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The }i:2!:J^iif!££^^d_are carefully edited, with biographical and critical introductions. [iJlf^^plamtory notes, and other neces- sary apparatus. Btbcrurum B>rcfi50 Scries CARLYLE Sartor Resartus HTJITFD BY ARCHIBALD MacMECHAN George Munro Professor of English Language and Literature in Dalhousie College Boston, U.S.A., and London GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 1896 KJ S CoPYRIr.HT, 1896, nv GINN & COMPANY ALL RIUHTS KBSHKVRD ^^ ^r I TO CHARLCS ELIOT NORTON \h A MAr»K OF ADMIRATION FOR HIS Ch ARACTfcR AS A MAN OF LETTERS AND HIS DEFENSE OF CARLYLE'S MEMORY mm !l>.,mim«l% n.ie Jetrii* „d, „„6 j„,„ I"c 3eU if. mein Se«„«<«.„i(i, „em art„ („ bieg^j,. ©oet^e. P R F: F A C E. Amkrica's part in C'arlyle is not small. When he was still, in his own country and among his own people, a prophet without honor and sometimes almost without bread, he received from New Kngland the three things he needed most, — money, literary recognition, and a friend. It is not too much to say that the chance visit of an American proved to be the turning-point in Carlyle's career. To Emerson's memorable voyage of discovery to Craigenput- toch in 1832, the beginnings of Carlyle's worldly prosperity and of his influence on this side of the Atlantic, are directly traceable. But for Kmerson's generous admiration of them, Carlyle's earliest works would certainly not have been pub- lished in Boston before they had made head in London ; and but for the unselfishness and business talent of Con- cord's philosophical dreamer, the proceeds of the sales might never have reached the rightful owner in Cheyne Row. Not in vain did he "summon all the Yankee" in him, and "multiply and divide like a lion." But money and fame were as dust in the balance, weighed against the treasure of a true friendship. What value Carlyle set upon it is to be seen in alnftost every page of the Emerson correspond- ence. Again, in criticism no earlier praise is so just or so ample as Thoreau's. Carlyle's very insult to the Republic in the hour of its extremity, followed as it was at once by viii ^^/./^f/;. I •IIS own Minburirh .1 »i>lr«« t »■ ^ '"<=nd of hi, reputation by p, ui,^ ",^ "'"'""' ''" '"'"» who cro, to .a... .he .,,!;, ' 'j::;;.;, ^ "' -ery one correct the inadvertent error, ' P"'°"'". ''°"""«"» *hich C--iylc', great biograp, "r ^d ••"" *"""""■" "• 'ron, an American cUy ^ ' ' '"'"'"' " *" of ^.... W.„ ":;; t :""r' '"« "- «"• "'''ion 'i"« ".at fron, the sa^el "S::;:"^ ''"" " ''' ■"" ""«•■ detail the relations b! ^ ^ ^ '" ' .'" r""* *-'/ -cl in the actual life of Car y^ wh h . ' """ ''*^g"P''y and vaguely stated or on ^^^^^^^^^ 'l^'"-'' "- eitber ;'- the process by w^ichrir;::' ' z : f^-"- tion includes the other fwo ^ • . "^ ^''^^ '"^en- l-he study of the wrU n : " '"•' ""' ™P°«-' °' »"• purposes L br ugh Xu T^J '" '""^ '*° '«- editor has been kepfi„ the bl 1 """^ ^""'*' " "•« has himself furnish d the r '™""'' '""' '"<= S^«^' -"an '"cidentally, the cfose 2.Z7T. V' °"" '- "ght a number of curious erS such ^' ''™'^''' '° - Of genius, .en he leaTrhar: Z^Z'^: memories, and writes it ft dItUnce from his works of refer- ence. These hiwc been noted in no spirit of vainj;!ory, but with the natural hesitation of the novice on whom it ia laid to t hange places for the moment with his m.istrr rhe task of preparing this work, though thoroughly con- genial, and taken up lightheartedly enough, proved heavier aj» it neared conipK-tion. Carlyle's course through the world of books is as incalculable as a bee's in a ' ver-fi-ld. He is besides a giant —in seven-league boots ,.nd Hop o' my Thumb's chances of keeping him in sight a.e not brilliant. Though I have striven to avoid the u.ua« '.-cis at commenta- tors and their farthing candles. I cannot hope that all readers will fmd "each dark passage " surticiently illuminated. There are still a few holes in Sartor's coat which remain to be neatly darned, and some regrettable gap.-, in my information. These are indicated in the hope that more learned critics may fill them up. As I have been forced to work without the aid of a modern, adequate library, my references are not alwrys made to the best or most accessible editions, though they are, I trust, clear and in every case to be relied on. To break a road through new country is rough work, and much may be forgiven the pioneer, if the way he opens up is found ^o be merely passable. That the imperfections of this work .'■e not more numer- ous than they are, is largely due to the kindness of many friends who supplied information or transcribed extracts, or verified references which were inaccessible to me. lo my colleagues at Dalhousic my thanks are first due, to Profs. C. MacDonald, J. Johnson, J. Liechti, J. G. MacGregor, W. C. Murray, and H. Murray, also to Prof. W. M. Tweedie of Mt. Allison University, the Rev. VVm. King of Christ * PftEFACE. Church, Cambridije, W c n.ek • T. Heath f,avi,a„d I. \ ^f ,'7' "''''■• °' °"*-- u- ii ". i:'. J., ot Char ottetown P i.' i ch.efly CO Prof. Charles Eliot Norton, who"";. „, k ' ""' cous .nanuscript copy of Carlyle's o"r„j!L7- """ ways encouraged this present work; to Prof oT J" ""^ Whose editorial .eal enabled hi,„ to endnr h^lf """^^ of notes at one memorable sitting ■ , ,! '"''"' H. Sykes of the Western If ' ""^ °''' '"^"'' ^'- I^' survived the orl o ."""'' """^^ ""^"'o" <■« one other fr end led ::°" '"'"' "™°'-^'''=^'= ^ -'' '° -. Of collatin ter "^eTiristo T 1 ''' ''"- of independence, but not fo:^:^;^: ' "" ^"^ ^'^™ 77/^ G/ass House, Dutch Village, Halifax, July 26, 1895. CONTENTS. INTRfinUCTION I. The Production of Sartor . 11. The Sources III. Relation to Carlyle's Life. IV. The Problem of Blumine. V. Structure .... VI. Style VII. Significance and Influence. PAGR xiii xix xxiii xxvii xxxvi xlii Ix SARTOR RESARTUS. POOK I. CHAPTER I- Preliminary .... II. Editorial Difficulties , III. Remjniscences IV. Characteristics V. The World in Clothes VI. Aprons .... VII. Miscellaneous-Historical . VIII. The World out of Clothes IX. Adamitism .... X. Pure Reason XI. Prospective . I 6 II 23 30 37 40 44 51 56 62 I. Genesis II. Idyllic BOOK II. 7?. 80 Xll CONTENTS. CH*.PTRR ni. Pedagogy • • I IV. Gktting under Way V. Romance . VI. Sorrows of Teufki.sdrockii VII. The KvERLASTrm: No VIII. Centre or Indikference iX. The Everlasting Yea X. Pause . I. II. III. IV. V. VI. vn. VJII. IX. X. XI. XII. HOOK III. Incident in Modern History Church -Clothes Symbols . Helotage . • • i The Pikknix . • • • Old Clothes Organic Filaments Natural Supernaturalism Circumspective The Dandiacal Body Tailors . Farewfll . • • , Notes Appendix, Testimonies of Authors Carlvle's Indkx Index to Notes -.nd Introduction PAGE 90 120 »34 M5 '54 166 »79 188 • '94 197 • 205 210 . 216 221 • 231 243 • 247 261 265 ^n 399 405 413 PAGE 90 120 »34 '45 '54 166 '79 188 • '94 '97 • 205 210 • 216 221 • 231 243 • 247 261 265 273 399 405 4'3 INTRODUCTION. I. In the year 1830,' Carlyle was living with his wife in t'^e lonely moorland farm-house of Craigenputtoch, which is by interpretation, " Hill of the Hawks," on the western border of his native shire, Dumfries. He was no longer young, and neither a successful nor a happy man. The eldest son of a stone-mason, he had followed the usual career of the ambitious Scots peasant, by preparing for the ministry. His father gave him the best education in his power, paying his expenses first at a good academy near home and afterwards at the university of Edinburgh. Though Carlyle acquiesced in the choice of profession made for him by his parents so far as to p- each two formal sermons at Divinity Hall, he found at the close of his university career that he was unfitted for the pulpit, and chose the usual alternative, the schoolmaster's desk. He disliked the profession of teaching and soon abandoned it, but his short apprentice- ship to the distasteful calling gave him an influential and life- long friend, the only human being he ever saw face to face, ' The biographies of Carlyle are so many and so easy to obtain, that I have not thought it well to load TT.y introduction with any biographical facts but those which directly explain the origin of Sartor. After Froude's classical work, the best is Dr. Garnea's "Life" in the Great Writers Series (Walter Scott, London). This contains Anderson's invaluable bibliography. Prof. Nichol's memoir (English Men of Letters Series), though meritorious, is not so pleasant in tone, nor so admirably compressed. xiv f^THODUCT/ON. li 'hey had met be „te i tl ' '"'"''^'' '^^'"S- -^Khough •Orew .He„ -OKetheT. t, ar:e™-nr;: 7'^ "'^ '^ town of Kirkcaldy Jrvin was responsible government t d to ^ ^''''''' ^°'°"^ wider fame. Tutor Td T, k ' °" ""^ ""''^^hold of a - hoth. To a m of Ca ,lw ""^ 'T'' '" "^ "•=-«' was riches. The first n 1 f ^'^ ''^''''^' -^"o => year pay for his brother ohn'TeH' """"" "' "'^ "«="'" was to of the family in e/erv oo!sih?"°" "' *° ^"'" '"^ '«' refinement of the Bullers and 1 "''''; • ''°"'''* """ '"e 'he raw peasant schola but f ^"'"''' "^^ g°od for his position after a tenu. of tt ^e^ ' '''""'' '^ -'^-'' ^ -^^/«., II, 99 and n. II INTRODUCTION. XV He was now twenty-nine years of age, without a profes- sion, trade, or means of livelihood. As a student, he h 1 done hack articles for the Brewster's Edinburgh Emyclo- t'cedia, and now he turned to literature in the hope of earn in^j; his bread. In the years of his tutorship he had studied German and translated Goethe's IVilhelm Meistcr. A copy sent to the author won the great man's regard. The work brought him in ^i8o and encouraged him to proceed. For two years he suppor.^d himself by his translations from the German and his articles on German literature. But his youth was slipping away. He was known only to a small circle as an eccentric and impracticable man of genius which by no means accorded with his vast ambition He suffered constantly from a painful but not dangerous disease. He was at war with himself, as his journals testify. At this time he married. His friendship with Irving had paved the way for another and closer relationship. When Irving was master in Haddington Academy, he became deeply interested in Jane Bailhe Welsh, the beautiful and clever daughter of a country surgeon of good family and sterling character. He was fresh from college and she was a mere child. His position as her tutor in her father's house favored the growth of inti- macy, though neither of them seems to have known the real state of theii feelings for each other. From Haddington Irving went to Kirkcaldy and there drifted into an engage- ment with the minister's daughter, Miss Isabella Martin As time went on, he found that he had mistaken his feelings towards both women. To his betrothed wife he was indif- terent ; it was his quondam pupil who had his heart He tried to free himself from his entanglement; but the Martins iield him to his plighted word, and Jane Welsh, though she returned his love passionately, wou'd not listen to him as iong as his engagement lasted. The affair ended in Irving's xvi ^^r/iODUCTWN. !i 1 f t ■■ \ \\ I woman he loved At fir,, r T , ""'"'" "'"' """ "' "-e ■"a. o. the We'd, o';^: '4^1^'^" " ""^ f" *" real state of the case till TTV\ ''"* "°' ''"<'«■ ""e his f^ure wife wuh"rlr'°" "f '"'"«• ^'"'J''' "et genius, but she Ta repe lerLT"' ^"^ ■'°°" "--" "- -ugh strength of his c ae./r ThdrTr""' "'"' '"^ intimacy was a literarv corrl , " '""P '<'»'"<'s been c/rried on ^ h^t rTertr^f ? ^^^"' '° ■>-« -eotins till their marriage Mfslwe,/: k""' ''"' with Carlyie she had far L.„ ' ambitious, and '•he stor/of thelrtrh r:as~"b:e: "'"■ ''^'"^- world; but \fr. Froude h,= ;„u ! " «"'^" '° ">e its course. One p .tde 1 1"' '' '""^ '^"'^ ^"^s in and another a love? ot ? !''.\'"'«^f<=^'^"-e of a friend. estrangement The "terror h ^'T' '"''' '" => «"»' Betore he met Mi s S CartlTnT '"'" '°°''''"^- least one woman- ,nH l u ^ "'' '"=^" '•"'awn to at -.ion that rco:rd''rpLX'i:f rdir"°"'^^- happy. Still, there can be no doubt ThltT, I "°'"'" with all .he intensity of his fervW „ .ure Th 7 ' '" ^"' at the crowning moment of h,s life lef him a h T °' ''^ and gave to our literature the recoH o J °''" """'• and heart-shaking as Lear's I.T """"^ *' '^'^^P merely imagined la;ed;rdiTa'r'^"'^"^^ ^° unwitting offence the rLl T "''^ ^""^ *^'« «' his triumph lithr/Ja^st loss Z'T'"" "' "'^ ^^^'-^ repentance, thou/hrl:;:- c^ef ^^ fe^^ ^"^^^ °^ At first, however, in soite of th • uncertain prospects.\he sE wl ^ "T^ fiT" "'' ™ Hfe. was spent in Kdinburgh.f. c^lfoSr^n! . -.-. ma.ncu ac zempiand on October 17th, 1826. Jl INTRODUCTION. XVll furnished house, with a certain amount of society; and then from motives of economy, they removed to Craigenputtoch, a property of Mrs. Carlyle's in the wilds of Dumfries. Carlyle had hoped that marriage would work some sweeping change in his health and spirits ; but in this he was disappointed, as he was in the hope of various university chairs at St. Andrews, Edinburgh, and London. In a mood almost of despair, he settled down in his " Dunscore Patmos " to read and meditate and write and make a way for himself in literature. At Comely Bank, his Edinburgh residence, he had begun a novel which he threw aside at the seventh chapter. The acceptance of an occasional article kept the wolf from the door; and from time to time, their friends supplied them with various necessaries of life. Carlyle spent his day in his study, or wandered solitary over the moors afoot or on horseback. His young wife slaved at the housekeeping, lonelier than he. An occasional visitor broke the gray monotony of their lives ; but no two people in Britain lived more retired. Crusoe, on the Island of Deso- lation, was hardly more completely shut out from his kind. In the journal, that refuge of the lonely and impulsive, Carlyle found a vent for his surcharged heart; and in 1829 resumed irregular entries in a book he had already used for the same purpose. The death of his sister Margaret in June, 1830, doubtless set his mind powerfully at work. " Often I think of many solemn and sad things which, indeed, I do not wish to forget," ^ he writes his mother in this year. The month of September was particularly rich in the harvest of thought. About the 12th, he notes: "I am going to write — — Nonsense. It is on ' Clothes.' Heaven be my comforter." On October 19th, he writes to his brother: "For myself here I am leading the stillest life; musing amid the pale sunshine, or rude winds of October Tirl-the- 1 Lett., 172. xviii ^^thoduct:on. and'Ct LT j:!!;^:i;"h /^'; ;'■"-' ^''""y --"cie^ >'•'»«-,• then found >o be .00 !„ V "^ " ■" "" "«'''« '<>' ■" 'WO); now some.i,nes ,„otr„; :! rr' ■' --divided! Hook. A very singular piece ;! "°"''' ""*" i"'° ^ f^om Heaven ,0 Earth and back La "' '°'" '' «'""«> fr';n^y; whether fine or no, rem,^, " K ' '"""«"'• "'"'""' "7^«/5/x,/..X. (that is the name o '''"• ' ' ' he IS able to record its completion '" "'''J''' '««■• Jne article in fhJc r but not accepted, p h ps^noTL""' "°" """ •" ^^'"r, Cy-»;us ■' back and is busl recast n^ T''" '''""'"'" "" book form. .., can devils h' writ v''!"*"^' " ■'"° some more biography for Teufersd . '™"'" ^'"'"' deeper part in .he same vein learHn! .^ ' ^"^ * '^"^ond the nature of Society, and L^rd kn!^ T^"" ^^''«'°" ^"d Thoughts,' slightly altld! M "*="• Nay, the very «-'•'" This w'ould s mtoshof -."l' " "«'«= ^°'"™« 'he original "long paper " ttr.f' ?°'"' ' °' •^'"•'- '^ biography" resulted in^Book I I '"'^'"^ °' ""'ore ?=«« in the same vein " is Book m'^t "'''°"^ ''«P«^ end of July .^ he is busy with the book ^^V""""^ "" ">« 'S able to start for London w^th ^h ' '"'' ''^^"S"" *"> he But the booksellers wou d ' tvf n::?'?" ■"—'?'• hawkmg it about among the leadlL m- f "' ='"'' ^f^-- „ weeks, Carlyle went hom aVd ,1 "d'the ' t" '" ''"'"^ ^'^ ' years. Probably no changes we^ a °^ ^'""^ '" '«o ■"'erval. for Carlyle wa ToZ verrb' '" "' '^«' '" ""^ essays. Then, in November, .s/^the^fi^tT 't ^^^^* ■ Z,«., ,;3, '" '°" chapters - - -' -' J) --I, INTRODUCTION. XIX were printed in Frasfr. The last instalment came out in August, 1834. In Japuary and June it did not appear. I'or it, the author records, he received £,'^2, i j., and fifty- eight " really readable copies of 107 pages " ' struck off from the magazine types, whicii he distributed among friends north of the Tweed. Few of them were even courteous enough to acknowledge the receipt of it; and on the general reading public it made no impression, except repulsion and disgust. Mrs. Carlyle pronounced it "A work of genius, dear." Hut she was almost alone in her opinion. Father O'Shea in Cork, and Emerson in Concord, were apparently the only other persons in the world who saw anything in the book. To the American admirer belongs the honor of bring- ing out the real eiiitio princeps anonymously in 1836 with a laudatory preface by Everett. Though Emerson shore Sartor of the capitals wherein his heart delighted, he made a good bargain with the publishers, and saw that Cadyle received every dol'ar of his dues.^ The first English edition did not appear tih two years later, and a third was not needed for more than another decade. Before Carlyle's death, a popular edition of 30,000 copies had been printed and sold. The text was very correctly printed in Fraser; and between the first form of the book and the last, only the fewest changes have been made. The present edition reproduces the text of 1874, with a few corrections which are indicated in the notes. II. " The first genesis of Sartor I remember well enough ind the very spot (at Templand) where the notion of astonish- ment at Clothes first struck me."'' is Carlyle's own account ^ Lett, 442. •See Correspondence of Carlyle and Emerson, I, 86, 98, 122, 131. Boston, 1886. 8 y^vw., II, 190. XX ff^TfiOlWCT/O^r. of how the book originated ; but this moment of ilh is plainly a case of unrnn- ' ""' '"" '"'''"'*"' ""^ '"umination r / rt cast or unconscious memon- i'h« „ ••the Lean/' „ „"d fr ""f. "T" "^ " i^n^'han " and •• -I'h u ""-' P^'-'B"-' 1"o"-'yr oDucr/oM proc«, 1,> which i. K.C*, I.Kh< break, upon „,. a„d i„ .Ignihcnc, h«co„,e, unmi«akahle. The source, o( i. d b« den..,n,,r.,.c.d ,„ be fourfold. The firs, in importance i, h. journal „h,ch Carlylc k.p, ac C,raiKc„pu„.Kh'fr. ,„ .111 to .8jo. h„ract» from (hi, h»-.e been primed with K|^u^«.que ,n,ccuracy by Mr. Froude in hi, c„V>,/,', J.,,,,, ///-.and can be consulted there. .V „,uch safeV authority he k ndly allowed me to use. The .second source h tarlyle , novel m.>,.,„ K.,„/n.,. which never «ot beyond the seventh chapter. From ,his not only were many .one passages transferred bo ff "• u"' '™'" ""•""• S^"'""' ^usaeus Iieck and Hoffmann, he takes chiefly ornamental phrases and lus rations M, those . have discovered are irdicated "the Notes^ In many cases the though, Is found moulded nto two or three different shapes before it takes th," , „\l ■mpress of Carlyle's signe, in Sarior.' His use h m lal ,s characteristically "canny." No good thing is al W d to pass unused, nothing is wascco, .md many pinres show he labor o. the file. Often his bcrowi,:,. vie s.mo^tld n his wonderful memory and set down unwittingly! but again, the process was distinctly conscious. Long extracts are copied word for word from lVoii„„ Kci./re.^J^^^ the account of Teufelsdrockh's meeting with Blumine and ■ efMu^gi Kevie,,: No. 98 „8.-,), and Essay,, ,1, ,,,.,(,, " /«., No. ,08 (,83,), and essay,. Ill, 5,4/ ^^ "• ' Jsee I, 19, n. and passim. IXTAODUCr/OX. XXIII Towgood on their wedding journey. In this case the patching is clumsy. Teufeisdrockh cannot ride up the mountain-road which is still proude* and other biographers, in spite of the fact that C arlyle contradicts himself. The only fact he admits as biographical is the famous episode in the Rue St. Thomas de I'Enfer, otherwise Leith Walk ; but in the same work Carlyle confesses to various other facts which are more than "symbolical," such as his first day at school.'' Indeed, even brief and limited research makes it clear that a very large meaning must be attached to the term, " symbolical myth," and I do not hesitate to say that the title " Life and Opinions of Diogenes Teufelsdrockh " is simply the usual innocent device of authors to avoid caking the public openly into their confidence, when their books are of an intimate and personal character, like Mrs, Browning's " Sonnets from the Portuguese." This has, heretofore, been generally sus- pected; it can now be clearly proven. Sartor is n'^t only the epitome of all that Carlyle had thought; it contains the fine essence of all that he had folt. The first draft of Sartor was the novel Wotton Rein/red. This was begun in January. 1827, in the first months of 1 C. E. L., I, 103. 3 Hem., I, 46. XXIV f^TRODUCT/OiV. I The smtement that it was given wholly to thJT be correct, for it has been Lee publ L ed mn! i;""""' interesting in itself it i, of ,h„ V ^ " '^ "°' student 0? Sa„ of t^^lTT '""""'''"'' ^^ "^^ ^.il be plain fron, a g.ance':t 'co ^t? ^ f'. ''''^ temperament who has been crossed LTo7 T "'k"""" H;s devotion Jane Montagu, his b Jrcarrie^ ot tt tiger-ape " of an Indian officer- nn^ ,u [ ^ ^ plunged into the deep st despair In tL"fi?? '"'" '" to a certam physician of souls, called Moseley The second chapter gives Wotton's history to the time of his unfortunate love-affiir i-r^ 1, l . ^ °' nicknamed " weepin - Wotton " till II T , ^' ='"'' tormentors. The' d^a^ L e si IT ".""'^ °', ''^ impression upon his shy, sensitive na.,"a„H ' '"'P natural tendency to sadness. InZTZs^JTT f -versity in a distant city, where he readT^ucV 'iti:'! mathematics. He finds hk f^ii^, n ■ especia.ly and repels all adva s by j. I ^r ^ed" "h"°"^"'^'' manner. There is akn !;»,.. ^"'^ s^'c^iUk discipline an;;:s;:uct„ l;: tfad^ri^^"? °^ thus upon himself h» ,i,- > '» admire. Thrown back problems of Hfe'^rH- u "'"''' °" "'^ fundamental S"t up. tie ends in blank unhpl,Vf and ^~n---- ^ Z^//., 20, 23, 32, 45 f. introduction: XXV >ut June 4th "i how hard - took in 't. nes cannot ile it is not ce for the 3ds. This book con- ishcd and of morose ■ object of off by a ^ lover is lapter his )es a visit e time of t up in a religious >oys and e of his a deep •ases liis inds the specially ngenial, arcastic stem of ^n back 'mental modern IS been Kthing very like despair. In this mood he quits the university and for a short time studies law. Disgusted with the technicali- ties of the subject, he abandons it and retires to the country. Near him lives the single friend he made at college, Dernard Swane, the "perfect opposite" of himself. Famil- iar intercourse with a man of Bernard's frank, hopeful nature keeps Wotton back from madness and utter despair. On a visit to P?rnard, one morning, he meets a young beauty, called Jane Montagu: and the occasion is described at some length. One notable detail is the suppression of a " Philistine " by means of Wotton's adroit questionings. The youth and maiden fall in love with each other, and all goes well till an ancient maiden aunt interferes. There is a tearful final interview and they separate. Report says that Jane is to marry Edmund Waller, a young, well-connected, wealthy officer, whom Wotton holds to be a mere libertine. For some unexplained reason, this marriage does not take place ; but his disappointment makes Wotton ten times more gloomy than before. He looks forward to death as the relief from all evils. Chapter Three is short. Bernard and Wotton set out upon their rather ill-defined journey to Moseley. The scenery they pass through is distinctly Scottish. At their first inn, the waiters bring Wotton a locket containing a miniature which has been found in the mountains. The portrait shows an unmistakable likeness to himself. Though he knows that he has never sat for his picture, he takes the locket with him, leaving a few guineas as a guarantee, and his address in case any one with a better right should lay claim to it. His half-untold fancy is that it may have belonged to his lost love. On the next day, the two friends proceed on their journey, and meet a mysterious stranger. His name is Maurice Herbert, and he conducts the travellers to his mansion, the XXVI y^vrA'ODucr/oAr. ticeship. Hel-e is m.f i ^ ^^'^"^^ ^P'^r^n* ophe.^ao:ei::, ;,,rr,ii,-'""i- -,'< p-i-os- eternal riddles of lif.. Th . , '"" ' ^''"'^^' <>" 'he sion lies In .hM:^.. ^ ^ uT^^' ''' ^'-^ which the rest regard i. ,h , " P'"'<'™Phy, 'his s)-posiu,.,;.r o„r;o l::^ ;: it ^ "'•- encounter between the rivnl p . 7 "°""8 "'•'-' ="> later a ,„eeti„g b Uv en Rei Irf "" 7' '"' ''^"'^^' »"''• a ion«-winded'e.p a", on the latt'^"" ''°"'''«"- *'"> 'he .venth ehapLr ends. The r^T: Ts 'Z^'""' '°"^"«' Wow, the pcnts of resemblance between th personages. Carlyle, Reinfred and Teuf rdrbckh T H " ctr M"bC^-[; .