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Billy Budd Mass Market Paperback – Unabridged

ISBN-13: 978-0812504262 ISBN-10: 0812504267

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Product Details

  • Mass Market Paperback: 116 pages
  • Publisher: TOR Books (May 15, 1992)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0812504267
  • ISBN-13: 978-0812504262
  • Product Dimensions: 6.6 x 5.3 x 0.3 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 3.5 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
  • Average Customer Review: 3.5 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (63 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #52,542 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Editorial Reviews

About the Author

Herman Melville (August 1, 1819 – September 28, 1891) was the author of such classics as Billy Budd and Moby Dick.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1
 
 
In the time before steamships, or then more frequently than now, a stroller along the docks of any considerable seaport would occasionally have his attention arrested by a group of bronzed mariners, man-of-war's men or merchant sailors in holiday attire, ashore on liberty. In certain instances they would flank, or like a bodyguard quite surround, some superior figure of their own class, moving along with them like Aldebaran among the lesser lights of his constellation. That signal object was the 'Handsome Sailor' of the less prosaic time alike of the military and merchant navies. With no perceptible trace of the vainglorious about him, rather with the offhand unaffectedness of natural regality, he seemed to accept the spontaneous homage of his shipmates.
A somewhat remarkable instance recurs to me. In Liverpool, now half a century ago, I saw under the shadow of the great dingy street-wall of Prince's Dock (an obstruction long since removed) a common sailor so intensely black that he must needs have been a native African of the unadulterate blood of Ham--a symmetric figure much above the average height. The two ends of a gay silk handkerchief thrown loose about the neck danced upon the displayed ebony of his chest, in his ears were big hoops of gold, and a Highland bonnet with a tartan band set off his shapely head. It was a hot noon in July; and his face, lustrous with perspiration, beamed with barbaric good humor. In jovial sallies right and left, his white teeth flashing into view, he rollicked along, the center of a company of his shipmates. These were made up of such an assortment of tribes and complexions as would have well fitted them to be marched up by Anacharsis Cloots before the bar of the first French Assembly as Representatives of the Human Race. At each spontaneous tribute rendered by the wayfarers to this black pagod of a fellow--the tribute of a pause and stare, and less frequently an exclamation--the motley retinue showed that they took that sort of pride in the evoker of it which the Assyrian priests doubtless showed for their grand sculptured Bull when the faithful prostrated themselves.
To return. If in some cases a bit of a nautical Murat in setting forth his person ashore, the Handsome Sailor of the period in question evinced nothing of the dandified Billy-be-Dam, an amusing character all but extinct now, but occasionally to be encountered, and in a form yet more amusing than the original, at the tiller of the boats on the tempestuous Erie Canal or, more likely, vaporing in the groggeries along the towpath. Invariably a proficient in his perilous calling, he was also more or less of a mighty boxer or wrestler. It was strength and beauty. Tales of his prowess were recited. Ashore he was the champion; afloat the spokesman; on every suitable occasion always foremost. Close-reefing topsails in a gale, there he was, astride the weather yardarm-end, foot in the Flemish horse as stirrup, both hands tugging at the earing as at a bridle, in very much the attitude of young Alexander curbing the fiery Bucephalus. A superb figure, tossed up as by the horns of Taurus against the thunderous sky, cheerily hallooing to the strenuous file along the spar.
The moral nature was seldom out of keeping with the physical make. Indeed, except as toned by the former, the comeliness and power, always attractive in masculine conjunction, hardly could have drawn the sort of honest homage the Handsome Sailor in some examples received from his less gifted associates.
Such a cynosure, at least in aspect, and something such too in nature, though with important variations made apparent as the story proceeds, was welkin-eyed Billy Budd--or Baby Budd, as more familiarly, under circumstances hereafter to be given, he at last came to be called--aged twenty-one, a foretopman of the British fleet toward the close of the last decade of the eighteenth century. It was not very long prior to the time of the narration that follows that he had entered the King's service, having been impressed on the Narrow Seas from a homeward-bound English merchantman into a seventy-four outward bound, H.M.S. Bellipotent; which ship, as was not unusual in those hurried days, having been obliged to put to sea short of her proper complement of men. Plump upon Billy at first sight in the gangway the boarding officer, Lieutenant Ratcliffe, pounced, even before the merchantman's crew was formally mustered on the quarter-deck for his deliberate inspection. And him only he elected. For whether it was because the other men when ranged before him showed to ill advantage after Billy, or whether he had some scruples in view of the merchantman's being rather short-handed, however it might be, the officer contented himself with his first spontaneous choice. To the surprise of the ship's company, though much to the lieutenant's satisfaction, Billy made no demur. But, indeed, any demur would have been as idle as the protest of a goldfinch popped into a cage.
