Abridged Text, followed by Abridger Notes, followed by multimedia, followed by Original Text with deletions.

 

Chapter 75 The Right Whale’s Head

Crossing the deck, let us now have a good long look at the Right Whale’s head.

 

As in general shape the noble Sperm Whale’s head may be compared to a Roman war-chariot (especially in front, where it is so broadly rounded); so, at a broad view, the Right Whale’s head bears a rather inelegant resemblance to a gigantic galliot-toed shoe.

 

But as you come nearer to this great head it begins to assume different aspects, according to your point of view. If you stand on its summit and look at these two f-shaped spout-holes, you would take the whole head for an enormous bass-viol, and these spiracles, the apertures in its sounding-board. Then, again, if you fix your eye upon the top of the mass—this green, barnacled thing, which the Greenlanders call the “crown,” you will take great interest in thinking how this mighty monster is actually a king of the sea, but he is a very sulky looking fellow. Look at that hanging lower lip! what a huge sulk and pout, about twenty feet long and five feet deep; that will yield you some 500 gallons of oil and more.

 

A great pity, now, that this unfortunate whale should be hare-lipped. Over this lip, as over a slippery threshold, we now slide into the mouth. Good Lord! is this the road that Jonah went? The roof is about twelve feet high, and runs to a pretty sharp angle, as if there were a regular ridge-pole there; while these ribbed, arched, hairy sides, present us with those wondrous, half vertical, scimetar-shaped slats of whalebone, say three hundred on a side, fringed with hairy fibres, through which the Right Whale strains the water, and in whose intricacies he retains the small fish, when open-mouthed he goes through the seas of brit in feeding time.

 

As every one knows, these same “whiskers,” “blinds,” or whatever you please, furnish to the ladies their busks and other stiffening contrivances. But in this particular, the demand has long been on the decline. It was in Queen Anne's time that the bone was in its glory. And as those ancient dames moved about gaily, though in the jaws of the whale, do we nowadays fly under the same jaws for protection; the umbrella being a tent spread over the same bone.

 

Seeing all these colonnades of bone so methodically ranged about, would you not think you were inside of the great Haarlem organ, and gazing upon its thousand pipes? For a carpet to the organ we have a rug of the softest Turkey—the tongue, which is glued, as it were, to the floor of the mouth. It is very fat and tender. This particular tongue now before us; I should say it was a six-barreler.

 

Look your last, now, on these venerable hooded heads, while they yet lie together; for one will soon sink, unrecorded, in the sea; the other will not be very long in following.

 

Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale’s there? I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. But mark the other head’s expression. See that amazing lower lip, pressed against the vessel’s side, so as firmly to embrace the jaw. Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death? This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years.

 

Link to Chapter 76 The Battering Ram.

 

Abridger Notes

 

Doug: Please explain the philospohical references to me. Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale’s there? It is the same he died with, only some of the longer wrinkles in the forehead seem now faded away. I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. But mark the other head’s expression. See that amazing lower lip, pressed by accident against the vessel’s side, so as firmly to embrace the jaw. Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death? This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years.

 

ChatGPT 4o: This passage is rich in philosophical references, and Melville uses them to explore different conceptual approaches to death and existence through the expressions of the two types of whales—the Sperm Whale and the Right Whale. Let’s break down the philosophical references:

 

1. The Sperm Whale as a Platonian (or a Platonic)

 

Plato was an ancient Greek philosopher who believed in the existence of a realm of ideal, abstract Forms or Ideas, which are the perfect, unchanging representations of concepts we experience in the material world. Plato’s philosophy also emphasized rational thought and contemplative detachment from the physical world.

 

Melville suggests that the Sperm Whale’s expression is characterized by a "speculative indifference as to death". This could be a reference to Plato’s emphasis on the intellectual or metaphysical realm, suggesting that the Sperm Whale’s face, particularly its brow, reflects a calm detachment from the material world—even death. It is a face that seems contemplative, perhaps like the Platonic philosopher, who focuses on higher ideas rather than worldly concerns.

 

Additionally, the reference to Spinoza connects to Baruch Spinoza, a 17th-century philosopher who was influenced by Plato and emphasized rationalism, detachment, and acceptance of nature’s order. For Spinoza, death was seen as a natural part of the universe, something to be faced with equanimity and understanding—very much like the stoic, peaceful demeanor that Melville associates with the Sperm Whale.

