The Prairie

To scan the lines of his face, or feel the bumps on the head of this Leviathan; this is a thing which no Physiognomist or Phrenologist has as yet undertaken. Such an enterprise would seem almost as hopeful as for Lavater to have scrutinized the wrinkles on the Rock of Gibraltar, or for Gall to have mounted a ladder and manipulated the Dome of the Pantheon. Still, in that famous work of his, Lavater not only treats of the various faces of men, but also attentively studies the faces of horses, birds, serpents, and fish; and dwells in detail upon the modifications of expression discernible therein. Nor have Gall and his disciple Spurzheim failed to throw out some hints touching the phrenological characteristics of other beings than man. Therefore, though I am but ill qualified for a pioneer, in the application of these two semi-sciences to the whale, I will do my endeavor. I try all things; I achieve what I can.

No physiognomist or phrenologist has yet tried to study the lines of this Leviathan’s face or feel the bumps on its head. The task would seem almost as promising as Lavater studying the wrinkles on the Rock of Gibraltar. Or as Gall climbing a ladder to feel the Dome of the Pantheon. Still, in his famous work, Lavater studies not only human faces but also those of horses, birds, serpents, and fish. He examines their different expressions in detail. Gall and his disciple Spurzheim have also offered some hints about the phrenological features of creatures other than humans. So, though I am poorly qualified to be a pioneer, I will try to apply these two semi-sciences to the whale. I try all things. I achieve what I can.

Physiognomically regarded, the Sperm Whale is an anomalous creature. He has no proper nose. And since the nose is the central and most conspicuous of the features; and since it perhaps most modifies and finally controls their combined expression; hence it would seem that its entire absence, as an external appendage, must very largely affect the countenance of the whale. For as in landscape gardening, a spire, cupola, monument, or tower of some sort, is deemed almost indispensable to the completion of the scene; so no face can be physiognomically in keeping without the elevated open-work belfry of the nose. Dash the nose from Phidias’s marble Jove, and what a sorry remainder! Nevertheless, Leviathan is of so mighty a magnitude, all his proportions are so stately, that the same deficiency which in the sculptured Jove were hideous, in him is no blemish at all. Nay, it is an added grandeur. A nose to the whale would have been impertinent. As on your physiognomical voyage you sail round his vast head in your jolly-boat, your noble conceptions of him are never insulted by the reflection that he has a nose to be pulled. A pestilent conceit, which so often will insist upon obtruding even when beholding the mightiest royal beadle on his throne.

Judging by its features, the Sperm Whale is a peculiar creature. He has no proper nose. The nose is the central and most noticeable feature. It also perhaps does the most to shape and ultimately control the expression of the whole face. So the whale’s complete lack of an external nose would seem to affect his appearance greatly. In landscape gardening, a spire, dome, monument, or tower is considered almost essential to complete the scene. In the same way, no face can look quite right without the raised, openwork belfry of a nose. Knock the nose off Phidias’s marble Jove, and what a sorry sight remains! Nevertheless, Leviathan is so immensely large, and all his proportions are so majestic, that this same lack is no flaw in him. On the sculpted Jove it would be hideous. In the whale, it adds to his grandeur. A nose on a whale would have been an impertinence. As you sail around his vast head in your small boat, studying his features, nothing insults your noble thoughts of him. You never have to reflect that he has a nose someone could pull. It is an annoying thought, one that so often insists on intruding even when you gaze at the mightiest royal official on his throne.

In some particulars, perhaps the most imposing physiognomical view to be had of the Sperm Whale, is that of the full front of his head. This aspect is sublime.

In some respects, perhaps the most impressive view of the Sperm Whale is from directly in front of its head. The view is sublime.

In thought, a fine human brow is like the East when troubled with the morning. In the repose of the pasture, the curled brow of the bull has a touch of the grand in it. Pushing heavy cannon up mountain defiles, the elephant’s brow is majestic. Human or animal, the mystical brow is as that great golden seal affixed by the German emperors to their decrees. It signifies—“God: done this day by my hand.” But in most creatures, nay in man himself, very often the brow is but a mere strip of alpine land lying along the snow line. Few are the foreheads which like Shakespeare’s or Melancthon’s rise so high, and descend so low, that the eyes themselves seem clear, eternal, tideless mountain lakes; and all above them in the forehead’s wrinkles, you seem to track the antlered thoughts descending there to drink, as the Highland hunters track the snow prints of the deer. But in the great Sperm Whale, this high and mighty god-like dignity inherent in the brow is so immensely amplified, that gazing on it, in that full front view, you feel the Deity and the dread powers more forcibly than in beholding any other object in living nature. For you see no one point precisely; not one distinct feature is revealed; no nose, eyes, ears, or mouth; no face; he has none, proper; nothing but that one broad firmament of a forehead, pleated with riddles; dumbly lowering with the doom of boats, and ships, and men. Nor, in profile, does this wondrous brow diminish; though that way viewed its grandeur does not domineer upon you so. In profile, you plainly perceive that horizontal, semi-crescentic depression in the forehead’s middle, which, in man, is Lavater’s mark of genius.