— ^'T '° " • "^^^^^^^^^ "-" 'o 'e.s and "^^^ ^ ::-:^T:^-^^ ^'^^'^ a": i:;au;;t ^r „:t -^ :-";-• ^^ ''-'vU ,r; each find'onlv oneTrue^rild c"7:'T'"' -"^^ '"^^ Reinfred. Swane; and TeS.octh T ."" '"'"'' reach manhood all fhr» "* ^'"°<=''''' lowguod. As they 'heir chiidhoj tf re^r rs?.;?;'"''^ --^^^ °' natural tendency to .nrr, " '^"^^ "'^ 'o^^ increases the ■caving the unZrs ;; I hrcT tX :''r^^ ^'°°'"- ^"- i' up in disgust Th'e two herot of Z, V""' '"' ^'^^ We-affairs which darken L: M .h r "Ter""^^''''^ s;or. into ca,:n:r2;t'-r — rr '^^ pleted, even there it is clear th.t th. 7'^''^ '^ "°^ ^o^- 'he happiness of the ^r^^^::^ '' '^ZT' '°^ he resemblance between the hero 7Z -pl ^Tl"""'!; VVouon ts closer than between Carlyle\Vl''Ct,S INTRO D UC TION. XXVll The first little Janet Carlyle/ died at the age of three ; from Wotton, "death had snatched away" "a little elder sister" " before he knew what the King of Terrors was." ^ A beau- tiful girl, in whom Carlyle undoubtedly was interested, did marry an Indian officer."' Throughout Wotton Reinfred, the scenery, atmosphere and circumstances are those with which Carlyle was familiar, that is to say, Scottish, On the other hand, though Reinfred does not, both Carlyle and Icufelsdrockh teach private pupils and "subsist by the faculty of translation " after leaving college. These are the broad outlines of resemblance between the personal history of the writer and the careers of his two puppets or literary doubles. Other minute resemblances are traced carefully in the notes to Book Two. When this detailed evidence is considered in its mass, and taken with Carlyle's zeal for truth and his hatred of fiction, as well as the fact that a writer's personal experience generally forms the basis of his first novel, it will, I think, be hard to resist the conclu- sion that Wotton Reinfred and Diogenes Teufelsdrockh are simple aliases of Thomas Carlyle. IV. Sunny is not the adjective one would select as most aptly describing the temper of any of Carlyle's works ; and yet there is in Sartor a certain grace which the mind recognizes and rejoices in as the senses recognize and rejoice in the return of light and warmth in spring. In virtue of this peculiar charm, found nowhere else so frequent or so strong ^ Two of Carlyle's sisters were christened Janet. C. E. L., I, g; E. Lett., ix. 2 j^ ]Y, c., 25. 3 Carlyle calls him an "idle Ex-Captain of Sepoys," Repi , II, 125. Mr. Strachey says he belonged to the 7th Hussars, Lord Anglesea's crack regiment. Nineteenth Century, Sept., 1892. xxviii i^THODUCTlON. Carlyle's firs, and only en irelv ^ "'"''■ ^"''"^ *«» ing it he felt the joy of ZZ """^^ '" '''"'""■ his brain taking sL'pe under 'hrndT'^r "" ""'"«'" "' as the face of the Madonna growt out of'V^r',"'^ '«-' 'he joy of the sculptor as fh. '""°' ""e blank canva.c, -""We. The speed at which he f. """''' '™'" '"^ as the significant absence of ,h "'' ""' '^^ "^" '^hich waited on the buildL „f v'' """"""b'^ groanings Carlyle had not at th ' "! J '!"/":''' '''^'°""- Again, True, he told Irving t a he d d 7t !"" """'"'^ '-'" religion as his friend dd,K^ ""' "'""^ °' "'« Christian minister of that religion • but n !t' "' "'""' ^ P'o(e,sed -an of Carlyle's sine rit; who Z .''"^" '•"''' ^ S^tch- holds family .vorship. cannot V '!"'"^' '" "^* l^'^k and vioient revo^ agains*; hL^^ r. L^rd^^l^^ '" .^ ^'^ °^ th.s time, love. He had but I.Li ^^'"' '"' ''ad at brilliant w^iiTan, withou I'm ' """'" '•• "^'""'f"' and ness he caused and s" tl\^^T' "' "" '"^ """aPPi- complete. The composLon t V f "°"" "°' ''^^^ ''^-" of that time of which he" If''''''^.'""''' "><= b^gmning haired man the sa^des w^ds "haT": 1 ' '°-'>- ^"^ paper. "I was rich once hid jt ^^^ ''"• '''°"^'' now, I am become poor u^to h e^":*" 1 ™^^ T' ' ^"^ th.s t,me hope. He had not y t Tott al, ^""' ^' "'^ "' human virtue and courage and ! • f <=^P'>«ation of conceived the world as f t 7 ""'■ "" ''ad not yet helm, in a black n^ht o torm't """' '"""^ "'^'^-' a gloom in S.„or, but it s n^ J'uT'" ^'''^ There is with bursts of tke upp r 1^ a / '"''"'"^^ '""^ """^^d spaces into which the clo:ds d; not in '" "T""'' """' d.sappo.ntme„. and poverty and su^'rir.' ^U^i:!'^^ INTRODUCTION. XXIX Carlyle still possessed in large measure the things which go to make life full and sweet, — joy of his task, faith, love, ) hope ; and all these influences find voice in his book. The G one more element in the undeniable charm of Sartoi ;.oi » > be considered. Let us for a moment imagine a Sartor consisting of the first and third books only. We should have " Opinions of Herr Diogenes Teufelsdrockh " in plenty, and a very great deal of his clothes-philosophy ; but could we spare his " Life " .> In other words, if the heart of the book were torn out, the story of the " snow-and- rose-bloom maiden " Blumine, would the " Sorrows of Teu- felsdrockh" ever have aroused that widespread sympathy which Emerson assures us the world gives freely to the lover \ It may well be doubted. Here Carlyle touches the universal heart. Teufelsdrockh, the solitary philosopher, the gloomy, misanthropical skeptic excites but moderate in- terest, and is indeed hardly intelligible. But Teufelsdrockh in love appeals to the experience or premonitions of all. Carlyle is not usually ranked with those who have spoken eloquently of the great passion, but where ir. our literature can we find another tale of pure devotion to a woman told so simply and so well t That he was competent to speak on this topic, his published letters to his wife are sufficient evidence. No small part of Sartor's charm depends upon the Blumine episode. It is important for another reason. It is strange to think that it should be the duty of Carlyle's editor to discuss his Lilis and Frederikas. But in this case it is unavoidable. Sartor is autobiographical. The close resemblance between the career of ^'euielsdrockh and that of his creator has been already pointed out. The question naturally arises, " Is this central incident in Carlyle's spir- itual biography without its parallel in his actual life t " It has, in fact, been already asked, and it might be lightly dismissed, if so many contradictory answers had not been XXX INTRODUCTION, care. necessary to review them all with due Who w:,s Blumine? Froude says positively "Mare.ret Go don «,,, ,h, original, so far as there was an oZ, c 1 y iT"' ,: :f V"'"-""" ' ^•-'>"= -' "er in *k:;': knet s' oJ; tiTd "^Mir r7 """ "' '"^"'^■'*" """ Edward I l,ni' ''"" *"' ''°™ '" I'rince neced wuh a wel -known local family, the Hydes of East Kiver. Her mother was married first to a Dr r i sS:r '; r "• ""'' '^"^ "^^ "-"' - 1>- «"^>H .'" t :s ; 1 ed :^-^ ^'7 7<^"'"'- -" '■^"' ""^ '»"- wa people had h;H ' ''™"'''^'' "P'"'""' "'^ '^^" y"""g people had been drawn to each other. "Two letters from hl^-foun^" """ "" 'r' ''"'' "-' -C-<* for eacTJZ stands rTT "' ^'^'" '""""^^ "'^' "-^cum- terTh eh ' '!^'"'<'^;" .-S^g^""^"' b-'ween them." The let- ce talnlv ,n„!' " '" ''"'"""'' '"""^^ ^''^ ^'"d formal, certamly nnphes intimacy ; and the significant little postscrio I dare Z,nr ^ ' ^ '^ ^°" "°' '"^ "'''''■"=• '^'^^'^use Carlyle al old ° "^ ^°"-" ^""^ ^^"^ ''"""-ds, with Certain m ^"f !'"'='';" '"^". """des to the inciden far the ct . " tenderness. Miss Gordon was "by tar the cleverest and britrhtest " nf th^ " , . ^ Kirkcaldv qh« '^r'gntest of the young laaies " of xvirKcaidy. bhe was " a kind of ahVn " " «^ • u and well-bred." With her Carl -le had "' ^ ' '^'°'"^ and it mi„i,, """"ercan lehad some acquamtance, and tt might easily have been more, had she and l-r Aun and our economic and other circumstances liked." This admission IS of course the basis of Fronde's statement ju gnen. She continued," Carlyle proceeds, "for perhaps ' C. E. /,., I, J,. "Carlyle says vaguely, 'born, I fhini, i„ »,.„. ,,„,„ . , . „ II, 5S. ' ■" '^£" l»runswicK,- Kent., INTROD UC T/ON. xxxi some three years a figure hanging more or less in my fancy, on the usual romantic,^ or latterly quite elegiac and silent terms."- The portraits of Margaret and her aunt are sketched here in much the same colors as in Sartor. He alludes to their leave-taking at Kirkcaldy in 1819. The very words used, " good-bye, then," have their place in his memory, and suggest the parting of Teufelsdrockh and his " flower- goddess." All this seems clear enough and points-*to one conclusion. The heroine's after history is stated vaguely in the Reminiscences. The two met some twenty years later on horseback at the gate in Hyde Park, " when her eyes (but that was all) said to me almost touchingly, " Yes, yes, that is you." She married Mr. (afterwards Sir) Ronald Bannerman, and accompanied him to Prince Edward Island,'^ when he came out as Governor in 1850. Lady Bannerman was long remembered in the island, and it is stated that before the appearance of 'jither the Reminiscences or Froude's Life, she was known in the province as the original of Blumine. " Islanders " were interested in reading Sartor, because the heroine was connected with local history. If this is true, the only source of the information would be Lady Banner- man herself, for previous to 1881, there was no printed statement to connect the famous man of letters and the wife of an obscure colonial governor. So far, then, Carlyle's testimony, documentary evidence and local tradition agree. But of late a counter claim has been put forward. When Carlyle went to London, as tutor to the young Bullers in 1822, he met a friend of the family, to whom he often alludes by the pet name " dear Kitty." Catherine Aurora Fitzpatrick was the daughter of a famous Irish sol- dier, and an Indian princess who traced her descent from the blood royal of Persia. She was an heiress and a 1 Italics mine. — A. M. 2 yp^^.^ jj^ ^^ ^ Not Nova Scotia as usually stated. XXXII beauty. MTROnVCTlOlf. ' A strangely-complexioned young ladv, with soft brown eyes and Ho„d» of ^r.„,..red hairSeal^ T pre«v' looking, smiling and amiable, though most foreign I s etched LI " ■ "" '" ""'■ "" ^^"-"^ i» sxetched by the same master hand. " She had one of ,h. prettiest smiles, a visible sense of humo„r (the ^ ., me ! she said in T^' t" T' °""''"''' ""^ ""'« ""'<= ''-S" sne said in that kind, and her low-toned heirf„ . i, were noticeable) . this was perhaps her'lt s^ ull" f w'ntinl rn" '"''""' ^""^ "="' ""' n.uch,\hough no. wanting m discernment. Amiable, affectionate ericef,^ "light be called attractive (not ./„„ enough L; fhe d ' pretty,' not to// enough for ' beautiful '^ Lh ... low-voircH I,,.™ • II , ueauiiiul ) ; had something men oTth. « ' ■ .""'f-^'^'""^' '" ^^'on ; interesting speci- men of the Semi-oriental Englishwoman.'" It is a Dlea,7„, Picture. To all the rest, she adds the two chif charms" Lalage. Carlyle is .ot the only witness to her ovelTness and amiable character." As to the relationship betee: them, he says without any hesitation, "It strikes me now ."ore than it did then," that Mrs. Strachey "courd have Iked to see 'dear Kitty ' and myself come together and lo on m„e near h. hotH of us, through life ; L ,ool"tZ chled.- Nonf knO-.- •itT^'" ^f^"^ "''^^ "-" .hey met, the intereT^f ^Jl:^.^.!'^^!^'''' excited in each other. Why else sho^d' M s' Ki kpa riL" have twitched the label off his trunk as she ran up stai.s that night of their hrst meeting .> and why shorL Me ^/>Vw., II, [I7. "^ Ibid., 12^. « Westminster, Aug., ,894 ; Nineteenth Cf^urv S-r' ," *ilV///., 11, 12 c. ' '"^"«'>, bcpu, 1092. INTRODUCTJON. XXXlll have noticed the girlish prank and recorded the trivial inci- dent years afterwards ? To match the rough man of genius uilli the beautiful, amiable heiress might well have seemed ;;ood to the friends of both. Though (.'arlyle was poo», and by no means a man of the world, all the women divined his power and foresaw his fame. It is clear that the young people had every opportunity for coming to an understand- ing. On one occasion they travelled with a party to Pa* is. They certainly were on no unfriendly footing. Was Miss Kirkpatrick, then, Hlumine .? Her friends thought so. When Sartor appeared, Mrs. Strachey told hei son, as stated in his article, " Carlyle and the Rose- g(;ddcss," ^ that "the story ot the book is plain as a pike-staff. Teufelsdrockh is Thomas himself. The Zahdarms ''' are your uncle and aunt Ikiller. Toughgut'' is young Charles Duller. Philistine is Irving. The rose-garden is our garden with roses at Shooter's Hill, and the rose-goddess is Kitty." Mr. Strachey makes several minor points, such as the coin- cidence that Hlumine is called " Aurora," " Heaven's Mes- senger," and that Miss Kirkpatrick was christened Catherine Aurora. He says that he has taken pains to verify and establish his facts ; and that he considers Froude's hypothe- sis, as given above, untenable. Such strong statements made by those in such a good position to know, must carry great weight. But more direct testimony is forthcoming. No later than August, 1894, a Mrs. Mercer states that she knew Miss Kirkpatrick as Mrs. Phillips, the wife of a retired officer. On a visit to her at Torquay, in 1847, Mrs. Phillips told her to read Sartor Resartiis by Carlyle. Her words as quoted by Mrs. Mercer a-" remarkable. " Get it {Sartor) and read the " Romance." I am the heroine and every ^ Ninetcc7ith Centur^ Sept., 1892, p. 474, 2 These coinages are the admiring tribute of a dyspeptic to people blesse 1 with normal digestion. " O dura messorum ilia I " XXXIV f^TRODucrroiv. 1 *« told th,.t such an idea could not be thouirht of fnr - nion,en,. VVhat could . s he ongmal of Blumine to the exclusion of the other fir«, !.T°"f "■ °"" '"°" "•« genesis of Sar/on ' The ment tnH^ """'"*^'' *'"^ "'^ knowledge, encourage- met^t and cooperation of his wife. Now, such a man as Carlyle does not sit down, in his honeymoon almost, to cele Blumine e common to Jane Montague, the heroine of Aug., .894, pp. 7e, f ^ "" '"""''"•• '^"""»""- f"-"^. /ArrA'ODUcr/nr XXXV H'otdm Nehifnui, and to jano Welsh. Ikr portrait shows a vivacious beauty, the index of her wit and spirit. Indeed, it is very easy for a special |)leader to make out a >,trong case in her favor. The truth seems to be that while certain ( iivumstances point to each of the three, no one can be considered as the original of lUuinine to the exclusion of the other two. Carlyle was an artist in words, lie needed a portrait of p hcioine. He took as models the three women he knew best, as fair and amiable influences as ever came into the life of genius, and painted from them with master strokes, and in unfading colors, a picture of ideal loveli- nt'ss. It was a true instinct which IH Carlyle to "devise more bio-raphy." The brightest pages of Sartor are those irradi- ated by the presence of lilumine, the " light-ray incarnate." Without this episode, so tender, so pathetic, the book would have little more coherence than (Jolton's Jauoh, and /would remain a splendid chaos of weighty thoughts. Teu- felsdriickh as a person would be as vague as Sordello, and the human interest in the book utterly lacking. Blumine is tit to take her place among the Shining Ones of our litera- ture by the side of the Juliets and the Di Vernons, not only for her own sake, but for the new-old ideal of love ^' hich she inspires in the h^ro. It needed to be restated. J^elhatn and Sartor were nearly contemporaries. The first was a popular success ; the other a failure. But contrast the two Ml their treatment of the most important relationship pos- sible between men and women. Pelham conceives of nothing higher than the conventional clubman's notion of love. In its course, a seduction is a crediiablc incident, and Its natural conclusion is a fashionable marriage, with settle- ments. Carlyle, on the othei hand, can only depict the thing he knows, the intense chivalrous affection of the unworldly man who has retained the man's natural rev- xxxvi i^ ihuOLt iWX. ■>ge ol dandles cannol be doubled. V. VVhen Cnrlyle. in ,h„ f,„, ,,(, „,„„|„ ^( , ^./-""' hero's self-conquest the ir! ■"■ 1^"' ^^'e" with the Tell, Carlyle kteps an a o " " "°' '=^'""''"=''- ^ike has less thL the first of I T 1" '""™- '''''^ '"i"' "ook Carlyle's sanest g „d Lt 1' ""'"""P"^' ^"^ '"°- "^ as .he incomparlbrch; er :Xr, T '''■"'^" "^^- -^^ . Though not so often a'bused a^Se'Te"':""''"- Sartor has not escaped criticism if .>,' ''''"'"■* "' given a bad name Carlv . ""^ '^'^ °' ""= ^og bie. and most pe^ le ttSTt i:::^ "'l ^V^ ^ '"- IS more noticeaMp th»n n, ' " "'* "'O™. Indeed, nothing reader, follow", L^nf '. v ' "'"^ *'''^'' "^e ordinary his helplessnes; tl u, d st nd X?' "r^ '^"'^'^' P"^^" has anticipated every 1 .^l' tT I ^'''"^' ^""'^'^ plan, and used every mechnnr , " ''" '■=''"^<' '° 'he ment of written clpost^ r T""'' '" ''^^ ='^-"g- The grand divisionsT^'dlincVrntk ^^ '-^\ ^'- rscrlSbt"' I^r '-^^^-^^^^ f^ -^^er is t:^ed^r trjiaLrif^rabTn^^""' pointed out ■ -for oart :f r T? ''""""' "'''^ ""Gushingly And for th sake'of the ' ' "'"" ''' '° P^^e himself' vided throughout -v-h ^^' "-'"^ '"^"' ">« "^"^ - P- '" au,mraDle summaries. Allowing fNTKODUCTION. xli Carlyle the privilege of speaking in his natural voice, it is hard to see what more he could have done to make his words plain and clear. Given the man and his thoughts, how else could he have put them before the public ? Two i.Kxles were open to him, the reformatory essay and the didactic novel. Arnold succeeded with the one and Kingsley with the other. Carlyle knew his limitations and still tried to combine the two methods. Sartor is a novel, -with appendixes, fore and aft. The form is unique, but It IS capable of explanation and even of defense. In pretending to be based on a specified German treatise. Sartor began life as a literary hoax. The first intention of Its author was humorous. His earliest recorded words on the subject are sufficiently clear : " I am going to write — Nonsense." His method was calculated to deceive the very elect. He consti ucts a German book and evolves a German author for it. He gives ample quotations from the one and flows with reminiscences of the other. He is almost as generous with matter-of-fact detail as De Foe, and almost as unsmiling as Swift. The public, ignorant of German, were taken off their guard. They held a vague belief that the Germans were learned, odd, and fantastical. Sartor asserted that It was German, it was apparently learned, it was cer- tainly odd ; and so it was taken at face val'je. At least one person wrote, on seeing it quoted, to learn where Die Kleider could be fallen in with ; the heavy-handed refutation of the Aorth American reviewer shows that he had been haunted by . grave doubts ; while Mr. Strachey frankly confesses that he himself was for a time befooled. Such results, of course were only possible in a time when the British public knew as little of German as they do now of Hindustani. That any one could have finished the first chapter of Sartor and not seen fV»f/>»'f>-u -i • ^ he joke, is another proof that " with fit apparatus" the public is always "gullible." xlii INTKODUCTJON, VI. " The symmetrical constructions of human nrt and thought dispersed and upset, are piled under hi. hands into a vast mass o shapeless ruins from the top of which he fights and gesticulates like a conquering savage." This vivid gro- tesque which is worthy of Carlyle himself and would have tickled his fancy, represents Taine's impression of his style The two counts in the indictment are : Carlyle's method of wnt.ng ,s chaotic, and it is barbarous. To a Frenchman born to a classic prose as lucid as his native air, the Scot's apparent scorn of all rule and precedent may well seem Vandal.c. Still, the fact that a foreign critic considers Carlyle s style objectionable, does not necessarily imply a final condemnation of that style. The justice of his strict- ures must be carefully examined. But whether Taine is right or wrong, whether he is a competent judge of the matter or not, the fact remains that he finds Carlyle's style a rock of offense, an opmion which is shared by almost every critic and criticaster. When mention is made of Carlyle's style, it is not the L^fe of Schiller which comes to mind, nor any one of the essays. The style recognized to be distinctively Carlyle's IS the style of his French Revolution, his Latter-day Pam- phlets his Frederick. This well-marked, unmistakable man- ner, the real Carlylese, which is to Taine anathema, appears ] first full-blown in Sarior. Before this book, his style is not/ distinctive ; after it, he reverts only in a single instance to his first manner.^ The importance, then, of investigating^ this style in its earliest example must be manifest. What follows IS not intended to be either a complete defense or a complete study of Carlyle's style. It is based on Sartor,, 1 Life of Sterling. But even there traces of Sartor are apparent. INTRODUCTION, xliii ind thought into a vast ; fights and vivid gro- vould have )f his style, method of Frenchman the Scot's well seem considers ly imply a his strict- Taine is Ige of the yle's style by almost is not the ne of the ' Carlyle's day Fam- ible man- 1, appears / ;yle is not/ stance tot estigating t. What ense or a ti Sartor, and the conclusions reached apply, in the first instance, to that book alone. Whether or not they may be of wider application can only be shown by similar investigations. It might be supposed that Taine h.-.d said the worst that could be said of Carlyle's style ; but other objectors run him close. Bhukicood's description of it, " a barbarous, conceited, uncouth, and mystical dialect," » may or may not he, in Carlyle's own word, "luminous." Scherer says his style becomes pure gibberish and the Quarterly Rcinnv echoes this verdict without dissent.^ The notion that his style was a deliberate affectation has long prevailed and dies hard. One writer even feels like contradicting Froude, who asserts that Carlyle wrote as he spoke, n the good ground that he, the particular reviewer, had never heard Carlyle speak. Other critics are more precise and insist that Carlyle's obscurity is due to corrupting German influ- ence,8 and some are able to point out the very German writer whose .style he imitated, namely Richter. Here again is seen the force of the bad name which the sly dog, in a merry mood, gives himself. The misconcep- tions of the critics are in no small measure due to Carlyle's comic over-statement of his own peculiarities. As " English editor " he feels himself bound to take Teufelsdrockh to task for I' this piebald, entangled, hyper-metaphorical style of writing," < abuse almost as severe as old Ebony's. He even makes more specific charges. Teufelsdrockh's style is "marred by the same crudeness, inequality, and apparent want of intercourse with the higher classes. ... On the whole Professor Teufelsdrockh is not a cultivated writer. ^ Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazt.ie, 1850, p. 643. 2 Quarterly Rc7.'iew, Jan., 1885, p. 92. 3 The trick of tearing a phrase out of its context as proof of Carlyle's obscurity is an old one. See Appendix, p. 400. ^Sartor, 266. xliv f^fTKODUcriON. < f h,s sentences perhaps not more than nine-tenth, stand nu« t on thcr le«,s ; the remainder are in c,uite . .tu," ■ ... udes, buttressed-up by props (of pare .theses a„d ashes) and ever with this or that tag.r!.g han^ii; fro tliem; a few even sprawl-out hclplesslv on nil ^a br«ken.bae.ed and dismen-bered.'^ '"tcT l" t.:! ^ITir f course., the Innnorous exaggeration of a writer who is expernnentmg upon the pubhc with a new stv e f . put the worst face on the muter .„H ■'.■ ^^'" ■neekly follow his lead. No is lis a,l T h "'''" capacity as English editor, he has a Inlessi tol^ of ndue tnfluence on the part of that dreadful Teu o7 rhus has no, the Editor himself, working over TeTfels' drockhs German, lost much of his English pud y -- ready to exalt t-Sey^Llri: rSc^^^ ^^ son, as a well of English undefiled. WUh h s tnai myTtifitir ?:'^'^ """^ ''' -'"^"^ '- .han :Lp t inybuincation. In pursuance of his firof k,„v, • tion hp ,•« of • ^ numerous inten- uon, ne is at pains to eve a TxPrmn^ i • stvlp H« 1 J u- ^ v^erman coloring to his style. He lards his pac^es with serins nf r« , , sr^kT"''^' " "- ^"™- pC-sTt'o't : text m brackets, as a guarantee of good faith R. ,! not e suspected of abusing our convene: The Ength thei rilf'T^-r^'r '''' "^-"^fo-omparLTb phrase\rr ;h ir::dra:tLr "r °i 'r'''-'-' uerman but does not use so freelv such ^« fh^ a- for the noun « and " were " .. .k u ^ adjective , and were at the beginning of a conditional ^ Sartor, 26 f. 2 /^,v ,^6 « " Condition of the German Learned," 5 2. iNrKODUcrioN. xlv sentence.* All this gave the book an odd look which every-* one was ready to agree was quite German. In view of this artfulness on the part of Carlyle, critics must not be blamed too severely for accep^'ng with childlike trustfulness his own misstatement of the case. The Sartorian pitfalls are many and ingenious ; and one after another the critics blunder into them. The further charge that Carlyle imitated Richter was made early and it has often been repeated. Thoreau seems to have set the notion going. In the course of a clear- sighted appreciation of Carlyle, written in 1847, he says : " In his graphic description of Richter's style, Carlyle describes his own pretty nearly; and no doubt he got his own tongue loosened at that fountain, and was inspired by it to equal freedom and criginality."