 

2. The Right Whale as a Stoic

 

Stoicism, as articulated by philosophers like Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, teaches the practice of accepting fate, controlling one’s emotions, and maintaining inner calm in the face of external events, particularly suffering or death. The Stoic philosophy emphasizes that we cannot control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond.

 

Melville imagines the Right Whale as embodying the Stoic ideal—practical resolution in facing death. The image of the whale’s lower lip pressed against the side of the vessel suggests a sense of facing death directly and with determination, almost as though it is bracing for what is inevitable, without fear or hesitation. The whale’s “practical resolution” reflects the Stoic belief in accepting reality as it comes, and not being moved by fear or emotion.

The idea here is that the Right Whale’s expression suggests that it has confronted death and is prepared for it, much like the Stoic who faces adversity or death with strength and calmness, as opposed to emotional turmoil or retreat.

 

3. The Difference Between the Two Philosophical Views

 

The two philosophical references create a contrast between contemplative detachment (Platonism) and practical acceptance (Stoicism). The Sperm Whale’s speculative indifference is linked to Plato’s focus on the immaterial and the transcendent, implying a higher, intellectual perspective that rises above the mundane. In contrast, the Right Whale’s more “practical resolution” is grounded in Stoic philosophy, which advocates confronting life’s challenges directly, accepting them as they are, and focusing on action in the material world.

 

4. The Wrinkles and the Aging Whale

 

The “longer wrinkles in the forehead” of the Sperm Whale, which seem to fade away, may symbolize the aging process or the passage of time. In philosophical terms, this might represent the inevitability of change, and how even the most detached or intellectual forms of philosophy (like Platonism) must eventually confront the physical and temporal nature of existence.

Meanwhile, the Right Whale’s expression, fixed in its "practical resolution," remains unmoved by time or death, symbolizing a more constant approach to existence, aligned with Stoic acceptance.

 

5. Interpreting Melville’s Play with Philosophy

 

Through these philosophical references, Melville adds layers of depth to the characterization of the whales. It’s as though he’s using their expressions and postures to reflect how different philosophical systems would approach life and death. By personifying these traits in the whales, he invites readers to consider how Platonism and Stoicism might manifest in the natural world. The whales are not just animals; they represent philosophical archetypes—one facing the mystery of existence with intellectual curiosity and detachment, the other with pragmatic resolve and courage.

 

In essence, Melville is using the whale’s expressions to embody two philosophical attitudes toward life, death, and the world: Platonism’s speculative detachment and Stoicism’s practical acceptance. This reflection on death through philosophical lenses adds a layer of complexity and depth to the whales, turning them into symbols not only of nature's grandeur but also of human thought about existence and mortality.

 

Doug: Thank you. I do see a difference between speculative detachment from and practical acceptance of death, in that a particular stoic may hate the prospect of dying but be resigned to it nonetheless, but I also see possibilities for intersection in those who are both indifferent, perhaps curious, and accepting. What are your thoughts on this?

 

ChatGPT 4o: You're absolutely right to explore the intersection between speculative detachment and practical acceptance of death—the line between Platonism’s intellectual transcendence and Stoicism’s steadfast resignation isn’t always rigid. There are ways in which the two attitudes can converge, particularly in those who, rather than merely resigning themselves to death, view it with a mix of indifference, curiosity, and even a kind of intellectual openness.

 

1. Can a Stoic Also Be Indifferent?

 

Stoicism traditionally emphasizes acceptance, not necessarily detachment. A Stoic might fear or dislike death but trains themselves to accept it as part of nature. This is why Marcus Aurelius, in Meditations, reminds himself that death is natural and should be neither feared nor longed for.

 

However, some later Stoics, particularly Epictetus, veer toward indifference—not just acceptance, but a neutral, almost Platonic detachment from death. Epictetus argues that death is merely a transition, neither good nor bad, much like changing from one room to another. This suggests a blending of the Stoic’s practical realism with the speculative detachment of a philosopher.

 

2. Can a Platonist Be Accepting?

 

Plato’s perspective on death, especially in the Phaedo, suggests death is not to be feared because it is a return to a purer, ideal realm of truth. In that sense, a true Platonist might not only be indifferent to death but actually welcome it, as it means liberation from the imperfections of the material world.

