ce to paint this and the other Picture, and ever
without success, he at last desperately dashes his sponge, full of all
colors, against the canvas, to try whether it will paint Foam? With all
his stillness, there were perhaps in Teufelsdrockh desperation enough
for this.

A second conjecture we hazard with even less warranty. It is, that
Teufelsdrockh, is not without some touch of the universal feeling, a
wish to proselytize. How often already have we paused, uncertain whether
the basis of this so enigmatic nature were really Stoicism and Despair,
or Love and Hope only seared into the figure of these! Remarkable,
moreover, is this saying of his: "How were Friendship possible? In
mutual devotedness to the Good and True: otherwise impossible; except
as Armed Neutrality, or hollow Commercial League. A man, be the Heavens
ever praised, is sufficient for himself; yet were ten men, united in
Love, capable of being and of doing what ten thousand singly would fail
in. Infinite is the help man can yield to man." And now in conjunction
therewith consider this other: "It is the Night of the World, and still
long till it be Day: we wander amid the glimmer of smoking ruins, and
the Sun and the Stars of Heaven are as if blotted out for a season;
and two immeasurable Phantoms, HYPOCRISY and ATHEISM, with the Ghoul,
SENSUALITY, stalk abroad over the Earth, and call it theirs: well at
ease are the Sleepers for whom Existence is a shallow Dream."

But what of the awe-struck Wakeful who find it a Reality? Should not
these unite; since even an authentic Spectre is not visible to Two?--In
which case were this Enormous Clothes-Volume properly an enormous
Pitch-pan, which our Teufelsdrockh in his lone watch-tower had
kindled, that it might flame far and wide through the Night, and many
a disconsolately wandering spirit be guided thither to a Brother's
bosom!--We say as before, with all his malign Indifference, who knows
what mad Hopes this man may harbor?

Meanwhile there is one fact to be stated here, which harmonizes ill with
such conjecture; and, indeed, were Teufelsdrockh made like other
men, might as good as altogether subvert it. Namely, that while the
Beacon-fire blazed its brightest, the Watchman had quitted it; that
no pilgrim could now ask him: Watchman, what of the Night? Professor
Teufelsdrockh, be it known, is no longer visibly present at
Weissnichtwo, but again to all appearance lost in space! Some time ago,
the Hofrath Heusc