CENTRE OF INDIFFERENCE.
Though, after this "Baphometic Fire-baptism" of his, our Wanderer signifies
that his Unrest was but increased; as, indeed, "Indignation and Defiance,"
especially against things in general, are not the most peaceable inmates;
yet can the Psychologist surmise that it was no longer a quite hopeless
Unrest; that henceforth it had at least a fixed centre to revolve round.
For the fire-baptized soul, long so scathed and thunder-riven, here feels
its own Freedom, which feeling is its Baphometic Baptism: the citadel of
its whole kingdom it has thus gained by assault, and will keep
inexpugnable; outwards from which the remaining dominions, not indeed
without hard battling, will doubtless by degrees be conquered and
pacificated. Under another figure, we might say, if in that great moment,
in the _Rue Saint-Thomas de l'Enfer_, the old inward Satanic School was not
yet thrown out of doors, it received peremptory judicial notice to
quit;--whereby, for the rest, its howl-chantings, Ernulphus-cursings, and
rebellious gnashings of teeth, might, in the mean while, become only the
more tumultuous, and difficult to keep secret.
Accordingly, if we scrutinize these Pilgrimings well, there is perhaps
discernible henceforth a certain incipient method in their madness. Not
wholly as a Spectre does Teufelsdrockh now storm through the world; at
worst as a spectra-fighting Man, nay who will one day be a Spectre-queller.
If pilgriming restlessly to so many "Saints' Wells," and ever without
quenching of his thirst, he nevertheless finds little secular wells,
whereby from time to time some alleviation is ministered. In a word, he is
now, if not ceasing, yet intermitting to "eat his own heart;" and clutches
round him outwardly on the NOT-ME for wholesomer food. Does not the
following glimpse exhibit him in a much more natural state?
"Towns also and Cities, especially the ancient, I failed not to look upon
with interest. How beautiful to see thereby, as through a long vista, into
the remote Time; to have, as it were, an actual section of almost the
earliest Past brought safe into the Present, and set before your eyes!
There, in that old City, was a live ember of Culinary Fire put down, say
only two thousand years ago; and there, burning more or less triumphantly,
with such fuel as the region yielded, it has burnt, and still burns, and
thou thyself seest the very smoke thereof. Ah! and the far more mysterious
live ember of Vital Fire was then also put down there; and still
miraculously burns and spreads; and the smoke and ashes thereof (in these
Judgment-Halls and Churchyards), and its bellows-engines (in these
Churches), thou still seest; and its flame, looking out from every kind
countenance, and every hateful one, still warms thee or scorches thee.
"Of Man's Activity and Attainment the chief results are aeriform, mystic,
and preserved in Tradition only: such are his Forms of Government, with
the Authority they rest on; his Customs, or Fashions both of Cloth-habits
and of Soul-habits; much more his collective stock of Handicrafts, the
whole Faculty he has acquired of manipulating Nature: all these things, as
indispensable and priceless as they are, cannot in any way be fixed under
lock and key, but must flit, spirit-like, on impalpable vehicles, from
Father to Son; if you demand sight of them, they are nowhere to be met
with. Visible Ploughmen and Hammermen there have been, ever from Cain and
Tubal-cain downwards: but where does your accumulated Agricultural,
Metallurgic, and other Manufacturing SKILL lie warehoused? It transmits
itself on the atmospheric air, on the sun's rays (by Hearing and by
Vision); it is a thing aeriform, impalpable, of quite spiritual sort. In
like manner, ask me not, Where are the LAWS; where is the GOVERNMENT? In
vain wilt thou go to Schonbrunn, to Downing Street, to the Palais Bourbon;
thou findest nothing there but brick or stone houses, and some bundles of
Papers tied with tape. Where, then, is that same cunningly devised
almighty GOVERNMENT of theirs to be laid hands on? Everywhere, yet
nowhere: seen only in its works, this too is a thing aeriform, invisible;
or if you will, mystic and miraculous. So spiritual (_geistig_) is our
whole daily Life: all that we do springs out of Mystery, Spirit, invisible
Force; only like a little Cloud-image, or Armida's Palace, air-built, does
the Actual body itself forth from the great mystic Deep.
"Visible and tangible products of the Past, again, I reckon up to the
extent of three: Cities, with their Cabinets and Arsenals; then tilled
Fields, to either or to both of which divisions Roads with their Bridges
may belong; and thirdly--Books. In which third truly, the last invented,
lies a worth far surpassing that of the two others. Wondrous indeed is the
virtue of a true Book. Not like a dead city of stones, yearly crumbling,
yearly needing repair; more like a tilled field, but then a spiritual
field: like a spiritual tree, let me rather say, it stands from year to
year, and from age to age (we have Books that already number some hundred
and fifty human ages); and yearly comes its new produce of leaves
(Commentaries, Deductions, Philosophical, Political Systems; or were it
only Sermons, Pamphlets, Journalistic Essays), every one of which is
talismanic and thaumaturgic, for it can persuade men. O thou who art able
to write a Book, which once in the two centuries or oftener there is a man
gifted to do, envy not him whom they name City-builder, and inexpressibly
pity him whom they name Conqueror or City-burner! Thou too art a Conqueror
and Victor; but of the true sort, namely over the Devil: thou too hast
built what will outlast all marble and metal, and be a wonder-bringing City
of the Mind, a Temple and Seminary and Prophetic Mount, whereto all
kindreds of the Earth will pilgrim.-- Fool! why journeyest thou
wearisomely, in thy antiquarian fervor, to gaze on the stone pyramids of
Geeza, or the clay ones of Sacchara? These stand there, as I can tell
thee, idle and inert, looking over the Desert, foolishly enough, for the
last three thousand years: but canst thou not open thy Hebrew BIBLE, then,
or even Luther's Version thereof?"