^ The quotation shows that Carlyle and Jean Paul undoubtedly possessed certain things in common, — an untiring faculty of rich allusion, an absolute command of vivid metaphor, and a turbulently fresh vocabulary. Thoreau makes one impor- tant reservation. In Carlyle, "the proper current never sinks out of sight amid the boundless uproar," as it undoubtedly does in Richter. In other words, Carlyle dominates his material ; he rides on his whirlwind, while Richter is smothered under his roses. Between the two there is a vast difference, — the difference between the cloud and the clear sky. How Thoreau arrived at his conclusion, I have no means r,i knowing. He may have had such a knowledge of German as would enable him to compare Jean Paul and Carlyle with an expert eye for nice resemblance. On the other hand, he may simply have read Carlyle's translations of Richter, and his admiring essays, and jumped at a striking analogy. ^ " Sheers flown wprf» it furlnr ""- fa • ?6 5. "-Essays and Other Writings of Henry Thoreau, p. 159, London, n. d. xlvi » i I.OWCII is much mc f^TRODUCTfOJV. re emphatic: "In 'Sartor. In/iuencc of fe m P...1 • '^ , : '" '^'^''t^f. the marked -anner.". He i k a," "" "r"^' '"'^ '" "'^^"^ -^ and Fieldinr^ft r ri T '''' '""" °^ ^^^'^^' «^*-^^"e, > ^ wiin a tmge of (»erman sm "=» Tf fi,; Carlyle «„. his peculiar huinorZ,.,. KicMc.r"T„? ,'"' Simp y mistaken r^rU,\ i .. K>(-'uer, Lowell is rows illustrations'fro.° Richter ' b^^h "' """'T """'■ 'ate as ,885 when ti* '; , /' '^.'^•'' """^ °"' ••'g'"". »■" ccples with' ^co Va IrrCrt' '^°""''' ^-'-^'- C'nrlyle's i„,ita.io„ of Richter wis t f ;''''""'"' "^« Of those who have echoed th; ' "ncon,scious.« examined or tested it or h! °'""'°"' ''°^^ "''"y ''^^ making the necessa J ° ''""'■"''' ''' '=1"'P»"="' fo^ be deferred ^ »'"P"-on, is a question which may opp^^e'thVe'tio::^::'":?:' '""'- --^^ - two persons best mnllfi > . " "''"''"S- '" ^^^ ">« Carlyle and Car vl's ! r "'''' °" "''^ '"''J-'' --^ly -■'s st-g atT:f%rL'rr:rt:r''' r? "^"'"^' '"- ""o criticism cou.d be worr'fr„deI"°"t:'':ra: ^^^"'"^''^■•^•^''^^.".SS.Iioston, ,892. B/.chaoo^', Eaini.nr,k Magazine, ,850, p 6c8 \ Qj*'Z^^>-^y Rcv.ew, Jan., ,885., p. 02. ^ ^" ^^' <-• /:• Z.. I. 4«i. INTRODUCTION. x!vii Carlyle's style was imitative of Richter. He further states Willi great plainness that Carlyle often told him that his style "had its origin in his father's house in Annandale."* In another place, Carlyle admits the influence of the old Puritans and Elizabethans, and asserts that they played a " much more important part " in the formation of his style than Jean Paul ; "and the most imporfr^nt by far was thnt of Nature." Surely Carlyle ought to know how his own style was formed. Surely his positive statements must carry greater weight than the mere conjectures of the most brilliant critics. How much of the "old Puritans and Klizabethans," Shakspere being always barred, is dis- cernible in Sartor i And yet the influence of this negli- gible quantity was " greater " than Richter's. Carlyle writes this passage at a very sad time, when he is more anxious to set Irving in a true light than to adjust nicely the general public's notions about hi.; own methods of composition. He enters into no 'engthened discussion of the matter, but merely jots down a note in passing. Though the reference is slight, it is, to my mind, decisive. The publication of Carlyle's early letters has brought to light most important materia) f— the study of his style. His memory has not played him a trick when he says that his style was formed in the old Annandale farm-house. 'I'he documentary evidence in support of this statement is ample and convincing. Take for example such a passage as this : " Nap, the mighty, who but a few months ago made the sovereigns of Europe tremble at his nod; who has trampled on thrones and sceptres and kings and priests and prmcipalities and powers, and carried ruin and havoc and blood and fire from Gibralter to Archangel — /\^^/, the mighty is — Gone to Pot ! ! I 1 C. E. L., I, 411. xlviii /Arrfi'onrrcT/ojv. Is !■ I 'I •"I will plant my eagles on the towers of Lisbon. I will conquer Kuropc and crush (ireat Britain to ti.e centre of the terraqueous globe.' 1 will go to KIba and be ctxjped up in Limbo 1 1 I lUit yesterday, and Honey might have stood against the world ; now ' none so poor to do him reverence." 'Strange,' says Sancho l»anza, 'very strange things happen in the boiling of an egg.'"' I'his is not an excerpt from the Latter-day J'amp/i/ets, but a bit of a letter written by Carlyle at nineteen, on hearing the news of Napoleon's first overthrow. Not for si', years was he to begin the study of (Jermin or so much as know that Richter was in existence. Still, here we see exactly what Thoreau saw in Carlyle's style, — the unconventional vocabulary, the free construction and the wealth of allusion. These things, it must be repeated, Carlyle has in common with Richtc^r ;' but in no sense does he derive them from the German humorist. The passage quoted is only one of many which might be cited from his early letters and which display the same qualities. The Teufelsdrcickhian dialect is, to my mmd, plainly foreshadowed in the nicknames '' Boney;' 'Wap, the mi. .u.- ^ "^ '"" ""'' "'"' '"<^id ~ ■ ■""' ""'^" ^re due to the exercise of logic. INTRODUCTION. W Now Carlylc goes a step beyond both DcQuincey and Riiskin, and addresses himself almost exclusively to the car. Beside Carlyle's all other sty'es seem tame. At times his words seem to shout at you from the printed page, rhere is hardly a sentence which does not produce the ilhision of an audible voice full of mirth, or scorn, or ten- derness, or melaujholy, or entreaty. Often a passage which seems hard to the eye, yields up its meaning when read aloud. In this new prose the writer comes much closer to the reader than in »: classical prose, which considers it good breeding to suppress the personal note altogether. But this style is not oratorical. It is too close- knit, too free from the hint Oi .nsincerity, the necessary verbiage and the difTuscness of persuasive speech to be classed for a moment with Burke's. Every sentence is, as Mr. Leslie Stephen says "alive to the finger-tips." There is an evident desire to be al- ays emphatic, and no doubt Mr. Stephen is correct in ascribing this to Carlyle's strong feelings his great intellectual power, his hatred of the con- ventional, and his peculiar irritability of nerve. Later, I shall advert again to this vividness of style and this union of concentration with declamatory effect, which is still not oratorical. Froude calls Carlyle's style "the clearest of styles.'" I'his is a hard saying, unless by clear he means structurally clear, or else vivid. Otherwise the judgment cannot pass unchallenged. Between the reader and Carlyle's meaning there always hangs a veil, which grows transparent in the exact degree that he understands Carlyle's manifold and out-of-the-way allusions. To my mind this is the chief and ' Thoreau had done so long before. " Not one obscure line, oi half line, did he ever write. His meaning lies plain as the daylight, and he who runs may read." Essays and Qther IVritiugs of Henry Thoreau, d. '54- lii INTRODUCTION. 1 1 i \ %% 1 r perhaps the only real difficulty in understanding Carlyle. His own comic self-depreciation may be set aside. It is not because his mind is too weak to construct intelligible sentences ; it is not because those sentences are *' broken- backed " or " dismembered " ; but because they are full of references to all things visible and invisible, that tl ey are sometimes hard to understand. The range of his a .usions IS immense. Apparently he never forgot anything ne ever read or anything he ever saw. All literature lies open before him from which to choose his illustrations. He passes from Aristotle to Peter Pindar, from Goethe to a local almanac. Here is an astronomical fact josding a scrap of a song in praise of tobacco ; there, a bit from the Anatomy of Melancholy alongside a reference to the dress of the South American guacho. Only two English writers approach him in wealth of remote allusion, — Macaulay and Mr. Swinburne. When the allusion is understood the cloudy veil becomes fire, great and shining light. Take, for example, a typical passage chosen almost at random, — the closing paragraph of the second chapter of Sartor Within that space are six allusions, — to Horace, to Pope to Iristram Shandy, to the Bible, to an English trade habit ' to an obscure Chinese custom.^ To the obvious meaning of the text these allusions superadd a fine literary flavor on which half its efifect depends. The meaning is tolerably clear without them ; but until we understand these allusions as Carlyle did, we cannot read the passage as he intended us to read it. Indeed, it is not too much to say that a right appreciation of it is impossible without a knowledge of the waggish turn which he gives to the solemn Latin adage Until wc- know that Mr. Shandy made a similarly free trans- lation of it, to justify the exposure of his grand-aunt Dinah's peccadillo, we miss the author's meaning. The practice, it 1 See Notes, pp. 2S5 f. IN TROD UC TION. liii must be confessed, smacks of the schoolmaster ; it is always more or less pedantic. In justification of Carlyle, however, llic fact is clear that it is the icsult of a habit of mind, which urew with his growth and tinged the very earliest specimens of his style. His letters to his college friends are crammed with allusions to his reading and with quotations from Milton, Horace, Voltaire, etc., till one of his correspond- ents is driven to remonstrate.^ All through, the influence of his early training is clearly traceable. As a Scotch Pres- byterian he knows his Bible thoroughly. Many passages of Sartor are simply mosaics of familiar texts. As a stu- dent of Mathematics he can speak confidently of Lagrange and Laplace. He is at Edinburgh when French philosophy is inlluential, and knows his D'Alembcrt and Voltaire, lie learns to read German, he translates German literature and writes essays upon it, and can therefore refer, without fear of making a slip, to Hugo of Trimberg and the Hoard of the Nibelungs. He has explored the deeps and shallows of English literature, and when he casts his drag-net into that wide sea, no one need be surprised at anything he brings to light. As a bookman by nature, circumstances, and his own mature decision, his allusions are in the mai-^, bookish. Knowledge of them is the price he demands for the right of entry into the treasure-house of his thought. As a professed Carlylean, I, for one, cannot think it too much. "The clearest of styles," "every sentence alive to its finger-tips" are phrases now easier to understand. This clearness, or rather vividness, this impression of abounding life will be found on. examination to be largely due to the quality which the Germans call Anschaidichkeit. Carlyle loved the concrete fact with passionate devotion. What- ever was strongly marked, individual, characteristic in a 1 E. Lett., 1 8, n. liv scene or a INTRO D uc r/ojv. possessed th?""' ' ""^ ^"'''"'•"'^^ ''™- "'^^i^es, he possessed the vigorous constructive imagination which being accorded the concrete fact, builds upon i with u er' rmg truth. That is, Carlyle's mental vision is so I e„ a ^ h. sympathies so strong that he realizes in its shiest color the fact which is to duller eyes a mere blur, and sets phors, then, are h.s natural language. With him there is no question of evolving the thought and then dressingTup n some fitting garb of metaphor. The thought and the ■mage are one. For example, he wishes to tell " . at Professor Teufelsdrockh's method of arriving at tr ,th U to hi,^ Tr- 1 ^^y^"'^- '^"^ '"-•g'-t present se Prof i;: me't'h ;' """ ^"^ ^'""■'^"■^ s""- -o- schoo L„t,v '?" '^ ""*' '" ^'^y ''^' 'hat of common school Logic, where l/,e truth, all stand in a row each hold mg by the skirts of the other •"■ n. ,„ • i. , his i„Hi„.,.» \'''"'"^- Or. again, he wishes to have H L;r T t '" "■" "^^Pi-^^^ion of a face. Teufels- drockh s look ,s grave, but grave in a certain way After tel ing us what if ;<. ,,nf i,„ . ■'' ^"cr "^nnf. ,""''.' '^ "°t' ^^ compares it to the gravity of some silent, high-encircled mount...,-pool." Then one ■mage calls forth another until the tissue of impressive P.ctures forms one consistent and illuminating whol The mountain-pool" may be "perhaps the crater of an extic volcano; into whose black deeps you fear to gazMhose eyes those lights that sparkle in it, may indeed' be ;eflex of the heavenly Stars, but perhaps also glances rom fe reg.on of Nether Fire.- When it is L, a qu IZ o g.v.ng torm and substance to abstractions, but of makin. daTh ^f'^co, '™"" "^'""' ^^^'^'^^ '^ unapprolchable Ev y' dash of color, every sweeping line shows the artisfs eye and * Sartor, 45 . 2 Ibid., 28. INTRODUCTION. Iv the artist's hand. Who can forget the old sergeant's cot- tage with " flowers struggling in through the very windows," or the swallows "from far Africa," or the child on the orchard-wall facing the sunset, or the " ruddy morning " of his first day at school, or the hundred other vignettes which brighten Sartor's pages ? The same desire for the concrete is seen in his habit of making proper nouns plural ; for example, " English National Debts," " Frankfort Corona- tions," " Sloughs of Despair and steep Pisgah hills." " Such burdens as the English national debt," " ceremonies as gor- geous as the coronation of the emperor Joseph at Frank- fort," would not have a tithe of the force or fire of these pregnant condensations. No small part of Carlyle's effect lies in this higher kind of picture-writing. If he be denied his similes and metaphors in all their varieties, his occupa- tion is gone. These three things, then, seem to be the most marked characteristics of his style, — the constant impression of an audible voice, the wealth of allusion, and love of the con- cretely picturesque. In a much lower rank I would place his humor, as distinguishing the style of Sartor. The essence of it consists in a juxtaposition of the remote and the incongruous with the result of awakening a feeling of amusement or of scorn or of sadness. For example, " Witness your Pyrrhus conquering the world, yet drinking no better red wine than he did before I Alas ! witness also your Diogenes, flame-clad, scaling the upper Heaven and verging toward Insanity for the prize of a ' high-souled Brunette,' as if the Earth held but one and not several of these ! " ^ Or again, man, as a " tool-using animal " fashions "Liverpool steam-carriages" and "the British House of Commons." There is no connection between the two See p. 13 6. Ivi f^TKODUCT/ON. (' I- except in Carlyle's thouirht Tn nU .i th« "c . , '"""feni- lo class them as tools wifh tne first woor en niKKi^ >> • «-"ui!> wim ''t wooatn Dibble is grotesquely humorous Mut Man, the n,aker of ^^,''^1^:,^ '""';-"-»• fro.n the bosom of the Ea'rth an'd ys to , "^ 'Tl me and my lug/rase at l/u ,„,. „t ■ , , ' ^'^<""P«>t and thev do t h? n "-^ '"'-"'"'-"■''■'y miles an /.our; <""'sin/or us; and they do h'' 1„ thi ?? T' '"■''"^' taint of the coarse and Mr.„ , " "^ "■■""'& •■' f;on. coarseness Ca^t t nrr^r: :errr"1 Count ZShda™. Son.e'^ h roHnl^ioeTrt T^. Z admirable; for instance, in the ch^'pt r Lti ^ 'rh unwieldy elephant uses all his mi^ht f„ ■ but he wreathes his lithe proL 1 ai tve'ar'f"'; amused unless we resemble the essayist r^io selec e h° picture of the horrors of war in the "Dun.drle' p ss 4e as an example of humor. ^ passage The minor structural peculiarities nf th^ r. i i ^i'satrrf-^rir^T^^^^^^^^ threes, a ^^^^^^ :X: Z^Z^^^^Xl the Homenc hymns to Cardinal Newman A narentl T -rTphro^dit": s::: ^ei-rt tr- -^- INTRODUC r/ON. Ivii TTft/xTTOiKiAot.' "It was indeed an o/d, decayed, and moribund world into which Christianity had been cast."^ Carlyle shows an extraordinary fondness for this trick of style, iherc is hardly a page without an example of it ; for instance, "Every cellular, vascular, muscular tissue."^ Or instead of adje«. Ives it may be a group of three nouns : " FA-ery . . . Tissue glories in its Lawrences, Magendies, Bichrus."* Or again, it may be three noun phrases; for example, " Our disquisitions on the Social Contract, on the Standard of Taste, on the Migrations of the Herring?"* liie phrases may be absolute : " Tears streaming down his cheeks, pipe held aloft, foot clutched into the air."" Or again, this triplicity may consist of three verbs : " Riot cries aloud, and staggers and swaggers in his rank dens of shame."' Or again, the group of three may be three symmetrical sentences ; for example, " Men are dying there, men are being born, men are praying."** These may also occur in combination and with certain modifications, so as to affect the construction of an entire passage.' 1 Hymns, III, 89. 2J. H. Newman, //istoricil Sketches, II, 374, London, 1891. Other examples are not hard to find: "Yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted " {/sa. liii, 4) ; " Go to the ant . . . which having no guide, overseer or ruler " {Prov. vi, 7 " Con cagne magre, studiose e conte " (hiferno, xxxiii, 31). Cp. the ...scription over Hell- gate, cant, iii, for triplicate structure. " Wie si ziige einen valken V stare, scan', und wMe" {A^iMttngenlied, Av. I, st. 13). In Latin, the Iloratian 'totus teres atque rotundus ' will readily occur to one. (loethe and Heine are very fond of this construction ; for example, " Im Ganzen, Guten, Schonen Resolut zu leben," " Du bist wie eine Hlume, So hold und schcin und rein." The principle seems to be " Alle gute Dinge sind drei." 3 Sartor, 2. 6 /^/^. 7 /^/^.^ jg. * ^l'i<^- « Ibid., 28. 8 IHd., 18. ® ^Qfi Sartor, 35 19, ro2 18, and notably 135 8, where the author is conscious of the construction. Iviii fNTKODUCTION. ii I \ I In the matter of the capitals with which his paces are s udded, Carlyle reverts to the early custom' o ,Tdic L" in pXtai" ^Tl' '' "' '"''-''' "-''"' '"^ «---»" ou^rf r ■■' "■■'-' <^<'"'P'"»'i-«'y few neologies to be ound, bu very many compound words. Of these a verv arge number are adverbs joined to verbs, after the fash on' the Jverb f ? ""^"?'"« ''^ J°'"'"g '" " ">e idea of accent o 1 ", '' " '' '°"^"°"^ °' ""= »">« ^^ift of accent ,„ t,,e verbal part of the compound as in German Another n,annensm is the occurrence of iinirlinir word i„ pa.rs, which are nearly always alliterativj "'nd'someU; h bn:bie""ro:7'";^"' '-' '"^^"'■" ■■'''•^itabirrd "if , « .^ •'•"'' ^"''"'^•" " '^lo'hwebs and cobwebs " tii ■"Anor ■ "''''■'"' '"' ^"^«Sers," "right and ht habkt T'T"" """" '"'y P"^^'^ 'he reader nver'ted """""^ ''°'" ^'"""'^'- Phrases cut off by lliese seem to be fr. m authors which ought to be well known unt, closer inspection reveals the%uotation I bedded m the text a few lines or a few pages before Not mfrequently the puz.Ie is made harder by fhe le„«h of ^h. — Us afsr i::^?:r '--' -- ^-'>"^'^ ^^- 'based"r'f^' ^TT"^ *'" "* ^^^'"'"■"g be sound and , based on facts which may be verified, the following conclu s.ons may be regarded as established. S.r>or preLts tie appt;n' il f , '"f^P^"''-" development of tendencies . apparent in Carlyle's earliVsi- «,.,>; t^ , ' approaching the effect of sp.-ch. it";;;aTvoidsTrS / INTKOD UC r/OAT. lix ness of oratory. It has the c« cinnot believe that " soul is synonymous with stomach. ' -ith is still the one thing needful. One ray of li^ht remains. "Ihe Infinite nature of Duty" is "stiU dimly present to him." lUit the light is very dim. I .lilurc in life and mental and physical suffering drive him to the very brink of self murder. His misery makes him indilTcrent to danger and endor-'s him with a counterfeit . oiirage, while at the same time he is subject to the bond- age of " a continual, indefmite, pining fear." " It .seemed as if all i!.:ngs in the Heavens above and the Karth beneath would hurt me ; as if the Heavens and the Karth were but boundless jaws of a devouring monster, wherein I, palpitat- ing, waited to be devoured." It is plain that this state of mind could not last. The City of Destruction, by its very nature, cannot be an abiding-place for any pilgrim. This is the laj:» pass to which the K"erlasting No reduces Teufelsdrockh. I'his famous phrase of Carlyle's, thotgh often mis-mderitood ' to be the "protest" of the hero, mear.^ simply the sun of those facts which seem to deny the existence of a moral order in the universe. It is that series of phenomena which have pro- voked the obstinate questionings of thoughtful men from the days of Job down, when given a negative interpretation. The Everlasting No peals " authoritatively through all the recesses" of the pilgrim's being: "Thou art fatherless, outcast, and the Universe is mine (the Devil's)." The Everlasting No is, then, in plain terms, according to Carlyle, the Devil ; which again is, according to Goethe, the spirit which denies. At once the question arises, " How does the pilgrim Teufelsdrockh vanquish this Apollyon > " The query is all important ; for Carlyle considers the conflict between inherited belief and new knowledge as typical and inevitable. ot being born purely a Loghead {pummkopf), thou hadst ^ See 153 13, n. p. 350. Ixvi INTRODUCTION. I \ I i I ! no other outlook" than skepticism. " The whole worl'? is, like thee, sold to Unbelief." In Teufelsdrockh's case, the first step on the way out of the maze is taken in the Rue St. Thomas de I'Enfer. This is, in plain terms, a moment of illumination, a revulsion of feeling, a reaction of courage to endure life after a prolonged period of depression and cowardice. This is the turning-point in his career. He become'^ less morbid and less absorbed in his own troubles ; he can, " at least in lucid intervals, look i' way from his own sorrows over the many-coloured world." Through much experience of life he attains to the " Centre of Indifference," which is realizing the nothingness of life, not only for him- self, but for the race. The stars burn and brand this trutn into him as they taught the lover of Maud. Now Teufelsdrockh is in the way to receive the Everlast- ing Yea, or positive principle of life. V hat is said at this point of the inevitable confict between the flesh and the spirit is a restatement, in non-theological terms, of truths which have been more clearly stated by St. Paul. Reaching the " Centre of Indifference " is, in eflfec't, losing sight of his own woes in view of the fate of human kind. This " pre- liminary moral act — annihilation of self {Selbsttodtungy is indispensable if further progress is to be made. From the contemplation of Nature in the new spirit comes the new Ev , agel, — " The Universe is not dead and demoniacal, a charnel house with spectres ; but godlike, and my Father's." This is the very opposite of the authoritative utterance of the Everlasting No. Now he is on the threshold of the " Sanctuary of Sorrow," which is neither more nor less than the central fact of Christianity. The plainest interpreta- tion of this is that Teufelsdrockh, after a period of unbelief, turns again, wistfully, to the faith of his childhood. The whim of happiness must be discarded if the secret of life is to be learned ; and it is to be learned by that age and gen- JNTROD UCTION. Ixvii iion and er. He roubles ; his own li much srence," "or him- lis trutn >erlast- i at this and the f truths caching It of his s "pre- From nes the oniacal, ther's." ince of of the ss than irpreta- nbelief, . The I life is id gen- eration not from Byron but from Goethe. There is some- thing higher than happiness. The great secret is Ent- siv^cn, renunciation. " Love not Pleasure ; love God. This is the Everi.asting Yea, wherein all contradiction is solved." It is not necessary at this point to interpret this precept, nor to insist on Carlyle's personal obligations to Goethe for ihe doctrine of renunciation, which were very great. In the case of his hero, ^he reception of this truth — this positive principle of life eaus to imn>ediate results ; the rejection of Voltairism, and renewed and deeper reverence for the " Worship of Sorrow." Then follows the establishment of very important convictions : that doubt of any kind cannot be removed except by action ; that the duty to be done is the nearest ; and tha* the ideal is to be found in the domain of the actual. " Here or nowhere is America." Teufels- drockh, in this serener frame of mind, resolves to be, not a chaos, but a world, and finds his sphere of usefulness in the production of literature. That all this applies accurately to Carlyle is less impor- tant than that he considers the case of Teufelsdroc! i to be typical, at least in the earlier stages of his ex ;rience. The e/il is widespread ; but possibly Carlyle's method of cure, which is Goethe's, will not be universally accepted. Put roughly and briefly, the evil is the inevitable break with inherite'' faith and lapse into crippling unbelief. The cure lies in a revolt from materi:^lism, peace in work, and the Goethean philosophy. These phases of spiritual struggle have since been repeated in many memoirs and biograpiiies ; they have even become the commonplaces of the novelist. The problem is old enough, but is Carlyle's solution of it so very new? Is his doctrine so very different from the essentia! teaching of nineteen centuries.? Is it difficult to imagine any wise teacher of the Christian faith in any age Ixviii INTRO D UC TION. \ h h * '^ *' « !i ? I II li saying to the doubting, burdened soul, "Renounce self; love not pleasure, love God ; work in well-doing " ? Carlyle does not define the essential term, — God. To the Catholic, to the early Protestant, to the Mohammedan, that one word is an entire theology, as Newman points out. I have no wish to assail Carlyle's reputation for heterodoxy, but I fear that he cannot be successfully defended from the charge of preaching Theism in SaHor, at least. He