To our less philosophical3 readers, for example, it is now clear that the so passionate4 Teufelsdrockh precipitated5 through “a shivered Universe” in this extraordinary way, has only one of three things which he can next do: Establish himself in Bedlam6; begin writing Satanic Poetry; or blow out his brains. In the progress towards any of which consummations, do not such readers anticipate extravagance enough; breast-beating, brow-beating (against walls), lion-bellowings of blasphemy7 and the like, stampings, smitings, breakages of furniture, if not arson8 itself?
Nowise so does Teufelsdrockh deport9 him. He quietly lifts his Pilgerstab (Pilgrim-staff), “old business being soon wound up;” and begins a perambulation and circumambulation of the terraqueous Globe! Curious it is, indeed, how with such vivacity10 of conception, such intensity11 of feeling, above all, with these unconscionable habits of Exaggeration in speech, he combines that wonderful stillness of his, that stoicism in external procedure. Thus, if his sudden bereavement13, in this matter of the Flower-goddess, is talked of as a real Doomsday and Dissolution of Nature, in which light doubtless it partly appeared to himself, his own nature is nowise dissolved thereby14; but rather is compressed closer. For once, as we might say, a Blumine by magic appliances has unlocked that shut heart of his, and its hidden things rush out tumultuous, boundless15, like genii enfranchised16 from their glass vial: but no sooner are your magic appliances withdrawn17, than the strange casket of a heart springs to again; and perhaps there is now no key extant that will open it; for a Teufelsdrockh as we remarked, will not love a second time. Singular Diogenes! No sooner has that heart-rending occurrence fairly taken place, than he affects to regard it as a thing natural, of which there is nothing more to be said. “One highest hope, seemingly legible in the eyes of an Angel, had recalled him as out of Death-shadows into celestial18 Life: but a gleam of Tophet passed over the face of his Angel; he was rapt away in whirlwinds, and heard the laughter of Demons19. It was a Calenture,” adds he, “whereby the Youth saw green Paradise-groves20 in the waste Ocean-waters: a lying vision, yet not wholly a lie, for he saw it.” But what things soever passed in him, when he ceased to see it; what ragings and despairings soever Teufelsdrockh’s soul was the scene of, he has the goodness to conceal21 under a quite opaque22 cover of Silence. We know it well; the first mad paroxysm past, our brave Gneschen collected his dismembered philosophies, and buttoned himself together; he was meek23, silent, or spoke24 of the weather and the Journals: only by a transient knitting of those shaggy brows, by some deep flash of those eyes, glancing one knew not whether with tear-dew or with fierce fire, — might you have guessed what a Gehenna was within: that a whole Satanic School were spouting25, though inaudibly, there. To consume your own choler, as some chimneys consume their own smoke; to keep a whole Satanic School spouting, if it must spout26, inaudibly, is a negative yet no slight virtue27, nor one of the commonest in these times.
Nevertheless, we will not take upon us to say, that in the strange measure he fell upon, there was not a touch of latent Insanity28; whereof indeed the actual condition of these Documents in Capricornus and Aquarius is no bad emblem29. His so unlimited30 Wanderings, toilsome enough, are without assigned or perhaps assignable aim; internal Unrest seems his sole guidance; he wanders, wanders, as if that curse of the Prophet had fallen on him, and he were “made like unto a wheel.” Doubtless, too, the chaotic31 nature of these Paper-bags aggravates32 our obscurity. Quite without note of preparation, for example, we come upon the following slip: “A peculiar33 feeling it is that will rise in the Traveller, when turning some hill-range in his desert road, he descries34 lying far below, embosomed among its groves and green natural bulwarks36, and all diminished to a toy-box, the fair Town, where so many souls, as it were seen and yet unseen, are driving their multifarious traffic. Its white steeple is then truly a starward-pointing finger; the canopy37 of blue smoke seems like a sort of Lifebreath: for always, of its own unity38, the soul gives unity to whatsoever39 it looks on with love; thus does the little Dwelling40-place of men, in itself a congeries of houses and huts, become for us an individual, almost a person. But what thousand other thoughts unite thereto, if the place has to ourselves been the arena41 of joyous42 or mournful experiences; if perhaps the cradle we were rocked in still stands there, if our Loving ones still dwell there, if our Buried ones there slumber43!” Does Teufelsdrockh as the wounded eagle is said to make for its own eyrie, and indeed military deserters, and all hunted outcast creatures, turn as if by instinct in the direction of their birthland, — fly first, in this extremity44, towards his native Entepfuhl; but reflecting that there no help awaits him, take only one wistful look from the distance, and then wend elsewhither?
