In the depths of Charlotte Mason’s Formation of Character (p. 280 to be exact), we are given some life history about someone, apparently fictional, named Diogenes Teufelsdröckh.
This chapter, all by itself, may be one reason homeschoolers quietly slip Formation of Character to the bottom of the C.M. volume stack.
Why does Charlotte drag this person with the hard-to-pronounce name into the chapter (which, she admits, is an already tenuous comparison of two other obscure German characters)? It might have been because she was discussing a novel by Goethe, and one of Carlyle's chapters is titled "The Sorrows of Young Teufelsdröckh," which is a riff on Goethe's Sorrows of Young Werther. Charlotte had the kind of mind that liked to dredge up weird things like that. She would have been a terrific blogger.
However, whether Charlotte intended it or not, her use of Teufelsdröckh
as a character pasted on top of other characters is not that far removed from his
original appearance in Thomas Carlyle’s un-novelish novel Sartor
Resartus, which also contains a story within a story. Diogenes Teufelsdröckh
is a professor “of everything,” which tells you something right off. (His name is also an indicator that, as Charles Kingsley said a generation later, you must not take this story as anything other than a fairy tale.) As the story begins, this Professor Teufelsdröckh has
written a rather massive book, in German, about the “philosophy of clothes.” An
English editor has been given the task of explaining the book to English
readers, and he has also been sent several bagfuls of stuff documenting Teufelsdröckh’s
so-average-it’s-funny early life. In the best Ripping Yarns style, our
editor plunges in, making his best guesses about his subject’s childhood,
schooling, love life, and later career. Along the way we get slices of Teufelsdröckh’s
magnum opus, carefully translated and cited. If we make it to the end,
we ask: was Professor Teufelsdröckh a sane genius, an insane genius, or just a fool? The
same might be asked of the editor, and/or the author. Hopefully it won’t be asked of
Charlotte for including it in an otherwise serious chapter about how children
(even fictional ones) grow and learn from what’s around them.
Here are a couple of other things you might or might not
know about Sartor Resartus. Carlyle
started writing it in 1831, when he was in his thirties (a good age to be
writing satire, or fairy tales). It was serialized in a magazine over the next couple of years—more
to public puzzlement than acclaim, but at least it won the admiration of Ralph
Waldo Emerson, who arranged for it to be published in Boston in 1836. The first
British edition did not appear until two years later. The Latin title (which
helped ensure that the book would be forever ignored) can be translated
"The Tailor Re-Tailored." In her book English Literature for Boys
and Girls, H. E. Marshall gave up on trying to explain it to students, but she
did write this:
I do not think I can make you understand the charm of Sartor. It is a prose poem and a book you must leave for the years to come. Sartor Resartus means "The tailor patched again." And under the guise of a philosophy of clothes Carlyle teaches that man and everything belonging to him is only the expression of the one great real thing--God. "Thus in this one pregnant subject of Clothes, rightly understood, is included all that men have thought, dreamed, done, and been." The book is full of humor and wisdom, of stray lightenings, and deep growlings. There are glimpses of "a story" to be caught too. It is perhaps the most Carlylean book Carlyle ever wrote. But let it lie yet awhile on your bookshelf unread.
Did Marshall fully get the gist of the book? Is that what Carlyle was actually trying to say? Perhaps. My take on it is something more like “The world is pretty nutty and it’s full of pompous, presumptuous people who will try and tell you what it’s all about; and in that situation, the most meaningless thing you could spend your life studying might be the philosophy of clothing. However, when you really get down to it, perhaps that tells us all we need to know…and it actually starts to make some sense, in a Fish Called Wanda kind of way.” To extend the John Cleese analogy, Sartor Resartus is believed to be the first literary use of the phrase “The Meaning of Life.”
And if you can read it in that way, it’s rather a ripping
yarn.
Stay tuned for, quite possibly, some more thoughts on Diogenes
Teufelsdröckh.
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