Benito Cereno

Par Herman Melville

En 1799, au large des côtes du Chili, un bateau américain conduit par le capitaine Delano croise un bateau espagnol en piteux état, le San Dominick. Delano embarque a son bord pour proposer son aide. La plupart des officiers du bateau espagnol a disparu. Des esclaves noirs sont installés partout sur le bateau. Benito Cereno, le capitaine du navire négrier, raconte que le bateau a essuyé une tempete, puis que le scorbut a frappé l’équipage. Mais de nombreux détails interpellent Delano, il doute que ce soit la véritable histoire du San Dominick et de son équipage. Benito Cereno est un récit admirablement mené et profondément angoissant. Ses pages offrent une perfection dans la technique, une intensité d'atmosphere et une qualité de suspense qui font de Melville l'égal d'un Joseph Conrad.

• Langue: Français
• Éditeur: Booklassic
• Date de sortie: 29 juin 2015
• ISBN: 9789635260232

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.

Aperçu du livre

Benito Cereno

Herman Melville

Booklassic

2015

ISBN 978-963-526-023-2

Benito Cereno

En l’an 1799, le capitaine Amasa Delano, de Duxbury, Massachusetts, commandant un navire marchand de fort tonnage équipé pour la chasse au phoque et le trafic général, mouillait avec une cargaison de prix dans le port de Santa Maria, petite île désertique et inhabitée, vers l’extrémité méridionale de la longue côte du Chili. Il avait touché là pour faire le plein d’eau.

Le second jour, peu après l’aube, comme il reposait sur sa couchette, son second vint l’informer qu’une voile étrangère entrait dans la baie. À cette époque, les navires n’étaient pas aussi nombreux qu’à présent dans ces eaux. Il se leva, s’habilla et monta sur le pont.

C’était un matin particulier à cette côte. Tout était calme et muet ; tout était gris. La mer, bien qu’ondulée de longs arpents de houle, paraissait figée, et sa surface était lisse comme du plomb fondu refroidi et durci dans le moule du fondeur. Le ciel semblait un manteau gris. Des essaims gris d’oiseaux inquiets, folâtrant avec les essaims gris de vapeurs inquiètes auxquelles ils se mêlaient, effleuraient les eaux d’un vol bas et capricieux, comme les hirondelles rasent les prairies avant l’orage. Ombres présentes, présageant des ombres plus profondes à venir.

À la surprise du capitaine Delano, l’étranger, observé à la lorgnette, n’arborait aucunes couleurs, bien que ce fût la coutume, parmi les paisibles marins de toutes nations, de pavoiser en entrant dans un port, quelque désert que fussent ses rivages et quand bien même un seul navire y mouillât. À considérer la solitude de ce lieu sans lois et la sorte d’histoires que l’on associait alors à ces mers, la surprise du capitaine Delano eût peut-être augmenté jusqu’au malaise si l’homme n’avait été d’un naturel singulièrement bon et confiant, peu enclin à prendre l’alarme – sauf après des incitations extraordinaires et répétées – lorsque ladite alarme impliquait une accusation de malignité contre son prochain. Quant à savoir, étant donné ce dont l’humanité est capable, si un tel trait révèle, outre un cœur bienveillant, une perception intellectuelle particulièrement rapide et pénétrante, nous abandonnerons cela au jugement des sages.

Mais quels que soient les soupçons qui auraient pu naître de prime abord à la vue de l’étranger, sans doute se seraient-ils dissipés dans l’esprit de n’importe quel marin, lorsque ce dernier aurait observé que le navire, en entrant dans le port, tirait trop près de la terre pour sa propre sécurité, vu la présence d’un récif immergé tout proche de sa proue. Ce fait semblait prouver qu’il était étranger en vérité, non seulement au phoquier, mais encore à l’île, et par conséquent ne pouvait être un flibustier familier de cet océan. Le capitaine Delano continua à l’observer avec un vif intérêt, encore que cet examen fût rendu assez malaisé par les vapeurs qui enveloppaient en partie sa coque et à travers lesquelles ruisselait de façon quelque peu équivoque la lumière lointaine du falot matinal de la cabine ; fort semblable en cela au soleil – surgissant en demi-lune au bord de l’horizon et entrant apparemment dans le port en compagnie de l’étrange navire – soleil qui, voilé par les mêmes nuages bas et rampants, luisait comme l’œil sinistre d’une intrigante de Lima épiant la Plaza à travers l’ouverture indienne de sa noire saya-y-manta.

