The Defender

As Queequeg and I are now fairly embarked in this business of whaling; and as this business of whaling has somehow come to be regarded among landsmen as a rather unpoetical and disreputable pursuit; therefore, I am all anxiety to convince ye, ye landsmen, of the injustice hereby done to us hunters of whales.

Queequeg and I are now fully embarked on the business of whaling. Somehow, people on land have come to regard whaling as a rather unpoetic and disreputable pursuit. So I am eager to convince you land-dwellers of the injustice this does to us whale hunters.

In the first place, it may be deemed almost superfluous to establish the fact, that among people at large, the business of whaling is not accounted on a level with what are called the liberal professions. If a stranger were introduced into any miscellaneous metropolitan society, it would but slightly advance the general opinion of his merits, were he presented to the company as a harpooneer, say; and if in emulation of the naval officers he should append the initials S.W.F. (Sperm Whale Fishery) to his visiting card, such a procedure would be deemed pre-eminently presuming and ridiculous.

First of all, it may seem almost unnecessary to establish that people generally do not rank whaling alongside the so-called learned professions. Suppose a stranger were introduced at a social gathering in a big city. Presenting him as a harpooner, for example, would do little to improve the company’s opinion of his merits. And suppose he followed the example of naval officers and added the initials S.W.F. (Sperm Whale Fishery) to his calling card. Such a move would be considered extremely presumptuous and ridiculous.

Doubtless one leading reason why the world declines honoring us whalemen, is this: they think that, at best, our vocation amounts to a butchering sort of business; and that when actively engaged therein, we are surrounded by all manner of defilements. Butchers we are, that is true. But butchers, also, and butchers of the bloodiest badge have been all Martial Commanders whom the world invariably delights to honor. And as for the matter of the alleged uncleanliness of our business, ye shall soon be initiated into certain facts hitherto pretty generally unknown, and which, upon the whole, will triumphantly plant the sperm whale-ship at least among the cleanliest things of this tidy earth. But even granting the charge in question to be true; what disordered slippery decks of a whale-ship are comparable to the unspeakable carrion of those battle-fields from which so many soldiers return to drink in all ladies’ plaudits? And if the idea of peril so much enhances the popular conceit of the soldier’s profession; let me assure ye that many a veteran who has freely marched up to a battery, would quickly recoil at the apparition of the sperm whale’s vast tail, fanning into eddies the air over his head. For what are the comprehensible terrors of man compared with the interlinked terrors and wonders of God!

Surely one major reason the world refuses to honor us whalemen is this: people think our trade is butchery at best. They also think we are surrounded by filth when we work. We are butchers, that is true. But all military commanders have also been butchers, and of the bloodiest kind. Yet the world always delights in honoring them. As for the supposed filth of our trade, you will soon learn certain facts that have been largely unknown until now. Taken together, these facts will triumphantly establish that the sperm whale-ship is among the cleanest things on this tidy earth. But even if the charge of filth were true, what messy, slippery whale-ship decks could compare with battlefields covered in unspeakable carnage? Yet many soldiers return from those fields to bask in the applause of all the ladies. And if the idea of danger does so much to raise the soldier’s profession in popular esteem, let me assure you of this: many a veteran who has willingly marched up to an enemy battery would quickly recoil at the sight of a sperm whale’s vast tail. That tail would be stirring the air into swirling currents above his head. For what are the terrors of man, which we can understand, compared with the intertwined terrors and wonders of God!

But, though the world scouts at us whale hunters, yet does it unwittingly pay us the profoundest homage; yea, an all-abounding adoration! for almost all the tapers, lamps, and candles that burn round the globe, burn, as before so many shrines, to our glory!

Though the world mocks us whale hunters, it unknowingly pays us the deepest homage, even boundless adoration! For almost all the lamps and candles burning around the globe burn to our glory, as if before countless shrines!

But look at this matter in other lights; weigh it in all sorts of scales; see what we whalemen are, and have been.

