quailed, assert that he too had Rights of Man, or at least of Mankin." In all which, who does not discern a fine flower-tree and cinnamon-tree (of genius) nigh choked among pumpkins, reed-grass, and ignoble shrubs; and forced, if it would live, to struggle upwards only, and not outwards; into a height quite sickly and disproportioned to its breadth !

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We find, moreover, that his Greek and Latin were mechanically" taught; Hebrew scarce even mechanically; much else which they called History, Cosmography, Philosophy, and so forth, no better than not at all. So that, except inasmuch as Nature was still busy; and he himself "went about, as was of old his wont, among the craftsmen's workshops, there learning many things ;" and farther lighted on some small store of curious reading, in Hans Wachtel the cooper's house, where he lodged,—his time, it would appear, was utterly wasted; which facts the Professor has not yet learned to look upon with any contentment. Indeed, throughout the whole of this bag Scorpio, where we now are, and often in the following bag, he shows himself unusually animated on the matter of education, and not without some touch of what we might presume to be anger.

"My teachers," says he, "were hide-bound pedants, without knowledge of man's nature or of boy's; or of aught save their lexicons and quarterly accountbooks. Innumerable dead vocables (no dead language, for they themselves knew no language) they crammed into us, and called it fostering the growth of mind. How can an inanimate, mechanical gerundgrinder, the like of whom will, in a subsequent cen

tury, be manufactured at Nürnberg out of wood and leather, foster the growth of anything; much more of mind, which grows, not like a vegetable (by having its roots littered with etymological compost), but like a spirit, by mysterious contact of spirit; thought kindling itself at the fire of living thought? How shall he give kindling, in whose own inward man there is no live coal, but all is burnt out to a dead grammatical cinder? The Hinterschlag professors knew syntax enough; and of the human soul thus much: that it had a faculty called memory, and could be acted on through the muscular integument by appliance of birch rods.

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Alas, so is it everywhere, so will it ever be; till the hodman is discharged, or reduced to hodbearing ; and an architect is hired, and on all hands fitly encouraged; till communities and individuals discover, not without surprise, that fashioning the souls of a generation by knowledge can rank on a level with blowing their bodies to pieces by gunpowder; that with generals and field-marshals for killing, there should be world-honoured dignitaries, and, were it possible, true God-ordained priests, for teaching. But as yet, though the soldier wears openly, and even parades, his butchering-tool, nowhere, far as I have travelled, did the schoolmaster make show of his instructing-tool; nay, were he to walk abroad with birch girt on thigh, as if he therefrom expected honour, would not, among the idler class, a certain levity be excited ?"

In the third year of this gymnastic period, Father Andreas seems to have died. The young scholar,

otherwise so maltreated, saw himself for the first time clad outwardly in sables, and inwardly in quite inexpressible melancholy. "The dark, boundless abyss, that lies under our feet, had yawned open; the pale kingdoms of death, with all their innumerable silent nations and generations, stood before him; the inexorable word, NEVER! now first showed its meaning. My mother wept, and her sorrow got vent; but in my heart there lay a whole lake of tears, pent up in silent desolation. Nevertheless, the unworn spirit is strong; life is so healthful that it even finds nourishment in death; these stern experiences, planted down by memory in my imagination, rose there to a whole cypress-forest, sad but beautiful; waving, with not unmelodious sighs, in dark luxuriance, in the hottest sunshine, through long years of youth;-as in manhood also it does, and will do; for I have now pitched my tent under a cypress-tree; the tomb is now my inexpugnable fortress, ever close by the gate of which I look upon the hostile armaments, and pains and penalties of tyrannous life placidly enough, and listen to its loudest threatenings with a still smile. O ye loved ones, that already sleep in the noiseless bed of rest, whom in life I could only weep for and never help; and ye, who wide-scattered still toil lonely in the monster-bearing desert, dyeing the flinty ground with your blood, yet a little while, and we shall all meet THERE, and our mother's bosom will screen us all; and oppression's harness, and sorrow's fire-whip, and all the Gehenna bailiffs that patrol and inhabit ever-vexed time, cannot thenceforth harm us any more!"

Close by which rather beautiful apostrophe lies a labored character of the deceased Andreas Futteral; of his natural ability, his deserts in life (as Prussian sergeant); with long historical inquiries into the genealogy of the Futteral family, here traced back as far as Henry the Fowler; the whole of which we pass over, not without astonishment. It only concerns us to add that now was the time when mother Gretchen revealed to her foster-son that he was not at all of this kindred; or indeed of any kindred, having come into historical existence in the way already known to us. "Thus was I doubly orphaned," says he; "bereft not only of possession, but even of remembrance. Sorrow and wonder, here suddenly united, could not but produce abundant fruit. Such a disclosure, in such a season, struck its roots through my whole nature; ever till the years of mature manhood it mingled with my whole thoughts, was as the stem whereon all my day-dreams and night-dreams grew. A certain poetic elevation, yet also a corresponding civic depression, it naturally imparted; I was like no other; in which fixed idea, leading sometimes to highest, and oftener to frightfullest results, may there not lie the first spring of tendencies, that in my life have become remarkable enough? As in birth, so in action, speculation, and social position, my fellows are perhaps not numerous.”

In the bag Sagittarius, as we at length discover, Teufelsdröckh has become a university man; though how, when, or of what quality, will nowhere disclose itself with the smallest certainty. Few things, in the way of confusion and capricious indistinctness, can

now surprise our readers; not even the total want of dates, almost without parallel in a biographical work. So enigmatic, so chaotic we have always found, and must always look to find, these scattered leaves. In Sagittarius, however, Teufelsdröckh begins to show himself even more than usually Sibylline: fragments of all sorts; scraps of regular memoir, college exercises, programs, professional testimoniums, milkscores, torn billets, sometimes to appearance of an amatory cast; all blown together as if by merest chance, henceforth bewilder the same historian. To combine any picture of this university, and the subsequent, years; much more, to decipher therein any illustrative primordial elements of the Clothes-Philosophy, becomes such a problem as the reader may imagine.

So much we can see; darkly, as through the foliage of some wavering thicket: a youth of no common endowment, that has passed happily through childhood, less happily, yet still vigorously, through boyhood, now at length perfect in "dead vocables." and set down, as he hopes, by the living fountain, there to superadd ideas and capabilities. From such fountain he draws, diligently, thirstily, yet nowise with his whole heart, for the water nowise suits his palate; discouragements, entanglements, aberrations are discoverable or supposable. Nor perhaps are even pecuniary distresses wanting; for "the good Gretchen, who, in spite of advice from not disinterested relatives, has sent him hither, must after a time withdraw her willing but too feeble hand." Nevertheless in an atmosphere of poverty and manifold chagrin, the humor of that