Que le regard fût ou non trompé par les vapeurs, plus on observait l’étranger, plus ses manœuvres semblaient singulières. Il parut bientôt difficile de décider s’il avait vraiment l’intention d’entrer dans le port, quel était son but ou l’objet de ses tentatives. Le vent, qui s’était levé un peu pendant la nuit, soufflait à présent de la façon la plus légère et la plus capricieuse, et par là augmentait encore l’incertitude apparente des mouvements du navire.

Soupçonnant enfin que celui-ci pouvait être en détresse, le capitaine Delano fit mettre à l’eau sa chaloupe et, malgré l’opposition prudente de son second, se prépara à monter à bord du navire pour le piloter tout au moins dans le port. La nuit précédente, un groupe de matelots s’en étaient allés à bonne distance pêcher aux abords de quelques rocs détachés hors de vue du phoquier : ils étaient revenus, non sans un fructueux butin, une heure ou deux avant l’aube. Présumant que l’étranger avait été longtemps retenu en eau profonde, le bon capitaine mit plusieurs paniers de poisson dans le canot en guise de présent, et partit. Comme il estimait en péril le navire qui continuait à naviguer trop près du récif sous-marin, il pressa ses hommes, afin d’avertir en toute hâte les passagers de leur situation. Mais, avant que le canot n’eût approché, le vent avait tourné et, quelque léger qu’il fût, repoussé le vaisseau loin du récif en déchirant partiellement les vapeurs qui l’environnaient.

Observé de plus près, le navire, lorsqu’on put le voir distinctement juché au faîte de la houle couleur de plomb, avec les lambeaux de brume qui l’enveloppaient çà et là de leurs haillons, apparut comme un monastère blanchi à la chaux, après une tempête, sur quelque sombre escarpement des Pyrénées. Ce n’était point toutefois une ressemblance purement imaginaire qui incitait le capitaine Delano à croire qu’il avait devant lui rien moins qu’un chargement de moines : il semblait vraiment dans l’éloignement brumeux que de noirs capuchons regardassent en foule par-dessus les pavois, et par instants l’on distinguait confusément à travers les sabords ouverts d’autres silhouettes sombres et mouvantes pareilles à des Frères Noirs arpentant leurs cloîtres.

De plus près encore, cet aspect changea, et le véritable caractère du vaisseau apparut nettement : un navire marchand espagnol de première classe, transportant d’un port colonial à l’autre de précieuses marchandises et notamment des esclaves noirs ; un très grand et, pour son temps, très beau vaisseau, comme l’on en rencontrait alors parfois sur cet océan, que ce fussent des navires sur lesquels avaient été jadis transportés les trésors d’Acapulco ou des frégates retraitées de la flotte du roi d’Espagne qui, comme des palais italiens déchus, gardaient encore, malgré le déclin de leurs maîtres, des marques de leur état premier.

Comme la chaloupe s’approchait de plus en plus, on put voir que l’aspect de terre de pipe présenté par l’étranger était dû à la malpropreté et à la négligence. Ses espars, ses cordages et une grande partie de ses pavois, depuis longtemps déshabitués de la racle, du goudron et de la brosse, avaient revêtu une apparence laineuse. Il semblait que sa quille eût été construite, sa membrure ajustée et lui-même lancé dans la Vallée des Ossements Desséchés d’Ézéchiel.