either means by God, much what his old-fashioned peasant mother meant, as indeed he continually assured her, or he means nothing! Possibly he refused to define it even to himself ; but unless he did so, how could he keep his readers from using it with its old connotation .? If he said A, and would not, accord- ing to the proverb, follow it up with B, he showed no reason why his disciples should be so illogical. At the end of Book I, Carlyle drops his jest for a time and asks in all seriousness, " What is the use of health or of life if not to do some work therewith .? And what work nobler than transplanting foreign Thought into the barren domestic soil .? " This reveals his own view of his mission. He had been transplanting foreign thought in his essays and translations ; but no essay or translation was to have the vogue and influence of Sartor. The significant thing is that the foreign thought which he transplants is not French, though French philosophy was dominant, but German. The positive teaching of Sartor is. Goethean through and through. As he rejected Voltairism, so did Teufelsdrockh. The three principles in which Teufelsdrockh finds peace are summed up in three quotations from Goethe. In what Goethe named world-literature. Sartor is one point at which Goethe's influence touched England.' It is no wonder that Carlyle exalts his German evangelist who showed him the way of escape from Eyronism... E-xcent for the teachino- of ^ Manfred was another. INTRODUCTION. Ixix ince self ; ? Carlyle s Catholic, one word '. have no but I fear charge of means by tx meant, 5 nothing. )ut unless ng it with it, accord- lowed no )r a time health or 'hat work le barren mission. is essays ; to have t thing is t French, German. )ugh and sdrockh. Is peace In what at which ider that him the ching of Wilhchn Meister, he must have followed the counsel Job's wife gave her husband. Looking at it from another point of view, Sartor forms part of the literature of skepticism. The Book of Job, the works of Lucretius and Montaigne all show the spirit of doubt or of unbelief ; but it is only in our own era that skepticism has been recognized as a distinct literary motif. as the reason for a book's existence. To this class belong Faust, Manfred, Cain, Sartor Resartus, and In Memoriam, which all depict in different ways the struggle between faith and unfaith. The protagonists are all, for a time at least, doubters. Carlyle and Tennyson find different remedies for the trouble, where Goethe and Byron find none. But they all agree in this, — that they do not write for the pur- pose of upsetting any faith, as pronounced freethinkers have done in numberless didactic essays and tracts. Their aim is art, not teaching. They are all deeply in earnest because they regard the questions they raise as the weight- iest that can concern the mind. They are all reverent, they are never flippant. They never exhibit the boyish vehemence of Shelley in Queen Mab. At the same time the skepticism is the salt of their work. Take Mephistopheles out of Faust and the drama shrinks into a mere intrigue. Imagine a Teufelsdrockh who has never doubted, suffered, renounced, attained to calm, and the interest in the book has vanished. Unless the author of In Memoriam found it necessary to state in his own way the " truths that never can be proved," the great poem would dwindle to an epitaph. Our century has been marked by widespread religious doubt. The undeniable fact Carlyle and Tennyson do not attempt to blink. They have felt the doubt, and they offer ways of escape from it, in each case embodying, as I believe, their own experience. In their work is to be found the antidote to Byronism, and both show the influence of Goethe. Ixx INTRODUCrrON. IP I I |; 'S'l V In his, parable of "The Flower," Tennyson shows that he is quite aware that he had set the tune for all the minor singers of his day. It is a simple fact that his manner has dominated the poetry of the last forty years almost as absolutely as Pope's manner dominated the poetry of the eighteenth centuiy. Carlyle's distinctive manner is much more strongly marked than Tennyson's; but possibly for that very reason has found no imitators. In some points, the eccentricities, as well as the excellences, of Browning and Mr. George Meredith resemble Carlyle's ; but it would be difficult to make out a case of deliberate mimicry. Car- lyle's style is the bow of Ulysses, the brand of A3tur, a weapon for no feebler hand than his. He has not led other writers to imitate his style, but his direct personal influence on the leaders of thougnt has been very great. He has influenced the men of influence. His first convert of note was Emerson. Now though the sneer that he was an "American pocket edition of Carlyle " is ridiculous, and Emerson is undoubtedly his own man, he would still be the first to acknowledge his indebtedness to the great Scotsman. Indeed, the tone of Emerson's letters to his friend show throughout a curious blending of friendship and discipleship. And it was Emerson who emancipated America from literary dependence on England. During the nine silent, sad years between 1833 and 1842, Tennyson, as yet " the unaccredited hero," was Carlyle's friend, and the two seem to have had numberless unchronicled smokes and talks together. These years were undoubtedly the great poet's forty days in the wilderness, the time when he perfected his art and thought out the problems of In Iflemoriam; and there is goor' reason for believing that Carlyle's Sartorian philosophy aided him m his task. Some curious verbal resemblances have been already pointed out.^ Kingsley, again, in his earlier novels 1 See Notes, 40 30, 46 3, 4, 80 12, 81 4, 5, 84 15, 122 22, 152 18, 210 25. \ INTKODUC TION. Ixxi is unmistakably under the influence of Carlyle. Sandy Mackay, in Alton Locke, is admittedly modeled from the sage of Chelsea. In the fierceness, the tenderness, the humor, the Scotch accent of that remarkable dealer in second- hand books, we have probably the most artistic represen- tation of Carlyle's wonderful table talk. Ruskin, who came later, is also proud to acknowledge Carlyle as his master in his humanitarian efforts. The attitude of Huxley and Tyn- dall toward him has been already explained. It was Tyndall who stood by him all through the trials of the Edinburgh rectorship, and he was one of the few who saw him laid in the earth. Though only a few of the noted names are assembled here to show his power over the minds of men, the list might be greatly increased ; and to trace that power through all its subtle workings would require, not a paragraph, but a volume. It is "mightiest in the mightiest," and it is felt only less keenly by great masses of the undistinguished. In all the Anglian world — in Eng- land, the United States, and the great colonies — uncounted young men have come under that potent spell, and have found in Carlyle either tonic, or teaching, or both. Of all his works none braces and builds the spirit up like Sartor Resartus; and nowhere else does Carlyle give the world so much of himself at his best. n?^ ^. t m Ill SARTOR RESARTUS. BOOK I. CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY. Consider I NO our present advanced state of culture, and how the Torch of Science has now been brandished and borne about, with more or less effect, for five- thousand years and upwards ; how, in these times especially, not only the Torch still burns, and perhaps 5 more fiercely than ever, but innumerable Rush-lights, and Sulphur-matches, kindled thereat, are also glancing in every direction, so that not the smallest cranny or doghole in Nature or Art can remain unilluminated, — it might strike the reflective mind with some surprise that 10 hitherto little or nothing of a fundamental character, whether in the way of Philosophy or History, has been written on the subject of Clothes. Our Theory of Gravitation is as good as perfect: Lagrange, it is well known, has proved that the Planetary 15 System, on this scheme, will endure forever; Laplace, still more cunningly, even guesses that it could not have been made on any other scheme. Whereby, at least, our nautical Logbooks can be better kept; and water- transport of all kinds has grown more commodious. Of 2 Geology and Geognosy we know enough : what with the iii> f * 1 i 2 SAA'7'Oh' A7;.S./A'/7/.V. labours of our Werners and Muttons, what with the ardent genius of thoir disciples, it has come about that now, to many a Royal Society, the Creation of a World is little more mysterious than the cooking of a Dumpling; con- 5 cerning which last, indeed, there have been minds to whom the cjuestion, J/oio the Apples niere ,i^()t in presented difficulties. Why mention our disquisitions on the Social Contract, on the Standard of Taste, on the Migrations of the Herring? Then, have we not a Doctrine of Rent, a to Theory of Value; Philosophies of Language, of History, of Pottery, of Apparitions, of Intoxicating Liquors? Man's whole life and environment have been laid open and elucidated ; scarcely a fragment or fibre of his Soul, Body, and I'ossessions, but has been probed, dissected, 15 distilled, desiccated, and scientifically decomposed: our spritual Faculties, of which it appears there are not a few, have their Stewarts, Cousins, Royer Collards : every cellular, vascular, muscular Tissue glories in its Lawrences, Magendies, Bichdts, 20 How, then, comes it, may the reflective mind repeat, that the grand Tissue of all Tissues, the only real Tissue, should have been quite overlooked by Science, — the vestural Tissue, namely, of woollen or other cloth ; which Man's Soul wears as its outmost wrappage and overall ; 25 wherein his whole other Tissues are included and screened, his whole Faculties work, his whole Self lives, moves, and has its being? For if, now and then, some straggling broken-winged thinker has cast an owl's glance into t)iis obscure region, the most have soared over it 30 altogether heedless ; regarding Clothes as a property, not an accident, as quite natural and spontaneous, like the leaves of trees, like the plumage of birds. In all specula- tions they have tacitly figured man as a Clothed Animal; whereas he is by nature a Naked Animal; and only in If PKKI.IMINARY. certain circumstances, by purpose and device, masks himself in Clothes. Shakspeare says, we are creatures that look before and after ; the more surprising that we do not look round a little, and see what is passing under our very eyes. 5 Hut here, as in so many other cases, Germany, learned, indefatigable, deep-thinking Germany comes to our aid. It is, after all, a blessing that, in these revolutionary times, there should be one country where abstract Thought can still take shelt( i ; that while the din and lo frenzy of Catholic Emancipations, and Rotten Boroughs, and Revolts of Paris, deafen every French and every P^glish ear, the German can stand peaceful on his scientific watch-tower; and, to the raging, struggling multitude here and elsewhere, solemnly, from hour to 15 hour, with preparatory blast of cowhorn, emit his Horet ihr- Herren iitul /asset's Euch sagen; in other words, tell the Universe, - v;hich so often forgets that fact, what o'clock it really is. Not unfrequently the Germans have been blamed for an unprofitable diligence ; as if they 20 struck into devious courses, where nothing was to be had but the toil of a rough journey ; as if, forsaking the gold- mines of Finance, and that political slaughter of fat oxen whereby a man himself grows fat, they were apt to run goose-hunting into regions of bilberries and crowberries, 25 and be swallowed up at last in remote peat-bogs. Of that unwise science, which, as our Humorist expresses it, ' By geometric scale Doth take the size of pots of ale ' ; still more, of that altogether misdirected industry, which 30 is seen vigorously thrashing mere straw, there can njthing defensive be said. In so far as the Germans are chargeable with such, let them take the consequence. 1 li SAA'TOh' A'/':S,IA'7'{\S. »n Neverthfless be it remarked, that even a Russian steppe has tumuli n>irf c^old ornaments; also many a scene that looks rle .,rt aiul rock-lmund from the distance, will unf..l.l i...cif, when visited, into rare valleys. Nay, in 5 any case, would Criticism erect not only finj^er-posts and turnpikes, but spiked «ates and impassable barriers, for the mind of man? it is viitten, 'Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.' Surely the plain rule is, Let each considerate person have his way, and 10 see what it will lead to. For not this man and that man, but all men make up mankind, and tlieir united tasks the task of mankind. How often have we seen some such adventurous, and perhaps much-censured wanderer light on some outlying, neglected, yet vitally momentous IS province; the hidden treasures of which he first discov- ered, and kept proclaiming till the general eye and effort were directed thither, and the concjuest was completed ; — thereby, in these his seemingly so aimless rambles, plant- ing new standards, founding new habitable colonies, in 20 (he immeasurable circumambient realm of Nothingness and Night! Wise man was he who counselled that Speculation should have free course, and look fearlessly towards all the thirty-two points of the compass, whither- soever and howsoever it listed. 25 Perhaps it is proof of the stinted condition in wh.ch pure Science, especially pure moral Science, languishes among us English ; and how our mercantile greatness,, and invaluable Constitution, impressing a political or other immediately practical tendency on all pjiglish cul- 30 ture and endeavour, cramp the free flight of Thought, — that this, not Philosophy of Clothes, but recognition even that we have no such Philosophy, stands here for the first time published in our language. What English intellect could have chosen such a topic, or by chance stumbled PKEL/AflNAkV. on it ? But for that same unshackled, and even seques- tered condition of the (Jcrman Learned, which permits and induces them to tish in all manner of waters, with all manner of nets, it seems probable enough, this abstruse Inquiry might, in spite of the results it leads to, have 5 continued dormant for inddinite periods. The Editor of these sheets, though otherwise boasting himself a man of confirmed speculative habits, and perhaps discursive enough, is free to confess, that never, till these last months, did the above very plain considerations, on our 10 total want of a Philosophy of Clothes, occur to him ; and then, by quite foreign suggestion. Hy the arrival, namely, of a new book from Professor Teufelsdrockh of Weiss- nichtwo ; treating expressly of this subject ; and in a style which, whether understood or not, could not even is by the blindest be overlooked. In the present Editor's way of thought, this remarkable Treatise, with its Doc- trines, whether as judicially acceded to, or judicially denied, has not remained without effect. ' Die Kleider, ihr Werden und Wirken (Clothes, their 20 'Origin and Influence) : von Diog. Teufelsdrockh, J. U,D. 'etc. Stillschivcigen und Cos»''- Weissnk/itn'o, i^t^i. 'Here,' says the fVeissnichtwo' sc/ie Anzeiger, 'comes a ' Volume of that extensive, close-printed, close-meditated ' sort, which be it spoken with pride, is seen only in Ger- 25 ' many, perhaps only in Weissnichtwo. Issuing from the 'hitherto irreproachable Firm of Stillschweigen and ' Company, with every external furtherance, it is of such 'internal quality as to set Neglect at defiance.' ... 'A 'work,' concludes the well-nigh enthusiastic Reviewer, 30 ' interesting alike to the antiquary, the historian, and the 'philosophic thinker; a masterpiece of boldness, lynx- -eyed acutenecc, ^^d r-Agg^^ independent Ccrmanism ' and Philanthropy {derber Kerndeutschheit imd Menschen- 6 SAA'TOA' HFSAh'TUS. ' liebe)\ which will not, assuredly, pass current without 'opposition in hijjh plnces ; but must and will exalt the 'almost new name of I'eufelsdrockh to the first rat k.s of ' Philosophy, in our (lerman Temple of Honour.' 5 Mindful of old friendship, the distinguished i'rofcssoi, in this the first blaze of his fame, which however does not dazzle him, sends hither a Presentation-copy of his Hook ; with compliments and encomiums which modesty forbids the present Kditor to rehearse; yet without lo indicated wish or hope of any kind, except what may be implied in the concluding phrase : Mochte es (this remark- able Treatise) aiich im lirit'isclitn lUuien f^eiieihen ! CHAPTER 11. %i EDITORIAI- DIFFICULTIES. If for a speculative man, 'whose seedfield,' in the sublime words of the Poet, 'is Time,' no conquest is im- 15 portant but that of new ideas, then might the arrival of Professor Teufelsdrockh's Hook be marked with chalk in the Editor's calendar. It is indeed an 'extensive Vol- ume,' of boundless, almost formless contents, a very Sea of thought ; neither calm nor clear, if you will ; yet wherein 20 the toughest pearl-diver may dive to his utmost depth, and return not only with sea-wreck but with true orients. Directly on the first perusal, almost on the first delib- erate inspection, it became apparent that here a quite new Branch of Philosophy, leading to as yet undescried 25 ulterior results, was disclosed; farther, what seemed scarcely less interesting, a quite new human Individuality, an almost unexampled personal character, that, namely, EDI TOR I A L DltHCUL TIES. ill of Profc L>r Teufelsdrockh the Discloser. Of both which ivclt)' , as far as might be possible, we resolved to mas» T t''-; significance. Hut as man is eniph.iti( ally a proswiytHi ig creature, no sooner was such mastery even fairlv attempted, than the new question arose: 5 I low • gnt this acquired good be imparted to others, perhaps in equal n«t(! 'hereof; how could ♦h»; Philos- ophy of Clothes, and the Author of such Philosophy, be brought home, in any measure, to the business and bosoms of our own Knglish Natio.i ? For if new-got gold jo is said to burn the pockets till it be cast forth into circulati'^n, much more may new Truth. Here, however, difficult ies occurred. The first thought naturally was tr- publish Article after Article on this remarkable Volume, in such widely-circulating Critical 15 Journals as the Editor might stand connected with, or by money or love procure access to. But. on the other hand, was it not clear that such matter as must here be revealed and treated of might endanger the circulation of any Journal extant? If, indeed, all party-divisions in 20 the State could have been abolished. Whig, Tory, and Radical, embracing in discrepant union ; and all the Journals of the Nation could have been jumbled into one Journal, and the Philosophy of Clothes poured forth in incessant torrents therefrom, the attempt had seemed ?.i possible. But, alas, what vehicle of that sort have we, except Fmser's Magazinei A vehicle all strewed (figura- tively speaking) with the maddest Waterloo-Crackers, exploding distractively and destructively, wheresoever the mystified passenger stands or sits ; nay, in any case, 30 understood to be, of late years, a vehicle full to over- flowing, and inexorably shut! Besides, to state the Philosophy of Clothes without the Philosopher, the iHeas of TeuCelsdrockh without something of his personality, III 8 SARTOR RESARTUS. !l ^ was il not to irsure both A entire misapprehension? Now for biography, had it been otherwise admissible, there were no adequate documents, no hope of obtaining such, but rather, owing to circumstances, a special 5 despair. Thus did the Editor see himself, for the while, shut out from all public utterance of these extraordinary Doctrines, and constrained to revolve them, not without disquietude, in the dark depth:* of his own mind. So had it lasted for some months ; and now the lo Volume on Clothes, read and again read, was in several points becoming lucid and lucent ; the personality of its Author more and more surprising, but, in spite of all that memory and conjecture could do, more and more enigmatic ; whereby the old disquietude seemed fast 15 settling into fixed discontent, — wh_n altogether un- expectedly arrives a Letter from Herr Hofrath Heu- schrecke, our Professor's chief friend and associate in Weissnichtwo, with whom we had not previously cor- responded. The Hofrath, after much quite extraneous 20 matter, began dilating largely on the 'agitation and attention ' which the Philosophy of Clothes was exciting in its own German Repubii'^ of Letters; on the deep significance and tendency of his Friend's Volume ; and then, at length, with great circumlocution, hinted at the 25 practicability of conveying 'some knowledge of it, and of him, to England, and through England to the distant West': a Work on Professor Teufelsdrockh, 'were un- doubtedly welcome to the Family^ the National, or any other of those patriotic Libraries, at present the glory of 30 BHish Literature' : might work revolutions in Thought ; and so forth ; — in conclusion, intimating not obscurely, that should the present Editor feel disposed to undertake a Biography of Teufelsdrockh, he, Hofrath Heuschrecke, had it in his power to furnish the requisite documents. EDITORIAL DIFFICULTIES. 9 As in some chemical mixture, that has stood long evaporating, but would not crystallise, instantly when the wire or other fixed substance is introduced, crystalli- sation commences, and rapidly proceeds till the whole is finished, so was it with the Editor's mind and this offer 5 of Heuschrecke's. Form arose out of void solution and discontinuity; like united itself with like in definif^ arrangement : and soon either in actual vision and pos- session, or in fixed reasonable hope, the image- of the whole Enterprise had shaped itself, so to speak, into a 10 solid mass. Cautiously, yet courageously, through the twopenny post, application to the famed redoubtable Oliver Yorke was riow made : an interview, interviews with that singular man have taken place ; with more of assurance on our side, with less of satire (at least of open 15 satire) on his, than we anticipated ; — for the rest, with such issue as is now visible. As to these same 'patriotic Libraries' the Hofrath's counsel could only be viewed with silent amr.zement ; but with his offer of Documents we joyfully and almost instantaneously closed. Thus, 20 too, in the sure expectation of these, we already see our task begun ; and this our Sartor Resartus^ which is properly a 'Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh,' hourly advancing. Of our fitness for the Enterprise, to \\'hich we have 25 such title and vocation, it were perhaps uninteresting to say more. Let the British reader study and enjoy, in simplicity of heart, what is here presented him, and with whatever metaphysical acumen, and talent for meditation he is possessed of. Let him strive to keep a free, open 30 sense ; cleared from the mists of prejudice, above all from the paralysis of rant ; and directed rather to the Book itself than to the Editor of the Book. Who or M • ' sr lO SARTOR RESARTUS. what such Editor may be, must remain conjectural, and even insignificant : ' it is a voice publishing tidings of the Philosophy of Clothes ; undoubtedly a Spirit address- ing Spirits : whoso hath ears, let him hear. 5 On one other point the Editor thinks it needful to give warning : namely, that he is animated with a true though perhaps a feeble attachment to the Institutions of our Ancestors ; and m.inded to defend these, according to ability, at all hazards ; nay, it was partly with a view lo to such defence that he engaged in this undertaking. To stem, or if that be impossible, profitably to divert the current of Innovation, such a Volume as Teufelsdrockh's, if cunningly planted down, were no despicable pile, or floodgate, in the logical wear. 15 For the rest, be it no wise apprehended, that any personal connexion of ours with Teufelsdrockh, H^u- schrecke, or this Philosophy of Clothes, can pervert our judgment, or sway us to extenuate or exaggerate. Power- less, we venture to promise, are those private Com- 20 pliments themselves. Grateful they may well be ; as generous illusions of friendship ; as fair mementos of bygone unions, of those nights and suppers of the Gods, when lapped in the symphonies and harmonies of Philo- sophic Eloquence, though with baser accomp-aiiments, 25 the present Editor revelled in that feast of reason, never since vouchsafed him in so full measure ! But what then? Amicus Plato, magis arnica Veritas; Teufelsdrockh is our friend, Truth is our divinity. In our historical and critical capacity, we hope we are strangers to all the 30 world ; have feud or favour with no one, — save indeed the Devil, with whom, as with the Prince of Lies and Darkness, we do at all times wage internecine war. 1 With us even he still communicates in some sort of mask, or muffler, and, we have reason to think, under a feigned name ! — O. V. REMINISCENCES. IX This assurance, at an epoch when puffery and quackery have reached a height unexampled in the annals of man- kind, and even English Editors, like Chinese Shop- keepers, must write on their door-lintels. No cheu. .g here, — we thought it good to premise. CHAPTER III. REMINISCENCES. To the Author's private circle the appearance of this singular Work on Clothes must have occasioned little less surprise than it has to the rest of the world. For ourselves, at least, few things have been more unex- pected. Professor Teufelsdrockh, at the period of our lo acquaintance with him, seemed to lead a quite still and self-contained life : a man devoted to the higher Philoso- phies, indeed ; yet more likely, if he published at all, to publish a Refutation of Hegel and Bardili, botli of whom, strangely enough, he included under a common 15 ban; than to descend, as he has here dc^e, into tie angry noisy Forum, with an Argument that cannot but exasperate and divide. Not, that we can remember, was the Philosophy of Clothes once touched upon betw< jn us. K ""hrough the high, silent, meditative Tra^'- iden- 20 tallsm of our Friend we detected any piactical tendency whatever, it was at most Political, and towards a certain prospective, and for the present quite speculative, P.ad- icalism ; as indeed some correspondence, on his part, with Herr Oken of Jena was now and then suspected ; 25 though his special contributions to the Isis could never be more than surmised at. But, at all events, nothing ill .1 * I i r I f i{, 13 SAHTOK NESANTUS. Moral, still less anything Didactico-Religious, w^s looked for from him. Well do we recollect the last words he spoke in our hearing; which indeed, with the Night they were uttered 5 in, are to be forever remembered. Lifting his huge tum- bler of Gitkguk,^ and for a moment lowering his tobacco- pipe, he stood up in full coffeehouse (it was Zur Griiuen Cans, the largest in Weissnichtwo, where all the "Virtuos- ity, and nearly all the Intellect of the place assembled 10 of an evening); and there, with low, soul-stirring tone, and the look truly of an angel, though whether of a white or of a black one might be dubious, proposed this toast: Die Sache der Armen in Gottes und Teiifels Namen (The Cause of the Poor in Heaven's name and 's)! One 15 full shout, breaking the leaden silence; then a gurgle of innumerable emptying bumpers, again followed by univer- sal cheering, returned him loud acclaim. It was the finale of the night : resuming their pipes ; in the highest enthusiasm, amid volumes of tobacco-smoke ; triumphant, 20 cloud-capt without and within, the assembly broke up, each to his thoughtful pillow. Bleibt dock eiti ecliter Spass- und Galgai- Voi^el, said several ; meaning thereby that, one day, he would probably be hanged for his democratic sen- timents. Wo steckt dock der Schalk ? added they, looking 25 round : but Teufelsdrockh had retired by private alleys, and the Compiler of these pages beheld him no more. In such scenes has it been our lot to live with this Philosopher, such estimate to form of his purposes and powers. And yet, thou brave Teufelsdrockh, who could 30 tell what lurked in thee? Under those thick locks of thine, so long and lank, overlapping roof-wise the gravest face we ever in this \wrld saw, there dwelt a most busy brain. In thy eyes too, deep under their shaggy brows, * Gukgiik is unhappily only an academical — beer. REMINISCENCES. 