Little happier seems to be his next flight: into the wilds of Nature; as if in her mother-bosom35 he would seek healing. So at least we incline to interpret the following Notice, separated from the former by some considerable space, wherein, however, is nothing noteworthy:—
“Mountains were not new to him; but rarely are Mountains seen in such combined majesty45 and grace as here. The rocks are of that sort called Primitive46 by the mineralogists, which always arrange themselves in masses of a rugged47, gigantic character; which ruggedness48, however, is here tempered by a singular airiness of form, and softness of environment: in a climate favorable to vegetation, the gray cliff, itself covered with lichens49, shoots up through a garment of foliage50 or verdure; and white, bright cottages, tree-shaded, cluster round the everlasting51 granite52. In fine vicissitude53, Beauty alternates with Grandeur54: you ride through stony55 hollows, along strait passes, traversed by torrents56, overhung by high walls of rock; now winding57 amid broken shaggy chasms58, and huge fragments; now suddenly emerging into some emerald valley, where the streamlet collects itself into a Lake, and man has again found a fair dwelling, and it seems as if Peace had established herself in the bosom of Strength.
“To Peace, however, in this vortex of existence, can the Son of Time not pretend: still less if some Spectre haunt him from the Past; and the Future is wholly a Stygian Darkness, spectre-bearing. Reasonably might the Wanderer exclaim to himself: Are not the gates of this world’s happiness inexorably shut against thee; hast thou a hope that is not mad? Nevertheless, one may still murmur59 audibly, or in the original Greek if that suit thee better: ‘Whoso can look on Death will start at no shadows.’
“From such meditations60 is the Wanderer’s attention called outwards61; for now the Valley closes in abruptly62, intersected by a huge mountain mass, the stony water-worn ascent63 of which is not to be accomplished64 on horseback. Arrived aloft, he finds himself again lifted into the evening sunset light; and cannot but pause, and gaze round him, some moments there. An upland irregular expanse of wold, where valleys in complex branchings are suddenly or slowly arranging their descent towards every quarter of the sky. The mountain-ranges are beneath your feet, and folded together: only the loftier summits look down here and there as on a second plain; lakes also lie clear and earnest in their solitude65. No trace of man now visible; unless indeed it were he who fashioned that little visible link of Highway, here, as would seem, scaling the inaccessible66, to unite Province with Province. But sunwards, lo you! how it towers sheer up, a world of Mountains, the diadem67 and centre of the mountain region! A hundred and a hundred savage68 peaks, in the last light of Day; all glowing, of gold and amethyst69, like giant spirits of the wilderness70; there in their silence, in their solitude, even as on the night when Noah’s Deluge71 first dried! Beautiful, nay72 solemn, was the sudden aspect to our Wanderer. He gazed over those stupendous masses with wonder, almost with longing73 desire; never till this hour had he known Nature, that she was One, that she was his Mother and divine. And as the ruddy glow was fading into clearness in the sky, and the Sun had now departed, a murmur of Eternity74 and Immensity, of Death and of Life, stole through his soul; and he felt as if Death and Life were one, as if the Earth were not dead, as if the Spirit of the Earth had its throne in that splendor75, and his own spirit were therewith holding communion.
“The spell was broken by a sound of carriage-wheels. Emerging from the hidden Northward76, to sink soon into the hidden Southward, came a gay Barouche-and-four: it was open; servants and postilions wore wedding favors: that happy pair, then, had found each other, it was their marriage evening! Few moments brought them near: Du Himmel! It was Herr Towgood and — Blumine! With slight unrecognizing salutation they passed me; plunged77 down amid the neighboring thickets78, onwards, to Heaven, and to England; and I, in my friend Richter’s words, I remained alone, behind them, with the Night.”
Were it not cruel in these circumstances, here might be the place to insert an observation, gleaned80 long ago from the great Clothes–Volume, where it stands with quite other intent: “Some time before Small-pox was extirpated,” says the Professor, “there came a new malady81 of the spiritual sort on Europe: I mean the epidemic82, now endemical, of View-hunting. Poets of old date, being privileged with Senses, had also enjoyed external Nature; but chiefly as we enjoy the crystal cup which holds good or bad liquor for us; that is to say, in silence, or with slight incidental commentary: never, as I compute83, till after the Sorrows of Werter, was there man found who would say: Come let us make a Description! Having drunk the liquor, come let us eat the glass! Of which endemic the Jenner is unhappily still to seek.” Too true!
