in the
conclusion of the last Chapter. The Editor himself, on first glancing
over that singular passage, was inclined to exclaim: What, have we got
not only a Sansculottist, but an enemy to Clothes in the abstract? A
new Adamite, in this century, which flatters itself that it is the
Nineteenth, and destructive both to Superstition and Enthusiasm?

Consider, thou foolish Teufelsdroeckh, what benefits unspeakable all
ages and sexes derive from Clothes. For example, when thou thyself, a
watery, pulpy, slobbery freshman and new-comer in this Planet, sattest
muling and puking in thy nurse's arms; sucking thy coral, and looking
forth into the world in the blankest manner, what hadst thou been
without thy blankets, and bibs, and other nameless hulls? A terror to
thyself and mankind! Or hast thou forgotten the day when thou first
receivedst breeches, and thy long clothes became short? The village
where thou livedst was all apprised of the fact; and neighbour after
neighbour kissed thy pudding-cheek, and gave thee, as handsel, silver
or copper coins, on that the first gala-day of thy existence. Again,
wert not thou, at one period of life, a Buck, or Blood, or Macaroni,
or Incroyable, or Dandy, or by whatever name, according to year and
place, such phenomenon is distinguished? In that one word lie included
mysterious volumes. Nay, now when the reign of folly is over, or
altered, and thy clothes are not for triumph but for defence, hast
thou always worn them perforce, and as a consequence of Man's Fall;
never rejoiced in them as in a warm movable House, a Body round thy
Body, wherein that strange THEE of thine sat snug, defying all
variations of Climate? Girt with thick double-milled kerseys;
half-buried under shawls and broad-brims, and overalls and mud-boots,
thy very fingers cased in doeskin and mittens, thou hast bestrode that
'Horse I ride'; and, though it were in wild winter, dashed through the
world, glorying in it as if thou wert its lord. In vain did the sleet
beat round thy temples; it lighted only on thy impenetrable, felted or
woven, case of wool. In vain did the winds howl,--forests sounding and
creaking, deep calling unto deep,--and the storms heap themselves
together into one huge Arctic whirlpool: thou flewest through the
middle thereof, striking fire from the highway; wild music hummed in
thy ears, thou too wert as a 'sailor of the air'; the wreck of matter
and the crash of worlds was thy element and propitiously