68 The Blanket
CHAPTER 68
THE BLANKET.
I have given no small attention to that not unvexed subject, the skin of the whale. I have had controversies about it with experienced whalemen afloat, and learned naturalists ashore. My original opinion remains unchanged; but it is only an opinion.
The question is, what and where is the skin of the whale? Already you know what his blubber is. That blubber is something of the consistence of firm, close-grained beef, but tougher, more elastic and compact, and ranges from eight or ten to twelve and fifteen inches in thickness.
Now, however preposterous it may at first seem to talk of any creature’s skin as being of that sort of consistence and thickness, yet in point of fact these are no arguments against such a presumption; because you cannot raise any other dense enveloping layer from the whale’s body but that same blubber; and the outermost enveloping layer of any animal, if reasonably dense, what can that be but the skin? True, from the unmarred dead body of the whale, you may scrape off with your hand an infinitely thin, transparent substance, somewhat resembling the thinnest shreds of isinglassisinglass: mica, a flaky mineral., only it is almost as flexible and soft as satin; that is, previous to being dried, when it not only contracts and thickens, but becomes rather hard and brittle. I have several such dried bits, which I use for marks in my whale-books. It is transparent, as I said before; and being laid upon the printed page, I have sometimes pleased myself with fancying it exerted a magnifying influence. At any rate, it is pleasant to read about whales through their own spectacles, as you may say. But what I am driving at here is this. That same infinitely thin, isinglass substance, which, I admit, invests the entire body of the whale, is not so much to be regarded as the skin of the creature, as the skin of the skin, so to speak; for it were simply ridiculous to say, that the proper skin of the tremendous whale is thinner and more tender than the skin of a new-born child. But no more of this.
Assuming the blubber to be the skin of the whale; then, when this skin, as in the case of a very large Sperm Whale, will yield the bulk of one hundred barrels of oil; and, when it is considered that, in quantity, or rather weight, that oil, in its expressed state, is only three fourths, and not the entire substance of the coat; some idea may hence be had of the enormousness of that animated mass, a mere part of whose mere integumentintegument: covering. yields such a lake of liquid as that. Reckoning ten barrels to the ton, you have ten tons for the net weight of only three quarters of the stuff of the whale’s skin.
In life, the visible surface of the Sperm Whale is not the least among the many marvels he presents. Almost invariably it is all over obliquely crossed and re-crossed with numberless straight marks in thick array, something like those in the finest Italian line engravings. But these marks do not seem to be impressed upon the isinglass substance above mentioned, but seem to be seen through it, as if they were engraved upon the body itself. Nor is this all. In some instances, to the quick, observant eye, those linear marks, as in a veritable engraving, but afford the ground for far other delineations. These are hieroglyphicalhieroglyphical: hard to decipher.; that is, if you call those mysterious cyphersmysterious cyphers: After their last use in the 5th century CE, Egyptian hieroglyphs (literally, “sacred carvings”) remained undeciphered until the 1799 discovery of the Rosetta Stone in Rashid (Rosetta), Egypt. Its inscriptions of a Ptolemaic decree in hieroglyphs, demotic Egyptian, and Greek, enabled Jean-François Champollion (see also Ch. 79) to break the code in 1822. That said, "hieroglyphic" remains synonymous with "inscrutable," even "mystic," and Melville replays this trope in his next novel, Pierre. on the walls of pyramids hieroglyphics, then that is the proper word to use in the present connexion. By my retentive memory of the hieroglyphics upon one Sperm Whale in particular, I was much struck with a plate representing the old Indian characters chiselled on the famous hieroglyphic palisadesfamous hieroglyphic palisades: This long-obliterated, birdlike petroglyph (not hieroglyph) on the high bluffs of the eastern bank of the Mississippi River near Alton, Illinois, was first described in writing in 1673 by Jacques Marquette (1637-1675). Its Illini (Hileni) name, “Piasa” (pronounced PIE-a-saw), means “a bird that devours men.” Melville passed by the Piasa bluffs on the first leg of his return home, by steamboat, from Galena, Illinois, on his 1840 tour of the West. However, Melville has Ishmael seeing the Piasa petroglyph only as an image in a “plate” (an engraved book illustration), suggesting that he missed seeing the famous sight in person; perhaps his ship passed it in the dark. Then, too, by 1840 the petroglyph had already been effaced by human industry and natural erosion. (See Bryant, Melville: A Half Known Life, 685-86). on the banks of the Upper Mississippi. Like those mystic rocks, too, the mystic-marked whale remains undecipherable. This allusion to the Indian rocks reminds me of another thing. Besides all the other phenomena which the exterior of the Sperm Whale presents, he not seldom displays the back, and more especially his flanks, effaced in great part of the regular linear appearance, by reason of numerous rude scratches, altogether of an irregular, random aspect. I should say that those New England rocks on the sea-coast, which AgassizAgassiz: Harvard geologist Louis Agassiz (1807-1873) supported the theory of successive world-wide catastrophes, popularized by Baron Georges Cuvier (see Ch. 55), to explain the fossil record, and proposed glaciers (not the biblical Flood) as the last such global event. imagines to bear the marks of violent scraping contact with vast floating icebergs—I should say, that those rocks must not a little resemble the Sperm Whale in this particular. It also seems to me that such scratches in the whale are probably made by hostile contact with other whales; for I have most remarked them in the large, full-grown bulls of the species.
A word or two more concerning this matter of the skin or blubber of the whale. It has already been said, that it is stript from him in long pieces, called blanket-pieces. Like most sea-terms, this one is very happyhappy: appropriate. and significant. For the whale is indeed wrapt up in his blubber as in a real blanket or counterpane; or, still better, an Indian poncho slipt over his head, and skirting his extremity. It is by reason of this cosy blanketing of his body, that the whale is enabled to keep himself comfortable in all weathers, in all seas, times, and tides. What would become of a Greenland whale, say, in those shuddering, icy seas of the North, if unsupplied with his cosy surtoutsurtout: overcoat (French).? True, other fish are found exceedingly brisk in those HyperboreanHyperborean: far northern. waters; but these, be it observed, are your cold-blooded, lungless fish, whose very bellies are refrigerators; creatures, that warm themselves under the lee of an iceberg, as a traveller in winter would bask before an inn fire; whereas, like man, the whale has lungs and warm blood. Freeze his blood, and he dies. How wonderful is it then—except after explanation—that this great monster, to whom corporeal warmth is as indispensable as it is to man; how wonderful that he should be found at home, immersed to his lips for life in those Arctic waters! where, when seamen fall overboard, they are sometimes found, months afterwards, perpendicularly frozen into the hearts of fields of ice, as a fly is found glued in amber. But more surprising is it to know, as has been proved by experiment, that the blood of a Polar whale is warmer than that of a Borneo negro in summer.
It does seem to me, that herein we see the rare virtue of a strong individual vitality, and the rare virtue of thick walls, and the rare virtue of interior spaciousness. Oh, man! admire and model thyself after the whale! Do thou, too, remain warm among ice. Do thou, too, live in this world without being of itlive in this world without being of it: Echoing New Testament rhetoric, as in “be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12.2).. Be cool at the equator; keep thy blood fluid at the Pole. Like the great dome of St. Peter’sdome of St. Peter’s: In their edition of Moby-Dick, Mansfield and Vincent suggest as a source for the unchanging, moderate temperature of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, Madame de Staël’s 1807 novel Corinne; or, Italy, a copy of which Melville had bought in 1849., and like the great whale, retain, O man! in all seasons a temperature of thine own.
But how easy and how hopeless to teach these fine things! Of erections, how few are domed like St. Peter’s! of creatures, how few vast as the whale!