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1Second: To the native Indian of Peru, the continual sight of the snow-howdahed Andes conveys naught of dread, except,
2perhaps, in the mere fancying of the eternal frosted desolateness reigning at such vast altitudes, and the natural
3conceit of what a fearfulness it would be to lose oneself in such inhuman solitudes. Much the same is it with the
4backwoodsman of the West, who with comparative indifference views an unbounded prairie sheeted with driven snow, no
5shadow of tree or twig to break the fixed trance of whiteness. Not so the sailor, beholding the scenery of the Antarctic
6seas; where at times, by some infernal trick of legerdemain in the powers of frost and air, he, shivering and half
7shipwrecked, instead of rainbows speaking hope and solace to his misery, views what seems a boundless churchyard
8grinning upon him with its lean ice monuments and splintered crosses. But thou sayest, methinks that white-lead chapter
9about whiteness is but a white flag hung out from a craven soul; thou surrenderest to a hypo, Ishmael. Tell me, why this
10strong young colt, foaled in some peaceful valley of Vermont, far removed from all beasts of prey--why is it that upon
11the sunniest day, if you but shake a fresh buffalo robe behind him, so that he cannot even see it, but only smells its
12wild animal muskiness--why will he start, snort, and with bursting eyes paw the ground in phrensies of affright? There
13is no remembrance in him of any gorings of wild creatures in his green northern home, so that the strange muskiness he
14smells cannot recall to him anything associated with the experience of former perils; for what knows he, this New
15England colt, of the black bisons of distant Oregon? No: but here thou beholdest even in a dumb brute, the instinct of
16the knowledge of the demonism in the world. Though thousands of miles from Oregon, still when he smells that savage
17musk, the rending, goring bison herds are as present as to the deserted wild foal of the prairies, which this instant
18they may be trampling into dust. Thus, then, the muffled rollings of a milky sea; the bleak rustlings of the festooned
19frosts of mountains; the desolate shiftings of the windrowed snows of prairies; all these, to Ishmael, are as the
20shaking of that buffalo robe to the frightened colt! Though neither knows where lie the nameless things of which the
21mystic sign gives forth such hints; yet with me, as with the colt, somewhere those things must exist. Though in many of
22its aspects this visible world seems formed in love, the invisible spheres were formed in fright. But not yet have we
23solved the incantation of this whiteness, and learned why it appeals with such power to the soul; and more strange and
24far more portentous--why, as we have seen, it is at once the most meaning symbol of spiritual things, nay, the very veil
25of the Christian's Deity; and yet should be as it is, the intensifying agent in things the most appalling to mankind. Is
26it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us
27from behind with the thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the milky way? Or is it, that as in
28essence whiteness is not so much a colour as the visible absence of colour; and at the same time the concrete of all
29colours; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows--a
30colourless, all-colour of atheism from which we shrink? And when we consider that other theory of the natural
31philosophers, that all other earthly hues--every stately or lovely emblazoning--the sweet tinges of sunset skies and
32woods; yea, and the gilded velvets of butterflies, and the butterfly cheeks of young girls; all these are but subtile
33deceits, not actually inherent in substances, but only laid on from without; so that all deified Nature absolutely
34paints like the harlot, whose allurements cover nothing but the charnel-house within; and when we proceed further, and
35consider that the mystical cosmetic which produces every one of her hues, the great principle of light, for ever remains
36white or colorless in itself, and if operating without medium upon matter, would touch all objects, even tulips and
37roses, with its own blank tinge--pondering all this, the palsied universe lies before us a leper; and like wilful
38travellers in Lapland, who refuse to wear coloured and colouring glasses upon their eyes, so the wretched infidel gazes
39himself blind at the monumental white shroud that wraps all the prospect around him. And of all these things the Albino
40whale was the symbol. Wonder ye then at the fiery hunt?
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