Noting this uncomplaining acquiescence, all but cheerful, one might say, the shipmaster turned a surprised glance of silent reproach at the sailor. The shipmaster was one of those worthy mortals found in every vocation, even the humbler ones--the sort of person whom everybody agrees in calling 'a respectable man.' And--nor so strange to report as it may appear to be-though a ploughman of the troubled waters, lifelong contending with the intractable elements, there was nothing this honest soul at heart loved better than simple peace and quiet. For the rest, he was fifty or thereabouts, a little inclined to corpulence, a prepossessing face, unwhiskered, and of an agreeable color--a rather full face, humanely intelligent in expression. On a fair day with a fair wind and all going well, a certain musical chime in his voice seemed to be the veritable unobstructed outcome of the innermost man. He had much prudence, much conscientiousness, and there were occasions when these virtues were the cause of overmuch disquietude in him. On a passage, so long as his craft was in any proximity to land, no sleep for Captain Graveling. He took to heart those serious responsibilities not so heavily borne by some shipmasters.
Now while Billy Budd was down in the forecastle getting his kit together, the Bellipotent's lieutenant, burly and bluff, nowise disconcerted by Captain Graveling's omitting to proffer the customary hospitalities on an occasion so unwelcome to him, an omission simply caused by preoccupation of thought, unceremoniously invited himself into the cabin, and also to a flask from the spirit locker, a receptacle which his experienced eye instantly discovered. In fact he was one of those sea dogs in whom all the hardship and peril of naval life in the great prolonged wars of his time never impaired the natural instinct for sensuous enjoyment. His duty he always faithfully did; but duty is sometimes a dry obligation, and he was for irrigating its aridity, whensoever possible, with a fertilizing decoction of strong waters. For the cabin's proprietor there was nothing left but to play the part of the enforced host with whatever grace and alacrity were practicable. As necessary adjuncts to the flask, he silently placed tumbler and water jug before the irrepressible guest. But excusing himself from partaking just then, he dismally watched the unembarrassed officer deliberately diluting his grog a little, then tossing it off in three swallows, pushing the empty tumbler away, yet not so far as to be beyond easy reach, at the same time settling himself in his seat and smacking his lips with high satisfaction, looking straight at the host.
These proceedings over, the master broke the silence; and there lurked a rueful reproach in the tone of his voice: 'Lieutenant, you are going to take my best man from me, the jewel of 'em.'
'Yes, I know,' rejoined the other, immediately drawing back the tumbler preliminary to a replenishing. 'Yes, I know. Sorry.'
'Beg pardon, but you don't understand, Lieutenant. See here, now. Before I shipped that young fellow, my forecastle was a rat-pit of quarrels. It was black times, I tell you, aboard the Rights here. I was worried to that degree my pipe had no comfort for me. But Billy came; and it was like a Catholic priest striking peace in an Irish shindy. Not that he preached to them or said or did anything in particular; but a virtue went out of him, sugaring the sour ones. They took to him like hornets to treacle; all but the buffer of the gang, the big shaggy chap with the fire-red whiskers. He indeed, out of envy, perhaps, of the newcomer, and thinking such a 'sweet and pleasant fellow,' as he mockingly designated him to the others, could hardly have the spirit of a gamecock, must needs bestir himself in trying to get up an ugly row with him. Billy forebore with him and reasoned with him in a pleasant way--he is something like myself, Lieutenant, to whom aught like a quarrel is hateful--but nothing served. So, in the second dogwatch one day, the Red Whiskers in presence of the others, under pretense of showing Billy just whence a sirloin steak was cut--for the fellow had once been a butcher--insultingly gave him a dig under the ribs. Quick as lightning Billy let fly his arm. I dare say he never meant to do quite as much as he did, but anyhow he gave the burly fool a terrible drubbing. It took about half a minute, I should think. And, lord bless you, the lubber was astonished at the celerity. And will you believe it, Lieutenant, the Red Whiskers now really loves Billy--loves him, or is the biggest hypocrite that ever I heard of. But they all love him. Some of 'em do his washing, darn his old trousers for him; the carpenter is at odd times making a pretty little chest of drawers for him. Anybody will do anything for Billy Budd; and it's the happy family here. But now, Lieutenant, if that young fellow goes--I know how it will be aboard the Rights. Not again very soon shall I, coming up from dinner, lean over the capstan smoking a quiet pipe--no, not very soon again, I think. Ay, Lieutenant, you are going to take away the jewel of 'em; you are...

