I once looked out onto Long Island sound at sunset, in April. We had taken a wrong turn and been suddenly faced with the harbor, and I was stunned. It was chilly and overcast; the grey sea turned seamlessly into the sky and I knew I would never be able to take it all in. Instead I just stood on the end of the jetty, my toes over the edge, getting as close to the scene as I could without being in the freezing water. In that moment I understood the early whalers. I detest the ocean, and am frightened if my feet aren’t secure on solid earth, but on that April evening in Connecticut I wanted so deeply to sail on that placid sound.
The harbor was painted in grays and blues and I could see why a creature such as a whale would fascinate the east coast dwellers of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Whales fit. A massive gray-blue creature, whose majesty is rivaled only by the coastline itself, it seems natural that sailors would seek out these creatures and, with knowledge that whale products had practical uses, hunt them. Reflecting on my experience with the Connecticut shore with my since-acquired knowledge of Romantic tendencies and whaling history in mind, I understand the connection between the Romantic spirit of the nineteenth century and the peak of the whaling industry. The search for the whale is exciting, unpredictable, poignant, and seemingly endless, just like the New England coastline and the Romantic mindset.
In the mid-nineteenth century, yankee whaling reached its peak and America had over five hundred whaling ships in the oceans. For Herman Melville, the center of this whirlwind was Nantucket, Massachusetts, as he expresses in Moby Dick. “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.” Melville believed that Nantucket was the most prolific whaling port, the kingpin in the American whaling industry and the birthplace of the whaling spirit. As a far east point of land in Massachusetts, whales would often get beached on the shores of Nantucket, drawing spectators and sparking interest. The very shape of the island looks like a whale’s tail, or fluke; whaling is inherent in the very nature of the island.
Melville dedicates a whole chapter of Moby Dick to Nantucket, chapter fourteen. In it, he jokes about the coastal nature of the island, saying it holds “more sand there than you would use in 20 years as a substitute for blotting paper.” He then celebrates sea-native ways of the Nantucketers who have, from their tiny island, conquered the “terraqueous globe” - that is, the oceanic world. Melville seems entranced by the Nantucketers, perhaps because their persistent adventurous spirit aligns so closely with his Romantic ideals. The Nantucketers as described by Melville are bold and passionate. They are in tune with the essence of the sea, yet subject to its uncontrollable whims. Melville saw this as a fantastic example of the Romantic spirit, subject to fate despite being interested and receptive to it.
The Nantucket shores seem like the optimal place to experience the whaling spirit of the nineteenth century. Even today whales can be seen from the shore, their spray arching triumphantly, their fluke reminding the viewer of the land on which they stand. This is whale country, and as a visitor I would not be surprised to see whaling themes as copious as they are in Melville’s novel. The first Great American Novel was not written about gold, hollywood, the wild frontier, or even liberty. The Great American Novel, Moby Dick, was written about a seemingly ordinary whaling ship that departs from Nantucket. This ship, however, contains a microcosm of the mid-nineteenth century American society, and the departure location was not arbitrary. Nantucket was an important location in the nineteenth century thanks to economics, literature, culture, and the fact that the presiding Nantucket spirit complemented so well the American Romantic spirit.
I have already been searching for Massachusetts plane tickets, looking up whale watching tours and seasons, and dreaming about that Connecticut harbor twilight. I know not if the quest will consume me in a Captain Ahab fashion, though I do know I would be content to see any whale, white or not. There is a Romantic side to me that tends to seek the poignant powers of nature and the swift inspiration that can come from an interaction with a creature as magnificent as a whale. Nantucket will be to me as a whaling voyage is to Ishmael, staving off the depression of the mundane. Edmund Burke spoke to the English Parliament about Nantucket and its whale-fishery, “Pray, sir, what in the world is equal to it.” Certainly, for any Romantic pilgrim, the shores of Nantucket are an indispensable destination.
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