Thousands of stories and accounts passed from generation to generation since ancient history share common elements of the human experience. In the same way, American literature of the 19th and 20th centuries bears numerous overlapping themes that define and analyze people and societies. American literature fraught with examples of this notion came from authors like Arthur Miller, Herman Melville, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Melville’s Captain Ahab of Moby Dick and Miller’s Abigail Williams of The Crucible work to gain their revengeful ends through murderous ploys, while Fitzgerald’s Meyer Wolfsheim of The Great Gatsby and Miller’s Joe Keller of All My Sons fall under a corrupting hypnosis of materialism. Thus, several pieces in American literature, including All my Sons, The Crucible, Moby Dick, and The Great Gatsby, embody, evaluate, and explore common motifs such as human corruption, the contrast between appearance and truth, and vengeance.
The corruption of man surfaces as a ubiquitous theme throughout several literary works. Fitzgerald’s Meyer Wolfsheim and Miller’s Joe Keller represent the debasing effects of avarice, money, power, and selfishness on human morality. To begin, Fitzgerald’s Meyer Wolfsheim, the human molar-cuffed gangster, fixes the World’s Series in 1919 and reveals his insightfulness of misdemeanors and murder, serving as the ultimate model of the corrupt and lethal inter-criminal realm diseased with evil and dishonesty. In order to fix the 1919 World’s Series, Meyer must stand high in the echelons of criminal power. Meyer’s ploy to deceive thousands of people clearly offers a glimpse into Wolfsheim’s mind, a concoction of greed and power. In addition, the human molar cuffs on Wolfsheim’s sleeves suggest that this criminal mastermind most likely committed a gruesome murder, since a gangster of his status would only wear the molars of a victim. Meyer lives his life by a self-centered code of business and crime deprived of ethics with a mission to gather “business gonnegtion[s] under his belt to increase his illegal wealth and advance his persona in the world of organized crime in the 1920s. Wolfsheim even exploits fellow criminals, often refusing “to pay [them] a penny until [they] shut [their] mouth[s]” about his criminal stratagems (Fitzgerald 74). Wolfsheim the crook thrives in the world of illegitimate business, as he does not hesitate to chase his wants when “he just [sees] the opportunity” (Fitzgerald 78). His success finds its roots in “the Jazz Age,” a time of prohibition and crime. marked by Prohibition and gangsterism,” where “American morality” and social development “were marked by questionable business ethics . . . with materialistic and economic factors” determining the course of progress in all aspects of society (Inge/Solomon 3). Extending beyond the novel, a real-life gambler and racketeer by the name of Arnold Rothstein served as the basis for Wolfsheim’s character; this notorious felon allegedly arranged countless cases of stolen bonds and fixed events. Wolfsheim represents a single pawn in the era of Prohibition, a chess game of crookedness, immorality, extortion, and murder for individual gain.
In addition to Meyer Wolfsheim’s experiences in the criminal realm, another man of business, Miller’s Joe Keller, follows suit with schemes to advance his personal interests and well-being. By knowingly shipping faulty airplane parts, framing his partner, and avoiding a deserved prison sentence, Joe Keller embodies the corruption of man and the self-centered motivation of criminals. Keller’s gambit to overlook the defective airplane parts sent to the war front in spite of the potential disasters they may cause indubitably equates him with a man like Meyer Wolfsheim. Despite his knowledge of Steve’s innocence and suffering, Joe Keller casually lives on without any significant, visible regard for the life of the incarcerated, hapless Steve or the grieving families of the deceased plane pilots who suffer because of Keller’s callous indifference. Keller believes that he lives in the “land of the great big dogs” and that if any man dares to try and stop Joe from making money for his family, Keller would “eat him” (Miller 59). Joe claims to “under[stand] the way the world is made” and “understand money,” seeing corporate America as a dog-eat-dog realm where the strongest businesses and families thrive at the expense of the weakest (Miller 63). With this in mind, Keller brags of how he “pulled a fast one getting [himself] exonerated” and could still reconstruct “one of the best shops in the state again,” reemerging as “respected man . . . bigger than ever” because of his furtive maneuvers (Miller 26). With his mind set on acquiring wealth and ensuring only his family’s well-being, Keller fails to consider the well-being of the society and the nation as a whole and the rights of others to freedom and the pursuit of happiness. Joe “watch[es] his star go out” as his own dishonorable past and hidden truths lead to the disappearance of his inner “star . . . [of] honesty,” which regularly guides individuals in life but “never lights again” once corrupted (Miller 61). Joe’s heartless, detrimental, and corrupt decisions also correspond to the root for Larry Keller’s suicide, since the boy could not carry his father’s guilty and selfish name. Keller’s immorality directly escalates to murder, suicide, and emotional unrest which eventually tears the foundations of the family which Keller worked all of his life to support.