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Customer Reviews

Don't know about you, but I read these things and don't know why it was excluded.
Grace Terzian
This novella is difficult to read, with long and complex sentences and perhaps unnecessary diversions.
Stan Vernooy
This book makes a good first introduction to Melville, and this edition is excellent.
Roger Lakins

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

39 of 44 people found the following review helpful By Stan Vernooy on August 10, 2000
Format: Mass Market Paperback
This novella is difficult to read, with long and complex sentences and perhaps unnecessary diversions. But its power and depth reward the effort it takes to read it.
"Billy Budd" is an allegory of a young seaman who strikes and kills a superior officer when the officer's cruelty and treachery become unbearable. The focus of the story is the debate over whether to execute the seaman (Billy Budd) for his crime. With passionate and terrifying logic, Melville (through the voice of Captain Vere) demonstrates that human perfection is impossible - not because we humans are weak, but because perfection simply does not and cannot exist in this world. To make decisions based on our notion of "divine justice" is not only impractical and foolhardy, according to Melville, but even immoral.
If you like to think of yourself as an idealist, then reading this book will leave some unanswered questions in your mind, possibly for the rest of your life. I first read this story more than thirty years ago, and it still affects the way I think about almost everything to this day.
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13 of 15 people found the following review helpful By adamf@writeme.com on December 1, 1998
Format: Paperback
While much has been said about the value of the work itself, Billy Budd is important not only as an allegory, but as a fictionalized account of an actual event in the 1840s. The real Billy Budd was Philip Spencer, the son of the Secretary of War at the time. Spencer left Union College after founding the first social greek letter society, Chi Psi. He signed on with a training ship, the Brig of War Somers. The Somers was overcrowded with young recruits and captained by a paranoid zealot. Midshipman Spencer was falsely accused of fomenting mutiny and ultimately hung from the yard arm rather than betray the fact that he was recruiting for his fraternity. The need for secrecy was particularly keen, since his own father was famous for his prosecution of the Masons based on alleged murder to prevent the masonic secrets from being disseminated. His hanging was not only against the law at the time, but also offended all sense of fairness. Following the investigation of his murder, it became emphatically clear that it was necessary to change the way the United States was to train its navy. The direct result was the founding of the United States Naval Academy, in whose museum Midshipman Spencer's sword is on display.
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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful By Kenneth A. Robbins on May 2, 2013
Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
I enjoyed rereading this classic, but was disappointed to see that this "annotated" edition lacks any annotations beyond a brief bio sketch of Melville and his bibliography. I feel I was misled.
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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful By WILLIAM H FULLER on September 17, 2010
Format: Mass Market Paperback
Reading, be the target novels, short stories, poems, or road maps, demands an investment from readers of a certain number of hours from their life spans. Perhaps I am too demanding, but I feel that, if I am to trade a portion of my life for the message left for me by an author, the message should be meaningful, and I should lay down the completed book feeling that I have gained something positive from having read it: a new insight, a new word added to my recognition vocabulary, or a new vicarious experience. I also detest having my attention diverted from the author's message by having to stumble around malapropisms, misspellings, or nonstandard punctuation. This collection of short stories (and I have no objection if one wishes to characterize "Billy Budd" as a novella) does not disappoint. From these eight stories I have gleaned new vocabulary and new vicarious experiences, and in none of them is the writing any less than superb.

This is not to claim that the writing is always easily read. The acceptable and educated writing style of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was far more periphrastic than is today's streamlined and, at times, abbreviated and almost staccato style. Simple sentences were not preferred over compound-complex sentences. Writers were not hesitant to select words that best fit their purpose, the number of syllables and the antiquity of a word notwithstanding. We tend to see such writing today as "dense, impenetrable and boring," but just think of the opportunity to expand one's vocabulary and to practice concentrating on the meaning being conveyed by those wonderfully detailed sentences!
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6 of 7 people found the following review helpful By Robert S. Newman VINE VOICE on June 9, 2006
Format: Mass Market Paperback
*BILLY BUDD, a classic tale by America's Herman Melville, was written 40 years after his burst of creative energy. Melville still possessed the feeling for a good story, but he wrote it in a language so ornate and (to our modern eyes) stilted, that one can hardly absorb it. Nevertheless, BILLY BUDD deals with a timeless human issue---the nature of justice. Billy, a handsome young sailor, has been impressed into the British Navy where he incurs the jealousy or instinctive dislike of an officer. Billy has done nothing to warrant his wrath and is highly popular among everyone. This officer, rather more intellectual than most, proves tenaciously vindictive. He endeavors to trap Billy in a mutinous plot, but Billy rejects the idea. At last the officer goes to the captain and accuses Billy of mutiny directly. The captain too likes Billy and cannot believe the accuser. He calls Billy, who in tense circumstances is apt to stutter or be tongue-tied. When presented with the officer's accusations, Billy cannot speak. He strikes the officer. The conclusion is swift and sad. I should not reveal the ending, but the question of "what is justice ?" lies at the center of it.

*Other Tales---these are neither very enjoyable nor easy to read except for BARTLEBY THE SCRIVENER, an amusing story that might remind readers of one episode from "Sinbad the Sailor". Bartleby, a copyist or scrivener arrives at a lawyer's office and is hired. He seems to have no past, no present. We discover that he even lives at the office, never goes out. He gradually refuses to do all work, but will not leave the premises. How to get rid of him ? I could tell you the end, but in the immortal words of Bartleby himself, "I would prefer not to." This is a minor classic.
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