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- Герман Мелвилл
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- Моби Дик
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- Стр. 207/297
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It
had
cooled
and
crystallized
to
such
a
degree
,
that
when
,
with
several
others
,
I
sat
down
before
a
large
Constantine
's
bath
of
it
,
I
found
it
strangely
concreted
into
lumps
,
here
and
there
rolling
about
in
the
liquid
part
.
It
was
our
business
to
squeeze
these
lumps
back
into
fluid
.
A
sweet
and
unctuous
duty
!
No
wonder
that
in
old
times
sperm
was
such
a
favorite
cosmetic
.
Such
a
clearer
!
such
a
sweetener
!
such
a
softener
;
such
a
delicious
mollifier
!
After
having
my
hands
in
it
for
only
a
few
minutes
,
my
fingers
felt
like
eels
,
and
began
,
as
it
were
,
to
serpentine
and
spiralize
.
As
I
sat
there
at
my
ease
,
cross-legged
on
the
deck
;
after
the
bitter
exertion
at
the
windlass
;
under
a
blue
tranquil
sky
;
the
ship
under
indolent
sail
,
and
gliding
so
serenely
along
;
as
I
bathed
my
hands
among
those
soft
,
gentle
globules
of
infiltrated
tissues
,
wove
almost
within
the
hour
;
as
they
richly
broke
to
my
fingers
,
and
discharged
all
their
opulence
,
like
fully
ripe
grapes
their
wine
;
as
.
I
snuffed
up
that
uncontaminated
aroma
--
literally
and
truly
,
like
the
smell
of
spring
violets
;
I
declare
to
you
,
that
for
the
time
I
lived
as
in
a
musky
meadow
;
I
forgot
all
about
our
horrible
oath
;
in
that
inexpressible
sperm
,
I
washed
my
hands
and
my
heart
of
it
;
I
almost
began
to
credit
the
old
Paracelsan
superstition
that
sperm
is
of
rare
virtue
in
allaying
the
heat
of
anger
;
while
bathing
in
that
bath
,
I
felt
divinely
free
from
all
ill-will
,
or
petulance
,
or
malice
,
of
any
sort
whatsoever
.
Squeeze
!
squeeze
!
squeeze
!
all
the
morning
long
;
I
squeezed
that
sperm
till
I
myself
almost
melted
into
it
;
I
squeezed
that
sperm
till
a
strange
sort
of
insanity
came
over
me
;
and
I
found
myself
unwittingly
squeezing
my
co-laborers
'
hands
in
it
,
mistaking
their
hands
for
the
gentle
globules
.
Such
an
abounding
,
affectionate
,
friendly
,
loving
feeling
did
this
avocation
beget
;
that
at
last
I
was
continually
squeezing
their
hands
,
and
looking
up
into
their
eyes
sentimentally
;
as
much
as
to
say
--
Oh
!
my
dear
fellow
beings
,
why
should
we
longer
cherish
any
social
acerbities
,
or
know
the
slightest
ill-humor
or
envy
!
Come
;
let
us
squeeze
hands
all
round
;
nay
,
let
us
all
squeeze
ourselves
into
each
other
;
let
us
squeeze
ourselves
universally
into
the
very
milk
and
sperm
of
kindness
.
Would
that
I
could
keep
squeezing
that
sperm
for
ever
!
For
now
,
since
by
many
prolonged
,
repeated
experiences
,
I
have
perceived
that
in
all
cases
man
must
eventually
lower
,
or
at
least
shift
,
his
conceit
of
attainable
felicity
;
not
placing
it
anywhere
in
the
intellect
or
the
fancy
;
but
in
the
wife
,
the
heart
,
the
bed
,
the
table
,
the
saddle
,
the
fire-side
;
the
country
;
now
that
I
have
perceived
all
this
,
I
am
ready
to
squeeze
case
eternally
.
In
thoughts
of
the
visions
of
the
night
,
I
saw
long
rows
of
angels
in
paradise
,
each
with
his
hands
in
a
jar
of
spermaceti
.
Now
,
while
discoursing
of
sperm
it
behooves
to
speak
of
other
things
akin
to
it
,
in
the
business
of
preparing
the
sperm
whale
for
the
try-works
.
First
comes
white-horse
,
so
called
,
which
is
obtained
from
the
tapering
part
of
the
fish
,
and
also
from
the
thicker
portions
of
his
flukes
.
It
is
tough
with
congealed
tendons
--
a
wad
of
muscle
--
but
still
contains
some
oil
.
After
being
severed
from
the
whale
,
the
white-horse
is
first
cut
into
portable
oblongs
ere
going
to
the
mincer
.
They
look
much
like
blocks
of
Berkshire
marble
.
Plum-pudding
is
the
term
bestowed
upon
certain
fragmentary
parts
of
the
whale
's
flesh
,
here
and
there
adhering
to
the
blanket
of
blubber
,
and
often
participating
to
a
considerable
degree
in
its
unctuousness
.
It
is
a
most
refreshing
,
convivial
,
beautiful
object
to
behold
.
As
its
name
imports
,
it
is
of
an
exceedingly
rich
,
mottled
tint
,
with
a
bestreaked
snowy
and
golden
ground
,
dotted
with
spots
of
the
deepest
crimson
and
purple
.
It
is
plums
of
rubies
,
in
pictures
of
citron
.
Spite
of
reason
,
it
is
hard
to
keep
yourself
from
eating
it
.
I
confess
,
that
once
I
stole
behind
the
foremast
to
try
it
.
It
tasted
something
as
I
should
conceive
a
royal
cutlet
from
the
thigh
of
Louis
le
Gros
might
have
tasted
,
supposing
him
to
have
been
killed
the
first
day
after
the
venison
season
,
and
that
particular
venison
season
contemporary
with
an
unusually
fine
vintage
of
the
vineyards
of
Champagne
.
There
is
another
substance
,
and
a
very
singular
one
,
which
turns
up
in
the
course
of
this
business
,
but
which
I
feel
it
to
be
very
puzzling
adequately
to
describe
.
It
is
called
slobgollion
;
an
appellation
original
with
the
whalemen
,
and
even
so
is
the
nature
of
the
substance
.
It
is
an
ineffably
oozy
,
stringy
affair
,
most
frequently
found
in
the
tubs
of
sperm
,
after
a
prolonged
squeezing
,
and
subsequent
decanting
.
I
hold
it
to
be
the
wondrously
thin
,
ruptured
membranes
of
the
case
,
coalescing
.