 

However, this attitude toward death requires acceptance as well—after all, if one truly believes the soul is immortal, then one must not resist the natural process of death when it comes. This makes the Platonist’s detachment somewhat Stoic: they may not focus on resignation, but they share the belief that death is beyond their control and therefore not worth resisting emotionally.

 

3. The Overlap: The Curious, Accepting Observer

 

Those who both accept and are indifferent to death—like the figure you describe—are positioned at a philosophical crossroads.

 

Instead of merely resigning themselves to death (like a traditional Stoic) or viewing it as an abstraction (like a Platonist), they might:

 

Approach it with curiosity—not fearing or avoiding it, but regarding it as a phenomenon to be experienced or contemplated.

 

See it as neither tragic nor transcendent, but a simple fact of existence—one that does not need to be emotionally resisted or glorified.

 

Blend the Stoic’s discipline with the Platonist’s detachment, arriving at a perspective that neither clings to life nor hastens death, but instead observes it without judgment.

 

4. How This Fits Melville’s Passage

 

When Ishmael reflects on the whale’s expressions, he assigns them rigid philosophical identities—the Right Whale as a Stoic, the Sperm Whale as a Platonist.

 

But the perspective you describe—a blend of the two—might fit Ishmael himself better than either whale:

 

Ishmael is fascinated by death but does not fear it.

 

He witnesses death often (in the form of hunted whales) yet never treats it as entirely tragic.

He is both an intellectual explorer (Platonist) and a survivor who adapts to reality (Stoic).

 

5. The Ultimate Intersection: The Whale’s Perspective

 

If we extend this idea to the whales themselves, we might even say that:

The Right Whale’s practical resolve could coexist with an inner detachment. Just because it “faces death” doesn’t mean it dreads it.

 

The Sperm Whale’s speculative nature doesn’t exclude acceptance. It may be “indifferent” in a way that also embraces what comes.

 

In this sense, Melville’s whales might not be as distinct as Ishmael suggests. Perhaps they are two ways of describing the same outlook from different angles—one emphasizing fortitude, the other detachment.

 

Final Thoughts

 

What you’re describing—a person who neither fears nor longs for death, but is instead calmly curious about it—feels like the ideal fusion of Stoicism and Platonism. This perspective goes beyond mere resignation and moves toward an active, engaged neutrality—one that accepts mortality but also views it with philosophical wonder.

 

This might be the most mature stance of all—neither clinging to life nor dismissing it, but observing and experiencing it with calm awareness. That’s a fascinating perspective, and I think it adds even more depth to Melville’s reflections on the philosophy of the whale.

 

Doug: Concerning the views of the whales to the prospect of death, certainly both whales fought what sympathetic humans would think was an untimely, unjust death, and perhaps the whales would feel that themselves. How to the Platonists and Stoics think of concepts such as unjust, wasted, useless, and untimely death, or was it all just a non-issue for Platonists and/or Stoics?

 

ChatGPT 4o: Great question! Both Platonists and Stoics had distinctive views on whether death could be considered "unjust," "wasted," "useless," or "untimely." Their approaches differed, but in both cases, there was a strong emphasis on acceptance and necessity rather than resistance to fate. However, there are nuances to explore regarding whether they believed some deaths were worse than others.

---

 

1. Stoicism: Can Death Be Unjust, Wasted, or Untimely?

 

For Stoics, all external events—including death—are dictated by fate and are beyond our control. Thus, no death is truly unjust, untimely, or wasted in the grand scheme of things. However, there are some qualifications:

 

Justice and Injustice Are External Judgments

 

A Stoic does not judge death by fairness because justice is a human construct.

What matters is not the event of death itself, but how one meets it.

 

Seneca, for example, argues that a "short life" well-lived is better than a long but cowardly or dishonorable one.

 

Untimely Death? There's No Such Thing

 

Marcus Aurelius insists that death comes when it must, and it is neither early nor late.

"You may leave this life at any moment; let that determine what you do and say and think." (Meditations 2.11).

 

The only thing in our control is how we face it—we can either greet death with courage or with fear, but complaining about its timing is futile.

