- end_line
- 14264
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-23T15:41:04.757Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 14217
- text
- dragon of the sea,” saith Ezekiel; hereby, plainly meaning a whale; in
truth, some versions of the Bible use that word itself. Besides, it
would much subtract from the glory of the exploit had St. George but
encountered a crawling reptile of the land, instead of doing battle
with the great monster of the deep. Any man may kill a snake, but only
a Perseus, a St. George, a Coffin, have the heart in them to march
boldly up to a whale.
Let not the modern paintings of this scene mislead us; for though the
creature encountered by that valiant whaleman of old is vaguely
represented of a griffin-like shape, and though the battle is depicted
on land and the saint on horseback, yet considering the great ignorance
of those times, when the true form of the whale was unknown to artists;
and considering that as in Perseus’ case, St. George’s whale might have
crawled up out of the sea on the beach; and considering that the animal
ridden by St. George might have been only a large seal, or sea-horse;
bearing all this in mind, it will not appear altogether incompatible
with the sacred legend and the ancientest draughts of the scene, to
hold this so-called dragon no other than the great Leviathan himself.
In fact, placed before the strict and piercing truth, this whole story
will fare like that fish, flesh, and fowl idol of the Philistines,
Dagon by name; who being planted before the ark of Israel, his horse’s
head and both the palms of his hands fell off from him, and only the
stump or fishy part of him remained. Thus, then, one of our own noble
stamp, even a whaleman, is the tutelary guardian of England; and by
good rights, we harpooneers of Nantucket should be enrolled in the most
noble order of St. George. And therefore, let not the knights of that
honorable company (none of whom, I venture to say, have ever had to do
with a whale like their great patron), let them never eye a Nantucketer
with disdain, since even in our woollen frocks and tarred trowsers we
are much better entitled to St. George’s decoration than they.
Whether to admit Hercules among us or not, concerning this I long
remained dubious: for though according to the Greek mythologies, that
antique Crockett and Kit Carson—that brawny doer of rejoicing good
deeds, was swallowed down and thrown up by a whale; still, whether that
strictly makes a whaleman of him, that might be mooted. It nowhere
appears that he ever actually harpooned his fish, unless, indeed, from
the inside. Nevertheless, he may be deemed a sort of involuntary
whaleman; at any rate the whale caught him, if he did not the whale. I
claim him for one of our clan.
But, by the best contradictory authorities, this Grecian story of
Hercules and the whale is considered to be derived from the still more
ancient Hebrew story of Jonah and the whale; and vice versâ; certainly
they are very similar. If I claim the demi-god then, why not the
prophet?
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- Chunk 19