Dispatch from Herman Melville’s Farm

Growing up in New York, first in the city and then later in Albany, a young Herman Melville made frequent trips to stay with his uncle, Thomas Melvill, who lived on a farm near Pittsfield, in the Berkshire mountains of Western Massachusetts. In 1850, Thomas decided to sell his property. Melville, now with a young family of his own, arrived that summer for what they believed to be his final visit to the area.

It was during this fateful trip that Melville learned that the Brewster farm, consisting of 160 acres abutting his uncle’s plot, was up for sale. Fueled by impulse and nostalgia, he borrowed $3000 from his father-in-law and bought the property. He would come to call it Arrowhead in reference to native artifacts he found in its fields.

Melville’s plan for his time at Arrowhead was to write. He had recently published a series of bestselling adventure novels, drawing from the half-decade he spent wandering the Pacific as a sailor. He felt confident that his literary success would continue and the time was right to fully invest in this vision.

A few days ago, I travelled down to Arrowhead, now preserved by the Berkshire Historical Society, to better understand the writing-centered life that Melville constructed.

The original house is small, its second floor needing to fit Melville’s own family, as well as his mother and multiple sisters. He none-the-less claimed a sizable east-facing room for his office. Melville used a dining table to write, giving him ample room to spread out his books and notes. He pushed the table against a window offering a direct view of the hump-backed Mount Greylock in the distance:

(Legend has it that the whale-like appearance of the mountain inspired Moby Dick. We know this can’t be true because Melville conceived the novel before moving to Arrowhead, but his orientation toward the mountain, both physically and psychologically, clearly marks it as an important source of poetic inspiration for his work.)

Melville’s desk is flanked by bookshelves. A fireplace behind him boasts a poker forged from a whaling harpoon. According to the docent who led us on a tour, this setup, impressive as it is, was only temporary. Melville’s eventual plan was to raze the house and build a grander structure featuring a “writing tower.”

How did Melville make use of these spaces? We can gain some insight into his daily routine from a letter he wrote to a friend during this period:

I rise at eight–thereabouts–& go to my  barn–say good-morning to the horse, & give him his breakfast…My own breakfast over, I go to my work-room & light my fire–then spread my M.S.S. on the table–take one business squint at it, & fall to with a will.  At 2 1/2 p.m. I hear a preconcerted knock at my door, which (by request) continues till I rise & go to the door, which serves to wean me effectively from my writing, however interested I may be. . . .

The thirteen years Melville would spend at Arrowhead, writing half of each day at his dining table desk overlooking the mountains beyond, were the most productive of his career. The works he completed at Arrowhead included, most notably, Moby Dick, but also Pierre, the Confidence-Man, and Israel Potter, not to mention some of his best-known short stories, such as I and My Chimney, Benito Cereno, and Bartleby the Scrivener. (Tragically, these works were largely critical and commercial failures during Melville’s lifetime, leading him to eventually fall into debt before returning to New York to take a desk job. They wouldn’t become recognized as American classics until the early twentieth century.)

A couple weeks ago, I wrote a dispatch from the writing shed I was working from this July to help jumpstart a new book project. Melville’s Arrowhead provides a nice example of these same creative principles pushed toward a more notable extreme. Melville wanted to write, and knew that to do so at the level that could produce something of the caliber of Moby Dick would require great attention paid not just to what he was working on, but also where these efforts took place.

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In other news…

• On the most recent episode of my Deep Questions podcast, I explored small habits that can lead to big results in the quest to find depth in a distracted world. (watch | listen)
• Meanwhile, for those who are still curious about my new book, Slow Productivity, Big Think just published a useful video in which I explain the book’s main principles.

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