no money; at last indignantly dismissed, almost thrown out of doors, as an 'Ideologist.' 'He himself,' says the Professor, 'was among the completest Ideologists, at least Ideopraxists:2 in the Idea (in der Idee) he lived, moved and fought. The man was a Divine Missionary, though unconscious of it; and preached, through the cannon's throat, that great doctrine, La carriere ouverte aux talens3 (The Tools to him that can handle them), which is our ultimate Political Evan- gel,4 wherein alone can liberty lie. Madly enough he preached, it is true, as Enthusiasts5 and first Missionaries are wont, with imperfect utterance, amid
6. Napoleon reduced some of Europe's kings to the status of mere tax collectors for his regime. 7. As manifested in the revolutionary outbreaks in France (1789 and 1830) and in the agitations in England preceding the Reform Bill of 1832. 8. Where Goethe (1749-1832) and Schiller (1759-1805) met during the 1790s when they were collaborating on their writings. 9. I.e., poets, whose excellence is recognized with a crown of laurel. I. In China a secret revolutionary society (and therefore like the early-18th-century Carbonari in Italy, France, and Spain) during the regime of Emperor Tarakwang (Tao-kuang, 1821?50). George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824), English poet and champion of liberty. Pope Pius VII (1742-1823; pope, 1800-23) crowned Napoleon in 1804 but later came to oppose him; he also suppressed the Carbonari.
2. Those who put ideas into practice. 3. Literally, the career open to talent (French), a maxim associated with Napoleon. 4. Gospel; good news. 5. Religious fanatics.
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much frothy rant; yet as articulately perhaps as the case admitted. Or call him, if you will, an American Backwoodsman, who had to fell unpenetrated forests, and battle with innumerable wolves, and did not entirely forbear strong liquor, rioting, and even theft; whom, notwithstanding, the peaceful Sower will follow, and, as he cuts the boundless harvest, bless.'
More legitimate and decisively authentic is Teufelsdrockh's appearance and emergence (we know not well whence) in the solitude of the North Cape, on that June Midnight. He has a 'light-blue Spanish cloak' hanging round him, as his 'most commodious, principal, indeed sole upper-garment'; and stands there, on the World-promontory, looking over the infinite Brine, like a little blue Belfry (as we figure), now motionless indeed, yet ready, if stirred, to ring quaintest changes.
'Silence as of death,' writes he; 'for Midnight, even in the Arctic latitudes, has its character: nothing but the granite cliffs ruddy-tinged, the peaceable gurgle of that slow-heaving Polar Ocean, over which in the utmost North the great Sun hangs low and lazy, as if he too were slumbering. Yet is his cloud- couch wrought of crimson and cloth-of-gold; yet does his light stream over the mirror of waters, like a tremulous fire-pillar, shooting downwards to the abyss, and hide itself under my feet. In such moments, Solitude also is invaluable; for who would speak, or be looked on, when behind him lies all Europe and Africa, fast asleep, except the watchmen; and before him the silent Immensity, and Palace of the Eternal, whereof our Sun is but a porch-lamp?
'Nevertheless, in this solemn moment comes a man, or monster, scrambling from among the rock-hollows; and, shaggy, huge as the Hyperborean6 Bear, hails me in Russian speech: most probably, therefore, a Russian Smuggler. With courteous brevity, I signify my indifference to contraband trade, my humane intentions, yet strong wish to be private. In vain: the monster, counting doubtless on his superior stature, and minded to make sport for himself, or perhaps profit, were it with murder, continues to advance; ever assailing me with his importunate train- oil7 breath; and now has advanced, till we stand both on the verge of the rock, the deep Sea rippling greedily down below. What argument will avail? On the thick Hyperborean, cherubic reasoning, seraphic eloquence were lost. Prepared for such extremity, I, deftly enough, whisk aside one step; draw out, from my interior reservoirs, a sufficient Birmingham Horse-pistol, and say, 'Be so obliging as retire, Friend (Er ziehe sich zuriick, Freund), and with promptitude!' This logic even the Hyperborean understands: fast enough, with apologetic, petitionary growl, he sidles off; and, except for suicidal as well as homicidal purposes, need not return.
'Such I hold to be the genuine use of Gunpowder: that it makes all men alike tall.8 Nay, if thou be cooler, cleverer than I, if thou have more Mind, though all but no Body whatever, then canst thou kill me first, and are the taller. Hereby, at last, is the Goliath powerless, and the David resistless;9 savage Animalism is nothing, inventive Spiritualism is all.
'With respect to Duels, indeed, I have my own ideas. Few things, in this so surprising world, strike me with more surprise. Two little visual Spectra of men, hovering with insecure enough cohesion in the midst of the UNFATH OMABLE, and to dissolve therein, at any rate, very soon,?make pause at the distance of twelve paces asunder; whirl round; and, simultaneously by the
6. From the far North. pion of the Philistines, and the young Israelite 7. Whale oil. David, who killed him with a slingshot, see 1 Sam8. Brave; strong. uel 17. 9. For the fight between Goliath, the huge cham
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cunningest mechanism, explode one another into Dissolution; and off-hand become Air, and Nonextant! Deuce on it (verdammt), the little spitfires!?Nay, 1 think with old Hugo von Trimberg:1 'God must needs laugh outright, could such a thing be, to see his wondrous Manikins here below.' '
But amid these specialties, let us not forget the great generality, which is our Chief guest here: How prospered the inner man of Teufelsdrockh under so much outward shifting? Does Legion2 still lurk in him, though repressed; or has he exorcised that Devil's Brood? We can answer that the symptoms continue promising. Experience is the grand spiritual Doctor; and with him Teufelsdrockh has been long a patient, swallowing many a bitter bolus.3 Unless our poor Friend belong to the numerous class of Incurables, which seems not likely, some cure will doubtless be effected. We should rather say that Legion, or the Satanic School, was now pretty well extirpated and cast out, but next to nothing introduced in its room; whereby the heart remains, for the while, in a quiet but no comfortable state.
'At length, after so much roasting,' thus writes our Autobiographer, 'I was what you might name calcined. Pray only that it be not rather, as is the more frequent issue, reduced to a caputmortuuml4 But in any case, by mere dint of practice, I had grown familiar with many things. Wretchedness was still wretched; but I could now partly see through it, and despise it. Which highest mortal, in this inane Existence, had I not found a Shadow-hunter, or Shadow- hunted; and, when I looked through his brave garnitures, miserable enough? Thy wishes have all been sniffed aside, thought I: but what, had they ever been all granted! Did not the Boy Alexander weep because he had not two Planets to conquer;5 or a whole Solar System; or after that, a whole Universe? Ach Gott, when I gazed into these Stars, have they not looked-down on me as if with pity, from their serene spaces; like Eyes glistening with heavenly tears over the little lot of man! Thousands of human generations, all as noisy as our own, have been swallowed-up of6 Time, and there remains no wreck' of them any more; and Arcturus and Orion and Sirius and the Pleiades are still shining in their courses, clear and young, as when the Shepherd first noted them in the plain of Shinar.8 Pshaw! what is this paltry little Dog-cage9 of an Earth; what art thou that sittest whining there? Thou art still Nothing, Nobody: true; but who, then, is Something, Somebody? For thee the Family of Man has no use; it rejects thee; thou art wholly as a dissevered limb: so be it; perhaps it is better so!'