13 J and looking out so still and dreamy, have we not noticed gleams of an ethereal or else a diabolic fire, and half- fancied that their stillness was but the rest of infinite motion, the sleep of a spinninj]:-top ? Thy little figure, there as, in loose ill-brushed threadbare habiliments, 5 thou sattest, amid litter and lumber, whole days, to 'think and smoke tobacco,' held in it a mighty heart. The secrets of man's Life were laid open to thee ; thou sawest into the mystery of the Universe, farther than another ; thou hadst in petto thy remarkable Volume on Clothes. Nay, 10 were there not in that clear logically-founded Transcen- dentalism of thine ; still more, in thy meek, silent, deep- seated Sans-culottism, combined with a true princely Courtesy of inward nature, the visible rudiments of such speculation ? But great men are too often unknown, or 1 5 v>/hat is worse, misknown. Already, when we dreamed not of it, the warp of thy remarkable Volume lay on the loom; and silently, mysterious shuttles were putting-in the woof ! How the Hofrath Heuschrecke is to furnish biograph- ic?.! data in this case, may be a curious question ; the 20 answer of which, however, is happily not our concern, but his. To us it appeared, after repeated trial, that in Weissnichtwo, from the archives or memories of the best- informed classes, no Biography of Teufelsdrockh was to be gathered; not so much as a false one. He was a 25 stranger there, wafted thither by what is called the course of circumstances; concerning whose parentage, birth- place, prospects, or pursuits, curiosity had indeed made inquiries, but satisfied herself with the most indistinct replies. For himself, he was a man so still and altogether 30 unparticipating, that to question him even afar off on such particulars was a thing of more than usual delicacy: besides, in his sly way, he had ever some quaint turn, not without its satirical edge, wherewith to divert such intru- M SARTOR RFSARTUS. m 1? i sions, and deter you from the like. Wits spoke of him secretly as if he were a kind of Melchizedek, without father or mother of any kind ; sometimes, with reference to his great historic and statistic knowledge, and the vivid 5 way he had of expressing hiwiself like an eye-witness of distant transactions and scenes, they called him the Ewigc Jiidc, Everlasting, or as we say. Wandering Jew. To the most, indeed, he had become not so much a Man as a Thing; which Thing doubtless they were accustomed 10 to see, and with satisfaction ; but no more thought of accounting for than for the fabrication of their daily Alls^emcine Zcitnns, or the domestic habits of the Sun. Both were there and welcome ; the world enjoyed what good was in them, and thought no more of the matter. 15 The man Teufelsdrockh passed and repassed, in his little circle, as one of those originals and nondescripts, more frequent in German Universities than elsewhere; of whom, though you see them alive, and feel certain enough that they must have a History, no History seems to be dis- 2ocoverable; or only such as men give of mountain rocks and antediluvian ruins: That they have been created by unknown agencies, are in a state of gradual decay, and for the present reflect light and resist pressure ; that is, are visible and tangible objects in this phantasm world, 25 where so much other mystery is. It was to be remarked that though, by title and diploma, Professor der AUcrley- Wissenschaft, or as we should say in English, ' Professor of Things in General,' he had never delivered any Course ; perhaps never been incited thereto 30 by any public furtherance or requisition. To all appear- ance, the enlightened Government of Weissnichtwo, in founding their New University, imagined they had done enough, if 'in times like ours,' as the half-official Program expressed it, ' when all things are, rapidly or slowly, re- KEM/A7SCENCES. •S 10 'solvinj; themselves into Chaos, a Professorship of this ' kind had been estabUshed ; whereby, as occasion called, 'the task of bodying somewhat forth a^ain from such 'Chaos might be, even slightly, facilitated.' That actual Lectures should be held, and Public Classes for the 'Sci- ence of Things in General,' they doubtless considered premature ; on which ground too they had only established the Professorship, nowise endowed it ; so that Teufels- drockh, 'recommencied by the highest Names,' had been promoted thereby to a Name merely. Great, among the more enlightened classes, was the admiration of this new Professorship: how an enlightened Government had seen into the Want of the Age {Zett- />c'(/uff/i/ss) ;' hovf at length, instead of Denial and De- struction, we were to have a science of Affirmation and 15 Reconstruction; and Germany and \\\ .^nichtwo were where they should be, in the vanguard of the world. Considerable also was the wonder at the new Professor, dropt opportunely enough into the nascent University ; so able to lecture, should occasion call ; so ready to hold 20 his peace for indefinite periods, should an enlightened Government consider that occasion did not call. Hut such admiration and such wonder, being followed by no act to keep them living, could last only nine days ; and long before our visit to that scene, had quite died away. 25 The more cunning heads thought it was all an expiring clutch at popularity, on the part of a Minister, whom domestic embarrassments, court intrigues, old age, and dropsy soon afterwards fin illy drove from the helm. As for Teufelsdrockh, except by his nightly appearances 3° at the Griifie Gans, Weissnichtwo saw little of him, felt little of him. Here, over his tumbler of Gukguk, he sat reading Journals ; sometimes contemplatively looking into the clouds of his tobacco-pipe, without other visible M i6 S/IA'TOA' A'ESAA'Tl/S. >l Ifl tiiti employment: always, from his mild ways, an agreeable phenomenon there ; more especially when he opened his lips for speech; on which occasions the whole Coffee- house would hush itself into silence, as if sure to hear 5 something noteworthy. Nay, perhaps to hear a whole series and river of the most memorable utterances ; such as, when once thawed, he would for hours indulge in, with fit audience : and the more memorable, as issuing from a head apparently not more interested in them, not more lo conscious of them, than is the sculptured stone head of some public Fountain, which through its brass mouth-tube emits water to the worthy and the unworthy; careless whether it be for cooking victuals or quenching conHagra- tions ; indeed, maintains the same earnest, assiduous look, 15 whether any water be flowing or not. To the Editor of these sheets, as to a young enthusi- astic Englishman, however unworthy, Teufelsdrockh opened himself perhaps more than to ^he most. Pity only that we could not then half guess his importance, 20 and scrutinise him with due power of vision ! We enjoyed, what not three men in Weissnichtwo could boast of, a certain degree of access to the Professor's private domicile. It was the attic floor of the highest house in the Wahngasse ; and might truly be called the 25 pinnacle of Weissnichtwo, for it rose sheer up above the contiguous roofs, themselves rising from elevated ground. Moreover, with its windows, it looked towards all the four Orte, or as the Scotch say, and we ought to say, Airts : the Sitting-room itself commanded three ; another 30 came to view in the Schlafgemach (Bed-room) at the opposite end; to say nothing of the Kitchen, which offered two, as it were duplicates, and showing nothing new. So that it was in fact the speculum or watch-tower of Teufelsdrockh ; wherefrom, sitting at ease, he might 1 1 KEMINISCEIVCKS. «7 see the whole life-circulation of that considerable City ; the streets and lanes of which, with all their doing and driving {Thun mid Treibcn)^ were for the most part visible there. " I look down into all that wasp-nest or bee-hive," 5 have we heard him say, " and witness their wax-laying " and honey-making, and poison-brewing, and choking by " sulphur. From the Palace esplanade, where music " plays while Serene Highness is pleased to cat his " victuals, down to the low lane, where in her door-sill 10 " the aged widow, knitting for a thin livelihood, sits to " feel the afternoon sun, I see it all ; for, except the " Schlosskirche weathercock, no biped stands so high. " Couriers arrive bestr;tpped and bebooted, bearing Joy "and Sorrow bagged-up in pouches of leather; there, 15 " topladen, and with four swift horses, rolls-in the country " ]{aron and nis household ; here, on timber-leg, the " lamed Soldier hops painfully along, begging alms : a " thousand carriages, and wains, and cars, come tumbling- " in with Food, with young Rusticity, and other Raw 20 " Produce, inanimate or animate, and go tumbling out " again with Produce manufactured. That living flood, " pouring through these streets, of all qualities and ages, " knowest thou whence it is coming, whither it is going .'* " Aus der Ewigkcity zu der Ewigkeit hiti: From Eternity, -5 " onward to Eternity ! These are Apparitions : what " else .? Are they not souls rendered visible ; in Bodies, " that took shape and will lose itj melting into air .'' " Their solid pavement is a Picture of the Sense ; they " walk on the bosom of Nothing, blank Time is behind jo " them, and before them. Or fanciest thou, the red and " yellow Clothes-screen yonder, with spurs on its heels, " and feather in its • crown, is but of Today, without a " Yesterday or a Tomorrow ; and had not rather its i8 S/t A' TO A' A'fSA A' 7VS. Mil i % 1 "Ancestor alivo when llrngst ;ui> ^l^'-^'* ^4 o^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN SVREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ SJ V ^s ^.>. % t^^ ^ 20 S/i A' TO A' A'ESA A' 7 VS. I say what he listed, receiving for answer an occasional grunt ; or to look round for a space, and then take him- self away. It was a strange apartment; full of books and tattered papers, and miscellaneous shreds of all con- 5 ceivable substances, ' united in a common element of dust.' liooks lay on tables, and below tables; here fluttered a sheet of manuscript, there ^i torn handkerchief, or nightcap hastily thrown aside ; ink-bottles alternated with bread-crusts, coffee-pots, tobacco-boxes, Periodical lo Literature, and Bliicher Boots. Old Lieschen (Lisekin, Liza), who was his bed-maker and stove-lighter, his washer and wringer, cook, errand-maid, and general lion's-provider, and for the rest a very orderly creature, had no sovereign authority in this last citadel of Teufels- 15 drockh; only some once in the month, she half-forcibly made her way thither, with broom and duster, and (Teufelsdrockh hastily saving his manuscripts) effected a partial clearance, a jail-delivery of such lumber as was not Literary. These were her Erdbeben (Earthquakes), 2o which Teufelsdrockh dreaded worse than the pestilence ; nevertheless, to such length- he had been forced to com- ply. Glad would he have been to sit here philosophising forever, or till the litter, by accumulation, drove him out of doors : but Lieschen was his right-arm, and spoon, 25 and necessary of life, and would not be flatly gainsayed. We can still remember the ancient woman: so silent that some thought her dumb ; deaf also you would often have supposed her; for Teufelsdrockh, and Teufelsdrockh only, would she serve or give heed to ; and with him she 30 seemed to communicate chiefly by signs ; if it were not rather by some secret divination that she guessed all his wants, and supplied them. Assiduous old dame! she scoured, and sorted, and swept, in her kitchen, with the least possible violence to the ear ; yet all was tight and REMINISCENCES. 21 right there ; hot and black came the coffee ever at the due moment ; and the speechless Lieschen herself looked out on you, from under her clean white coif with its lappets, through her clean withered face and wrinkles, with a look of helpful intelligence, almost of benevolence. 5 Few strangers, as above hinted, had admittance hither: the only one we ever saw there, ourselves excepted, was the Mofrath Heuschrecke, already known, by name and expectation, to the readers of these pages. To us, at that period, Herr Heuschrecke seemed one of those purse- 10 mouthed, crane necked, clean-brushed pacific individuals, perhaps sufficiently distinguished in society by this fact, that, in dry weather or in wet, ' they never appear with- out their umbrella.' Had we not known with what ' little wisdom ' the world is governed ; and how, in Germany as 15 elsewhere, the ninety-and-nine Public Men can for most part be but mute train-bearers to the hundredth, perhaps but stalking-horses and willing or unwilling dupes, — it might have seemed wonderful how Herr Heuschfecke should be named a Rath, or Councillor, and Counsellor, 20 even in Weissnichtwo. What counsel to any man, or to any woman, could this particular Hofrath give ; in whose loose, zigzag figure ; in whose thin visage, as it went jerking to and fro, in minute incessant fluctuation, — you traced rather confusion worse confounded ; at most, 25 Timidity and physical Cold ? Some indeed said witha!, he was ' the very Spirit of Love embodied ' : blue earnest eyes, full of sadness and kindness ; purse ever open, and so forth ; the whole of which, we shall now hope, for many reasons, was not quite groundless. Nevertheless friend 30 Teufelsdrockh's outline, who indeed handled the burin like few in these cases, was probably the best : Er hat Getniith und Geist, hat wenigstens gehaht, doch ohne Organ, ohnc Schkksah-Giinst; ist gegenwdrtig aber halb-zerriittet, aa SA/fTOM RESAHTUS. li 1 : i w ; halb-erstarrt, " He has heart and talent, at least has had •' such, yet without fit mode of utterance, or favour of "Fortune; and so is no-A half-cracked, half-congealed." — What the Hofrath shall think of this when he sees it, 5 readers may wonder: we, safe in the sfonghold ot His- torical Fidelity, are careless. The main point, doubtless, for us all, is his love of Teufelsdr6ckh, which indeed was also by far the most decisive feature of Heuschrecke himself. We are enabled 10 to assert that he hung on the Professor with the fondness of a JJoswell for his Johnson. And perhaps with the like return ; for Teufelsdrockh treated his gaunt admirer with little outward regard, as some half-rational or altogether irrational friend, and at best loved him out of gratitude 15 and by habit. On the other hand, it was curious to observe with what reverent kindness, and a sort of fatherly protection, our Hofrath, being the elder, richer, and as he fondly imagined far more practically influential of the two, looked and tended on his little Sage, whom 20 he seemed to consider as a living oracle. Let but Teufelsdrockh open his mouth, Heuschrecke's also un- puckered itself into a free doorway, besides his being all eye and all ear, so that nothing might be lost : and then, at every pause in the harangue, he gurgled-out his pursy 25 chuckle of a cough-laugh (for the machinery of laughter took some time to get in motion, and seemed crank and slack), or else his twanging nasal, Bravo! Das glaulP ich ; in either case, by way of heartiest approval. In short', if Teufelsdrockh was Dalai -Lama, of which, except 30 perhaps in his self-seclusion, and god-like Indifference, there was no symptom, then might Heuschrecke pass for his chief Talapoin, to whom no dough-pill he could knead and publish was other than medicinal and sacred. CHA RA C TEH IS TICS. as In such environmen., social, domestic, physical, did Teufelsdrockh, at the time of our acquaintance, and most likely does he still, live and meditate. Here, perched-up in his high Wahngasse watch-tower, and often, in solitude, outwatching the Bear, it was that the indom- 5 itable Inquirer fought all his battles with Dulncss and Darkness ; here, in all probability, that he wrote this surpiising Volume on Clothes. Additional particulars: of his age, which was of that standing middle sort you could only guess at; of his wide surtout ; the colour of 10 his trousers, fashion of his broad-brimmed steeple-hat, and so forth, we might report, but do not. The Wisest truly is, in these times, the Greatest ; so that an enlight- ened curiosity, leaving Kings and suchlike to re^t very much on their own basis, turns more and more to the 15 Philosophic Class : nevertheless, what reader expects that, with all our writing and reporting, Teufelsdrockh could be brought home to him, till once the Documents arrive 1 His Life, Fortunes, and Bodily Presence, are as yet hidden from us, or matter only of faint conjecture. 20 But, on the other hand, does not his Soul lie enclosed in. this remarkable Volume, much more truly than Pedro Garcia's did in the buried Bag of Doubloons t To the soul of Diogenes Teufelsdrockh, to his opinions, namely, on the ' Origin and Influence of Clothes,' we for the 25 present gladly return. flfl CHAPTER IV. CHARACTERISTICS. It were a piece of vain flattery to pretend that this Work on Clothes entirely contents us ; that it is not, like 24 SA/frO/f /!ESANrC/S. f u \ fe ■^■■H It ^m i ;; M^i 1 ^■i 1 H 11 HiU 1 all works of genius, like the very Sun, which, though the highest published Creation, or work of genius, has never- theless black spots and troubled nebulosities amid its effulgence, — a mixture of insight, inspiration, with dul- 5 ness, double-vision, and even utter blindness. Without committing ourselves to those enthusiastic praises and prophesyings of the Weissnichtwo''sche Anzei- ger, we admitted that the Kook had in a high degree excited us to self-activity, which is the best effect of any 10 book; that it had even operated changes in our way of thought ; nay, that it promised to prove, as it were, the opening of a new mine-shaft, wherein the whole world of Speculation might henceforth dig to unknown depths. More specially it may now be declared that Professor IS Teufelsdrockh's acquirements, patience of research, phil- osophic and even poetic vigour, are here made indisputably manifest ; and unhappily no less his prolixity and tortu- osity and manifold ineptitude ; that, on the whole, as in opening new mine-shifts is not unreasonable, there is JO much rubbish in his Book, though likewise specimens of almost invaluable ore. A paramount popularity in Eng- land we cannot promise him. Apart from the choice of such a topic as C vthes, too often the manner of treating it betokens in the Author a rusticity and academic 25 seclusion, unblamable, indeed inevitable in a German, but fatal to his success with our public. Of good society Teufelsdrockh appears to have seen little, or has mostly forgotten what he saw. He speaks- out with a strange plainness ; calls many things by their 30 mere dictionary-names. To him the Upholsterer is no Pontiff, neither is any Drawing-room a Temple, were it never so begilt and overhung: 'a whole immensity of * Brussels carpets, and pier glasses, and or-molu,' as he himself expresses it, ' cannot hide from me that such CHA KA C TEKIS TICS. as 10 '5 ' Drawing-room is simply a section of Infinite Space, ' where so many Goc'-created Souls do for the time meet ' together.' To Teufelsdrockh the highest Duchess is respectable, is venerable ; but nowise for her pearl brace- lets, and Malines laces : in his eyes, the star of a Lord is little less and little more than the broad button of Bir- mingham spelter in a Clown's smock; 'each is an imple- ' ment,* he says, * in its kind ; a tag for hooking-together ; ' and, for the rest, was dug from the earth and hammered 'on a stithy before smith's fingers.' Thus does the Pro- fessor look in men's faces with a strange impartiality, a strange scientific freedom ; like a man unversed in the higher circles, like a man dropped thither from the Moon. Rightly considered, it is in this peculiarity, running through his whole system of thought, thai all these short- comings, over-shootings, and multiform perversities, take rise : if indeed they have not a second source, also natural enough, in his Transcendental Philosophies, and humour of looking at all Matter and Material things as Spirit ; whereby truly his case were but the more hope- 20 less, the more lamentable. To the Thinkers of this nation, however, of which class it is firmly believed there are individuals yet extant, we can safely recommend the Work : nay, who knows but among the fashionable ranks too, if it be true, as Teufels- 25 drockh maintains, that ' within the most starched cravat ' there passes a windpipe and weasand, and under the 'thickliest embroidered waistcoat beats a heart,' — the force of that rapt earnestness may be felt, and here and there an arrow of the soul pierce through. n our wild 30 Seer, shaggy, unkempt, like a Baptist living on locusts and wild honey, there is an untutored energy, a silent, as it were unconscious, strength, which, except in the higher walks of Literature, must be rare. Many a deep glance, I wm 26 SAN TOR RESARTUS. i y , lEi; and often with unspeakable precision, has he cast into mysterious Nature, and the still more mysterious Life of Man. Wonderful it is with what cutting words, now and then, he severs asunder the confusion ; sheers down, 5 were it furlongs deep, into the true centre of the matter ;' and there not only hits the nail on the head, but with crushing force smites it home, and buries i*. — On the other hand, let us be free to admit, he is the most unequal writer breathing. Often after some such feat, 10 he will play truant for long pages, and go dawdling and dreaming, and mumbling and maundering the merest commonplaces, as if he were asleep with eyes open, which indeed he is. Of his boundless Learning, and how all reading and 15 literature in most known tongues, from Sancfwniathon to Dr. Lin^ani, from your Oriental Shasters, and Talmuds, and Korans, with Cassini's Siamese Tables, and Laplace's Mecanique Celeste down to Robinson Crusoe and the Belfast Town and Country Almanack, arc familiar to him, — we 2o shall say nothing : for unexampled as it is with us, to the Germans such universality of study passes without wonder, as a thing commendable, indeed, but natural, indispensl able, and there of course. A man that devotes his life to learning, shall he not be learned > In respect of style our Author manifests the same genial capability, marred too often by the same rudeness, inequality, and apparent want of intercourse