 

A "Wasted" Death? Only if You Fail to Live Well

 

A wasted death is one in which a person dies in shame, cowardice, or dishonor.

If one has lived according to virtue, then one's death cannot be "wasted," even if it seems tragic to others.

 

Cato the Younger, a Stoic, famously chose suicide rather than live under tyranny, believing that dying nobly was better than living servilely.

 

For a Stoic: ✔ Dying for a noble cause = honorable
✔ Dying at the "right" moment = whenever fate dictates
✔ Dying in fear or disgrace = the only real failure

 

Thus, for the Right Whale, if it is Stoic, it would resist death out of duty and instinct, but once death was inevitable, it would accept it without distress—perhaps even facing it head-on with fortitude.

---

 

2. Platonism: Can Death Be Unjust, Wasted, or Untimely?

 

Platonists take a slightly different stance because of their belief in the immortal soul and the realm of ideal forms. For them, death is not just an ending—it is a transition.

 

Justice Exists Beyond This World

 

Plato, in The Republic, argues that true justice is not always realized in this world but is ultimately corrected in the realm of Forms or in the afterlife.

An "unjust death" is possible in the material world, but it is not final—the soul will find justice in its next existence.

 

Untimely Death? For the Soul, No Death is "Early" or "Late"

In Phaedo, Plato describes death as a release from the body—not something to be feared or lamented.

 

The wise person will not worry about the exact moment of death because they understand that life in the body is temporary.

 

This is why Socrates, before drinking the hemlock, is so calm—he views his death as a mere passage to the world of Forms.

 

A Wasted Death? Only If One Has Lived Materialistically

 

Plato would argue that a "wasted" death is one where the person has lived only for bodily pleasure and material wealth.

 

A person who has pursued wisdom and virtue cannot die in vain, because their soul will persist in the higher realm of truth.

 

For a Platonist: ✔ Dying in pursuit of wisdom = a good death
✔ Dying in ignorance/materialism = wasted life
✔ Justice will be served, even if not in this world

 

Thus, if the Sperm Whale is a Platonist, it may not see its death as wasted or unjust, but rather as a natural transition. It fights out of instinct, but its broad, contemplative brow suggests it has already accepted the impermanence of life.

---

 

3. So How Do These Philosophies Apply to the Whales?

 

The Right Whale (Stoic)

 

Fights with practical resolve—it resists, but accepts death when it must.

Does not lament an "untimely" death—it sees it as part of nature.

Its dignity comes from how it faces death, not from how long it lives.

 

The Sperm Whale (Platonist)

 

Speculatively indifferent—perhaps aware that existence is temporary.

Might not see its death as wasted because it exists beyond the physical world.

Its calm acceptance reflects Plato's idea that the soul is not bound by time.

---

 

4. Do Either of These Philosophies Allow for the Whale to Feel Injustice?

This is the real tension:

 

The Stoic whale would not see its death as unjust, because justice is an irrelevant concept in the grand, impersonal order of the universe.

 

The Platonist whale might see injustice, but only from a limited material perspective—ultimately, justice will prevail in a higher realm.

However, both whales would resist death on a physical level—just as even a wise philosopher like Socrates still had a heartbeat and a body that resisted death, even as his mind accepted it.

The tragedy of the whales, then, is that even if they "accept" death, their struggle against it is undeniable. They do not want to die unjustly, wastefully, or before their time—but the cold, brutal world of whaling does not care about philosophy.

---

 

5. The Ultimate Irony

 

While Stoicism and Platonism offer philosophical detachment from death, the reality is that even the wisest philosopher must die, just as even the grandest whale must fall.

The Right Whale's Stoic resolve may not save it, just as the Sperm Whale’s Platonist calmness will not spare it.

 

Ultimately, Melville presents death as an unavoidable force, one that philosophy may help explain, but not escape.

 

Thus, the true irony is that humans (and readers) are the ones who impose meaning onto these deaths, while the whales—whatever their "philosophy"—simply live, struggle, and die as nature dictates.

---

 

Final Thought: The Human Perspective

 

Humans, unlike whales, do agonize over unjust, untimely, or wasted deaths.

This is where Melville’s critique of whaling comes into play—he may not explicitly call it unjust, but he forces the reader to ask:

 

What does it mean to die well?