The contrast between a person’s outer, public appearance and his true character also emerges as a theme throughout American literature. People’s physical characteristics and social strata often create an inaccurate image. This notion manifests itself aboard Melville’s Pequod, where the mysterious harpooner Queequeg appears as a savage, cannibal heathen. Queequeg’s bodily tattoos, sharpened teeth, and barbaric manner inadvertently conceal his true identity as a South Seas prince with qualities of kindness, devotion, selflessness, and mercifulness. Queequeg’s anomalous appearance detaches him from the Pequod crew members, some of whom believe that “it was the devil himself” who had walked onto their ship (Melville 21). As a result, the harpooner becomes a stereotyped and debased individual open to jibes and insults. The sharpened teeth of this “abominable savage” combined with Queequeg’s celerity with the harpoon suggest unnatural power, satanic presence, and notoriety. Queequeg’s “unearthly tattooings” convey darkness and nefariousness which accompany his lack of proper demeanor and restraint at times. On the other hand, Queequeg’s friendship with Ishmael and Ishmael’s acceptance of Queequeg’s unique background allow for the harpooner’s true soul to surface. Queequeg quickly proves to be a pious, God-respecting individual who retains to his faith at all costs. Despite Queequeg’s bestial facade and lack of propriety, the “man’s a human being” equal to any other, with “reason to fear” whomever he encounters in the same fashion the crew fears the harpooner (Melville 24). In addition, the harpooner’s devotion to Ishmael becomes irrefutable as he treats “[Ishmael] with so much civility and consideration,” even at times when Ishmael “was guilty of great rudeness” (Melville 27). Also, Queequeg’s kindness toward Ishmael radiates as he shares numerous personal effects of sentimental value, including his Tomahawk. The magnanimous Kokovoan prince even daringly risks his life to rescue the “bumpkin” who ridiculed him aboard the packet to Nantucket. Behind his dark eyes lies “a simple, honest heart” that supports “a spirit that would dare a thousand devils” (Melville 48). Queequeg’s amenities of character overcome the physical mask which harbors a noble character.
