"I and My Chimney"
a short story by Herman Melville
Click here to read Melville's short story, which was published Putnam's Magazine in 1856.
Melville wrote "I and My Chimney" in the house at Arrowhead in Pittsfield, MA, shortly after publishing Moby Dick; or, The Whale (1855).
Most critics interpret the story to be a statement of political philosophy, in which the narrator defends tradition against reform. I prefer a psychological angle. Melville's chimney is a capital I, a totem pole inscribed with the narrator's ego, id, and superego. Attacks upon the chimney are attacks upon his identity. Read the story and see what you think.
Memory:
I remember the two chimneys in the island house that we disassembled in the 1980s. Twins, they were interior chimneys -- one on the west wall and one on the east. Both were made of brick that was crumbling from dry rot -- "Civil War" bricks as Bob calls them. Among the remarkable things to know about bricks is the fact that a little bit of water is necessary for them to last.
You can still see the base of one of the chimneys in the dining room, under the hutch on the east wall, between the two French doors.
Throughout the mid-20th century -- up until at least 1975 -- the old chimney in the dining room was hooked up to a leaky Franklin woodstove that warmed the room when fired up. The stove is gone now, as is the chimney it was hooked up to, but Pat drew a picture of it that probably got archived in one of the Island books.
The chimney on the west wall was never used in my memory; its topmost bricks had fallen inward, clogging the flu. Those of my father's generation and before remember heating from two woodstoves attached to it, one upstairs and one down.
I remember the two chimneys in the island house that we disassembled in the 1980s. Twins, they were interior chimneys -- one on the west wall and one on the east. Both were made of brick that was crumbling from dry rot -- "Civil War" bricks as Bob calls them. Among the remarkable things to know about bricks is the fact that a little bit of water is necessary for them to last.
You can still see the base of one of the chimneys in the dining room, under the hutch on the east wall, between the two French doors.
Throughout the mid-20th century -- up until at least 1975 -- the old chimney in the dining room was hooked up to a leaky Franklin woodstove that warmed the room when fired up. The stove is gone now, as is the chimney it was hooked up to, but Pat drew a picture of it that probably got archived in one of the Island books.
The chimney on the west wall was never used in my memory; its topmost bricks had fallen inward, clogging the flu. Those of my father's generation and before remember heating from two woodstoves attached to it, one upstairs and one down.
The relationship between the chimney(s) on the island and the chimney in Melville's short story are pleasing to think about while I mix mortar and lay stones. Ideas are not bricks, but their weight is as real as a block of baked clay. Another way to say the same thing: The chimney in Melville's story has an actual analogue in the Arrowhead house, precisely as Melville described it, which can be seen today by literary tourists in Pittsfield. Melville's son had a line from his father's story inscribed in the stone above the fireplace in the room where he wrote: "I and my chimney smoke together," which claim is often actualized during a nor'easter when the backdrafts make the fireplace belch smoke, while the narrator smokes his pipe in response.
The views of folks who have a say in what happens on the island -- its governors -- range widely. Defenders of tradition vs those who embrace reform. Melville's story suggests that conservatives have the harder job of maintaining tradition against the eroding influence of time, while reformers should put a check on their enthusiasm for change.
I say that chimneys shouldn't exist if they don't work, and when they do work they should warm each and all equally. As for unfinished chimneys? Melville didn't consider them, but in our post-modern world today we must.
What is there to say about an incomplete chimney that can't yet perform its intended function?
1. It's an effective conduit for outside vermin to overwinter inside.
2. A display shelf for Interesting Flotsam.
3. An incomplete signifier of potential hearthside cheer.
4. The opposite of a ruin.
That's me all over. Except #1.
The views of folks who have a say in what happens on the island -- its governors -- range widely. Defenders of tradition vs those who embrace reform. Melville's story suggests that conservatives have the harder job of maintaining tradition against the eroding influence of time, while reformers should put a check on their enthusiasm for change.
I say that chimneys shouldn't exist if they don't work, and when they do work they should warm each and all equally. As for unfinished chimneys? Melville didn't consider them, but in our post-modern world today we must.
What is there to say about an incomplete chimney that can't yet perform its intended function?
1. It's an effective conduit for outside vermin to overwinter inside.
2. A display shelf for Interesting Flotsam.
3. An incomplete signifier of potential hearthside cheer.
4. The opposite of a ruin.
That's me all over. Except #1.
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