 

Is there dignity in being hunted?

 

Do the whales suffer a greater existential tragedy than their hunters?

Ultimately, the question of justice in death is not for the whales to answer—but for us.

 

Doug: Thank you. Please translate, as best you can, the beliefs of Stoicism and Platonists to religious traditions, to include the various constructs of dying well and poorly, or with no judgement at all.

 

ChatGPT 4o: You're very welcome! Translating Stoic and Platonic beliefs about death into religious traditions is a fascinating exercise because different religions emphasize dying well, poorly, or neutrally, often in ways that echo Stoic resignation or Platonic transcendence. Below is an exploration of how these philosophical views map onto various religious traditions.

---

 

1. Stoicism and Religious Traditions

 

Stoicism teaches that:

 

Death is natural and inevitable—one should accept it without fear or resistance.

The focus is on how one faces death, not the event itself.

Dying well = dying with dignity, virtue, and courage.

Dying poorly = dying in fear, regret, or dishonor.

 

There is no afterlife, but living in accordance with nature and reason ensures peace at death.

Stoic Parallels in Religious Traditions:

 

A. Christianity (Particularly in Martyrdom)

 

Martyrs die Stoically—they do not resist but accept fate calmly.

Jesus at the Crucifixion: His final words—"Into thy hands I commend my spirit" (Luke 23:46)—reflect Stoic-like resignation to divine fate.

 

Early Christian martyrs faced execution without fear, believing that courage and virtue in death mattered more than survival.

 

B. Buddhism (Theravāda and Zen)

 

Buddhism rejects attachment, including fear of death.

Mindfulness in dying—awareness, calmness, and acceptance—resembles Stoic control of emotions.

Dying well = accepting death with inner peace.

Dying poorly = clinging to life with fear and distress.

 

In Zen Buddhism, the samurai tradition incorporated Stoic-like death acceptance, with warriors meditating on death daily to prepare for it.

 

C. Hinduism (Bhagavad Gita)

 

Krishna teaches Arjuna to accept death in battle—life and death are beyond individual control, and it is better to die doing one’s duty (dharma) than to die in cowardice.

Reincarnation makes death non-final, but how one faces death still matters—this is very Stoic in spirit.

Dying well = dying in accordance with duty, without fear.

 

D. Islam (Particularly in the Sufi Tradition)

"No soul shall die except by Allah’s leave, at a time appointed" (Qur'an 3:145)—this reflects Stoic acceptance of fate.

 

The concept of "Sabr" (patience and endurance) mirrors Stoic resilience.

Dying well means dying in submission to God’s will, just as the Stoic submits to nature and reason.

 

E. Judaism (Job’s Resignation)

Job's suffering and eventual acceptance of God’s will mirrors Stoic endurance in hardship.

"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 1:21)—this is a perfect Stoic statement about accepting fate.

 

Summary:
In Stoic-like traditions, death is a test of character—those who accept it calmly, virtuously, and without fear die well. Dying poorly means dying in distress, dishonor, or resistance.

---

 

2. Platonism and Religious Traditions

 

Platonism teaches that:

Death is a transition from the material world to a higher spiritual reality.

The body is temporary, while the soul is immortal.

Dying well = preparing the soul for the afterlife through wisdom and virtue.

Dying poorly = dying in ignorance, attachment to the body, or unprepared for transcendence.

Platonic Parallels in Religious Traditions:

 

A. Christianity (The Soul's Journey to Heaven)

Platonism heavily influenced Christian theology, particularly the idea of the soul ascending to God.

"I go to prepare a place for you" (John 14:2)—heaven is a higher realm, much like Plato’s realm of Forms.

Dying well means dying with faith and spiritual purity.

Dying poorly means dying without spiritual preparation, lost in sin and material concerns.

 

B. Hinduism (The Upanishads and Moksha)

Hindu philosophy sees the body as temporary and the soul as eternal—this is directly Platonic.

Moksha (liberation from rebirth) is the ultimate goal, akin to Plato’s soul escaping the body to dwell in truth.

Dying well means dying with spiritual awareness, prepared for moksha or a higher reincarnation.

Dying poorly means dying in ignorance, attachment, or fear, leading to rebirth in a lower state.