Malgré les fonctions que le navire exerçait présentement, sa forme générale et son gréement paraissaient n’avoir subi aucune altération essentielle depuis le belliqueux dessin à la Froissart qu’il avait originellement reçu. On ne lui voyait cependant aucuns canons.

Les hunes étaient vastes et gréées de ce qui avait été jadis une voilure octogonale, toute entière à présent en lamentable condition. Ces hunes étaient suspendues dans les airs comme trois volières ruinées, et dans l’une d’elles on voyait, perché sur une enfléchure, un blanc dormant : étrange oiseau qui doit son nom à son caractère somnambule et léthargique et qu’en mer on attrape fréquemment à la main. Délabré et vermoulu, le gaillard d’avant semblait quelque ancienne tourelle depuis longtemps prise d’assaut, puis abandonnée à la ruine. Vers l’arrière, deux galeries aux balustrades recouvertes çà et là de ces mousses marines sèches et pareilles à l’amadou, partaient de la cabine de parade inoccupée dont les ouvertures, condamnées malgré la douceur du temps, étaient hermétiquement closes et calfatées ; ces balcons déserts surplombaient la mer comme ils eussent fait le Grand Canal de Venise. Mais le principal vestige de grandeur passée était l’ample ovale de la pièce de poupe en forme d’écusson où s’entrelaçaient les armes gravées de la Castille et du Léon, entourées de médaillons représentant des groupes mythologiques et symboliques, en haut et au centre desquels un noir satyre masqué foulait du pied le cou prostré d’une forme tordue, elle-même masquée.

Il était malaisé de savoir si le navire avait une figure de proue ou seulement un simple éperon, à cause des toiles qui enveloppaient cette région, soit pour la protéger pendant le temps qu’on employait à la refourbir, soit pour cacher décemment sa ruine. Grossièrement peinte ou tracée à la craie, comme par boutade, de la main d’un matelot, on voyait sur la face antérieure d’une sorte de piédestal qui saillait au-dessous de la toile, la phrase : Seguid vuestro jefe (Suivez votre chef) ; et non loin, sur les pavois de poulaine ternis, apparaissait en majestueuses capitales jadis dorées le nom du navire : San Dominick, dont chaque lettre était corrodée par les traînées de rouille qui avaient ruisselé des chevilles de cuivre, et sur lequel, telles des herbes funéraires, de sombres festons d’algues visqueuses se balançaient çà et là chaque fois que la coque roulait d’un roulement de corbillard.

Lorsque la chaloupe eut été enfin arrimée par le travers du passavant, sa quille, séparée encore de la coque par quelques pouces, crissa aigrement comme sur un récif de corail sous-marin : c’était une énorme saillie de balanes agglomérées qui adhéraient sous l’eau aux flancs du navire ainsi qu’une verrue, témoignage des brises capricieuses et des longs calmes qui avaient retenu l’étranger quelque part dans ces mers.

Montant à bord, le visiteur se trouva aussitôt entouré d’une foule vociférante de blancs et de noirs, parmi lesquels les derniers excédaient le nombre des premiers dans une proportion inattendue, bien que ce navire étranger fût consacré à la traite. Cependant, dans un seul langage et d’une seule voix, tous se mirent à débiter un commun récit de souffrances, les négresses, qui ne laissaient pas d’être fort nombreuses, surpassant les autres par leur douloureuse véhémence. Le scorbut, accompagné d’une fièvre, les avait cruellement décimés, emportant particulièrement les Espagnols. Au large du Cap Horn, ils avaient échappé de justesse au naufrage ; puis, pendant de longs jours, ils étaient demeurés immobiles, sans vent. Il ne leur restait

Avis sur Benito Cereno

[meditationesmartini · Évaluation : 3 sur 5 étoiles]