with the higher classes. Occasionally, as above hinted, we find consummate vigour, a true inspiration; his burning 30 thoughts step forth in fit burning Words, like so many full-formed Minervas, issuing amid flame and splendour from Jove's head ; a rich, idiomatic diction, picturesque allusions, fiery poetic emphasis, or quaint tricksy turns ; all the graces and terrors of a wild Imagination, wedded 25 ClfA RA C TRRIS TICS. «r 5 to the clearest Intellect, alternate in beautiful vicissitude. Were it not that sheer sleeping and soporific passages; circumlocutions, repetitions, touches even of pure doting jargon, so often intervene ! On the whole. Professor Teufelsdrockh is not a cultivated writer. Of his sentences perhaps not more than nine-tenths stand straight on their legs ; the remainder are in quite angular attitudes, buttressed-up by props (of parentheses and dashes), and ever with this or the other tagrag hanging from them ; a few even sprawl-out helplessly on all sides, quite lo broken-backed and dismembered. Nevertheless, \x\ al- most his very worst moods, there lies in him a singular attraction. A wild tone pervades the whole utterance of th'-^ man, I'ko Itjj keynote and regulator ; now screwing it<;L)f aloft £»s into the Song of Spirits, or eki the shrill 15 mockery ot Fiends ; now sinking in cadences, not without melod- /US heartiness, though sometimes abrupt enough, into the common pitch, when we hear it only as a monotonous hum ; of which hum the true character is extremely difficult to fix. Up to this hour we have nevrr 20 fully satisfied ourselves whether it is a tone and hum. of real Flumour, which we reckon among the very highest qualities of genius, or some echo of mere Insanity and Inanity, which doubtless ranks below the very lowest. Under a like difficulty, in spite even of our personal 25 intercourse, do we still lie with regard to the Professor's moral feeling. Gleams of an ethereal love burst forth from him, soft wailings of infin'te pity; he could clasp the whole Universe into his bosom, and keep it warm ; it seems as if under that rude exterior there dwelt a very 30 seraph. Then again he is so sly and still, so imper- turbably saturnine ; shows such indifference, malign cool- ness towards all that men strive after; and ever with some half-visible wrinkle of a bitter sardonic humour, if i ■ "1 ^^^B i ! H jllf ^^it •| 1 '"^ ^■i 1 1 ill.. 28 .9/f A' 7r)/' A* A6/* A' 7'1/S. indeed it Ik- not mere stolid callousncsH, — that you look on him almost with a shudder, as on some incarnate Mephistopheles, to whom this great terrestrial and celes- tial Round, after all, were but some huge foolish Whirligig, 5 where kings and beggars, and angels and demons, and stars and streei-sweepings, were chaotically whirled, in which only children could take interest. His look, as we mentioned, is probably the gravest ever seen : yet it is not of that cast-iron gravity frequent enough among our lo own Chancery j.uitors ; but rather the gravity as of some silent, high-encircled mountain-pool, perhaps the crater of an extinct volcano ; into whose black deeps you fear to gaze : those eyes, those lights that sparkle in it, may indeed be reflexes of the heavenly Stars, but perhaps IS also glances from the region of Nether Fire ! Certainly a most involved, self-secluded, altogether enignatic nature, this of Teufelsdrockh ! Here, however, we gladly recall to mind that once we saw him /a//^r/t . once only, perhaps it was the first and last time in his 20 life ; but then such a peal of laughter, enough to have awakened the Seven Sleepers ! It was of Jean Paul's doing : some single billow in that vast VVorld-Maiilstrom of Humour, with its heaven-kissing coruscations, which is now, alas, all congealed in the frost of death ! The 25 large-bodied Poet and the small, both large enough in soul, sat talking miscellaneously together, the present Editor being privileged to listen ; and now Paul, in his serious way, was giving one of those inimitable ' Extra- ' harangues ' ; and, as it chanced, On the Proposal for a 30 Cast-metal King: gradually a light kindled in our Pro- fessor's eyes and face, a beaming, mantling, loveliest light ; through those murky features, a radiant ever-young Apollo looked ; and he burst forth like the neighing of all Tattersall's, — tears streaming dov/n his cheeks, pipe ■ CliA KA C 77: A' /S TfCS. 29 held aloft, foot clutched into the air, - loud, long-con- tinuing, uncontrollable; a laugh not of the face and diaphragm only, hut of the whole man from head to heel. I'he present Editor, who laughed indeed, yet with measure, began to fear all was not right ; however, 'I'eufelsdrockh 5 composed himself, and sank into his old slilness; on his inscrutable countenance there was, if anytliing, a slight look of shame ; and Kichter himself could not rouse him again. Readerr. who have any tincture of I'sychology know how much is to be inferred from this ; and that no 10 man who has once heartily and wholly laughed can be altogether irreclaimnbly bad. How much lies in Laughter: the cipher-key, wherewith we decipher the whole man ! Some men wear an everlasting barren simper ; in the smile of others lies a cold glitter as of ice : the fewest are 15 able to laugh, what can be called laughing, but only sniff and titter and snigger from the throat outward ; or at best, produce some whitTling husky cachinnation, as if thqy were laughing through wool ; of none such comes good. The man who cannot laugh is not only fit for treasons, 20 stratagems, and spoils ; but his whole life is already a treason and a stratagem. Considered as an author, Herr Teufelsdrockh has one scarcely pardonable fault, doubtless his worst : m almost total want of arrangement. In this remarkable Volume, 25 it is true, his adherence to the mere course of Time pro- duces, through the Narrative portions, a certain show of outward method ; but of true logical method and sequence there is too little. Apart from its multifarious sections and subdivisions, the Work naturally falls into two Parts ; 30 a Historical-Descriptive, and a Philosophical-Speculative : but falls, unhappily, by no firm line of demarcation ; in that labyrinthic combination, each Part overlaps, and indents, and indeed runs quite through the other. Many 30 SAA'rOA' A'f-SAA'rtrs. scclionH are of a debatable rubric, or even quite nonde- •cript and unnameable ; whereby the Itook not only lo.scs. in accessibility, but too o'ten distresses us like some mad banquet, wherein all courses had been confounded, and 5 fish and llesh, r*oi:p and M)lid, oyster-sauce, lettuces, Khine-wine and French mustard, were hurled into one huge tureen or trough, .nd the hungry Public Invited to help itself. To bring what order we can out of this Chaos s' all be part of our endeavour. V. 'IIAPTKR V. I { THE Uokll! rN LI.OTMKS. lo ' As Montesquieu wrote a Spirit of Uws: observes our Professor, ' so could I write a Spirit of Clothes; thus, with an 'Esprit tics Loix, properly an Esprit lie Coutumes, W2 ' should have an Esprit ,ie Costumes. For neither in 'tailoring nor in legislating does man proceed by mere 15 ' Accident, but the hand is evei guided on by mysterious • operations of the mind. In all his >Todes, arid habilatory 'endeavours, an Architectural Idea will be found lurking; •his Hody and the Cloth are the site and matenals ' whereon and wliereby his beautiful edifice, of a Person, 20 ' is to be built. Whether he How gracefully out in folded • mantles, based on light sandals ; tower-up in high head- 'gear, from amid peaks, spangles and bell-girdles ; swell- ' out in starc'ied rulTs, buckram stuifings and monstrous ' tuberosities ; or girth himself into separate sections, and 25 'front the world an Agglomeration of four limbs, — will ' depend on the nature of such Architectural Idea : 'whether Grecian, Gothic, Later-Gothic, or altogether II TUt WOKIM M CLOTHES. 31 Modern, and Parisinn or Anglo-Dandiacal. Again, what meaning lies in Colour ! From the soberest drab to the high-Haming scarlet, spiritual idiosyncrasies unfold themselves in choice of Colour : if the Cut betokefi Fntel- lect and Talent, so does the Colour betoken Temper and 5 Heart. In all which, among nations as among indi- viduals, there is an incessant, indubitable, though in- finitely complex working of (!ause and Klfec* ; every snip of the Scissors h Seen regulated and prescribed by ever-active InHuo:. cs, which doubtless to Intelli- 10 genccs of a superior otder are neither invisible nor illegible. 'For such superior Intelligences a Cause-and-'''Tect Philosophy of Clothes, as of Laws, were proh'ib'y a comfortable winter-evening entertainment : nevertheless, 15 for inferior Intelligences, like hkh, such Philosophies have always seemed to me uninslructive enough. Nay, what is your Montesquieu himself buf a clever infant spelling Letters from a hieroglyphical prophetic Hook, the lexicon of which lies in Eternity, in Heaver.: — Let 20 any Cause-and-Etfect Philosopher explain, not why J wear such and such a Garment, obey such and such a Law; DUi even why / am heri\ to wear and obey any thing ! — Much, therefore, if not the whole, of that same Spirit of Clothes I shall suppress, as hypothetical, 25 ineffectual, and cen impertinent : naked Facts, and Deductions drawn therefrom in quite another than that omniscient style, are my humbler and proper province.' Acting on which prudent restiicticn, Teufelsdrockh has nevertheless contrived to take-in a well-nigh boundless 30 extent of field ; at least, the boundaries too often lie quite beyond our horizon. Selection being in:, spensable, we shall here glance-over his First Part only in the most cursory manner. This First Part is, no doubt, dis- I p f I . I Hiii : H 11 • 32 SAA'i'o/a A'£S/i/errs. tinguished by omnivorous learning, and utmost patience and fair ess : at the same time, in its results and delinea- tions, It is much more likely to interest the Compilers of some Z/M^/j of General, Entertaining, Useful, or even 5 Useless Knowledge than the miscellaneous readers of these pages. Was it this Part of the liook which Heu- schrecke had in view, when he recommended us to that joint-stock vehicle of publication, 'at present the glory of British Literature ' ? If so, the Library Editors are 10 welcome to dig in it for their own behoof. To the First Chapter, which turns on Paradise and tig-lcaves, and leads us into interminable disquisitions of a mythological, metaphorical, cabalistico-sartorial and quite antediluvian ca^t, we shall content ourselves with 'S giving an unconcerned approval. Still less have we to do with ♦ Lilis, Adam's first wife, whom, according to the ^ Talmudists, he had before Eve, and who bore him, in ^ that wedlock, the whole progeny of aerial, aquatic, and terrestrial Devils,' -very needlessly, we think. On this 20 portion of the Work, with its profound glances into the Adam-Kadmon, or Primeval Element, here strangely brought into relation with the Nifl and Muspd (Darkness and Light) of the antique North, it may be enough to say that Its correctness of deduction, and depth of 25 falmudic and R.bbinical lore have filled perhaps not the worst Hebraist in Britain with something like aston- ishment. But, quitting this twilight region, Teufelsdrockh hastens from the Tower of Babel, to follow the dispersion of 30 Mankind over the whole habitable and habilable glo-e Walking by the light of Oriental, Pelasgic, Scandinavian! Egyptian, Otaheitean, Ancient and Modern researches of every conceivable kind, he strives to give us in compressed Siiape (as the Nurnbergers give an Orbis Pictus) an Orbis THE WORLD IN CLOTHES, 33 Vestitus; or view of the costumes of all mankind, in all countries, in all times. It is here that to the Antiquarian, to the Historian, we can triumphantly say : Fall to ! Here is Learning : an irregular Treasury, if you will ; but inexhaustible as the Hoard of King Nibelung, which s twelve wagons in twelve days, at the rate of three journeys a day, could not carry off. Sheepskin cloaks and wam- pum belts ; phylacteries, stoles, albs ; chlamydes, togas, Chinese silks, Afghaun shawls, trunk-huse, leather breeches, Celtic philibegs (though breeches, as the name lo Gallia Braccata indicates, are the more ancient), Hussar cloaks, Vandyke tippets, ruffs, fardingales, are brought vividly before us, — even the Kilmarnock nightcap is not forgotten. For most part too we must admit that the Learning, heterogeneous as it is, and tumbled-down quite 15 pell-mell, is true concentrated and purified Learning, the drossy parts smelted out and thrown aside. Philosophical reflections intervene, and sometimes touching pictures of human life. Of this sort the follow- ing has surprised us. The first purpose of clothes, as 20 our Professor imagines, was not warmth or decency, but ornament. ' Miserable indeed,' says he, ' was the con- dition of the Aboriginal Savage, glaring fiercely from ' under his fleece of hair, which with the beard reached ' down to his loins, and hung round him like a matted 25 'cloak ; the rest of his body sheeted in its thick natural 'fell. He loitered in the sunny glades of the forest, ' living on wild-fruits ; or, as the ancient Caledonian, ' squatted himself in morasses, lurking for his bestial or ' human prey ; without implements, without arms, save 30 ' the ball of heavy Flint, to which, that his sole possession ' and defence might not be lost, he had attached a long ' cord of plaited thongs ; thereby recovering as well as * hurling it with deadly unerring skill. Nevertheless, the m ■ 34 SAf^TOA^ KESAATUS. \i m^ 10 pains of Hunger and Revenge once satisfied, his next care was not Comfort but Decoration (Putz). Warmth 'he found in the toils of the chase ; or amid dried leaves ^ m his hollow tree, in his bark shed, or natural grotto : 5 ' but for Decoration he must have Clothes. Nay, among I wild people, we find tattooing and painting even prior to ^' Clothes. The first spiritual want of a barbarous man is • Decoration, as indeed we still see among the barbarous ' classes in civilised countries. ' Reader, the heaven-inspired melodious Singer; loftiest I Serene Highness ; nay, thy own amber-locked, sn'ow-and- ' rose-bloom Maiden, worthy to glide sylphlike almost on ' air, whom thou lovest, worshippest as a divine Presence, 'which, indeed, symbolically taken, she is,— has descended' IS 'like thyself, from that same hair-mantled, ilint-hurling ' Aboriginal Anthropophagus ! Out of the eater cometh 'forth meat; out of the strong cometh forth sweetness. ' What changes are wrought, not by Time, yet in Time ! • For not Mankind only, but all that Mankind does or 2o ' beholds, is in continual growth, regenesis and self- ' perfecting vitality. Cast forth thy Act, thy Word, into I the ever-living, ever-wcrking Universe : it is a seed-grain I that cannot die ; unnoticed today (says one), it will be ' found flourishing as a Banyan-grove (perhaps, alas, as a 25 ' Hemlock-forest !) after a thousand years. ' He who first shortened the labour of Copyists by ' device of Movah/e Types was disbanding hired Armies ' and cashiering most Kings and Senates, and creating J ' whole new Democratic world : he had invented the Art 30 ' of Printing. The first ground handful of Nitre, Sulphur, I and Charcoal drove Monk Schwartz's pestle through the ' ceiling ; what will the last do ? Achieve the final undis- |puted prostration of Force under Thought, of Animal 'courage under Spiritual. A simple invention it was in THE WORLD IN CLOTHES. 35 the old-world Grazier, — sick of lugging his slow Ox about the country till he got it bartered for corn or oil, — to take a piece of Leather, and thereon scratch or stamp the mere Figure of an Ox (or Pecus); put it in his pocket, and call it Pecunia, Money. Yet hereby did s Barter grow Sale, the Leather Money is now Golden and Paper, and all miracles have been out-miracled : for there are Rothschilds and English National Debts ; and whoso has sixpence is Sovereign (to the length of sixpence) overall men; commands coks to feed him, lo philosophers to teach him, kings to mount guard over him — to the length of sixpence. — Clothes, too, which began in foolishest love of Ornament, what have they not become ! Increased Security, and pleasurable Heat soon followed: but what of these.? Shame, divine 15 Shame {Schaam, Modesty), as yet a stranger to the Anthropophagous bosom, arose there mysteriously under Clothes ; a mystic, grove-encircled shrine for the Holy in man. Clothes gave us individuality, distinctions, social polity ; Clothes have made Men of us ; they are 20 threatening to make Clothes-screens of us. ' But, on the whole,' continues our eloquent Professor, Man is a Tool-using Animal {Ilandthierendes Thier). Weak in himself, and of small stature, he stands on a basis, at most for the flattest-soled, of some half-square 25 foot, insecurely enough ; has to straddle out his legs, lest the very wind supplant him. Feeblest of bipeds ! Three quintals are a crushing load for him ; the steer of the meadow tosses him aloft, like a waste rag. Nevertheless, he can use Tools, can devise Tools : with 30 these the granite mountain melts into light dust before him; he kneads glowing iron, as if it were soft paste; seas are his smooth highway, winds and fire his unwearying steeds. Nowhere do you find him I \ ■ 1: I 36 SAM TOR A' as. L A' TUS. 'f I : Ik: •without Tools; without Tools he is nothing, with Tools •he is all.' Here may we not, for a moment, interrupt the stream of Oratory with a remark that this Definition of the Fool- 5 using Animal appears to us, of all that Animal-sort, con- siderably the precisest and best? Man is called a Laughing Animal : but do not the apes also laugh, or attempt to do it ; and is the manliest man the greatest and oftenest laugher ? Teufelsdrockh himself, as we said, 'o laughed only once. Still less do we make of that other French Definition of the Cooking Animal ; which, indeed, for rigorous scientific purposes, is as good as useless! Can a Tartar be said to cook, when he only readies his steak by riding on it'.? Again, what Cookery does the 15 Greenlander use, beyond stowing-up his whale-blubber, as a marmot, in the like case, might do } Or how would Monsieur Ude prosper among these Orinocco Indians, who, according to Humboldt, lodge in crow-nests, on the branches of trees ; and, for half the year, have no victuals 20 but pipe-clay, the whole country being under water } Kut, on the other hand, show us the human being, of any period or climate, without his Tools : those very Cale- donians, as we saw, had their Flint-ball, and Thong to it, such as no brute has or can have. ' Man is a Tool-using Animal,' concludes Teufelsdrockh, in his abrupt way; ' of which truth Clothes are but one ' example : and surely if we consider the interval between the first wooden Dibble fashioned by man. and those Liverpool Steam-carriages, or the British House of Commons, we shall note what progress he has made. He digs up certain black stones from the bosom of the Earth, and says to them. Transport me and this luggage, at the rate of five-and-thirty miles an hour; and the v do it : he collects, apparently by lot, six-hundred and fifty- 25 30 APRONS. 37 ' eight miscelLineous individua's, and says to them, Make ' this nation toil for us, bleed for us, hu ^er and sorrow ' and sin for us; and they do it.' CHAPTER VI. APRONS. One of the most unsatisfactory Sections in the whole Volume is that on Aprons. What though stout old Gao, 5 the Persian Blacksmith, ' whose apron, now indeed hidden ' under jewels, because raised in revolt which proved suc- 'cesslul, is still the royal standard of that country'; what though John Knox's Daughter, ' who threatened Sovereign ' Majesty that she would catch her husband's head in her 10 'Apron, rather than he should lie and be a bishop'; what though the Landgravine Elizabeth, with many other Apron worthies, — figure here ? An idle wire-drawing spirit, sometimes even a tone of levity, approaching to conventional satire, is too clearly discernible. What, 15 for example, are we to make of such sentences as the following } ' Aprons are Defences ; against injury to cleanliness, ' to safety, to modesty, sometimes to roguery. From the ' thin slip of notched silk (as it were, the Emblem and 20 * beatified Ghost of an Apron), which some highest-bred ' housewife, sitting at Niirnberg Workboxes and Toyboxes, ' has gracefully fastened on ; to the thick-tanned hide, ' girt round him with thongs, wherein the Builder builds, ' and at evening sticks his trowel ; or to those jingling 25 ' sheet-iron Apror»3, wherein your otherwise half-naked ' Vulcans hammer and smelt in their smelt-furnace, — is I f 38 SARTOR RESARTUS. 10 '5 ' there not range enough in the fashion and uses of this ' Vestment ? How much has been concealed, how much ' has been defended in Aprons ! Nay, rightly considered, • what is your whole Military and Police Establishment, 'charged it uncalculatod millions, but a huge scarlet- ' coloured, iron-fastened Apron, wherein Society works '(uneasily enough); guarding itself from some soil and ' stithy-sparks, in this Devil's-smiiiiy {Ihifelsschmiede) of a ' world ? ]iut of all Aprons the most puzzling to me ' hitherto has been the Episcopal or Cassock. Wherein ' consists the usefulness of this Apron ? The Overseer j {Episcopus) of Souls, I notice, has tucked-in the corner I of it, as if his day's work was done : what does he ' shadow forth thereby ? ' &c., &c. Or again, has it often been the lot of our readers to read such stuff as we shall now quote? ' I consider those printed Paper Aprons, worn by the Parisian Cooks, as a new vent, though a slight one, for Typography ; therefore as an encouragement to modern Literature, and deserving of approval : nor is it without satisfaction that I hear of a celebrated London Firm having in view to introduce the same fashion, with important extensions, in England.' — We who are on the spot hear of no such thing ; and indeed have reason to 25 be thankful that hitherto there are other vents for our Literature, exuberant as it is. — Teufelsdrockh continues : ' If such supply of printed Paper should rise so far as to 'choke-up the highways and public thoroughfares, new ' means must of necessity be had recourse to. In a world ' existing by Industry, we grudge to employ fire as a de- 'stroying element and not as a creating one. However, ' Heaven is omnipotent, and will find us an outlet. In 'the meanwhile, is it not beautiful to see fiye-million 'quintals of Rags picked annually from the Laystall ; and 20 30 APRONS. 39 lO 'annually, a'ter being macerated, hot-pressed, printed-on, 'and sold, — returned thither; filling so many hungry 'mouths by the way? Thus is the Laystall, especially with ' its Rags or Clothes-rubbish, the grand Electric Battery, 'and Fountain-of-motion, from which and to which the 'Social Activities (like vitreous and resinous Electricities) 'circulate, in larger or smaller circles, through the mighty, 'billowy, stormtost Chaos of Life, which they keep alive !' — Such passages fill us, who love the man, and partly esteem him, with a very mixed feeling. Farther down we meet with this : ' The Journalists are 'now the true Kings and Clergy : henceforth Historians, 'unless they are fools, must write not of Bourbon Dynas- ' ties, and Tudors and Hapsburgs ; but of Stamped Broad- ' sheet Dynasties, and quite new successive Names, ac- 15 'cording as this or the other Able Editor, or Combination ' of Able Editors, gains the world's ear. Of the British ' Newspaper Press, perhaps the most important of all, 'and wonderful enough in its secret constitution and 'procedure, a valuable descriptive History already exists, 20 'in that language, under the title of Satan's Invisible ' World Displayed; which, however, by search in all the ' Weissnichtwo Libraries, I have not yet succeeded in ^ T^rocnring (I'ermdc/iie nicht au/zutreiben).' Thus does the good Homer not only nod, but snore. 25 Thus does Teufelsdrockh, wandering in regions where he had little business, confound the old authentic Presby- terian Witchfinder, with a new, spurious, imaginary Historian of the Brittische Journalistik ; and so stumble on perhaps the most egregious blunder in modern 30 Literature ! i 40 SAA' 70 A' A'ESA/i TUS. CHAPTER VII. S3 i| ; I ^1 MISCELLANEOUS-HISTORICAL. Happier is our Professor, and more purely scientific and historic, when he reaches the Middle Ages in Europe, and down to the end of the Seventeenth Century ; the true era of extravagance in costume. It is here thrt 5 the Antiquary and Student of Modes comes upon his richest harvest. Fantastic garbs, beggaring all fancy of a Teniers or a Callot, succeed each other, like monster devouring monster in a Dream. The whole too in brief authentic strokes, and touched not seldom with that lo breath of genius wfiich makes even old raiment live. Indeed, so learned, precise, graphical, and everyway interesting have we found these Chapters, that it may be thrown-out as a pertinent question for parties concerned, Whether or not a good English Translation thereof might «5 henceforth be profitably incorporated with Mr. Merrick's valuable Work On Ancient Armour { Take, by way of example, the following sketch; as authority for which Paulinus's Zeitkiirzende Lust (ii. 678) is, with seeming confidence, referred to : 20 • Did we behold the German fashionable dress of the 'Fifteenth Century, we might jmile ; as perhaps those 'bygone Germans, were they to rise again, and see our 'haberdashery, would cross themselves, and invoke the 'Virgin. But happily no bygone German, or man, rises ' again ; thus the Present is not needlessly trammelled ' with the Past ; and only grows out of it, like a Tree, ' whose roots are not intertangled with its branches, but 'lie peaceably under-ground. Nay, it is ver^ mournful, 'yet not useless, to see and know, how the Greatest and io ' Dearest, in a short while, would find his place quite 25 MISCELLANEOUS-HIS TORICAL. 