Herman Melville

Herman Melville

Summary

Portrait of Herman Melville Herman Melville Israel Potter — Chapters 21-25 (1855)

To these muddy philosophers, men and bricks were equally of clay. “What signifies who we be—­dukes or ditchers?” thought the moulders; “all is vanity and clay.”
So slap, slap, slap, care-free and negligent, with bitter unconcern, these dismal desperadoes flapped down the dough. If this recklessness were vicious of them, be it so; but their vice was like that weed which but grows on barren ground; enrich the soil, and it disappears.
For thirteen weary weeks, lorded over by the taskmaster, Israel toiled in his pit.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Herman Melville Herman Melville Israel Potter — Chapters 21-25 (1855)

It was late on a Monday morning, in November—­a Blue Monday—­a Fifth of November—­Guy Fawkes’ Day!—­very blue, foggy, doleful and gunpowdery, indeed, as shortly will be seen, that Israel found himself wedged in among the greatest everyday crowd which grimy London presents to the curious stranger: that hereditary crowd—­gulf-stream of humanity—­which, for continuous centuries, has never ceased pouring, like an endless shoal of herring, over London Bridge.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Herman Melville Herman Melville Israel Potter — Chapters 21-25 (1855)

All night long, men sat before the mouth of the kilns, feeding them with fuel. A dull smoke—­a smoke of their torments—­went up from their tops. It was curious to see the kilns under the action of the fire, gradually changing color, like boiling lobsters. When, at last, the fires would be extinguished, the bricks being duly baked, Israel often took a peep into the low vaulted ways at the base, where the flaming fagots had crackled. The bricks immediately lining the vaults would be all burnt to useless scrolls, black as charcoal, and twisted into shapes the most grotesque
Source: Wikisource

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