one. He was a stranger there, wafted thither by what is called the course
of circumstances; concerning whose parentage, birthplace, 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 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 intrusions, 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 way he had of expressing himself like an
eye-witness of distant transactions and scenes, they called him the _Ewige
Jude_, 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 to see, and with satisfaction; but no
more thought of accounting for than for the fabrication of their daily
_Allgemeine Zeitung_, 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. 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
discoverable; 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, where so much
other mystery is.

It was to be remarked that though, by title and diploma, _Professor der