We reckon it more important to remark that the Professor’s Wanderings, so far as his stoical and cynical84 envelopment85 admits us to clear insight, here first take their permanent character, fatuous86 or not. That Basilisk-glance of the Barouche-and-four seems to have withered87 up what little remnant of a purpose may have still lurked88 in him: Life has become wholly a dark labyrinth89; wherein, through long years, our Friend, flying from spectres, has to stumble about at random90, and naturally with more haste than progress.
Foolish were it in us to attempt following him, even from afar, in this extraordinary world-pilgrimage of his; the simplest record of which, were clear record possible, would fill volumes. Hopeless is the obscurity, unspeakable the confusion. He glides91 from country to country, from condition to condition; vanishing and reappearing, no man can calculate how or where. Through all quarters of the world he wanders, and apparently92 through all circles of society. If in any scene, perhaps difficult to fix geographically93, he settles for a time, and forms connections, be sure he will snap them abruptly asunder94. Let him sink out of sight as Private Scholar (Privatsirender), living by the grace of God in some European capital, you may next find him as Hadjee in the neighborhood of Mecca. It is an inexplicable95 Phantasmagoria, capricious, quick-changing; as if our Traveller, instead of limbs and highways, had transported himself by some wishing-carpet, or Fortunatus’ Hat. The whole, too, imparted emblematically96, in dim multifarious tokens (as that collection of Street–Advertisements); with only some touch of direct historical notice sparingly interspersed97: little light-islets in the world of haze98! So that, from this point, the Professor is more of an enigma99 than ever. In figurative language, we might say he becomes, not indeed a spirit, yet spiritualized, vaporized. Fact unparalleled in Biography: The river of his History, which we have traced from its tiniest fountains, and hoped to see flow onward79, with increasing current, into the ocean, here dashes itself over that terrific Lover’s Leap; and, as a mad-foaming cataract100, flies wholly into tumultuous clouds of spray! Low down it indeed collects again into pools and plashes; yet only at a great distance, and with difficulty, if at all, into a general stream. To cast a glance into certain of those pools and plashes, and trace whither they run, must, for a chapter or two, form the limit of our endeavor.
For which end doubtless those direct historical Notices, where they can be met with, are the best. Nevertheless, of this sort too there occurs much, which, with our present light, it were questionable101 to emit. Teufelsdrockh vibrating everywhere between the highest and the lowest levels, comes into contact with public History itself. For example, those conversations and relations with illustrious Persons, as Sultan Mahmoud, the Emperor Napoleon, and others, are they not as yet rather of a diplomatic character than of a biographic? The Editor, appreciating the sacredness of crowned heads, nay perhaps suspecting the possible trickeries of a Clothes–Philosopher, will eschew102 this province for the present; a new time may bring new insight and a different duty.
If we ask now, not indeed with what ulterior Purpose, for there was none, yet with what immediate103 outlooks; at all events, in what mood of mind, the Professor undertook and prosecuted104 this world-pilgrimage, — the answer is more distinct than favorable. “A nameless Unrest,” says he, “urged me forward; to which the outward motion was some momentary105 lying solace106. Whither should I go? My Loadstars were blotted107 out; in that canopy of grim fire shone no star. Yet forward must I; the ground burnt under me; there was no rest for the sole of my foot. I was alone, alone! Ever too the strong inward longing shaped Phantasms for itself: towards these, one after the other, must I fruitlessly wander. A feeling I had, that for my fever-thirst there was and must be somewhere a healing Fountain. To many fondly imagined Fountains, the Saints’ Wells of these days, did I pilgrim; to great Men, to great Cities, to great Events: but found there no healing. In strange countries, as in the well-known; in savage deserts, as in the press of corrupt108 civilization, it was ever the same: how could your Wanderer escape from — his own Shadow? Nevertheless still Forward! I felt as if in great haste; to do I saw not what. From the depths of my own heart, it called to me, Forwards! The winds and the streams, and all Nature sounded to me, Forwards! Ach Gott, I was even, once for all, a Son of Time.”