 

C. Buddhism (Mahayana and Pure Land)

Samsara (cycle of rebirth) is an illusion—the enlightened soul should transcend it.

The Pure Land tradition offers a higher state of being after death, mirroring Plato’s higher reality.

 

Dying well means dying with wisdom, detachment, and readiness for transcendence.

 

D. Islam (Neoplatonic Influences in Sufism)

Sufis see death as a "union with the Beloved"—Plato’s soul reuniting with the divine.

"To Allah we belong and to Him we return" (Qur'an 2:156)—this reflects a Platonic longing for divine reunion.

Dying well means dying in spiritual readiness.

 

E. Ancient Egyptian Religion (Journey to the Afterlife)

 

Plato likely borrowed from Egyptian afterlife beliefs, which emphasize that the soul must prepare for the journey beyond.

Weighing of the Heart (judgment before Osiris) mirrors Plato’s idea that the soul must be purified before reaching the divine realm.

Dying well means dying with a "light heart," free from the burdens of sin.

Summary:

In Platonist-like traditions, death is not an end but a passage to a higher existence. Dying well means dying with spiritual knowledge, purification, and detachment. Dying poorly means dying without enlightenment, unprepared for the next stage.

---

 

3. Religious Traditions Without Judgment of Death

 

Some traditions reject the idea of "good" and "bad" deaths, instead seeing death as a neutral, natural event.

 

A. Taoism (Flowing with the Dao)

Laozi and Zhuangzi teach that death is a natural transformation.

“The universe is like a bellows: it is empty yet never exhausted”—life and death are merely changes in form.

Dying well vs. poorly doesn’t matter—what matters is living in harmony with the Dao.

 

B. Some Indigenous and Animist Traditions

Many Native American, African, and animist traditions do not view death as inherently good or bad.

 

Death is simply a transition in the cycle of nature—neither feared nor sought, but accepted.

Some cultures view death as a return to the ancestors, not a reward or punishment.

 

Summary:
Some traditions, like Taoism, see death as neutral—not something to be feared, avoided, or morally judged, but simply a natural event in the cosmic cycle.

---

 

Final Thoughts: Where Do Stoicism and Platonism Fit?

Stoicism = Most similar to Buddhist mindfulness, Christian martyrdom, Islamic patience, and Hindu dharma.

Death is a test of courage and virtue.

Platonism = Most similar to Christian, Hindu, and Islamic views of an afterlife.

Death is a transition to a higher truth.

Neutral Views (e.g., Taoism) = Rejecting judgment on death entirely.

 

The biggest question each tradition answers differently is:
Is death a moral test, a spiritual passage, or simply a fact of existence?

 

 

Long lived whale.

 

Right Whale may think before it speaks.

 

 

Multimedia Chapter 75 The Right Whale’s Head

 

 

 

Right Whale and Sperm Whale side by side.

 

 

Original Chapter 75 The Right Whale’s Head with Deletions

 

Crossing the deck, let us now have a good long look at the Right Whale’s head.

 

As in general shape the noble Sperm Whale’s head may be compared to a Roman war-chariot (especially in front, where it is so broadly rounded); so, at a broad view, the Right Whale’s head bears a rather inelegant resemblance to a gigantic galliot-toed shoe. Two hundred years ago an old Dutch voyager likened its shape to that of a shoemaker’s last. And in this same last or shoe, that old woman of the nursery tale, with the swarming brood, might very comfortably be lodged, she and all her progeny.

 

But as you come nearer to this great head it begins to assume different aspects, according to your point of view. If you stand on its summit and look at these two f-shaped spout-holes, you would take the whole head for an enormous bass-viol, and these spiracles, the apertures in its sounding-board. Then, again, if you fix your eye upon this strange, crested, comb-like incrustation on the top of the mass—this green, barnacled thing, which the Greenlanders call the “crown,” and the Southern fishers the “bonnet” of the Right Whale; fixing your eyes solely on this, you would take the head for the trunk of some huge oak, with a bird’s nest in its crotch. At any rate, when you watch those live crabs that nestle here on this bonnet, such an idea will be almost sure to occur to you; unless, indeed, your fancy has been fixed by the technical term “crown” also bestowed upon it; in which case you will take great interest in thinking how this mighty monster is actually a diademed king of the sea, whose green crown has been put together for him in this marvellous manner. But if this whale be a king, he is a very sulky looking fellow to grace a diadem. Look at that hanging lower lip! what a huge sulk and pout is there! a sulk and pout, by carpenter’s measurement, about twenty feet long and five feet deep; a sulk and pout that will yield you some 500 gallons of oil and more.