No less satisfactory is his sudden appearance not in Battle, yet on some
Battle-field; which, we soon gather, must be that of Wagram; so that here,
for once, is a certain approximation to distinctness of date. Omitting
much, let us impart what follows:--
"Horrible enough! A whole Marchfeld strewed with shell-splinters,
cannon-shot, ruined tumbrils, and dead men and horses; stragglers still
remaining not so much as buried. And those red mould heaps; ay, there lie
the Shells of Men, out of which all the Life and Virtue has been blown; and
now are they swept together, and crammed down out of sight, like blown
Egg-shells!--Did Nature, when she bade the Donau bring down his
mould-cargoes from the Carinthian and Carpathian Heights, and spread them
out here into the softest, richest level,--intend thee, O Marchfeld, for a
corn-bearing Nursery, whereon her children might be nursed; or for a
Cockpit, wherein they might the more commodiously be throttled and
tattered? Were thy three broad Highways, meeting here from the ends of
Europe, made for Ammunition-wagons, then? Were thy Wagrams and Stillfrieds
but so many ready-built Casemates, wherein the house of Hapsburg might
batter with artillery, and with artillery be battered? Konig Ottokar, amid
yonder hillocks, dies under Rodolf's truncheon; here Kaiser Franz falls
a-swoon under Napoleon's: within which five centuries, to omit the others,
how has thy breast, fair Plain, been defaced and defiled! The greensward
is torn up and trampled down; man's fond care of it, his fruit-trees,
hedge-rows, and pleasant dwellings, blown away with gunpowder; and the kind
seedfield lies a desolate, hideous Place of Skulls.--Nevertheless, Nature
is at work; neither shall these Powder-Devilkins with their utmost devilry
gainsay her: but all that gore and carnage will be shrouded in, absorbed
into manure; and next year the Marchfeld will be green, nay greener.
Thrifty unwearied Nature, ever out of our great waste educing some little
profit of thy own,--how dost thou, from the very carcass of the Killer,
bring Life for the Living!
"What, speaking in quite unofficial language, is the net purport and upshot
of war? To my own knowledge, for example, there dwell and toil, in the
British village of Dumdrudge, usually some five hundred souls. From these,
by certain 'Natural Enemies' of the French, there are successively
selected, during the French war, say thirty able-bodied men; Dumdrudge, at
her own expense, has suckled and nursed them: she has, not without
difficulty and sorrow, fed them up to manhood, and even trained them to
crafts, so that one can weave, another build, another hammer, and the
weakest can stand under thirty stone avoirdupois. Nevertheless, amid much
weeping and swearing, they are selected; all dressed in red; and shipped
away, at the public charges, some two thousand miles, or say only to the
south of Spain; and fed there till wanted. And now to that same spot, in
the south of Spain, are thirty similar French artisans, from a French
Dumdrudge, in like manner wending: till at length, after infinite effort,
the two parties come into actual juxtaposition; and Thirty stands fronting
Thirty, each with a gun in his hand. Straightaway the word 'Fire!' is
given; and they blow the souls out of one another; and in place of sixty
brisk useful craftsmen, the world has sixty dead carcasses, which it must
bury, and anew shed tears for. Had these men any quarrel? Busy as the
Devil is, not the smallest! They lived far enough apart; were the entirest
strangers; nay, in so wide a Universe, there was even, unconsciously, by
Commerce, some mutual helpfulness between them. How then? Simpleton!
their Governors had fallen out; and instead of shooting one another, had
the cunning to make these poor blockheads shoot.--Alas, so is it in
Deutschland, and hitherto in all other lands; still as of old, 'what
devilry soever Kings do, the Greeks must pay the piper!'--In that fiction
of the English Smollett, it is true, the final Cessation of War is perhaps
prophetically shadowed forth; where the two Natural Enemies, in person,
take each a Tobacco-pipe, filled with Brimstone; light the same, and smoke
in one another's faces, till the weaker gives in: but from such predicted
Peace-Era, what blood-filled trenches, and contentious centuries, may still
divide us!"