In addition to the struggle between Queequeg’s threatening appearance and his noble character, Fitzgerald’s Jay Gatsby faces a different contrast of personas. In this case, Jay Gatsby’s suave appearance of a civilized man, countless riches, smooth, appealing personality, and influential friends mask the impoverished yet highly motivated young man hidden beneath the skin of an affluent gangster. With glamour, style, money, and excessive lavishness, Jay Gatsby creates the image of a successful “rajah” of fine education, background, and future who “lived. . . in all the capitals of Europe,” and figuratively bathes in gold and silver each day (Fitzgerald 69). As people visit his mansion and note his beautiful “many-colored . . . shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel,” they become mesmerized with materialistic elements which distract them from Gatsby’s true self (Fitzgerald 97). Gatsby becomes known for his extravagant parties, with culinary wonders and charming musical performances for both invited guests and “People [who] were not invited,” who simply “went there” to witness Gatsby’s extravagance and falsely evaluate his money as a direct correlation to his heart and identity (Fitzgerald 41). The uninvited guests, blind with their own acquisitive sensations in Gatsby’s mansion, assume that Gatsby must descend from a long line of noble men of status. By associating with influential men of politics, business, and crime, Gatsby blends in as a young tycoon able to buy anyone, offering “business opportunit[ies]” to close acquaintances. Also, with decorations of bravery “from every Allied government,” Gatsby successfully creates an ideal personality and a second character for himself. Even Jay’s smile “of eternal reassurance . . . that may appear four or five times in life” blinds the public from Jay’s hidden truths as he quickly becomes a local celebrity and the subject of many conversations of admiration (Fitzgerald 48). Thus, a deceitful, prosperous guise solidifies for this “second cousin to the devil,” who fooled humanity just as efficiently as Gatsby fooled New York (Fitzgerald 61). On the other hand, a thorough examination of Gatsby and his genuine character reveals a different reality. Behind the mask, Gatsby represents a rags-to-riches, quick-cash visionary “rais[ed] out of nothing, straight out of the gutter” who rises out of his own social ghetto to the top echelon of social class (Fitzgerald 179). The brains behind the riches represent Gatsby’s powerful charisma, rare business drive, and understanding in pecuniary matters and business. The true Gatsby, a son of destitute workers, beams with motivation in his agenda for “resolves . . . about improving his mind” in his rise to success (Fitzgerald 182). Gatsby’s abilities to pass himself off as a noble, debonair “Oxford man” suggest a man of dedication and diligence toward the realization of the American Dream. Jay Gatsby becomes an authentic representation of an impoverished man’s soul finding the riches that stopped him from achieving his dreams long ago.
The passion for revenge has existed in the human psyche since the dawn of humankind and functions as a central emotion in human relations. The theme of vengeance spans across several pieces of literature, including Herman Melville’s Moby Dick and Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. First, this powerful urge for evil and destruction emerges through Melville’s Captain Ahab, the merciless peg-legged commander of the Pequod who lost his appendage and soul to a legendary white whale. By risking the lives of his crew to hunt Moby Dick, proclaiming his goal of annihilating the whale, and refusing to turn back or assists captains of other vessels, Captain Ahab emerges as a nefarious, merciless mad-man driven living an empty life that ends in self-destruction. Ahab’s reality and life shatter during his first, nearly lethal encounter with Moby Dick, as he becomes a man “cut away from the stake when the fire has overrunningly wasted all [of his] limbs without consuming them,” scorched with vengeance and fury (Melville 117). The “crazy Ahab” grows so furious over his loss to the white whale that he piles the “rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down” on Moby Dick’s head (Melville 177). With such tramendous, infuriating rage packed in “his bloodshot eyes of a prairie wolf,” Ahab breathes vengeance every second of every day (Melville 158). After a short period of time the Captain explodes with hatred, transforming him into a juggernaut of “madness maddened.” Since Moby Dick remains as the root cause of Ahab’s crumbling mentality and life, the destruction of that “dumb brute” represents the only cure for the captain’s divided soul. “Dismember[ing] [the] dismemberer” will satiate Ahab’s hunger for blood, truth, and redress. “For Ahab, existence in this world is but a prison because he cannot know, and sometimes doubts, that any deeper meaning exists” in his life and fate after the loss of his being to Moby Dick; thus, Ahab can only pathetically “attack and destroy the inscrutable surfaces which he has personified in the white whale” (Elliott 3). The notion that decimating a magnificent creature will assure his spiritual and mental restoration drags Ahab onto a suicidal voyage. Even as the voyage progresses and the crew spots the white whale numerous times, the Captain becomes intoxicated with added anger as he prepares to “strike the sun” if needed to accomplish his bloody goal. Because his life revolves around Moby Dick’s destruction, Ahab ceases caring for the wellness of his crew or the troubles of other ships on the high seas. As a result, the Captain’s intransigent agenda of vengeance against his nautical enemy aimed at resolving his own mental troubles drives the Pequod and its crew to the bottom of the ocean, while the captain himself suffers a gruesome failure and death on Moby Dick’s fin.