This is tense and tight and moody like some kind of cross between a Poe story and Das Boot, which I never would have expected from Melville, who can be story-focused and atmospheric, sire, but in a way that is effaced (blown out of the water Pequod- --or Don Benito's ship under fire by the Americans, in this one--style) by his cosmic yearnings and baggymonstrosity. (Guy sends a lot of gauges up to 11!) It starts with a mystery--what's with this ship? Why are the blacks so creepily jaunty yet so eerily subdued? Who's in charge on this boat, anyway? The setup is golden. Melville limits himself to dramatizing the source material, though, and what that means is we get a novella of slave revolt on the high seas that has cannon battles and guys getting mutilated by the cruel negro and sympathy for the devil on a human level that gets completely subsumed within a larger allegory about global realpolitik, Delano as the early ugly naive lovable American running shit without even knowing. IT's hard to let Melville of the hook for that, but I think the problem is less that he was a man of his times who saw cruelty as cruelty and slavery as a policy debate, and more that he didn't give the story time to breathe, didn't flash us back to desperate negotiations and shocking developments on a ship of poor sods that means our world entire. The thing would have been to give us the perspective of one of the Africans, and for Cereno to be the serpent and Babo to be Ahab and Delano and his men to be the brutal ex machina. And in that sense, certainly, these are just the kind of openhearted, bouncing, paranoid farmboys that went to Afghanistan. This is less about slavery per se than an metaphor for the way America's handled its involvement in foreign disputes since day one--burn the village to save the village and then get a furrow of noncomprehension when you don't turn out to be the good guy any more than the slaves or the Spaniards. But that's ignoring--Melville's ignoring--that a story like this takes place against mass murder and rape and kidnapping and human trafficking right here in the good old US of A, acting like it's a foreign issue, pretending to a fairness that is bias itself like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It's--ha--like that awful Black Eyed Peas song "Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism / but we still got terrorists here livin' in the USA / the FBI, the CIA, the Bloods, the Crips, and the KKK". TBenito Cereno simplifies like the song simplifies--the blush every time you hear those stupid lyrics analogous to the interactions racked by etiquette between the two captains, the awkwardness to death that trumps even real death all around, and the impossibility in both cases of it turning into anything other than a bloodbath of the foreigner committed again by the well-meaning and clean. The climax feels cheap because the alternative is a closer look at the psychology of it, and Melville's not up for the complete cutting loose or condemnation of his Americans that the examination would make necessary for any feeling person.

[stef7sa-1 · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

Entertaining story, well written.

[audacity88_1 · Évaluation : 3 sur 5 étoiles]

At first seems like a sea story, then like a rather run-of-the-mill mystery novel, and then finally reveals itself (unless I'm overprojecting) to be a rather disturbing morality tale.spoiler:It forces us to ask to what degree Captain Delano represents ourselves, to conduct our own condemnation of the Americans but also, more importantly, of ourselves for (at least in my case) rooting for them.end spoilerAt first I was sure this wasn't a great book. Now I can see why it is, and if I read it again I think my appreciation will be twice as great the second time around.Oh, and this edition (Benito Cereno: A Text for Guided Research) is great because it has the actual memoirs of the real-life Amasa Delano, who is, incredibly, just as pigheaded as in the story, and whose story is just as bizarre.

[lisamaria_c · Évaluation : 5 sur 5 étoiles]