4« filled-up here, and no room for him ; the very Napoleon, the very Uyron, in some seven years, has become obsol- ete, and were now a foreigner to his Furope. Thus is the Law of Progress secured ; and in Clothes, as in all other external things whatsoever, no fashion will 5 continue. ' Of the military classes in those old times, whose buflf- belts, complicated chains and gorgets, huge churn-boots, and other riding and fighting gear have be< \ bepainted in modern Romance, till the whole has acquied some- 10 what of a sign-post character, — I shall here say nothing : the civil and pacific classes, less touched upon, are wonderful enough for us. 'Rich men, I find, have Teusinke' (a perhaps untrans- lateable article); 'also a silver girdle, whereat hang little 15 bells ; so that when a man walks it is with continual jingling. Some few, of musical turn, have a whole chime of bells {Glockenspiel) fastened there ; which, especially in sudden whirls, and the other accidents of walking, has a grateful effect. Observe too how fond 20 they are of peaks, and Gothic-arch intersections. The male world wears peaked caps, an ell long, which hang bobbing over the side {schief) : their shoes are peaked in front, also to the length of an ell, and laced on the side with tags ; even the wooden shoes have their ell- 25 long noses : some also clap bells on the peak. Further, according to my authority, the men have breeches with- out seat {phne Gesass): these they fasten peakwise to their shirts ; and the long round d ublet must overlap them. 30 ' Rich maidens, ^gain, flit abroad in gowns scolloped out behind and before, so that back and breast are i ci t - most bare. v\ive3 of quality, ua the other hand, have train-gowns four or five ells in length ; which trains 4a SA A' 7VA' A'JiSA /i TC/S. • there are boys to carry. Brave Cleopatras, nailing in •their silk-clotli Galley, with ;i Cupid for steersman! ' Consider their wolts, a handhreatlth thic k, which waver ' round them by way of hem ; the lonj; Hood of silver 5 • buttons, or rather silver shells, from throat to shoe, 'wherewith these same welt-gowns are buttoned. The 'maidens have ' ound silver snoods about their hair, with 'gold spangles, and pendent flames (/7^7w///,7/), that is, ' sparkling hair-drops : but of their mother's headgear lo • who shall speak > Neither in love of grace is comfort ' forgotten. In winier weather you behold the whole fair •creation (that can alTord it) in long mantles, with skirts • wide below, and, for hem, not one but two 5utficiept ' handbroad welts ; all ending atop in a thick well- 15 'starched RulT, some twenty inches broad: these are •their RufT-mantles {fCrajrainui/itci). ' As yet among the womankind hoop-petticoats are not ; 'but the men have doublets of fustian, unde.- which lie ' multiple ruffs of cloth, pasted together with batter (w// 2o ' Tti^ zNStimmffii^^t'k/iistt'rt), which create protuberance ' enough. Thus do the two sexes vie with each other in ' the art of Decoration ; and as usual the stronger 'carries it.' Our Professor, whether he have humour himself or not, 25 manifests a certain feeling of the Ludicrous, a sly observ- ance of it, which, could emotion of any kind be confidently predicted of so still a man, we might call a real love. None of those bell-girdles, bushel-breeches, cornuted shoes or other the like phenomena, of which the History JO of Dress offers so many, escape him : more especially the mischances, or striking adventures, incident to the wearers of such, are noticed with due fidelity. Sir Walter Raleiffh's fine mnntlf^ whirh h*» crirp^H in *^'=' t""? l/^r Queen Elizabeth's feet, appears to provoke little enthusi- M/SCF/ / ANEOUS-HtSTORICAL. 43 Lti 10 tsm in him : he merely asks, Whether at that period the Maiden Queen ' was red-painted on the nose, and white- ' painted on the cheeks, as her tirewomen, when from '«oleen and wrinkles she would no longer look in any ' glass, were wont to serve her ? ' We can answer that Sir Walter knew well what he was doing, and had the Maiden (Jiueen !jeen stulTed parchment dyed in verdigris, would have done the same. 'I'hus too, treating ot those enormous habiliments, that were not only slashed and galooned, but artificially swol- len-out on the broader parts of the body, by introduction of Hran, — our Professor fails not to comment on that luckless Courtier, who having sealed himself on a chair with some projecting nail on it, and therefrom rising, to pay his da'oir on the entrance of Majesty, instantaneous!) j emitted several pecks of dry wheat-dust : and stood thers diminished to a spindle, hisgaloons and slashes dangling sorrowful and flabby round him. Whereupon the Pro- fessor publishes this reflection : ' liy what strange chances do we live in History ! Eros- 20 tratus by a torch ; Milo by a bullock; Henry Darnley, an unfledged booby and bustard, by his limbs ; most Kings and Queens by being born under such and such a bedtester ; Boileau Desprc^aux (according to Helvetius) by the peck of a turkey ; and this ill-starred individual 25 by a rent in his breeches, — for no Memoirist of Kaiser Otto's Court omits him. Vain was the prayer of The- mistocles for a talent of Forgetting : my Friends, yield cheerfully to Destiny, and read since it is written.' — Has Teufelsdrockh to be put in mind that, nearly related 30 to the impossible talent of Forgetting, stands ihat talent of Silence, which even travelling Englishmen manifest? i 11c 3siispicsi cusiijiiic, uDscivcsuui l"iuic5sur, WD Cu ' I anywhere find alluded to in Historv, is that useo as ill f 10 ^4 SAKrOft /lESA/trUS. regimental, by Bolivar's Cavalry, in tho late Columbian wars. A square HIankct. twelve feet in diagonal, in pro- vided (some wer*; wont to cut-off the corners, and make it circular) : in thj centre a slit is effected eighteen inches long ; through this the mother-naked Tfooper in- troduces his head and neck ; and so rides .«>hieldcd from all weather, and in battle from uiany strokes (for he rolls it about his left arm) ; and not only dressed, but harnessed and draperied.* With which picture of a State of Nature, affecJng by its singularity, and Old- Roman contempt of the super- fiuous, we shall cjuit this part of our subject. CHAl'TER VIII. THK WORLD OUT OF CLOTFiES. If ill the Descriptive-Historical Portion of this Volume, Teufelsdrockh, discussing merely the IVerdin (Origin and IS successive Improvement) of Clothes, h^. astonished many a reader, much more will he in the Speculative-Jt'hilosoph- ical Portion, which treats of their IVirken, or Influences. It is here that vie present Editor first feels the pressure of his task ; f<:r \\n'c^- properly the higher and new Phi- 20 losophy of Clothes commences : an untried, almost in- conceivable region, or chaos ; in venturing upon which, how difficult, yet how unspeakably important is it to know what course, of survey and conquest, is the true one ; where the footing is firm substance and will bear us, where 25 it is hollow, or mere cloud, and may engulf us ! Teufels- drockh undertakes no less than to expound the moral, political, even religious Influences of Clothes; he under- tlih iVOf We sit as in ' a boundless Phantasmagoria and Dream-grotto ; bound- ' less, for the faintest star, the remotest century, lies not ' even nearer the verge thereof : sounds and man"- * coloured visions flit round our sense ; but Him, the THE WORLD OUT OF CLOTHES. 47 Unslumbering, whose work both Dream and Dreamer are, we see not ; except in rare half-waking moments, suspect not. Creation, says one, lies before us, like a glorious Rainbow ; but the Sun that made it lies behind us, hidden from us. Then, in that strange Dream, how we 5 clutch at shadows as if they were substances ; and sleep deepest while fancying ourselves most awake ! Which of your Philosophical Systems is other than a dream- theorem ; a net quotient, confidently given out, where divisor and dividend are both unknown ? What are all 10 your national Wars, with their Moscow Retreats, and sanguinary hate-filled Revolutions, but the Somnam- bulism of uneasy Sleepers ? This Dreaming, this Somnambulism is what we on Earth call Life ; wherein the most indeed undoubtingly wander, as if they knew 15 right hand from left ; yet they only are wise who know that they know nothing. ' Pity that all Metaphysics had hitherto proved so inexpressibly unproductive ! The secret of Man's Being is still like the Sphinx's secret : a riddle that he cannot 20 rede ; and for ignorance of which he suffers death, the worst death, a spiritual. What are your Axioms, and Categories, and Systems, and Aphorisms ? Words, words. High Air-castles are cunningly built of Words, the Words well bedded also in good Logic-mortar ; 25 wherein, however, no Knowledge will come to lodge. The whole is greater than the part : how exceedingly true ! Nature abhors a vacuum : how exceedingly false and calumnious ! Again, Nothing can act hut where it is : with all my heart ; only where is it ? Be not the slave 30 of Words : is not the Distant, the Dead, while I love it, and long for it, and mourn for it. Here, in the genuine c tnilv nc the floor t stand on ? But that same CCXY\ CO. ily II I Where, with its brother. When, are from the first the ? I ft- ■' i ill'. 1 :* »-^^ ' II 1 i ' ^ tl ' : i B 1 1 H K ; 'i'^ 48 SA/i70/i A'£SAA'rC/S. 10 15 25 30 master-colours of our FJream-grotto ; say, rather, the ^ C anvas (the warp and .voof thereof) whereon all our Dreams a. d Life-visions are painted. Nevertheless ^ has not a deeper meditation taught certain of every d.mate and age, that the Whkre and When, so myste riously inseparable from all our thoughts, are but super- ficial terrestrial adhesions to thought ; that th. Seer may discern them where they mount up out of the celestial Everywhere and Forever: have not all nations conceived their God as Omnipresent and itT r^f ?'"^ '" ' ""'"'^^'^'' Hkh:, an everlast- ing Now ? Think well, thou too wilt rind that Space is but a mode of our human Sense, so likewise Time • there .. no Space and no Time- We are -we know not what; -light-sparkles floating in the ^ther of Deity I ' So that this so solid-seeming World, after all, were but an air-image, our Me the only reality : and Nature, with Its thousandfold production and destruction, but the reflex of our own inward Force, the "phantasy of our Dream ; or what the Earth-Spirit in J^aus^ names it, ^/le ln>mg visible Garment of God. ' " In Being's floods, in Action's storm, I walk and work, above, beneath, Work and weave in endless motion ! Birth and Death, An infinite ocean ; A seizing and giving The fire of Liv;ng : 'Tis thus at the roa.nig Loom of Time I ply And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by." ;Of twenty millions that have read and spouted this ^ thunder-speech of the Erdgeisf, are there yet twenty units of us that have leaiued the meaning thereof ? 20 THE WORLD OUT OF CLOTHES. 49 S ' It was in some such mood, when wearied and fordone with these high speculations, that I first came upon the question of Clothes. Strange enough, it strikes me, is this same fact of there being Tailors and Tailored. The Horse I ride has his own whole fell : strip him of the girths and flaps and extraneous tags I have fastened round him, and the noble creature is his own sempster and weaver and spinner; nay his own bootmaker, jeweller, and man-milliner ; he bounds free through the valleys, with a perennial rainproof court-suit on his lo body ; wherein warmth and easiness of fit have reached perfection ; nay, the graces also have been considered, and frills and fringes, with gay variety of colour, featly appended, and ever in the right place, are not wanting. While I— good Heaven ! — have thatched myself over 15 with the dead fleeces of sheep, the bark of vegetables, the entrails of worms, the hides of oxen or seals, the felt of furred beasts ; and walk abroad a moving Rag- screaii, overheaped with shreds and tatters raked from the Charnel-house of Nature, where they would have 20 rotted, .0 rot on me more slowly ! Day after day, I must thatch myself anew ; day after day, this despicable thatch must lose some film of its thickness ; some film of it, frayed away by tear and wear, must be brushed- ofif into the Ashpit, into the Laystall ; till by degrees 25 the whole has been brushed thither, and I, the dust- making, patent Rag-grinder, get new material to grind down. O subter-brutish ! vile ! most vile ! For have not I too a compact all-enclosing Skin, whiter or dingier .? Am I a botched mass of tailors' and cobblers' shreds, 30 then ; or a tightly-articulated, homogeneous little Figure, automatic, nay alive ? * Strange enough how creatures of the human-kind shut ' their eyes to plainest facts ; and by the mere inertia of • I J ■ I ft ? m 1 1 1 1 r -' u ^ 1 i: i \^ \ & \ : r so ^// A' 7'6>/' A'/t;SV/ A' 77.;v. 10 IS' 20 25 •Oblivion and Stupidity, live at ease in the midst of I Wonders and Terrors. Ikit indeed mrm is, and was •always, a blockhead and dullard; much readier to feel 'and digest, than to think and consider. Prejudice, 'which he pretends to hate, is his absolute lawgiver;' mere use-and-wont everywhere leads him by the nose • thus let but a Rising of the Sun, let but a Creation of the v\^orld happen tivia-, and it ceases to be marvellous, to be noteworthy, or noticeable. Perhaps not once in I hfetune does it occur to your ordinary biped, of any country or generation, be he gold-mantled Prince or russet-jerkined Peasant, that his Vestments and his Self are not one and indivisible ; that he is naked, with- out vestments, till he buy or steal ..uch, and by fore- thought sew and button them. ' For my own part, these considerations, of our Clothes- I thatch, and how, reaching inwards even to our heart of 'hearts it tailorises and demoralises us, fill me with a ' certai. horror at myself, and mankind ; almost as one feels at those Dutch Cows, which, during the wet season, you see grazing deliberately with jackets and petticoats (of striped sacking), in the meadov/s of Gouda. Never- theless there is something great m the moment when a man first strips himself of adventitious wrappages ; and sees indeed that he is naked, and, as Swift has it, "a forked straddling animal with bandy legs"; yet also a Spirit, and unutterable Mystery of Mysteries.' ADAMITISM. s» CHAPTER IX. ADAMITISM. Let no courteous reader take offence at the opinions broached in the conclusion of the last Chapter. The Editor himself, on first glancing over that singular passage, was inclined to exclaim : What, have we got not only a Sansculottist, but an enemy to Clothes in 5 the abstract ? A new Adamite, in this century, which flatters itself that it is the Nineteenth, and destructive both to Superstition and Enthusiasm? Consider, thcu foolish Teufelsdrockh, what benefits unspeakable all ages and sexes derive from Clothes. lo For example, when thou thyself, a watery, pulpy, slob- bery freshman and new-comer in this Planet, sattest muling and puking in thy nurse's arms ; sucking thy coral and looking forth into the world in the blankest manner, what hadst thou been, without thy blankets, and 15 bibs, and other nameless hulls ? A terror to thyself and mankind ! Or hast thou forgotten the day when thou first receivedst breeches, and thy long clothes became short? The village where thou livedst was all apprized of the fact ; and neighbour after neighbour kissed thy 20 pudding-cheek, and gave thee, as handsel, silver or cop- per coins, on that the first gala-day of thy existence. Again, wert not thou, at one period of life, a Buck, or Blood, or Macaro*"i, or Incroyable, or Dandy, or by whatever name, according to year and place, such phe- 25 nomenon is distinguished? In that one word lie included mysterious volumes. Nay, now when the reign of folly is over, or altered, and thy clothes are not for triumph but for defence, hast thou always worn them perforce, and as a consequence of Man's Fall ; never rejoiced in 3° , tl ^ » ■ ■ li s» •T/IATO/' KHHA/ilUX. hem as m a warm movable House, a Body round thy !ody, wherem that stranKe Thee of thine sat snuK, dc^ fymg a 1 variations of Climate? Girt with thick douhle- milled kerseys; half-buriod under shawls and l.road- 5 bnms, and overalls and mudboots, thy very f,n«ers cased n doeskm and m.ttens, thou hast bestrode that ' Horse I nde ; and, though it were in wild winter, dashe.l hrough the world, glorying in it as if thou wert its lord In vam did the sleet beat round thy temples; it li.dued ■o only on thy impenetrable, felted or woven, case of "wool In vam did the winds howl, - forests sounding and creaking, deep calling unto deep, -and the storms heap themselves together into one huge Arctic whirlpool thou flewest through the middle thereof, striking fire ■5 from the highway; wild r.iusic hummed in thy ears, thou oo wert as a sailor of the air' ; the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds was thy element and propitiously waftmg tide. Without Clothes, without bit or saddle what hadst thou been; what had thy Heet quadruped 20 been?- Nature is good, but she is no. the best; here truly was the victory of Art over Nature. A thunder- bolt indeed might have pierced thee ; all short of this thou couldst defy. Or, cries the courteous reader, has your Teufelsdrockh forgotten what he said lately about 'Aboriginal Savages,' and the.r con. ition miserable indeed ' ? Would he have all this unsaid ; and us betake ourselves again to the matted cloak,' and go sheeted in a 'thick natural fell'? Nowise, courteous reader ! The Professor knows full 30 well what he ,s saying ; and both thou and we, in our haste, do him wrong. If Clothes, in these times, 'so ta. ortse and demoralise us,' have they no redeeming value ; can they not be altered to serve better • m„-t they of necessity be thrown 25 the dogs? The truth is. ADAMITISM. 53 Teufclsclrockh, though a Sansculottist, is no Adamite : and much perhaps as he might wish to go forth before this degenerate age, 'as a Sign,' would nowise wish to do it, as those old Adamites did, in a state of Nakedness. The utility of Clothes is altogether apparent to him : nay s perhaps he has an insight into their more recondite, and almost mystic qaalities, what we might call the omnipo- tent virtue of Clothes, such as was never before vouch- safed to any man. For example : 'You see two individuals,' he writes, 'one dressed in lo fine Red. the other in coarse threadbare Blue: Red says to Blue, "lie hanged and anatomised;" Blue hears with a shudder, and (O wonder of wonders !) marches sorrow- fully to the gallows ; is there noosed up, vibrates his hour, and the surgeons dissect him, and fit his bones 15 into a skeleton for medical purposes. How is this ; or what make ye of your Nothing can act but where it is / Red has no physical hold of Blue, no clutch of him, is nowise in contact with him : neither are those minister- ing Sheriffs and Lord-Lieutenants and Hangmen and 20 Tipstaves so related to commanding Red, that he can tug them hither and thither; but each stands distinct within hib own skin. Nevertheless, as it is spoken, so it is done : the articulated Word sets all hands in Action; and Rope and Improved-drop perform their 25 work. ' Thinking reader, the reason seems to me twofold : First, that Alan is a S/>irit, and bound by invisible bonds to A// Men; secondly, that he wears Clothes, v/hich are the visible emblems of that fact. Has not your Red 30 hanging-individual a horsehair wig, squirrel-skins, and a plush-gown; whereby all mortals know that he is a Judge ? — Society, which the more I think of it tonishes me the more, is founded upon Cloth. as- . i|i; 54 SAA'7'OA' A'/':SAA'TUS. m f ■ 1 ^ H •Often in my iitrabiliar moods, when I read of pom- 'pous ceremonials, Frankfort Coronations, Royal Draw- 'ing-rooms, Levees, Couchees ; and how the ushers and 'macers and pursuivants are all in waiting; how Duke S 'this is presented by Archduke that, and Colonel A by 'General H, and innum^-rable Hishops, Admirals, and 'miscellaneous Kunctionuies, are advancing gallantly to 'the Anointed Presence; and I strive, in my remote 'privacy, io form a clear picture of th : solemnity, — on 'o 'a sudden, as by some enchanter's wand, the — shall I 'speak it?— the Clothes Hy-off the whole dramatic corps ; 'and Dukes. Crandees, Hishops, Generals, Anointed 'Presence itself, every mother's son of them, stand 'straddling there, .hot a shirt on them; and I know '5 'not whether to laugh or weep. This physical or psy- jchical infirmity, in which perhaps I am not singular, 'I have, after hesitation, thought right to publish, for the 'solace of those afilicted with the like.' Would to Heaven, say we, thou hadst thought right to 20 keep it secret ! Who is there now that can read the five columns of Presentations in his Morning Newspaper without a shudder? Hypochondriac men, and all men are to a certain extent hypochondriac, should be more gently treated. With what readiness our fancy, in this 25 shattered state of the nerves, follows out the conse- quences which Teufelsdrockh, with a devilish coolness, goes on to draw : ^ 'What would iMajesty do, could such an accident befall •in reality; should the buttons all simultaneously start, 30 ' and the solid wool evaporate, in verv Deed, as here in ' Dream ? Ach Gott! How each skulks into the nearest I hiding-place ; their high State Tragedy {Hanpt- unci \Staats-Action) becomes a Pickleherring-Farce to weep 'at, which is the worst kind of Farce; the tMes (accord- ADAAf/T/SM. 55 'ing to Horace), and with them, the whole fabric of 'Government, Legislation, Property, Police, and Civilised 'Society, are dissolved, in wails and I.owls.' Lives the man that can figure a naked Duke of VVindle- straw addressing a naked House of Lords? Imagination, s choked as in mephitic air, recoils on itself, and will not forward with the picture. The VVoolso'-k., the Ministerial, the Opposition Benches — m/andumf infandum! And yet why is the thing impossible? Was not every soul, or rather every body, of these Guardians cf our Liberties, lo naked, or nearly so, last night; 'a forked Radish with a head fantastically carved'? And why might he nut, did our stern Fate so order it, walk out to St. Stephen's, as well as into bed, in that no-fashion ; and there, with other similar Radishes, hold a Red of Justice? 'Solace 15 of those afflicted with the like ! ' Unhappy Teufels- drockh, had man ever such a ' physical or psychical in- firmity ' before ? And now how many, perhaps, may thy unparalleled confession (which we, even to the sounder British world, and goaded-on by Critical and liiographi- 20 cal duty, grudge to re-impart) incurably infect therewith ! Art thou the malignest of Sansculottists, or only the maddest ? ' It will remain to be examined,' adds the inexorable Teufelsdrockh, ' in how far the Scarecrow, as a Clothed 25 Person, is not also entitled to benefit of clergy, and English trial by jury: nay perhaps, considering his high function (for is not he too a Defender of Property, and Sovereif^n armed with the terrors of the Law ?), to a cer- tain royal Immunity and Inviolability ; which, however, 30 misers and the meaner class of persons are not always voluntarily disposed to grant him.' * * * * ' O my friends, we nre (in Yorick Sterne's ' words) but as " turkeys driven, with a stick and red fA \ 56 SAA'70/f AASAA'7VS. 'Clout to the market."; or if some drivers, as they do in Norfolk, take a dried bladder and put peas in it, the rattle thereof terrifies the boldest ! ' CIIAPTKR X. I'l/KK REASON. It must now be apparent enough thai our Professor, as 3 above hinted, is a speculative Radical, and of the very darkest t.n.;^e ; acknowledging^, f^r most part, in the so- lemnities and paraphernalia of civilised Life, which we make so much of, nothing but so many Cloth-rags turkey-poles, and 'bladders with dried peas.' To linger .o among such speculations, longer than mere Science re- (|uires, a discernin- public can have no wish. For our purposes the simple fact that such a JVnhW IVor/^i is pos- sible, nay actually exists (under the Clothed one), v/iil be sulhc.ent. Much, therefore, we omit about ' Kings .5 wrestling naked on the green with Carmen,' and the Kings being thrown: 'dissect them with scalpels,' says leufelsdrockh; 'the same viscera, tissues, livers, lights and other life-tackle are ther. : examine their spiritual ^ mechanism ; the same great Need, great Greed, and 20 little Faculty; nay ten to one but the Carman, who un- ^ derstands draught-cattle, the rimming of wheels, some- ^ thing of the laws of unstable and stable eouilibrium, ^WiJ.a other branches of wagon-science, and has .ctually ^ put forth his hand and operated on Nature, is the more ^: ^ cunningly gifted of the two. Whence, then, their so un- speakable difference ? From Clothes.' Much also we shall omit about confusion of Ranks, and Joan and My PUKE KEASOl^. 