AMBERGRIS.
Now this ambergris is a very curious substance, and so important as
an article of commerce, that in 1791 a certain Nantucket-born Captain
Coffin was examined at the bar of the English House of Commons on that
subject. For at that time, and indeed until a comparatively late day,
the precise origin of ambergris remained, like amber itself, a problem
to the learned. Though the word ambergris is but the French compound
for grey amber, yet the two substances are quite distinct. For amber,
though at times found on the sea-coast, is also dug up in some far
inland soils, whereas ambergris is never found except upon the sea.
Besides, amber is a hard, transparent, brittle, odorless substance,
used for mouth-pieces to pipes, for beads and ornaments; but ambergris
is soft, waxy, and so highly fragrant and spicy, that it is largely
used in perfumery, in pastiles, precious candles, hair-powders, and
pomatum. The Turks use it in cooking, and also carry it to Mecca, for
the same purpose that frankincense is carried to St. Peter’s in Rome.
Some wine merchants drop a few grains into claret, to flavor it.
Who would think, then, that such fine ladies and gentlemen should
regale themselves with an essence found in the inglorious bowels of
a sick whale! Yet so it is. By some, ambergris is supposed to be the
cause, and by others the effect, of the dyspepsia in the whale. How
to cure such a dyspepsia it were hard to say, unless by administering
three or four boat loads of Brandreth’s pills, and then running out of
harm’s way, as laborers do in blasting rocks.
I have forgotten to say that there were found in this ambergris,
certain hard, round, bony plates, which at first Stubb thought might be
sailors’ trousers buttons; but it afterwards turned out that they were
nothing more than pieces of small squid bones embalmed in that manner.
Now that the incorruption of this most fragrant ambergris should be
found in the heart of such decay; is this nothing? Bethink thee of that
saying of St. Paul in Corinthians, about corruption and incorruption;
how that we are sown in dishonor, but raised in glory. And likewise
call to mind that saying of Paracelsus about what it is that maketh
the best musk. Also forget not the strange fact that of all things of
ill-savor, Cologne-water, in its rudimental manufacturing stages, is
the worst.
I should like to conclude the chapter with the above appeal, but
cannot, owing to my anxiety to repel a charge often made against
whalemen, and which, in the estimation of some already biased minds,
might be considered as indirectly substantiated by what has been
said of the Frenchman’s two whales. Elsewhere in this volume the
slanderous aspersion has been disproved, that the vocation of whaling
is throughout a slatternly, untidy business. But there is another thing
to rebut. They hint that all whales always smell bad. Now how did this
odious stigma originate?
I opine, that it is plainly traceable to the first arrival of the
Greenland whaling ships in London, more than two centuries ago. Because
those whalemen did not then, and do not now, try out their oil at
sea as the Southern ships have always done; but cutting up the fresh
blubber in small bits, thrust it through the bung holes of large
casks, and carry it home in that manner; the shortness of the season
in those Icy Seas, and the sudden and violent storms to which they are
exposed, forbidding any other course. The consequence is, that upon
breaking into the hold, and unloading one of these whale cemeteries,
in the Greenland dock, a savor is given forth somewhat similar to that
arising from excavating an old city grave-yard, for the foundations of
a Lying-in Hospital.
I partly surmise also, that this wicked charge against whalers may be
likewise imputed to the existence on the coast of Greenland, in former
times, of a Dutch village called Schmerenburgh or Smeerenberg, which
latter name is the one used by the learned Fogo Von Slack, in his great
work on Smells, a textbook on that subject. As its name imports (smeer,
fat; berg, to put up), this village was founded in order to afford a
place for the blubber of the Dutch whale fleet to be tried out, without
being taken home to Holland for that purpose. It was a collection of
furnaces, fat-kettles, and oil sheds; and when the works were in full
operation certainly gave forth no very pleasant savor. But all this is
quite different with a South Sea Sperm Whaler; which in a voyage of
four years perhaps, after completely filling her hold with oil, does
not, perhaps, consume fifty days in the business of boiling out; and in
the state that it is casked, the oil is nearly scentless. The truth is,
that living or dead, if but decently treated, whales as a species are
by no means creatures of ill odor; nor can whalemen be recognised, as
the people of the middle ages affected to detect a Jew in the company,
by the nose. Nor indeed can the whale possibly be otherwise than
fragrant, when, as a general thing, he enjoys such high health; taking
abundance of exercise; always out of doors; though, it is true, seldom
in the open air. I say, that the motion of a Sperm Whale’s flukes above
water dispenses a perfume, as when a musk-scented lady rustles her
dress in a warm parlor. What then shall I liken the Sperm Whale to for
fragrance, considering his magnitude? Must it not be to that famous
elephant, with jewelled tusks, and redolent with myrrh, which was led
out of an Indian town to do honor to Alexander the Great?