I've read both Moby Dick and Billy Budd, but of the Melville works I've read, it's this novella I find most impressive. There's none of the windy digressions in Moby Dick or the heavy-handed allegory of Billy Budd or The Confidence-man here. This is as close as I've found in Melville to taut, subtle writing. If I have any criticism it is that it comes dangerously close to the "idiot plot." (For this to work, one of the characters has to act like an idiot.) From here on end though, to explain what I did find awesome in this, I have to discuss spoilers. And they are spoilers. I had heard of this story, of what this was about. This is one of Melville's more famous works. And I wish I hadn't known--it's best I think to come at this story without knowledge, and I wouldn't read any introduction beforehand. Spoiler below:In a way, I wonder if it is a spoiler, because not only was the situation obvious to me but Melville signals from the start his point of view character, Captain Amasa Delano, is not to be trusted. Early on he describes him as "singularly undistrustful." This is set in 1797 during the Atlantic slave trade. The captain of an American ship, Delano, comes aboard a Spanish ship captained by Benito Cereno. From the first Delano notices that not only are the blacks on deck, who greatly outnumber the whites, unshackled, but that they are sharpening weapons. Huge clues keep coming that Captain Cereno is captive and that there has been a slave revolt on board, but Delano remains clueless. The whole novella is one of the most starkly unreliable narratives I've ever read. But here's what I find interesting. Throughout the narrative many racial, in fact very racist, comments are made. But not only are we signaled the narrator is, well, an idiot, but many of the events of the novella flat out contradict those racist assumptions--for instance docility and stupidity--for the black slaves not only successfully revolted, they're fooling Delano despite what's right before his eyes. So, it made me wonder. Just what does Melville believe? And what does he want us to take away from this story? Given the time this was written (1855) my assumption would have been that Melville's sympathies were with the white crew, and that he'd certainly expect that's how his readers would see things. But so much in this novella subverts that easy assumption. And that I do find awesome. Even amazing given the year this was written.

[aoibhealfae · Évaluation : 2 sur 5 étoiles]

"Benito Cereno" were never meant to be read only once. However, it took me some multiple reads into this short novel to make sense of the plot as the book need to be absorbed more than its meant to be read. Based on a true story, "Benito Cereno" was narrated by a very gullible unreliable narrator about a mysterious Spanish slave trade ship and its strange occupants. Like most thing in history about that time, the story basically centered about imperialism, slavery, white man burden, prejudices etc but its also a mystery and riddled with clues if you know where to look which made the story tolerable enough.

I guess the story would interest those who are interested in reading a very difficult writing style with complete unreliable primary POV narrator and have an interest in dominance-submissive relationship of this book. In fact, this book is riddled with all kind of power play which was simply too horrifying to dwell on it too much. Various interpretation of "rape" was the core of this novel.

I would have like it better if there are more clarity in the writing style of this book like Melville did with "Bartleby". I do think there's a way to write a rising action scene without the overuse of never-ending sentences. Besides the over comma paragraphs, I was supposed to have let Melville drag me along with his interpretation of the situation because of his familiarity with his nautical experiences. But I don't think the author nor the narrator offer us some degree of flawed humanity in the situation via the apparent ignorance prevailing until the climax of the story.

This book are meant to be read and reread. Its unavoidable to empathize with this novel to a degree considering that it shows the ugliness and flawed nature in everyone in the book. Its not meant to be likable but it is meant to be digested and its a strong novel like John Steinbeck's The Pearl but you really need a hard stomach to withstand the underlying message and various interpretations of this book.

[ohernaes · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

Great short story about revolting and scheming slaves. Who is controlling whom? A bit weird that everything is explained in detail in the last chapter.

[krizia_lazaro_3 · Évaluation : 1 sur 5 étoiles]

This was a boring book. It was short but I feel that I was reading a 1,000-page book. Its a book that you have a slight notion of what will happen next and thus just want to reach the climax. But the climax happened to far down the book. This book made me so sleepy I almost did not want to finish it.

