We have often blamed him for a habit of wire-drawing and over-refining; from of old we have been familiar with his tendency to Mysticism and Religiosity, whereby in every thing he was still scenting out Religion but never perhaps did these amaurosis suffusions so cloud and distort his otherwise most piercing vision, as in this of the Dandiacal Body! Or was there something of intended satire; is the Professor and Seer not quite the blinkard he affects to be? Of an ordinary mortal we should have decisively answered in the affirmative; but with a Teufelsdröckh there ever hovers some shade of doubt. In the meanwhile, if satire were actually intended, the case is little better. There are not wanting men who will answer: Does your Professor take us for simpletons? His irony has overshot itself; we see through it, and perhaps through him.

CHAPTER XI.

TAILORS.

THUS, however, has our first Practical Inference from the Clothes-Philosophy, that which respects Dandies, been sufficiently drawn ; and we come now to the second, concerning Tailors. On this latter our opinion happily quite coincides with that of Teufelsdröckh himself, as expressed in the concluding page of his Volume; to whom therefore we willingly give place. Let him speak his own last words, in his own way:

Upwards of a century,' says he, must elapse, and 'still the bleeding fight of Freedom be fought, whoso is ' noblest perishing in the van, and thrones be hurled on 'altars like Pelion on Ossa, and the Moloch of Iniquity ' have his victims, and the Michael of Justice his martyrs, before Tailors can be admitted to their true prerogatives of manhood, and this last wound of suffering 'Humanity be closed.

'If aught in the history of the world's blindness 'could surprise us, here might we indeed pause and 'wonder. An idea has gone abroad, and fixed itself ' down into a wide-spreading rooted error, that Tailors are a distinct species in Physiology, not Men, but 'fractional Parts of a Man. Call any one a Schneider

' (Cutter, Tailor), is it not, in our dislocated, hood'winked, and indeed delirious condition of Society, equi'valent to defying his perpetual fellest enmity? The epithet Schneidermässig (Tailorlike) betokens an other'wise unapproachable degree of pusillanimity: we in'troduce a Tailor's-Melancholy, more opprobrious than any Leprosy, into our Books of Medicine; and fable I know not what of his generating it by living on Cabbage. Why should I speak of Hans Sachs (himself a Shoemaker, or kind of Leather-Tailor), with his 'Schneider mit dem Panier? Why of Shakespeare, in 'his Taming of the Shrew, and elsewhere? Does it not stand on record that the English Queen Elizabeth, receiving a deputation of Eighteen Tailors, addressed them with a "Good morning, gentlemen both!"

Did

not the same virago boast that she had a Cavalry Regiment, whereof neither horse nor man could be injured : 'her Regiment, namely, of Tailors on Mares? Thus everywhere is the falsehood taken for granted, and ' acted on as an indisputable fact.

Nevertheless, need I put the question to any Physiologist, Whether it is disputable or not? Seems it 'not at least presumable, that, under his Clothes, the 'Tailor has bones, and viscera, and other muscles than 'the sartorius? Which function of manhood is the 'Tailor not conjectured to perform? Can he not arrest for Debt? Is he not in most countries a tax-paying 'animal?

To no reader of this Volume can it be doubtful ' which conviction is mine. Nay, if the fruit of these 'long vigils, and almost preternatural Inquiries is not

:

to perish utterly, the world will have approximated 'towards a higher Truth; and the doctrine, which Swift, with the keen forecast of genius, dimly anticipated, will stand revealed in clear light that the Tailor is not only a Man, but something of a Creator or Divinity. Of Franklin it was said, that "he snatched the Thunder from Heaven and the Sceptre 'from Kings:" but which is greater, I would ask, he 'that lends, or he that snatches? For, looking away ' from individual cases, and how a Man is by the Tailor 'new created into a Nobleman, and clothed not only ' with Wool but with Dignity and a Mystic Dominion, -is not the fair fabric of Society itself, with all its royal mantles and pontifical stoles, whereby, from nakedness and dismemberment, we are organised into 'Polities, into Nations, and a whole co-operating Man'kind, the creation, as has here been often irrefragably ' evinced, of the Tailor alone ?-What too are all Poets, and moral Teachers, but a species of Metaphorical 'Tailors? Touching which high Guild the greatest living Guild-Brother has triumphantly asked us : Nay, if thou wilt have it, who but the Poet first 'made Gods for men; brought them down to us; and 'raised us up to them ?"

6.66

And this is he, whom sitting downcast, on the hard 'basis of his Shopboard, the world treats with contumely,

as the ninth part of a man! Look up, thou much injured one, look up with the kindling eye of hope, 'and 'prophetic bodings of a noble better time. Too long ' hast thou sat there, on crossed legs, wearing thy ancle'joints to horn; like some sacred Anchorite, or Catholic

'Fakir, doing penance, drawing down Heaven's richest blessings, for a world that scoffed at thee. Be of hope! 'Already streaks of blue peer through our clouds; the thick gloom of Ignorance is rolling asunder, and it will 'be Day. Mankind will repay with interest their longaccumulated debt: the Anchorite that was scoffed at 'will be worshipped; the Fraction will become not an Integer only, but a Square and Cube. With astonish'ment the world will recognise that the Tailor is its 'Hierophant, and Hierarch, or even its God.

'As I stood in the Mosque of St. Sophia, and looked upon these Four-and-Twenty Tailors, sewing and em'broidering that rich Cloth, which the Sultan sends 'yearly for the Caaba of Mecca, I thought within myself: How many other Unholies has your covering Art made 'holy, besides this Arabian Whinstone!

'Still more touching was it when, turning the corner ' of a lane, in the Scottish Town of Edinburgh, I came upon a Signpost, whereon stood written that such and 'such a one was "Breeches-Maker to his Majesty ;" and 'stood painted the Effigies of a Pair of Leather Breeches, and between the knees these memorable words, SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. Was not this the martyr prison'speech of a Tailor sighing indeed in bonds, yet sighing 'towards deliverance; and prophetically appealing to a 'better day? A day of justice, when the worth of 'Breeches would be revealed to man, and the Scissors 'become for ever venerable.

Neither, perhaps, may I now say, has his appeal been altogether in vain. It was in this high moment, 'when the soul, rent, as it were, and shed asunder, is