Coffee-house (it was
_Zur Gruenen Gans_, the largest in Weissnichtwo, where all the
Virtuosity, and nearly all the Intellect of the place assembled 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
Teufels Namen_ (The Cause of the Poor, in Heaven's name and ----'s)!
One full shout, breaking the leaden silence; then a gurgle of
innumerable emptying bumpers, again followed by universal 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, cloud-capt without and within, the assembly broke up, each
to his thoughtful pillow. _Bleibt doch ein echter Spass- und
Galgen-vogel_, said several; meaning thereby that, one day, he would
probably be hanged for his democratic sentiments. _Wo steckt doch der
Schalk?_ added they, looking round: but Teufelsdroeckh had retired by
private alleys, and the Compiler of these pages beheld him no more.

[2] Gukguk is unhappily only an academical-beer.

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
Teufelsdroeckh, who could 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 world saw, there dwelt a most busy brain. In thy
eyes too, deep under their shaggy brows, 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 spinning-top? Thy little figure,
there as, in loose, ill-brushed threadbare habiliments, 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,
was there not in that clear logically-founded Transcendentalism of
thine; still more, in thy meek, silent, deep-seated Sansculottism,
combined with a true princely Courtesy of inward nature, the visible
rudiments of such speculation? But great men are too often unknown, or
what is worse, misknown. Already, when we dreamed not of it, the warp
of