[bolgai · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

I have heard about this book from a friend of mine, who's read it with her book club, so I generally knew what to expect in terms of plot developments. I was however pleasantly surprised by the characters in this novella. They were all remarkable in one way or another and since they were all very distinct their differences stood out all the more. It seems that authors in the middle of the 19th century weren't afraid to make their characters full of personality, take Dickens for example, and Melville definitely followed the same tradition. I particularly enjoyed the character of the proprietor, who is the narrator of this story. He tries so hard to be on good terms with all of his employees, regardless of the trouble they cause him, and makes up excuses to not take any action that would make him look good in his own eyes. What I didn't expect is how plodding the pace is. Now that I've read Benito Cereno I think that's something that is common in Melville's work. The same type of scene seemed to repeat over and over without furthering the plot or developing the characters. The only thing this repetition seemed to accomplish was to convince me further of utter and complete spinelessness of the proprietor, but I already knew that so it wore on me. I did enjoy the ending though. It seemed somewhat abrupt because events moved along faster than the rest of the story but it was very satisfying. In a way it was the only appropriate ending, anything else wouldn't have worked quite as well. It also redeemed the proprietor in my eyes somewhat, he did have a good heart even if his will was lacking. Despite the extremely slow middle of the novella the ending saved it for me and for a few days after finishing it I kept thinking about the characters and the story. I can see why Melville is considered such an important figure in American literature and why this particular piece is still widely read. I would recommend Bartleby if you want to read a work that will inspire you to think about people, their motivations and how they relate to each other.

[hadriantheblind · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

Slow, well-crafted story of evil and slavery and rebellion and deceit.

[heidip_38 · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

Wowza. I don't even know what to say about Benito Cereno. This is my first Melville, believe it or not. I've never read his other works, and this is quite the introduction.Melville House says, "Based on a real-life incident--the character names remain unchanged--Benito Cereno tells what happens when an American merchant ship comes upon a mysterious Spanish ship where the nearly all-black crew and their white captain are starving and yet hostile to offers of help. Melville's most focused political work, it is rife with allusions (a ship named after Santa Domingo, site of the slave revolt led by Toussaint L'Ouverture), analogies (does the good-hearted yet obtuse American captain refer to the American character itself?) and mirroring images that deepen our reflections on human oppression and its resultant depravities."I'm assuming since Melville was born in New York and his grandparents hail from Boston, that he was anti-slavery. Since this was first published in 1855, my initial thoughts are that he writes this as a warning of sorts. Human oppression can only stand so much before it rises in revenge. If I understand the allusions and analogies correctly, this story is a scathing review of the naivete of the American north regarding slavery and of the emotional dependence the south has on it's slaves.This book stirs the racially-charged pot.

[bookomaniac-1 · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

Magnifieke verhalenbundel. Ongelofelijk beklemmende sfeer, erg verwant aan Poe en in sommige opzichten vooruitlopend op Kafka. Vooral Benito Cereno is adembenemend.

[maxernst11 · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

Magnifieke verhalenbundel. Ongelofelijk beklemmende sfeer, erg verwant aan Poe en in sommige opzichten vooruitlopend op Kafka. Vooral Benito Cereno is adembenemend.

[jonri-4 · Évaluation : 3 sur 5 étoiles]

I read Billy Budd for a book club I belong to. (I didn't read the other stories.) I found it incredibly slow going. I wouldn't even attempt to read it without access to Wikipedia or some other such source. Especially at the beginning, it makes a lot of cultural references with which I was completely unacquainted, e.g., Anacharis Cloots, Kaspar Hauser and Titus Oates. This made the meaning of some passages incomprehensible without some research.The characters are all stereotypes. I found the plot unrealistic. I also found it just plain exasperating that we are not told what Vere said to Budd after Budd was condemned to death.

[jerry2book-1 · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

Good v Evil and the law. Also, not a bad movie with Peter Ustinov.

[nikkles_1 · Évaluation : 1 sur 5 étoiles]

I had to read Billy Budd for school. That is not really a deal breaker for me, but I just did not get the point of the story and it really seems like it is suppose to have a point.

[tezz_4 · Évaluation : 3 sur 5 étoiles]

Very difficult story to read, with Melville often distracted from the task at hand. However, if you can persevere the fabulous story manages to shine through the verbose prose.

[gordsellar_1 · Évaluation : 4 sur 5 étoiles]

I happened upon this in a used bookshop in Yongsan station, in Seoul, just as I was working on a story called "Ogallala" that has more than one nod in the direction of the novella "Benito Cereno" which is in this collection. So I figured that was a hint from the universe, and bought it so I could reread Benito Cereno before finishing my revision.