Tuesday, July 10, 2018

July 10: Chaldee of the Sperm Whale's Brow, Phrenology, Wiccan Witch

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.

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 jollyboat, 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.

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 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 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, cars, 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 a man, 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.

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.

Yet another chapter on the head of the sperm whale.  This time, Melville uses the practice of phrenology, which is the study of the size and shape of a skull to determine the character and intelligence of a creature.  After several paragraphs, he seems to conclude that it is impossible to read the sperm whale skull phrenologically.  He leaves it up to the reader, saying, ""I but put that brow before you.  Read it if you can."

Of course, phrenology is no more an actual science than palm reading or crystal ball gazing.  More superstition and premonition than analytical inquiry.  The shape and size of the skull is no more a gauge of a person's moral/intellectual makeup than hand size is an indication of a man's physical endowments (although, for Donald Trump, I believe there is a direct correlation).  If I want to know a person's character, I need to spend some time getting to know him or her.

I have a friend who frequently says to me, "You have a million-dollar brain and a ten-cent mind."  She means that I'm really intelligent, but sometimes lack common sense.  This friend is joking with me, but she makes a good point.  Some of the smartest people I know completely lack basic life skills.  For example, I have a friend who can speak three languages, has taught at several universities, and can wax philosophic on subjects ranging from postmodernism to cubism.  Yet, she can't change a flat tire or run a snowblower.  Million-dollar brain.  Ten-cent mind.

Just as intelligence is not a measure of basic common sense, going to church doesn't necessarily make you a good person.  For example, I have sat in a roomful of Christians and listened to them talk about putting homeless people on buses and "sending them back where they came from."  On the other hand, I have a friend who identifies herself as a Wiccan witch, and she volunteers in soup kitchens and spends Thanksgiving serving turkey dinners to indigents. 

As the saying goes, actions speak louder than words.  I don't care if you're Christian, Wiccan, atheist, or Trumpist.  I care whether you will stop some kids from bullying an autistic child.  I care whether you spend the weekend building a Habitat for Humanity house.  Or offer a ride to someone whose car is broken down on the side of the road.  These things tell me that you're a good person.

I don't think all Trump supporters are Nazis.  I think they're misguided and misinformed.  And I don't think all Democrats are Mother Teresa or Francis of Assisi.  Nobody is perfect.  Least of all, me.  It's the striving to do what is right and just that makes a person "good."  It's when we make blanket generalizations that we get into trouble.  Illegal immigrants aren't rapists and drug dealers because they are illegal immigrants.  Republicans don't represent family values because they are Republicans.  And Democrats don't hold a monopoly on standing up for the working class because they are Democrats.  It's not that easy.

I don't dislike Donald Trump because he is Republican.  I don't dislike him because he calls himself a conservative.  I don't support Donald Trump because his actions have shown to me that his values and my values are diametrically opposed.  As I said a little while ago, actions always speak louder than words.  If Donald Trump suddenly supported universal healthcare and women's rights, if he stopped talking about building walls and started talking about fixing roads, I would probably start supporting him and his agenda.  The chances of that happening are about as slim as me being named "Sexiest Man Alive" by People Magazine.

Saint Marty is thankful tonight for the people who helped rescue 12 young boys and their soccer coach from a water-filled cave in Thailand these last three days.  They truly are making the world a better place. 


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