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- CHAPTER LXXXV.
THE GREAT MASSACRE OF THE BEARDS.
The preceding chapter fitly paves the way for the present, wherein it
sadly befalls White-Jacket to chronicle a calamitous event, which
filled the Neversink with long lamentations, that echo through all her
decks and tops. After dwelling upon our redundant locks and
thrice-noble beards, fain would I cease, and let the sequel remain
undisclosed, but truth and fidelity forbid.
As I now deviously hover and lingeringly skirmish about the frontiers
of this melancholy recital, a feeling of sadness comes over me that I
cannot withstand. Such a heartless massacre of hair! Such a
Bartholomew’s Day and Sicilian Vespers of assassinated beards! Ah! who
would believe it! With intuitive sympathy I feel of my own brown beard
while I write, and thank my kind stars that each precious hair is for
ever beyond the reach of the ruthless barbers of a man-of-war!
It needs that this sad and most serious matter should be faithfully
detailed. Throughout the cruise, many of the officers had expressed
their abhorrence of the impunity with which the most extensive
plantations of hair were cultivated under their very noses; and they
frowned upon every beard with even greater dislike. They said it was
unseamanlike; not _ship-shape;_ in short, it was disgraceful to the
Navy. But as Captain Claret said nothing, and as the officers, of
themselves, had no authority to preach a crusade against whiskerandoes,
the Old Guard on the forecastle still complacently stroked their
beards, and the sweet youths of the After-guard still lovingly threaded
their fingers through their curls.
Perhaps the Captain’s generosity in thus far permitting our beards
sprung from the fact that he himself wore a small speck of a beard upon
his own imperial cheek; which if rumour said true, was to hide
something, as Plutarch relates of the Emperor Adrian. But, to do him
justice—as I always have done—the Captain’s beard did not exceed the
limits prescribed by the Navy Department.
According to a then recent ordinance at Washington, the beards of both
officers and seamen were to be accurately laid out and surveyed, and on
no account must come lower than the mouth, so as to correspond with the
Army standard—a regulation directly opposed to the theocratical law
laid down in the nineteenth chapter and twenty-seventh verse of
Leviticus, where it is expressly ordained, “_Thou shalt not mar the
corners of thy beard_.” But legislators do not always square their
statutes by those of the Bible.
At last, when we had crossed the Northern Tropic, and were standing up
to our guns at evening quarters, and when the setting sun, streaming in
at the port-holes, lit up every hair, till to an observer on the
quarter-deck, the two long, even lines of beards seemed one dense
grove; in that evil hour it must have been, that a cruel thought
entered into the heart of our Captain.
A pretty set of savages, thought he, am I taking home to America;
people will think them all catamounts and Turks. Besides, now that I
think of it, it’s against the law. It will never do. They must be
shaven and shorn—that’s flat.
There is no knowing, indeed, whether these were the very words in which
the Captain meditated that night; for it is yet a mooted point among
metaphysicians, whether we think in words or whether we think in
thoughts. But something like the above must have been the Captain’s
cogitations. At any rate, that very evening the ship’s company were
astounded by an extraordinary announcement made at the main-hatch-way
of the gun-deck, by the Boat-swain’s mate there stationed. He was
afterwards discovered to have been tipsy at the time.
“D’ye hear there, fore and aft? All you that have hair on your heads,
shave them off; and all you that have beards, trim ’em small!”
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