A fine human brow in thought is like the eastern sky stirred by morning. A bull’s curled brow has a touch of grandeur as the animal rests in the pasture. An elephant’s brow is majestic as it pushes heavy cannon up mountain passes. Human or animal, the mysterious brow is like the great golden seal the German emperors attached to their decrees. It signifies: “God: done this day by my hand.” But in most creatures, and very often in humans themselves, the brow is only a narrow strip of mountain land along the snow line. Few foreheads, like Shakespeare’s or Melancthon’s, rise so high and descend so low. On such foreheads, the eyes themselves seem like clear, eternal mountain lakes without tides. In the wrinkles above them, you seem to trace antlered thoughts descending to drink. You trace them as Highland hunters follow deer tracks in the snow. But in the great Sperm Whale, the lofty, godlike dignity inherent in the brow is immensely amplified. Looking at the whale’s brow head-on, you feel the presence of God and the dread powers more strongly than you do before any other living thing. You see no single point clearly. Not one distinct feature appears. There is no nose, no eyes, ears, or mouth, no face. Strictly speaking, the whale has no face, only one broad expanse of forehead, like a sky folded with riddles. It hangs there in silence, threatening doom to boats, ships, and men. The wondrous brow is no smaller in profile, although its grandeur does not overwhelm you as much from that angle. In profile, you can plainly see a horizontal, half-moon-shaped hollow in the middle of the forehead. In a human, that hollow is Lavater’s mark of genius.

But how? Genius in the Sperm Whale? Has the Sperm Whale ever written a book, spoken a speech? No, his great genius is declared in his doing nothing particular to prove it. It is moreover declared in his pyramidical silence. And this reminds me that had the great Sperm Whale been known to the young Orient World, he would have been deified by their child-magian thoughts. They deified the crocodile of the Nile, because the crocodile is tongueless; and the Sperm Whale has no tongue, or at least it is so exceedingly small, as to be incapable of protrusion. If hereafter any highly cultured, poetical nation shall lure back to their birth-right, the merry May-day gods of old; and livingly enthrone them again in the now egotistical sky; in the now unhaunted hill; then be sure, exalted to Jove’s high seat, the great Sperm Whale shall lord it.

But how? Genius in the Sperm Whale? Has the Sperm Whale ever written a book or given a speech? No, his great genius shows itself in his doing nothing particular to prove it. It also shows itself in his pyramid-like silence. And this reminds me that the great Sperm Whale would have been made a god if the ancient Eastern world had known him. Their childlike, magical minds would have made him one. They made a god of the Nile crocodile because it has no tongue. The Sperm Whale has no tongue either, or at least its tongue is too small to stick out. Suppose that someday a highly cultured, poetic nation draws the merry May Day gods of old back to their rightful home. Suppose it sets them on living thrones again in the now self-centered sky and on the now unhaunted hill. Then you can be sure that the great Sperm Whale will rule, raised to Jove’s high seat.

Champollion deciphered the wrinkled granite hieroglyphics. But there is no Champollion to decipher the Egypt of every man’s and every being’s face. Physiognomy, like every other human science, is but a passing fable. If then, Sir William Jones, who read in thirty languages, could not read the simplest peasant’s face in its profounder and more subtle meanings, how may unlettered Ishmael hope to read the awful Chaldee of the Sperm Whale’s brow? I but put that brow before you. Read it if you can.

Champollion deciphered the hieroglyphics carved into weathered granite. But there is no Champollion to decipher the Egypt in every person's and every being's face. Physiognomy, like every other human science, is only a passing fable. Sir William Jones could read thirty languages. Yet even he could not read the deeper, subtler meanings in the simplest peasant's face. If he could not, how can unlettered Ishmael hope to read the dreadful Chaldee on the Sperm Whale's brow? I only present that brow to you. Read it if you can.