the other day when the captain
found fault with his steering.

'Why d'ye see, Captain Vangs,' says bold Jack, 'I'm as good a
helmsman as ever put hand to spoke; but none of us can steer the
old lady now. We can't keep her full and bye, sir; watch her
ever so close, she will fall off and then, sir, when I put the
helm down so gently, and try like to coax her to the work, she
won't take it kindly, but will fall round off again; and it's all
because she knows the land is under the lee, sir, and she won't
go any more to windward.' Aye, and why should she, Jack? didn't
every one of her stout timbers grow on shore, and hasn't she
sensibilities; as well as we?

Poor old ship! Her very looks denote her desires! how
deplorably she appears! The paint on her sides, burnt up by the
scorching sun, is puffed out and cracked. See the weeds she
trails along with her, and what an unsightly bunch of those
horrid barnacles has formed about her stern-piece; and every time
she rises on a sea, she shows her copper torn away, or hanging in
jagged strips.

Poor old ship! I say again: for six months she has been rolling
and pitching about, never for one moment at rest. But courage,
old lass, I hope to see thee soon within a biscuit's toss of the
merry land, riding snugly at anchor in some green cove, and
sheltered from the boisterous winds.

. . . . . .

'Hurra, my lads! It's a settled thing; next week we shape our
course to the Marquesas!' The Marquesas! What strange visions
of outlandish things does the very name spirit up! Naked
houris--cannibal banquets--groves of cocoanut--coral
reefs--tattooed chiefs--and bamboo temples; sunny valleys planted
with bread-fruit-trees--carved canoes dancing on the flashing
blue waters--savage woodlands guarded by horrible
idols--HEATHENISH RITES AND HUMAN SACRIFICES.

Such were the strangely jumbled anticipations that haunted me
during our passage from the cruising ground. I felt an
irresistible curiosity to see those islands which the olden
voyagers had so glowingly described.

The group for which we were now steering (although among the
earliest of European discoveries in the South Seas, having been
first visited in the year 1595) still continues to be tenanted by
beings as strange and barbarous as ever. The missionaries sent
on a heavenly errand, had sailed by their lovely shores, and had
abandoned them to their idols of wood and stone. How interesting
the circumstances under which they were discovered! In the
watery path of Mendanna, cruising in quest of some region of
gold, these isles had sprung up like a scene of enchantment, and
for a moment the Spaniard believed his bright dream was realized.

In honour of the Marquess de Mendoza, then viceroy of Peru--under
whose auspices the navigator sailed--he bestowed upon them the
name which denoted the rank of his patron, and gave to the world
on his return a vague and magnificent account of their beauty.
But these islands, undisturbed for years, relapsed into their
previous obscurity; and it is only recently that anything has
been known concerning them. Once in the course of a half
century, to be sure, some adventurous rover would break in upon
their peaceful repose. and astonished at the unusual scene,
would be almost tempted to claim the merit of a new discovery.

Of this interesting group, but little account has ever been
given, if we except the slight mention made of them in the
sketches of South-Sea voyages. Cook, in his repeated
circumnavigations of the globe, barely touched at their shores;
and all that we know about them is from a few general narratives.

Among these, there are two that claim particular notice.
Porter's 'Journal of the Cruise of the U.S. frigate Essex, in
the Pacific, during the late War', is said to contain some
interesting particulars concerning the islanders. This is a
work, however, which I have never happened to meet with; and
Stewart, the chaplain of the American sloop of war Vincennes, has
likewise devoted a portion of his book, entitled 'A Visit to the
South Seas', to the same subject.

Within the last few, years American and English vessels engaged
in the extensive whale fisheries of the Pacific have
occasionally, when short of provisions, put into the commodious
harbour which there is in one of the islands; but a fear of the
natives, founded on the recollection of the dreadful fate which
many white men have received at their hands, has deterred their
crews from intermixing with the population sufficiently to gain
any insight into their peculiar customs and manners.

The Protestant Missions appear to have despaired of reclaiming
these islands from heathenism. The usage they have in every case
received from the natives has been such as to intimidate the
boldest of their number. Ellis, in his 'Polynesian Researches',
gives some interesting accounts of the abortive attempts made by
the ''Tahiti Mission'' to establish a branch Mission upon certain
islands of the group. A short time before my visit to the
Marquesas, a somewhat amusing incident took place in connection
with these efforts, which I cannot avoid relating.

An intrepid missionary, undaunted by the ill-success that had
attended all previous endeavours to conciliate the savages, and
believing much in the efficacy of female influence, introduced
among them his young and beautiful wife, the first white woman
who had ever visited their shores. The islanders at first gazed
in mute admiration at so unusual a prodigy, and seemed inclined
to regard it as some new divinity. But after a short time,
becoming familiar with its charming aspect, and jealous of the
folds which encircled its form, they sought to pierce the sacred
veil of calico in which it was enshrined, and in the
gratification of their curiosity so far overstepped the limits of
good breeding, as deeply to offend the lady's sense of decorum.
Her sex once ascertained, their idolatry was changed into
contempt and there was no end to the contumely showered upon her
by the savages, who were exasperated at the deception which they
conceived had been practised upon them. To the horror of her
affectionate spouse, she was stripped of her garments, and given
to understand that she could no longer carry on her deceits with
impunity. The gentle dame was not sufficiently evangelical to
endure this, and, fearful of further improprieties, she forced
her husband to relinquish his undertaking, and together they
returned to Tahiti.

Not thus shy of exhibiting her charms was the Island Queen
herself, the beauteous wife of Movianna, the king of Nukuheva.
Between two and three years after the adventures recorded in this
volume, I chanced, while aboard of a man-of-war to touch at these
islands. The French had then held possession of the Marquesas
some time, and already prided themselves upon the beneficial
effects of their jurisdiction, as discernible in the deportment
of the natives. To be sure, in one of their efforts at reform
they had slaughtered about a hundred and fifty of them at
Whitihoo--but let that pass. At the time I mention, the French
squadron was rendezvousing in the bay of Nukuheva, and during an
interview between one of their captains and our worthy Commodore,
it was suggested by the former, that we, as the flag-ship of the
American squadron, should receive, in state, a visit from the
royal pair. The French officer likewise represented, with
evident satisfaction, that under their tuition the king and queen
had imbibed proper notions of their elevated station, and on all
ceremonious occasions conducted themselves with suitable dignity.
Accordingly, preparations were made to give their majesties a
reception on board in a style corresponding with their rank.

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