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.

I have given considerable attention to the much-debated subject of whale skin. I have argued about it with experienced whalers at sea and learned naturalists on land. 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.

The question is, what is the whale’s skin, and where is it? You already know what blubber is. It has a texture like firm, close-grained beef, but it is tougher, more elastic, and denser. It ranges from eight or ten inches to twelve or fifteen inches thick.

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 isinglass, 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.

Now, it may seem absurd at first to describe any creature’s skin as having that texture and thickness. But those qualities are no argument against the idea. You cannot lift any other dense outer layer from a whale’s body except the blubber. And what can the outermost layer of any animal be but skin, if it is reasonably dense? True, you can scrape an infinitely thin, transparent substance off an intact dead whale with your hand. It looks somewhat like the thinnest shreds of isinglass, but is almost as soft and flexible as satin. That is, before it dries. Once dry, it shrinks and thickens, and becomes rather hard and brittle. I have several dried pieces, which I use as bookmarks in my whale-books. As I said, the substance is transparent. When I have laid it over a printed page, I have sometimes amused myself by imagining that it magnified the words. At any rate, it is pleasant to read about whales through their own spectacles, as you might say. But here is my point. I admit that this infinitely thin, isinglass-like substance covers the whale’s entire body. Still, it should be considered less the creature’s skin than the skin of its skin, so to speak. It would be simply ridiculous to say that the true skin of the tremendous whale is thinner and more delicate than a newborn child’s skin. 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 integument 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.

Suppose the blubber is the whale’s skin. In a very large Sperm Whale, this skin can yield as much as one hundred barrels of oil. By weight, the extracted oil accounts for only three quarters of the skin’s substance, not all of it. This may give some idea of the enormous size of the living mass, when just part of its skin yields such a lake of liquid. At ten barrels to the ton, the oil alone weighs ten tons, though it makes up only three quarters of the substance 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 hieroglyphical; that is, if you call those mysterious cyphers 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 palisades 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 Agassiz 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.

In life, the visible surface of the Sperm Whale is among the many marvels he presents. Almost always, countless straight marks cross and recross his body at an angle, packed closely together. They look something like the lines in the finest Italian line engravings. But the marks do not seem to be pressed into the isinglass substance mentioned earlier. They seem to show through it, as if engraved on the body itself. Nor is that all. Sometimes, to a quick, observant eye, the straight marks provide a background for very different designs, as in an actual engraving. These designs are hieroglyphical. If you call those mysterious symbols on the walls of pyramids hieroglyphics, then that is the right word here. I remember the hieroglyphics on one Sperm Whale in particular. Because of that memory, I was struck by an illustration of the old Indian characters carved on the famous hieroglyphic palisades along the Upper Mississippi. Like those mysterious rocks, the mysteriously marked whale remains undecipherable. The Indian rocks remind me of something else. Besides all the other features of the Sperm Whale's exterior, he often has rough scratches across his back, and especially his flanks. These numerous scratches are irregular and seem randomly placed. Over much of his body, they obscure the regular pattern of lines. Agassiz believes that some rocks on the New England coast were violently scraped by enormous floating icebergs. I would say that those rocks must look quite like the Sperm Whale in this respect. It also seems to me that hostile contact with other whales probably makes such scratches. I have noticed them most often on large, fully 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 happy 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 surtout? True, other fish are found exceedingly brisk in those Hyperborean 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.

A word or two more about the whale’s skin, or blubber. As already mentioned, it is stripped off in long pieces called blanket-pieces. Like most sea terms, the name is apt and meaningful. The whale is wrapped in its blubber like a real blanket or bedspread. Better still, it is like an Indian poncho slipped over its head and hanging down around its body. This cozy covering lets the whale stay comfortable in all weather, in all seas, at all times and tides. What would become of a Greenland whale in those shivering, icy northern seas without its cozy overcoat? Other fish, it is true, are remarkably lively in those far northern waters. But these fish are cold-blooded and have no lungs. Their very bellies are refrigerators. They warm themselves in the shelter of an iceberg, as a winter traveler would bask before an inn fire. The whale, however, has lungs and warm blood, like a man. Freeze its blood, and it dies. So, until the explanation is given, how wonderful it seems that this great monster is at home in Arctic waters! Bodily warmth is as essential to the whale as it is to man. Yet it lives immersed to its lips in those waters. Sailors who fall overboard there are sometimes found months later, frozen upright in the middle of fields of ice. They are like flies trapped in amber. But more surprising still, experiments have proved that the blood of a Polar whale is warmer than that of a Black person in Borneo 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 it. Be cool at the equator; keep thy blood fluid at the Pole. Like the great dome of St. Peter’s, and like the great whale, retain, O man! in all seasons a temperature of thine own.

It seems to me that here we see the rare virtue of strong individual vitality. We also see the rare virtue of thick walls and the rare virtue of spaciousness within. Oh, man! Admire the whale and take it as your model! You, too, should stay warm among ice. You, too, should live in this world without being of it. Stay cool at the equator. Keep your blood fluid at the Pole. Like the great dome of St. Peter’s and the great whale, keep a temperature of your own in all seasons.

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!

But how easy and how hopeless it is to teach these fine things! How few buildings have domes like St. Peter’s! How few creatures are as vast as the whale!