 

A great pity, now, that this unfortunate whale should be hare-lipped. The fissure is about a foot across. Probably the mother during an important interval was sailing down the Peruvian coast, when earthquakes caused the beach to gape. Over this lip, as over a slippery threshold, we now slide into the mouth. Upon my word were I at Mackinaw, I should take this to be the inside of an Indian wigwam. Good Lord! is this the road that Jonah went? The roof is about twelve feet high, and runs to a pretty sharp angle, as if there were a regular ridge-pole there; while these ribbed, arched, hairy sides, present us with those wondrous, half vertical, scimetar-shaped slats of whalebone, say three hundred on a side, which depending from the upper part of the head or crown bone, form those Venetian blinds which have elsewhere been cursorily mentioned. The edges of these bones are fringed with hairy fibres, through which the Right Whale strains the water, and in whose intricacies he retains the small fish, when open-mouthed he goes through the seas of brit in feeding time. In the central blinds of bone, as they stand in their natural order, there are certain curious marks, curves, hollows, and ridges, whereby some whalemen calculate the creature’s age, as the age of an oak by its circular rings. Though the certainty of this criterion is far from demonstrable, yet it has the savor of analogical probability. At any rate, if we yield to it, we must grant a far greater age to the Right Whale than at first glance will seem reasonable.

 

In old times, there seem to have prevailed the most curious fancies concerning these blinds. One voyager in Purchas calls them the wondrous “whiskers” inside of the whale’s mouth;* another, “hogs’ bristles;” a third old gentleman in Hackluyt uses the following elegant language: “There are about two hundred and fifty fins growing on each side of his upper chop, which arch over his tongue on each side of his mouth.”

 

As every one knows, these same “hogs’ bristles,” “fins,” “whiskers,” “blinds,” or whatever you please, furnish to the ladies their busks and other stiffening contrivances. But in this particular, the demand has long been on the decline. It was in Queen Anne's time that the bone was in its glory, the farthingale being then all the fashion. And as those ancient dames moved about gaily, though in the jaws of the whale, as you may say; even so, in a shower, with the like thoughtlessness, do we nowadays fly under the same jaws for protection; the umbrella being a tent spread over the same bone.

 

But now forget all about blinds and whiskers for a moment, and, standing in the Right Whale’s mouth, look around you afresh. Seeing all these colonnades of bone so methodically ranged about, would you not think you were inside of the great Haarlem organ, and gazing upon its thousand pipes? For a carpet to the organ we have a rug of the softest Turkey—the tongue, which is glued, as it were, to the floor of the mouth. It is very fat and tender, and apt to tear in pieces in hoisting it on deck. This particular tongue now before us; at a passing glance I should say it was a six-barreler; that is, it will yield you about that amount of oil.

 

[Melville's Note] This reminds us that the Right Whale really has a sort of whisker, or rather a moustache, consisting of a few scattered white hairs on the upper part of the outer end of the lower jaw. Sometimes these tufts impart a rather brigandish expression to his otherwise solemn countenance. [End Note]

 

Ere this, you must have plainly seen the truth of what I started with—that the Sperm Whale and the Right Whale have almost entirely different heads. To sum up, then: in the Right Whale’s there is no great well of sperm; no ivory teeth at all; no long, slender mandible of a lower jaw, like the Sperm Whale’s. Nor in the Sperm Whale are there any of those blinds of bone; no huge lower lip; and scarcely anything of a tongue. Again, the Right Whale has two external spout-holes, the Sperm Whale only one.

 

Look your last, now, on these venerable hooded heads, while they yet lie together; for one will soon sink, unrecorded, in the sea; the other will not be very long in following.

 

Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale’s there? It is the same he died with, only some of the longer wrinkles in the forehead seem now faded away. I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. But mark the other head’s expression. See that amazing lower lip, pressed by accident against the vessel’s side, so as firmly to embrace the jaw. Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death? This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years.