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Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

Chapter 26: CHAPTER 25
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About This Book

The narrative follows a reflective sailor who signs aboard a whaling vessel and recounts life at sea as the ship pursues a legendary white whale driven by an obsessed captain. Interweaving episodic storytelling, technical exposition on cetology and whaling, and philosophical digressions, the book examines obsession, fate, human hubris, and the natural world, portraying the whalemen's daily labor and the vast, indifferent ocean. The voyage builds toward a climactic confrontation that results in catastrophe, leaving the narrator as the sole survivor and transforming the expedition into a meditation on mortality and the limits of human knowledge.

CHAPTER 25

Postscript

In behalf of the dignity of whaling, I would fain advance naught but substantiated facts. But after embattling his facts, an advocate who should wholly suppress a not unreasonable surmise, which might tell eloquently upon his cause—such an advocate, would he not be blame-worthy?

It is well known that at the coronation of kings and queens, even modern ones, a certain curious process of seasoning them for their functions is gone through. There is a saltcellar of state, so called, and there may be a caster of state. How they use the salt, precisely—who knows? Certain I am, however, that a king's head is solemnly oiled at his coronation, even as a head of salad. Can it be, though, that they anoint it with a view of making its interior run well, as they anoint machinery? Much might be ruminated here, concerning the essential dignity of this regal process, because in common life we esteem but meanly and contemptibly a fellow who anoints his hair, and palpably smells of that anointing. In truth, a mature man who uses hairoil, unless medicinally, that man has probably got a quoggy spot in him somewhere. As a general rule, he can't amount to much in his totality.

But the only thing to be considered here is this—what kind of oil is used at coronations? Certainly it cannot be olive oil, nor macassar oil, nor castor oil, nor bear's oil, nor train oil, nor cod-liver oil. What then can it possibly be, but the sperm oil in its unmanufactured, unpolluted state, the sweetest of all oils?

Think of that, ye loyal Britons! we whalemen supply your kings and queens with coronation stuff!