But look at this matter from other angles. Weigh it by all kinds of measures. Consider what we whalers are and what we have been.

Why did the Dutch in De Witt’s time have admirals of their whaling fleets? Why did Louis XVI. of France, at his own personal expense, fit out whaling ships from Dunkirk, and politely invite to that town some score or two of families from our own island of Nantucket? Why did Britain between the years 1750 and 1788 pay to her whalemen in bounties upwards of £1,000,000? And lastly, how comes it that we whalemen of America now outnumber all the rest of the banded whalemen in the world; sail a navy of upwards of seven hundred vessels; manned by eighteen thousand men; yearly consuming 4,000,000 of dollars; the ships worth, at the time of sailing, $20,000,000! and every year importing into our harbors a well reaped harvest of $7,000,000. How comes all this, if there be not something puissant in whaling?

Why did the Dutch have admirals for their whaling fleets in De Witt’s time? Why did Louis XVI of France outfit whaling ships from Dunkirk at his own expense? And why did he politely invite twenty or forty families from our own island of Nantucket to settle there? Why did Britain pay its whalers more than £1,000,000 in bounties between 1750 and 1788? Finally, how is it that we American whalers now outnumber all the other whalers in the world combined? We sail a fleet of more than seven hundred vessels, crewed by eighteen thousand men. We spend $4,000,000 a year, and our ships are worth $20,000,000 when they set sail! Every year, we bring a rich harvest worth $7,000,000 into our harbors. How can all this be true if there is not something powerful about whaling?

But this is not the half; look again.

But this is not even half of it. Look again.

I freely assert, that the cosmopolite philosopher cannot, for his life, point out one single peaceful influence, which within the last sixty years has operated more potentially upon the whole broad world, taken in one aggregate, than the high and mighty business of whaling. One way and another, it has begotten events so remarkable in themselves, and so continuously momentous in their sequential issues, that whaling may well be regarded as that Egyptian mother, who bore offspring themselves pregnant from her womb. It would be a hopeless, endless task to catalogue all these things. Let a handful suffice. For many years past the whale-ship has been the pioneer in ferreting out the remotest and least known parts of the earth. She has explored seas and archipelagoes which had no chart, where no Cook or Vancouver had ever sailed. If American and European men-of-war now peacefully ride in once savage harbors, let them fire salutes to the honor and glory of the whale-ship, which originally showed them the way, and first interpreted between them and the savages. They may celebrate as they will the heroes of Exploring Expeditions, your Cooks, your Krusensterns; but I say that scores of anonymous Captains have sailed out of Nantucket, that were as great, and greater than your Cook and your Krusenstern. For in their succourless empty-handedness, they, in the heathenish sharked waters, and by the beaches of unrecorded, javelin islands, battled with virgin wonders and terrors that Cook with all his marines and muskets would not willingly have dared. All that is made such a flourish of in the old South Sea Voyages, those things were but the life-time commonplaces of our heroic Nantucketers. Often, adventures which Vancouver dedicates three chapters to, these men accounted unworthy of being set down in the ship’s common log. Ah, the world! Oh, the world!

I freely claim that no cosmopolitan philosopher can point to a single peaceful influence more powerful than the grand and mighty business of whaling. Over the past sixty years, no other peaceful influence has affected the whole world as strongly. In many ways, whaling has brought about remarkable events. Their consequences have led to still more consequences of continuing importance. Whaling may well be compared to the Egyptian mother whose offspring were already pregnant when she gave birth to them. Listing all these events would be a hopeless, endless task. A handful will do. For many years, whale-ships have led the way in discovering the most remote and least known parts of the earth. They have explored uncharted seas and archipelagoes where neither Cook nor Vancouver had ever sailed. If American and European warships now lie peacefully in harbors once called savage, let them fire salutes to honor the whale-ship. The whale-ship first showed them the way and first interpreted between them and the people they called savages. People may celebrate the heroes of exploring expeditions, their Cooks and their Krusensterns, however they please. But I say that scores of nameless captains have sailed out of Nantucket who were as great as, or greater than, Cook and Krusenstern. Those captains had no help and no resources. Yet they fought their way through wonders and terrors never encountered before. They faced them in heathen waters full of sharks and along the shores of unrecorded islands where people carried javelins. Cook, with all his marines and muskets, would not willingly have dared to face those things. All the things made so much of in the old South Sea Voyages were everyday experiences throughout our heroic Nantucketers’ lives. Often, these men considered adventures unworthy of a note in the ship’s ordinary log, while Vancouver devoted three chapters to such adventures. Ah, the world! Oh, the world!