Thus can the Professor, at least in lucid intervals, look away from his own
sorrows, over the many-colored world, and pertinently enough note what is
passing there. We may remark, indeed, that for the matter of spiritual
culture, if for nothing else, perhaps few periods of his life were richer
than this. Internally, there is the most momentous instructive Course of
Practical Philosophy, with Experiments, going on; towards the right
comprehension of which his Peripatetic habits, favorable to Meditation,
might help him rather than hinder. Externally, again, as he wanders to and
fro, there are, if for the longing heart little substance, yet for the
seeing eye sights enough in these so boundless Travels of his, granting
that the Satanic School was even partially kept down, what an incredible
knowledge of our Planet, and its Inhabitants and their Works, that is to
say, of all knowable things, might not Teufelsdrockh acquire!
"I have read in most Public Libraries," says he, "including those of
Constantinople and Samarcand: in most Colleges, except the Chinese
Mandarin ones, I have studied, or seen that there was no studying. Unknown
Languages have I oftenest gathered from their natural repertory, the Air,
by my organ of Hearing; Statistics, Geographics, Topographics came, through
the Eye, almost of their own accord. The ways of Man, how he seeks food,
and warmth, and protection for himself, in most regions, are ocularly known
to me. Like the great Hadrian, I meted out much of the terraqueous Globe
with a pair of Compasses that belonged to myself only.
"Of great Scenes why speak? Three summer days, I lingered reflecting, and
even composing (_dichtete_), by the Pine-chasms of Vaucluse; and in that
clear Lakelet moistened my bread. I have sat under the Palm-trees of
Tadmor; smoked a pipe among the ruins of Babylon. The great Wall of China
I have seen; and can testify that it is of gray brick, coped and covered
with granite, and shows only second-rate masonry.--Great Events, also, have
not I witnessed? Kings sweated down (_ausgemergelt_) into Berlin-and-Milan
Customhouse-Officers; the World well won, and the World well lost; oftener
than once a hundred thousand individuals shot (by each other) in one day.
All kindreds and peoples and nations dashed together, and shifted and
shovelled into heaps, that they might ferment there, and in time unite.
The birth-pangs of Democracy, wherewith convulsed Europe was groaning in
cries that reached Heaven, could not escape me.
"For great Men I have ever had the warmest predilection; and can perhaps
boast that few such in this era have wholly escaped me. Great Men are the
inspired (speaking and acting) Texts of that divine BOOK OF REVELATIONS,
whereof a Chapter is completed from epoch to epoch, and by some named
HISTORY; to which inspired Texts your numerous talented men, and your
innumerable untalented men, are the better or worse exegetic Commentaries,
and wagon-load of too-stupid, heretical or orthodox, weekly Sermons. For
my study, the inspired Texts themselves! Thus did not I, in very early
days, having disguised me as tavern-waiter, stand behind the field-chairs,
under that shady Tree at Treisnitz by the Jena Highway; waiting upon the
great Schiller and greater Goethe; and hearing what I have not forgotten.
For--"
--But at this point the Editor recalls his principle of caution, some time
ago laid down, and must suppress much. Let not the sacredness of
Laurelled, still more, of Crowned Heads, be tampered with. Should we, at a
future day, find circumstances altered, and the time come for Publication,
then may these glimpses into the privacy of the Illustrious be conceded;
which for the present were little better than treacherous, perhaps
traitorous Eavesdroppings. Of Lord Byron, therefore, of Pope Pius, Emperor
Tarakwang, and the "White Water-roses" (Chinese Carbonari) with their
mysteries, no notice here! Of Napoleon himself we shall only, glancing
from afar, remark that Teufelsdrockh's relation to him seems to have been
of very varied character. At first we find our poor Professor on the point
of being shot as a spy; then taken into private conversation, even pinched
on the ear, yet presented with 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:
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 talens_ (The
Tools to him that can handle them), which is our ultimate Political
Evangel, wherein alone can liberty lie. Madly enough he preached, it is
true, as Enthusiasts and first Missionaries are wont, with imperfect
utterance, amid 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 Hyperborean 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-oil 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 zuruck, 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. 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 art the taller. Hereby, at last, is the Goliath powerless, and the
David resistless; 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
UNFATHOMABLE, and to dissolve therein, at any rate, very soon,--make pause
at the distance of twelve paces asunder; whirl round; and, simultaneously
by the cunningest mechanism, explode one another into Dissolution; and
off-hand become Air, and Non-extant! Deuce on it (_verdammt_), the little
spitfires!--Nay, I think with old Hugo von Trimberg: '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 quest here: How prospered the inner man of Teufelsdrockh,
under so much outward shifting! Does Legion 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 now been long a patient, swallowing many a
bitter bolus. 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 _caput-mortuum_! 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 even been all granted! Did not the Boy
Alexander weep because he had not two Planets to conquer; 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 of 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. Pshaw! what is this paltry little Dog-cage 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!"
Too-heavy-laden Teufelsdrockh! Yet surely his bands are loosening; one day
he will hurl the burden far from him, and bound forth free and with a
second youth.
"This," says our Professor, "was the CENTRE OF INDIFFERENCE I had now
reached; through which whoso travels from the Negative Pole to the Positive
must necessarily pass."