roached 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 Teufelsdrockh, 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 neighbor after neighbor 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 broadbrims, and overalls and
mudboots, 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 propitiousl