Until the whale fishery rounded Cape Horn, no commerce but colonial, scarcely any intercourse but colonial, was carried on between Europe and the long line of the opulent Spanish provinces on the Pacific coast. It was the whaleman who first broke through the jealous policy of the Spanish crown, touching those colonies; and, if space permitted, it might be distinctly shown how from those whalemen at last eventuated the liberation of Peru, Chili, and Bolivia from the yoke of Old Spain, and the establishment of the eternal democracy in those parts.

Until whaling ships rounded Cape Horn, Europe traded with the wealthy Spanish provinces along the Pacific coast only as colonies. Almost all other contact with those provinces was also colonial. Whalers were the first to break through the Spanish crown’s jealous restrictions on its colonies. If space permitted, it could be shown clearly how those whalers eventually led to the liberation of Peru, Chili, and Bolivia from Old Spain’s rule and the establishment of eternal democracy in those lands.

That great America on the other side of the sphere, Australia, was given to the enlightened world by the whaleman. After its first blunder-born discovery by a Dutchman, all other ships long shunned those shores as pestiferously barbarous; but the whale-ship touched there. The whale-ship is the true mother of that now mighty colony. Moreover, in the infancy of the first Australian settlement, the emigrants were several times saved from starvation by the benevolent biscuit of the whale-ship luckily dropping an anchor in their waters. The uncounted isles of all Polynesia confess the same truth, and do commercial homage to the whale-ship, that cleared the way for the missionary and the merchant, and in many cases carried the primitive missionaries to their first destinations. If that double-bolted land, Japan, is ever to become hospitable, it is the whale-ship alone to whom the credit will be due; for already she is on the threshold.

The whaleman gave Australia, that great America on the other side of the world, to the enlightened world. A Dutchman first discovered Australia by accident. For a long time afterward, all other ships avoided its shores as if they were plagued by barbarism. But the whale-ship landed there. The whale-ship is the true mother of that now mighty colony. Moreover, in the early days of the first Australian settlement, emigrants were saved from starvation several times. They were saved by the generous supply of biscuits from a whale-ship that happened to anchor in their waters. The countless islands of Polynesia acknowledge the same truth and pay commercial tribute to the whale-ship. It cleared the way for the missionary and the merchant. In many cases, it carried the first missionaries to their destinations. If Japan, that tightly locked land, ever becomes hospitable, the whale-ship alone will deserve the credit. For the whale-ship is already at Japan’s threshold.

But if, in the face of all this, you still declare that whaling has no æsthetically noble associations connected with it, then am I ready to shiver fifty lances with you there, and unhorse you with a split helmet every time.

But if, despite all this, you still claim that whaling has no associations of artistic beauty and nobility, I am ready to joust with you fifty times over it. Every time, I will knock you off your horse and split your helmet.

The whale has no famous author, and whaling no famous chronicler, you will say.

You will say that the whale has no famous author, and whaling has no famous historian.

The whale no famous author, and whaling no famous chronicler? Who wrote the first account of our Leviathan? Who but mighty Job! And who composed the first narrative of a whaling-voyage? Who, but no less a prince than Alfred the Great, who, with his own royal pen, took down the words from Other, the Norwegian whale-hunter of those times! And who pronounced our glowing eulogy in Parliament? Who, but Edmund Burke!