In addition, Miller’s Abigail Williams, the distraught, revengeful young girl banished from the Proctor household also represents the personification of vengeance. Through her effort to invent the witchcraft episode in Salem in order to spread lies about Elizabeth and bring her to trial under witchcraft charges, Abigail Williams emerges as a notorious girl bent on the destruction of John Proctor’s beatific wife. Unable to seduce Proctor after their affair, Abigail becomes fraught with such inhumane revenge that she decides to do all she can to assure Elizabeth’s death. Abigail’s successful machination to kill Elizabeth would allow Abigail to replace Elizabeth, serving as payback for her banishment. Elizabeth represents all which Abigail cannot have, physically and emotionally; as a result, Abigail grimly dreams of the day she would “dance. . .on [Elizabeth’s] grave.” Also, by threatening a number of the possessed girls from the forest in the beginning of the witchcraft crisis, Abigail Williams reveals her capacity to murder in cold blood anyone who jeopardizes her mission to avenge her hatred for Elizabeth. Although Mary Warren and Betty appear as Abigail’s friendly companions, Abigail does not hesitate to turn on them at the instant she sense their fear or will to confess the truth. Although only a girl of seventeen, “Abigail smashes [Betty] across the face” ruthlessly to ensure that she “shut[s] it” regarding Abigail’s “drink[ing] [of] a charm to kill John Proctor’s wife . . . to kill Goody Proctor” (Miller 16). As the girls continue to fear the consequences of silence regarding Abigail’s lies and murderous plans, Abigail’s determination and insanity surface with her threat to “come to [Mary Warren] in the black of some terrible night and . . . bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder [her]” (Miller 17). Those who dare to undermine Abigail’s devious scheme to destroy Elizabeth will “wish [they] had never seen the sun go down,” as the young Abigail’s evil heart eclipses her morality and conscience (Miller 17). Abigail, a “terrorist of desire,” plots to “exact revenge for [her] socially determined impotence” and inability to obtain her wants (Bloom 134). Abigail’s vengeance exhumes a small piece of the “elements of social corruption, moral disease, and unresolved and repressed feelings of anger and hostility” that lay dormant, “embedded in [Salem’s] fabric” (Woolway 2). One stab to equate the pains and injustices between individuals results in a bloody disaster for an entire community.
In conclusion, mankind’s susceptibility to corruption, inadequate physical evaluation of individuals as a judgment of character, and the urge for vengeance represent the driving forces behind the majority of societal ailments today. In this instance, Miller’s Abigail Williams single-handedly destroys a community, while Melville’s Ahab draws an entire crew to a bottomless oceanic grave in pursuit of vengeance. Had individuals accepted their social and materialistic losses, prevention of these disasters would have worked. Similarly, Fitzgerald’s Wolfsheim and Miller’s Joe Keller face the threat of total materialistic and physical destruction because of their acquisitive ploys to obtain more than they could have. Any theme directly relates to elements of the human experience which give rise to many societal problems; the exercise of corruption jeopardizes the well-being of a populace, just as the false judgment of individuals or a quest for vengeance may destroy lives and lead to global conflicts.
Harold Bloom, “Modern Critical Interpretations: The Crucible.” Chelsea House Publishers.
Mark Elliott, “An overview of ‘Bartleby the Scrivener.'” Literature Resource Center.
Scott Fitzgerald, “The Great Gatsby.” Scribner Paperback Fiction.
Thomas Inge and Eric Solomon, “F. Scott Fitzgerald: Overview.” Reference Guide to American Literature.
Herman Melville, “Moby-Dick.” Signet Classic.
Arthur Miller, “All My Sons.” Dramatists Play Service, Inc.
Arthur Miller, “The Crucible.” Penguin Classic.
Joanne Woolway, “A discussion of ‘The Crucible.'” Drama for Students.