57 Lady, and how It would be cverywh'jre ' II;iiI fellow well met,' and ( haos were come a^ain : all which to any one that has once fairly pictured-out the ^rand rnother-idea, Society in a state of Nakedness, will^sponlarKjously sufjgest itself. Should some sceptical individual still entertain 5 doubts whether in a world without Clothes, the smallest Politeness, Polity, or even Police, could exist, let him turn to the original Volume, and view there the bound- less Serbonian Bog of Sansculottism, strf'tching sour and pestilential: over which we have lightly llown ; where not 10 only whole armies but whole nations might sink ! If imiced the following argument, in its brief riveting emphasis, be not of itself incontrovertible and final : * Are we Opossums ; have we natural Pouches, like the ' Kangaroo? Or how, without Clothes, could we possess 15 ' the master-organ, soul's seat, and true pineal gland of ' the Body Social : I mean, a Purse ? ' Nevertheless it is impossible to hate Professor Teufels- drockh ; at worst, one knows not whether to hate or to love him. For though, in looking at the fair tapestry of 20 human Life, with its royal and even sacred figures, he dwells not on the obverse alone, but here chiefly on the reverse ; and indeed turns u. the rough seams, tatters, and manifold thrums of that unsightly wrong-sidvi, with an almost diabolic patience and indifference, which must 25 have sunk him in the estimation of most readers, there is that within which unspeakably distinguishes him from -ill other past ard present Sansculottists. The grand unparalleled peculiaiily of Teufelsdrockh is, that with a'.' this Descendentalism, he combines a Transcendentalism, 30 no less superlative ; whereby if on the one hand he de- grade man below most animals, except those jacketed Oouda Cows, he, on the other, exalts him beyond the visible Heavens, almost to an equality with the Gods. S8 "iMffro/i /lESA/trus. f To the eye of vulgar Lo|ric,' .sayn he, * what is man ? ' An omnivoroUH Hipcd that wears Hreeches. To the eye 'of Pure Reason, wnat is he? A Soul, a Spirit, and •divine Apparition. Kound his mysterious Mk, there 5 'lies, under ni| those vvool-rags, a (Jarmcnt of Kk'sh (or •of Senses), contextured in the Loom of Heaven ; where- •by he is revealed to his like, and dwells with ihem in •UNroN and Division; and sees and fashions for hi.n- •sclf a l-n.verse, with azure Starry Spaces, and lonij 10^ ihousands of Years. Deep-hidden is he under that strange Garment ; amid Sounds and Colours and Forms, •".3 It were, swathed-in, and inextricably ovorshrouded' jyet it is skywoven, and worthy of a God. Siands he not thereby in the centre of Immensities, in the rontlux •S of Eternities > He feels ; power has been ^dven him to ^ know, to believe ; nay does not the spirit of J.ove free jn Its celestial primeval hri-htness, even here, thou-^h ^ but for moments look thiouo j, > vVell said Saint ( hrys- ostom, with his lips of Kold, "the true Shkkinaii is -'o^Man": where else is the Go-'.s-Pkksknck manifested not to our eyes only, but to our hearts, as in our fellow In such passages, unhappily too rare, the high Platonic Mysticism of our Author, which is perhaps the funda- 25 mental element of his nature, bursts forth, as it were in full flood ; and, through all the vapour and tarnish of what is often so perverse, to mean in his exterior and environment, we seem to looi: into a whole inward Sea of Light and Love ; ~ though, alas, the grim coppery 30 clouds soon roll together again, and ' ide it from view. Such tendency 10 Mysticism is everywhere traceable in th.s man; and indeed, to attentive readers, must have been long ago apparent. Nothing that he sees but has more than a common meaning, but has two meanings: rrup RF.Aso.w. 59 thus, if in the hiKhcsi Imperial Sceptre and Chaiicinagnc- Mantlc, as well as in the poorest Ox-jjoad and (iipsy- iUanket, he finds Prose, Decay, ContempiiMliiy ; there is in each sort Poetry also, and a reverend Worth. For Matter, were it never so despicable, is Spirit, the mar.i- 5 festation of Spirit: were it never so honourai)le, c i it be more? The thin^ Visible, nay the thin^ ln>ar;inc(l, the thin^r ;„ any way conceived as Visible, what is it but a Garment, a Clothing of the hijjher, celestial Invis;i)le, 'unimaginable, formless, dark with excess of bright?' 10 l/nder which point of \iew the following passage, so strange in |)urport, so strange in phrase, seems character- istic enough : •The beginning of all Wisdom is to look fixedly on •Clothes, or eve:i '.iiij armed eyesight, till they become .5 ' transpannt. " 'i'he Philosopher," says the wisest of this 'age, "must station himself in the middle": how true! 'The I'hilosopher is he to whom the Highest has 'descended, and the Lowest has mounted up; who is the •eaual and kindly brother of all. 'Shall we tremble before clothwebs and cobwebs, 'whether woven in Arkwright looms, or by the silent jAvachnes that weave unrestingl> in our Imagination? I Or, on the other hand, what .s there that we cannot ' love ; since all was created by God ? 'llrnpy he who can look through the Clothes of a •Man (the woollen, and fleshly, and official Hank-paper, |and State-paper Clothes), into the Man himself; and •discern, it may be, in this or the other Dr-ad Potentate, 'a more or less incompetent Digestive-appiratus ; yet 30 j also an inscrutable venerable Mystery, in the meanest ' Tinker that sees with eyes ! ' For the rtst, as is natural to a man of this kind, he deals much in the feeling of W^onder; insists on the 20 2S ( i iM^ 60 SARTOR RESARTUS. necessity and high A\orth of universal Wonder ; which he holds to be the only reasonable temper for the denizen of so singular a Planet as ours. ' Wonuer,' says he, ' is ' the basis of Worship : the reign of wonder is perennial, 5 ' indestructible in Man ; only at certain stages (as the 'present), it is, for some short season, a reign in pariibus ' infidel ium: That progress of Science, which is to de- stroy Wonder, and in its stead substitute Mensuration and Numeration, finds small favour with Teufelsdrockh, »o much as he otherwise venerates these two latter pro- cesses. ' Shall your Science,' exclaims he, ' proceed in the small ' chink-lighted, or even oil-lighted, underground workshop ' of Logic alone ; dnd man's mind become an Arithm'-tical 15 ' Mill, whereof Memory is the Hopper, and mere Tables 'of Sines and Tangents, Codification, and Treatises of 'what you call Political Economy, are the Meal? And I what is that Science, which the scientific head alone, ' were it screwed off, and (like the Doctor's in the Arabian 20 ' Tale) set in a basin to * ip it alive, could prosecute ' without shadow of a heai ., — but' one other of the nie- ' chanical and menial handicrafts, for which the Scientific ' Head (having a Soul in it) is too noble an organ t I ' mean that Thought without Reverence is barren, perhaps 25 ' poisonous ; at best, dies like cookery with the day that ' called it forth ; does not live, like sowing, in successive ' tilths and wider-spreading harvests, bringing food and 'plenteous increase to all Time.' In such wise does Teufelsdrockh deal hits, harder or 30 softer, according to ability ; yet ever, as we would fain persuade ourselves, with charitable intent. Above all, that class of 'Logic-choppers, and treble-pipe Scoffers, ' and professed Enemies to Wonder ; who, in these days, ' so numerously patrol as night-constables about the Me- PURE REASON. 6i ' chanics* Institute of Science, and cackle, like true Old- ' Roman geese and goslings round their Capitol, on any ' alarm, or on none ; nay who often, as illuminated Scep- ' tics, walk abroad into peaceable society, in full daylight, ' with rattle and lantern, and insist on guiding you and s ' guarding you therewith, though the Sun is shining, and ' the street populous vith mere justice-loving men: ' that whole class is inexpressibly wearisome to him. Hear with what uncommon animation he perorates : ' The m.an who cannot wonder, who does not habitually lo ' wonder (and worship), were he President of innumerable ' Royal Societies, and carried the whole Mecanique Celeste ' and HegeVs Philosophy, and the epitome of all Labora- ' tories and Observatories with their results, in his single 'head, — is but a Pair of Spectacles behind which there 15 ' is no Eye. Let those who have Eyes look through him, ' then he may be useful. ' Thou wilt have no Mystery and Mysticism ; wilt walk ' through thy world by the sunshine of what thou callest ' Truth, or even by the hand-lamp of what I call Attorney- 20 ' Logic ; and " explain " all, "account " for all, or believe ' nothing of it .? Nay, thou wilt attempt laughter ; whoso 'recognises the unfathomable, all-pervading domain of * Mystery, which is everywhere under our feet and among 'our hands; to whom the Universe is an Oracle and 'Temple, as well as a Kitchen and Cattle-stall, — he ' shall be a delirious Mystic ; to him thou, with sniffing 'charity, wilt protrusively proffer thy hand-lamp, and 'shiiek, as one injured, when he kicks his foot through ' it .? — Armer Teu/el / Doth not thy cow calve, doth not 30 • thy bull gender ? Thou thyself, wert thou not born, wilt ' thou not die .? " Explain " me all this, or do one of two 25 f.u:_ tiii iigs : Retire into private places with thy foolish cackle; ' or, what were better, give it up, and weep, not that the 63 SARTOK A'ESAA'/VS. 'reign Of wonder is clone, and God's world all disen.oel- ^ l>shed and prosaic, but that thou hitherto art a Dilettante and sandblind Pedant.' 1*.'. If CHAPTER Xr. PROSPEC'IIVE. The philosophy of Clothes is now to all readers, as we . predicted it would do, unfolding itself into new bound- less expansions, of a cloudcapt, almost chimerical aspect yet not without az^re loomings in the 'ar distance, and s reaks as of an Elysian brightness ; the highly question- able purport and promise of which it is becoming more •o and more important for us to ascertain. Is that a real h^lysian brightness, cries many a timid wayfaier, or the reflex of Pandemonian lava } Is it of a truth leading us into beatific Asphodel meadows, or the yellow-burning r.»a.l (>f a Hell-on-Earth.? '5 Our Professor, like other Mystics, whether delirious or inspired, gives an Editor enough to do. Ever higher and dizzier are the heights he leads us to; more piercing, a I-comprehending, all-confounding are his views and glances. For example, this of Nature being not an A-gre- 20 gate but a Whole : ""^ ^ 'Well sang the Hebrew Psalmist: "If I take the wings ^ of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the ^ universe, God is there." Thou too, O cultivated reader ^ who too probably art no Psalmist, but a Prosaist, know- -^5 ^ ing God only by tradition, knowest thou any corner of ^ the world where at least Force is not } The drop which thou shakest from thy wet hand rests not where it falls i*-^-' I rKOSPECTrVR. 63 but tomorrow thou findest it swept away; already, on the wings of the Northvvind, it is nearing the Tropic of Cancer. How came it to evaporate, and not lie motion- less ? Thinkest thou there is aught motionless ; withou-t Force and utterly dead ? 5 ' As I rode through the Schwarzwald, I said to myself : That little tire which glows star-like across the dark- growing {naclitcfhh') moor, where the sooty smith bends over his anvil, and thou hopest to replace thy lost horse- shoe, — is it a detached, separated speck, cut-off from 10 the whole Universe ; or indissolubly joined to the whole ? Thou fool, that smithy-fire was (primarily) kindled at the Sun ; is fed by air that circulates from before Noah's Deluge, from beyond the Dogstar ; therein, with Iron Force, ana Coal Force, and the far stranger For'-e of 15 Man, are cunning afii lities and battles and victories of Force brought about : it is a little ganglion, or nervous centre, in the great vital system of Immensity. Call it, if thou wilt, an unconscious Altar, kindled on the bosom of the All ; whose iron sacrifice, whose iron smoke and 20 influence reach quite through the All ; whose Dingy Priest, not by word, yet by brain and sinew, preaches forth the mystery of Force ; nay, preaches forth (exoteri- cally enough) one little textlet from the Gospel of Free- dom, the Gospel of Man's Force, commanding, and one 25 day to be all-commanding. ' Detached, separated ! I say there is no such separa- tion : nothing hitherto was ever stranded, cast aside ; but all, were it only a withered leaf, works together with all ; is borne forward on the bottomless, shoreless flood 30 of Action, and lives through perpetual metamorphoses. The withered leaf is not dead and lost, there are Forces in it and around it, though working in inverse order ; else how could it rot ? Despise not the rag from which [ 64 SAA'TO/t RESAATUS. ic '5 20 25 30 • man makes Paper, or the litter from which the Earth makes ' Corn. Rightly viewed no meanest object is insignifi- 'cant; all objects are as windows, through which the ' philosophic eye looks into Infinitude itself.' Again, leaving that wondrous Schwarzwald Smithy- Altar, what vncant, high-sailing air-ships are those, and whither will they sail with us ? ' All visible things are emblems ; what thou seest is ' not there on its own account ; strictly taken, is not there ' at all : Matter exists only spiritually, and to represent some Idea, and Oody it forth. Hence Clothes, as despic- able as we think them, are so unspeakably significant Clothes, from the King's mantle downwards, are Emble- matic, not of want only, but of a manifold cunning Vic- tory over Want. On the other hand, all Emblematic thmgs are properly Clothes, thought-'voven or hand- woven: must not the Imagination weave Garments visible I^odies, wherein the else invisible creations and mspirations of our Reason are, like Spirits, revealed and first become all-powerful ; — the rather if, as we often see, the Hand too aid her, and (by wool Clothes or otherwise) reveal such even to the outward eye.? ' Men are properly said to be clothed with Authority clothed with Beauty, with Curses, and the like. Nay,' if you consider it, what is Man himself, and his whole terrestrial Life, but an Emblem ; a Clothing or visible Garn.ent for that divine Me of his, cast hither, like a hght-particle, down from Heaven .? Thus is he said also to be clothed with a Body. ' Language is called the Garment of Thought : how- ever, it should rather be, Language is the Flesh-Garment the Body, of Thought. I said that Imagination wove this Flesh-Garment ; and does not she .? Metaphors are • iier stuff : examine Language ; what, if you except some PROSPECTIVE. 65 few primitive elements (of natural sound), what is it all but Metaphors, recognised as such, or no longer recog- nised : still fluid and florid, or now solid-grown and colourless? If those same primitive elements are the osseous fixtures in the Flesh-Garment, Language,— 5 then are Metaphors its muscles and tissues and living integuments. An unmetaphorical style you shall in vain seek for : is not your very Attention a Stretc/iin^-to ? The difference lies here : some styles are lean, adust, wiry, the muscle itself seems osseous ; some are even 10 quite pallid, hunger-bitten, and dead-looking; while others again glow in the flush of health and vigorous self-growth, sometimes (a<; in my own case) not without an apoplectic tendency. Moreover, there are sham Metaphors, which overhanging that same Thought's- 15 Body (best naked), and deceptively bedizening, or bol- stering it out, may be called its false stufifings, superfluous show-cloaks {Putz- Mantel), and tawdry woollen rags ; whereof he that runs and reads may gather whole ham- pers, — and burn them.' 20 Than which paraj^raph on Metaphors did the reader ever chance to see a more surprisingly metaphorical "i However, that is not our chief grievance ; the Professor continaes : 'Why multiply instances.? It is written, the Heavens and the Earth shall fade away like a Vesture ; which in- 25 deed they are : the Time- vesture of the Eternal. What- soever sensibly exists, whatsoever represents Spirit to Spirit, is properly a Clothing, a suit of Raiment, put on for a season, and to be laid ofT. Thus in this one preg- nant subject of Clothes, rightly understood, is included 30 all that men have thought, dreamed, done, and been : the whole External Universe and v/hat it holds is but Clothing; and the essence of all Science lies in the Philosophy of Clothes.' ^11 li 66 SAA'/'OK A'/:SAA'/rs. Towards these dim infinilcly-cxpaMdcd rc<,Moti.s, closc- bordeiing on tlu- impalpable Inane, it is not without ap- prehension, and perpetual difficulties, that the Editor sees himself journeying and struggling. Till lately a 5 cheerful daystar of hope hung before him, in the ex- pected Aid of Hofrath Heuschrecke ; which daystar, however, melts now, not into the red of morning, but into a vague, grey half-light, uncertain whether dawn of day or dusk of utter darkness. For the last week, these to so-called Biographical Documents are in his hand. By the kindness of a Scottish Hamburg Merchant, whose name, known to the whole mercantile world, he must not mention ; but whose honourable courtesy, now and often before spontaneously manifested to him, a mere literary '5 stranger, he cannot soon forget, — the bulky VVeissnicht- vvo I»acket, with all its Customhouse seals, foreign hiero- glyphs, and miscellaneous tokens of Travel, arrived here in perfect safety, and free of cost. The reader shall now fancy with what hot haste it was broken up, with what 2o breathless expectation glanced over ; and, alas, with what unquiet disappointment it has, since then, been often thrown down, and again taken up. Hofrath Heuschrecke, in a too long-winded Letter, full of compliments, VVeissnichtwo politics, dinners, dining 25 repartees, and other ephemeral trivialities, proceeds to remind us of what we knew well already : that however it may be with Metaphysics, and other abstract Science originating in the Head ( Versiami) alone, no Life-Phil- osophy {Lebensphilosophic), such as this of Clothes pre- 30 tends to be, which originates equally in the Character {Gemiith), and equally speaks thereto, can attain its sig- nificance till the Character itself is known and seen ; 'till the Author's View of the World {Weltansicht\ and ' how he actively and passively came by such view, are PROSPECTIVE. 67 'clear: in short till a Hiogranhy of him has been phil- 'osophico-poetically written, and philosophico-poctically 'riad.' 'Nay,' adds he, 'were the speculative scientific 'Truth even known, you still, in this inquiring age, ask 'yourself, Whence came it, and Why, and How? — and 5 'rest not, till, if no better may be. Fancy have shaped- 'out an answer; and either in the authentic lineaments 'of Fact, or the forged ones of Fiction, a complete 'picture and Genetical History of the Man and his spirit- 'ual Endeavour lies before you. But why,' says the Hof- 10 rath, and indeed say we, 'do I dilate on the uses of our 'Teufelsdrockh's lUography? The great Herr Minister 'von Goethe has penetratingly remarked that "Man is 'properly the only object that interests man :" thus I too 'have noted, that in Weissnichtwo our whole conversa- 15 'tion is little or nothing else but Biography or Auto-Biog- 'rnphy; ever humano-anecdotical {tnenschlich-anccdotisch). 'Biography is by nature the most universally profitable, 'universally pleasant of all things; especially Biography 'of distinguished individuals. 20 'By this time, mcin VerJirtcster (my Most Esteemed),' continues he, with an eloquence which, unless the words be purloined from Teufelsdrockh, or some trick of his, as we suspect, is well nigh unaccountable, 'by this time you 'are fairly plunged {vertieft) in that mighty forest of 25 Clothes-Philosophy; and looking round, as all readers do, with astonishment enough. Such portions and passages as you have already mastered, and brought to paper, could not but awaken a strange curiosity touching the mind they issued from ; the perhaps un- 30 paralleled psychical mechanism, which manufactured such matter, and emitted it to the light of day. Had Teufelsdrockh also a father and mother ; did he, at one time, wear drivel-bibs, and live on spoon-meat? Did he I 68 SMA'JOA' A'/':SAA'rr.S 'evei, in rapture and tears, clasp a friend's bosom to his; •looks he also wistfully into the lon^^ burial-aisle of the M\ist, where only winds, and their low harsh moan, 'Kive inarticulate answer? Has he fought duels ; —good 5 'Heaven! how did he comport himself when in Love? I By what singular stair-steps, in short, and subterranean 'passages, and sloughs of Despair, and steep Pisgah hills, 'has he reached this wonderful prophetic Hebron (a true '()ld-C:iothes Jewry) where he now dwells? lo 'To all these natural questions the voice of Public ' History is as yet silent. Certain only that he has been, 'and is, a IMIgrim, and Traveller from a far Country ; morj •or less footsore and travel-soiled ; has parted with road- 'companions; fallen among thieves, been poisoned by .5 'bad cookery, blistered with bugbites ; nevertheless, at 'every stage (for they have let him pass), has had the ' Bill to discharge. iUit the whole particulars of his Route, ' his Weather-observations, the picturesque Sketches he 'took, though all regularly jotted down (in indelible JO 'sympathetic-ink by an invisible interior Penman), are •these nowhere forthcoming? Perhaps quite lost: one 'other leaf of that mighty Volume (of human Memory) I left to fly abroad, unprinted, unpublished, unbound up, 'as waste paper; and rot, the sport of rainy winds? 25 'No, verehrtcstcr Hcrr Hcniusgcber, in no wise ! I here, ' by the unexampled favour you stand in with our Sage,' 'send not a Biography only, but an Autobiography .•*'at ' least the materials for such ; wherefrom, if I misreckon ' not, your perspicacity will draw fullest insight : and so 30 'the whole Philosophy and Philosopher of Clothes will 'stand dear to the wondering eyes of Englaid, nay thence, •through America, through Hindostan, and the antipodal 'New Holland, finally conquer (einne/imen) great part of 'this terrestrial Planet !' rKosrEcrrvR. 69 h And now let the sympathising reader judge of our feeling when, in place of this same Autobiography with ' fullest insight,' we find — Six considerable Fai-kr Baos, carefully sealed, and marked successively, in gilt China- ink, with the symbols of the Six southern Zodiacal Signs, 5 beginning at Libra ; in the inside of which sealed Bags lie miscellaneous masses of Sheets, and oftener Shreds and Snips, written in Professor Teufelsdrockh's scarce legible cursiv-schrift ; and treating of all imaginable things under the Zodiac and above it, but of his own 10 personal history only at rare intervals and then in the most enigmatic manner. Whole fascicles there are, wherein the Professor, or, as he here speaking in the third person calls himself, 'the Wanderer,' is not once named. Then again, amidst what 15 seems to be a Metapiiysico-theological Disquisition, 'Detached Thoughts on the Steam-engine,' or, 'The con- tinued Possibility of Prophecy,' we shall meet with some quite private, not unimportant Biographical fact. On certain sheets stand Dreams, authentic or not, while the 20 circumi.nrent waking Actions are omitted. • Anecdotes, oftenest without date of place or time, fly loosely on separate slips, like Sibylline leaves. Interspersed also are long purely Autobiographical delineations ; yet with- out connexion, without recognisable coherence; so un- 25 important, so superfluously minute, they almost remind us of ' P. P. Clerk of this Parish.' Thus does famine of intelligence alternate with waste. Selection, order, ap- pears to be unknown to the Professor. In all Bags the same imbroglio; only perhaps in the Bag Capricorn, 30 and those near it, the confusion a little worse con- founded. Close by a rather eloquent Oration, 'On re- ceiving the Doctor's-Hat,' lie wash-bills, marked bezahlt (settled). His Travels are indicated by the Street- 70 S.iA'TOA' ^FSAffTt/S, Advertisomeuls of th whii h Stroc't-Advcrt is porhaps the omiplutost coll So tlKit if the Cloilifs-Vol e various cities \\v lias visited; of iseinents, in most livinj,' tongues, liere ection extant. 5 ( !> n>s, we have now instead of nine itself was too like a ■sh.u.ld still it. the airy Lin.ho which I farther volatilise and di the solar lai ps see it «.iM duly ultimately to dep I'.iptT-na^rs i„ ,1^. ijiitish M minary that >y intermixture will scompose it! As we shall p..- "sit these Six lo and all vituperation of th* iseum, farther descriptii 'ti. ox m, may he spared. Uiojrranl \iitol)io^rra,,hy of IVufelsdrockh th tMioui;h, none to be j^leaned h shailowy fugitive lik( 'Kr-'p'iy •-•re is, clearly ere : at most some sketchy, 'n\)rt s, partly of inteflect, partly of 15 side of Kditor and of R,..ul eness of him may, l,y unheard-of imagination, on the nly as er, rise up between th «;aseous-chaotic Appendix to th em. chaotic Volume can the contents of the Six H round us, and portions thereof b at aqueous- ags hover delineation of it. e incorporated with our 20 Daily and ni-,ditly does the Kdit spectacles) decipherin-r th or sit (with i;recn lorn thei 1; liiese u.inna<,Mnal)Ie Document' perplexed cursiv-sc/inft; collating tl the almost equally unima«,vinal)le Vol in le