The whale has no famous author, and whaling has no famous chronicler? Who wrote the first account of our Leviathan? None other than mighty Job! And who wrote the first account of a whaling voyage? None other than a prince, Alfred the Great! With his own royal pen, he wrote down the words of Other, a Norwegian whale hunter of his time. And who spoke in glowing praise of us in Parliament? None other than Edmund Burke!

True enough, but then whalemen themselves are poor devils; they have no good blood in their veins.

True enough, but whalers themselves are poor devils. They have no noble blood in their veins.

No good blood in their veins? They have something better than royal blood there. The grandmother of Benjamin Franklin was Mary Morrel; afterwards, by marriage, Mary Folger, one of the old settlers of Nantucket, and the ancestress to a long line of Folgers and harpooneers—all kith and kin to noble Benjamin—this day darting the barbed iron from one side of the world to the other.

No good blood in their veins? They have something better than royal blood in their veins. Benjamin Franklin’s grandmother was Mary Morrel, who became Mary Folger when she married. She was one of Nantucket’s early settlers and the ancestor of a long line of Folgers and harpooners. All are relatives of noble Benjamin, and today they throw barbed harpoons from one side of the world to the other.

Good again; but then all confess that somehow whaling is not respectable.

Good again, but then everyone admits that somehow whaling is not respectable.

Whaling not respectable? Whaling is imperial! By old English statutory law, the whale is declared “a royal fish.” *

Whaling not respectable? Whaling is imperial! Under old English law, the whale is declared “a royal fish.” *

Oh, that’s only nominal! The whale himself has never figured in any grand imposing way.

Oh, that’s only in name! The whale himself has never appeared in any grand or impressive way.

The whale never figured in any grand imposing way? In one of the mighty triumphs given to a Roman general upon his entering the world’s capital, the bones of a whale, brought all the way from the Syrian coast, were the most conspicuous object in the cymballed procession.*

The whale never appeared in a grand and impressive way? One great triumph honored a Roman general as he entered the world's capital. In the procession, accompanied by cymbals, the most striking sight was a whale's bones, brought all the way from the Syrian coast.*

*See subsequent chapters for something more on this head.

*See later chapters for more on this subject.

Grant it, since you cite it; but, say what you will, there is no real dignity in whaling.

I’ll grant it, since you bring it up. But say what you like, there is no real dignity in whaling.

No dignity in whaling? The dignity of our calling the very heavens attest. Cetus is a constellation in the South! No more! Drive down your hat in presence of the Czar, and take it off to Queequeg! No more! I know a man that, in his lifetime, has taken three hundred and fifty whales. I account that man more honorable than that great captain of antiquity who boasted of taking as many walled towns.

No dignity in whaling? The heavens themselves bear witness to the dignity of our calling. Cetus is a constellation in the southern sky! Enough said! Pull your hat down before the Czar, and take it off to Queequeg! Enough said! I know a man who has taken three hundred and fifty whales in his lifetime. I consider him more honorable than the great ancient captain who boasted of taking as many walled towns.

And, as for me, if, by any possibility, there be any as yet undiscovered prime thing in me; if I shall ever deserve any real repute in that small but high hushed world which I might not be unreasonably ambitious of; if hereafter I shall do anything that, upon the whole, a man might rather have done than to have left undone; if, at my death, my executors, or more properly my creditors, find any precious MSS. in my desk, then here I prospectively ascribe all the honor and the glory to whaling; for a whale-ship was my Yale College and my Harvard.

As for me, perhaps there is some great quality in me that has yet to be discovered. Perhaps I will someday deserve real recognition in that small, quiet, but distinguished world where I might reasonably hope to be known. Perhaps I will someday do something that, on the whole, a man would rather have done than left undone. And perhaps, when I die, my executors, or rather my creditors, will find valuable manuscripts in my desk. If any of this happens, I give all the honor and glory in advance to whaling. For a whale-ship was my Yale College and my Harvard.