From which is it not clear that the internal Satanic School was still active enough? He says elsewhere: “The Enchiridion of Epictetus I had ever with me, often as my sole rational companion; and regret to mention that the nourishment109 it yielded was trifling110.” Thou foolish Teufelsdrockh How could it else? Hadst thou not Greek enough to understand thus much: The end of Man is an Action, and not a Thought, though it were the noblest?
“How I lived?” writes he once: “Friend, hast thou considered the ‘rugged all-nourishing Earth,’ as Sophocles well names her; how she feeds the sparrow on the house-top, much more her darling, man? While thou stirrest and livest, thou hast a probability of victual. My breakfast of tea has been cooked by a Tartar woman, with water of the Amur, who wiped her earthen kettle with a horse-tail. I have roasted wild eggs in the sand of Sahara; I have awakened111 in Paris Estrapades and Vienna Malzleins, with no prospect112 of breakfast beyond elemental liquid. That I had my Living to seek saved me from Dying, — by suicide. In our busy Europe, is there not an everlasting demand for Intellect, in the chemical, mechanical, political, religious, educational, commercial departments? In Pagan countries, cannot one write Fetishes? Living! Little knowest thou what alchemy is in an inventive Soul; how, as with its little finger, it can create provision enough for the body (of a Philosopher); and then, as with both hands, create quite other than provision; namely, spectres to torment113 itself withal.”
Poor Teufelsdrockh! Flying with Hunger always parallel to him; and a whole Infernal Chase in his rear; so that the countenance114 of Hunger is comparatively a friend’s! Thus must he, in the temper of ancient Cain, or of the modern Wandering Jew, — save only that he feels himself not guilty and but suffering the pains of guilt115, — wend to and fro with aimless speed. Thus must he, over the whole surface of the Earth (by footprints), write his Sorrows of Teufelsdrockh; even as the great Goethe, in passionate words, had to write his Sorrows of Werter, before the spirit freed herself, and he could become a Man. Vain truly is the hope of your swiftest Runner to escape “from his own Shadow”! Nevertheless, in these sick days, when the Born of Heaven first descries himself (about the age of twenty) in a world such as ours, richer than usual in two things, in Truths grown obsolete116, and Trades grown obsolete, — what can the fool think but that it is all a Den12 of Lies, wherein whoso will not speak Lies and act Lies, must stand idle and despair? Whereby it happens that, for your nobler minds, the publishing of some such Work of Art, in one or the other dialect, becomes almost a necessity. For what is it properly but an Altercation117 with the Devil, before you begin honestly Fighting him? Your Byron publishes his Sorrows of Lord George, in verse and in prose, and copiously118 otherwise: your Bonaparte represents his Sorrows of Napoleon Opera, in an all-too stupendous style; with music of cannon-volleys, and murder-shrieks of a world; his stage-lights are the fires of Conflagration119; his rhyme and recitative are the tramp of embattled Hosts and the sound of falling Cities. — Happier is he who, like our Clothes–Philosopher, can write such matter, since it must be written, on the insensible Earth, with his shoe-soles only; and also survive the writing thereof!
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1
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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deport
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| vt.驱逐出境 | |
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vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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enfranchised
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| v.给予选举权( enfranchise的过去式和过去分词 )；（从奴隶制中）解放 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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conceal
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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spouting
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| n.水落管系统v.（指液体）喷出( spout的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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aggravates
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| 使恶化( aggravate的第三人称单数 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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descries
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bosom
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bulwarks
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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ruggedness
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| 险峻，粗野； 耐久性； 坚固性 | |
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lichens
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| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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vicissitude
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| n.变化，变迁，荣枯，盛衰 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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59
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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60
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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61
outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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63
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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64
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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67
diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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68
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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69
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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70
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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71
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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72
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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73
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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74
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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77
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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80
gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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81
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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epidemic
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| n.流行病；盛行；adj.流行性的，流传极广的 | |
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83
compute
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| v./n.计算，估计 | |
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84
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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85
envelopment
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| n.包封，封套 | |
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86
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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87
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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90
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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93
geographically
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| adv.地理学上，在地理上，地理方面 | |
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94
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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emblematically
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| 标志的，象征的，典型的 | |
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interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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98
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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99
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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100
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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101
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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102
eschew
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| v.避开，戒绝 | |
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103
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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104
prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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105
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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106
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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107
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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108
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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109
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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110
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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111
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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112
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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113
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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114
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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115
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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116
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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117
altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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118
copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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119
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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