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The Paradise of Bachelors and The Tartarus of Maids
The Paradise of Bachelors and The Tartarus of Maids
The Paradise of Bachelors and The Tartarus of Maids
Ebook37 pages32 minutes

The Paradise of Bachelors and The Tartarus of Maids

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A short story from the Classic Shorts collection: The Happy Failure by Herman Melville

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHarperCollins
Release dateApr 28, 2009
ISBN9780061921629
The Paradise of Bachelors and The Tartarus of Maids
Author

Herman Melville

Herman Melville (1819-1891) was an American novelist, poet, and short story writer. Following a period of financial trouble, the Melville family moved from New York City to Albany, where Allan, Herman’s father, entered the fur business. When Allan died in 1832, the family struggled to make ends meet, and Herman and his brothers were forced to leave school in order to work. A small inheritance enabled Herman to enroll in school from 1835 to 1837, during which time he studied Latin and Shakespeare. The Panic of 1837 initiated another period of financial struggle for the Melvilles, who were forced to leave Albany. After publishing several essays in 1838, Melville went to sea on a merchant ship in 1839 before enlisting on a whaling voyage in 1840. In July 1842, Melville and a friend jumped ship at the Marquesas Islands, an experience the author would fictionalize in his first novel, Typee (1845). He returned home in 1844 to embark on a career as a writer, finding success as a novelist with the semi-autobiographical novels Typee and Omoo (1847), befriending and earning the admiration of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Oliver Wendell Holmes, and publishing his masterpiece Moby-Dick in 1851. Despite his early success as a novelist and writer of such short stories as “Bartleby, the Scrivener” and “Benito Cereno,” Melville struggled from the 1850s onward, turning to public lecturing and eventually settling into a career as a customs inspector in New York City. Towards the end of his life, Melville’s reputation as a writer had faded immensely, and most of his work remained out of print until critical reappraisal in the early twentieth century recognized him as one of America’s finest writers.

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  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    (1855)
    The collection I found this in only included 'The Tartarus of Maids.' I see that 'The Paradise of Bachelors' is variously referred to as either the first 'half' of the story, or a companion piece. Either way, I do find it rather odd to only present one, because 'The Tartarus of Maids' refers several times to the 'Paradise of Bachelors' in a way that is quite confusing to one who has not read it.

    'The Tartarus of Maids' is a socially-motivated piece. The protagonist travels to a paper mill to place an order for his company, and takes the opportunity to tour the facility. While there, he observes the wan-ness and misery of the female workers, and describes their plight with sympathy.

    The language is very poetic and evocative - it's a beautiful piece, and relevant as well, considering that unhealthy and unhappy working conditions in factories are still a problem in many places around the globe.

    I also found it fascinating that this writing - as early as 1855! - points out the problem with calling working women 'girls.'

    Too bad that apparently few people took this bit of Melville's writing to heart...
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Shows Melville's ingenuity at connecting images and ideas and his profound compassion for people, male and female, as prisoners of 'progress'. And in only 21 pages! A very good introduction to this great writer for anyone intimidated by the length of Moby Dick.

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The Paradise of Bachelors and The Tartarus of Maids - Herman Melville

The Paradise of Bachelors and The Tartarus of Maids

Short Story

Herman Melville

Contents

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About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

THE PARADISE OF BACHELORS AND THE TARTARUS OF MAIDS

I

The Paradise of Bachelors

It lies not far from Temple Bar.

Going to it, by the usual way, is like stealing from a heated plain into some cool, deep glen, shady among harboring hills.

Sick with the din and soiled with the mud of Fleet Street—where the Benedick tradesmen are hurrying by, with ledger-lines ruled along their brows, thinking upon rise of bread and fall of babies—you adroitly turn a mystic corner—not a street—glide down a dim, monastic way, flanked by dark, sedate, and solemn piles, and still wending on, give the whole care-worn world the slip, and, disentangled, stand beneath the quiet cloisters of the Paradise of Bachelors.

Sweet are the oases in Sahara: charming the isle-groves of August prairies; delectable pure faith amidst a thousand perfidies; but sweeter, still more charming, most delectable, the dreamy Paradise of Bachelors, found in the stony heart of stunning London.

In mild meditation pace the cloisters; take your pleasure, sip your leisure, in the garden waterward; go linger in the ancient library; go worship in the sculptured chapel; but little have you seen, just nothing do you know, not the sweet kernel have you tasted, till you dine among the banded Bachelors, and see their convivial eyes and glasses sparkle. Not dine in bustling commons, during term-time, in the hall; but tranquilly, by private hint, at a private table; some fine Templar’s hospitably invited guest.

Templar? That’s a romantic name. Let me see. Brian de Bois-Guilbert was a Templar, I believe. Do we understand you to insinuate that those famous Templars still survive in modern London? May the ring of their armed heels be heard, and the rattle of their shields, as in mailed prayer the monk-knights kneel before the consecrated Host? Surely a monk-knight were a curious sight picking his way along the Strand, his gleaming corselet and snowy surcoat spattered by an omnibus. Long-bearded, too, according to his order’s rule; his face fuzzy as a pard’s; how would the grim ghost look among the crop-haired, close-shaven citizens? We know indeed—sad history recounts it—that a moral blight tainted at last this sacred Brotherhood. Though no sworded foe might outskill them in the fence, yet the worm of luxury crawled beneath their

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