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CHAPTER VI.

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OLD CLOTHES.

As mentioned above, Teufelsdrockh, though a Sansculottist, is in practice probably the politest man extant: his whole heart and life are penetrated and informed with the spirit of Politeness: a noble natural Courtesy shines through him, beautifying his vagaries like sun-light, making a rosy-fingered, rainbow-dyed Aurora out of mere aqueous clouds; nay, brightening Londonsmoke itself into gold vapour, as from the crucible of an alchemist. Hear in what earnest though fantastic wise he expresses himself on this head:

'Shall Courtesy be done only to the rich, and only by the rich? 'In Good-breeding, which differs, if at all, from High-breeding, 'only as it gracefully remembers the rights of others, rather than ' gracefully insists on its own rights, I discern no special connex'ion with wealth or birth: but rather that it lies in human nature 'itself, and is due from all men towards all men. Of a truth, were your Schoolmaster at his post, and worth any thing when there, this, with so much else, would be reformed. Nay, each man were 'then also his neighbour's schoolmaster; till at length a rude'visaged, unmannered Peasant could no more be met with, than a Peasant unacquainted with botanical Physiology, or who felt 'not that the clod he broke was created in Heaven.

'For whether thou bear a sceptre or a sledge-hammer, art thou 'not ALIVE; is not this thy brother ALIVE? "There is but one Temple in the world," says Novalis, "and that Temple is the 'Body of Man. Nothing is holier than this high Form. Bending 'before men is a reverence done to this Revelation in the Flesh. 'We touch Heaven, when we lay our hands on a human Body."

'On which ground, I would fain carry it farther than most do; ' and whereas the English Johnson only bowed to every Clergy

man, or man with a shovel-hat, I would bow to every Man with 'any sort of hat, or with no hat whatever. Is he not a Temple, "then; the visible Manifestation and Impersonation of the Di'vinity? And yet, alas, such indiscriminate bowing serves not. For there is a Devil dwells in man, as well as a Divinity; and too often the bow is but pocketed by the former. It would go to 'the pocket of Vanity (which is your clearest phasis of the Devil, ' in these times); therefore must we withhold it.

'The gladder am I, on the other hand, to do reverence to those Shells and outer Husks of the Body, wherein no devilish passion 'any longer lodges, but only the pure emblem and effigies of Man: 'I mean, to Empty, or even to Cast Clothes. Nay, is it not to 'Clothes that most men do reverence: to the fine frogged broad'cloth, nowise to the "straddling animal with bandy legs" which it holds, and makes a Dignitary of? Who ever saw any 'Lord my-lorded in tattered blanket, fastened with wooden 'skewer? Nevertheless, I say, there is in such worship a shade of 'hypocrisy, a practical deception: for how often does the Body appropriate what was meant for the Cloth only! Whoso would ' avoid Falsehood, which is the essence of all Sin, will perhaps see ' good to take a different course. That reverence which cannot ' act without obstruction and perversion when the Clothes are full, 'may have free course when they are empty. Even as, for Hindoo 'Worshippers, the Pagoda is not less sacred than the God; so do 'I too worship the hollow cloth Garment with equal fervour, as 'when it contained the Man; nay, with more, for I now fear no 'deception, of myself or of others.

Did not King Toomtabard, or, in other words, John Balliol, reign long over Scotland; the man John Balliol being quite 'gone, and only the "Toom Tabard" (Empty Gown) remaining? What still dignity dwells in a suit of Cast Clothes! How 'meekly it bears its honours! No haughty looks, no scornful 'gesture: silent and serene, it fronts the world; neither demand'ing worship, nor afraid to miss it. The Hat still carries the 'physiognomy of its Head: but the vanity and the stupidity, and goose-speech which was the sign of these two, are gone. The 'Coat-arm is stretched out, but not to strike; the Breeches, in 'modest simplicity, depend at ease, and now at last have a grace

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'ful flow; the Waistcoat hides no evil passion, no riotous desire; 'hunger or thirst now dwells not in it. Thus all is purged from 'the grossness of sense, from the carking cares and foul vices of 'the World; and rides there, on its Clothes-horse; as, on a Pegasus, might some skyey Messenger, or purified Apparition, visiting our low Earth.

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Often, while I sojourned in that monstrous tuberosity of 'Civilized Life, the Capital of England; and meditated, and 'questioned Destiny, under that ink-sea of vapour, black, thick, ' and multifarious as Spartan broth; and was one lone Soul amid those grinding millions;-often have I turned into their Old'Clothes Market to worship. With awe-struck heart I walk 'through that Monmouth Street, with its empty Suits, as through 'a Sanhedrim of stainless Ghosts. Silent are they, but expres'sive in their silence: the past witnesses and instruments of 'Woe and Joy, of Passions, Virtues, Crimes, and all the fathom'less tumult of Good and Evil in "the Prison men call Life." 'Friends! trust not the heart of that man for whom old Clothes ' are not venerable. Watch, too, with reverence, that bearded 'Jewish Highpriest, who with hoarse voice, like some Angel of 'Doom, summons them from the four winds! On his head, like 'the Pope, he has three Hats,-a real triple tiara; on either 'hand, are the similitude of wings, whereon the summoned Gar'ments come to alight; and ever, as he slowly cleaves the air, 'sounds forth his deep fearful note, as if through a trumpet he 'were proclaiming: "Ghosts of Life, come to Judgment !" Reck 'not, ye fluttering Ghosts he will purify you in his Purgatory, 'with fire and with water; and, one day, new-created ye 'reappear. Oh! let him in whom the flame of Devotion is ready 'to go out, who has never worshipped, and knows not what to worship, pace and repace, with austerest thought, the pavement 'of Monmouth Street, and say whether his heart and his eyes 'still continue dry. If Field Lane, with its long fluttering rows 'of yellow handkerchiefs, be a Dionysius' Ear, where, in stifled 'jarring hubbub, we hear the Indictment which Poverty and 'Vice bring against lazy Wealth, that it has left them there cast ' out and trodden under foot of Want, Darkness, and the Devil,— then is Monmouth Street a Mirza's Hill, where, in motley

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'vision, the whole Pageant of Existence passes awfully before 'us; with its wail and jubilee, mad loves and mad hatreds, 'church-bells and gallows-ropes, farce-tragedy, beast-godhood, 'the Bedlam of Creation!'

To most men, as it does to ourselves, all this will seem overcharged. We too have walked through Monmouth Street; but with little feeling of Devotion: probably in part because the contemplative process is so fatally broken in upon by the brood of money-changers, who nestle in that Church, and importune the worshipper with merely secular proposals. Whereas Teufelsdröckh might be in that happy middle-state, which leaves to the Clothes-broker no hope either of sale or of purchase, and so be allowed to linger there without molestation.-Something we would have given to see the little philosophical figure, with its ́steeple-hat and loose flowing skirts, and eyes in a fine frenzy, 'pacing and repacing in austerest thought' that foolish Street; which to him was a true Delphic avenue, and supernatural Whispering-gallery, where the Ghosts of Life' rounded strange secrets in his ear. O thou philosophic Teufelsdröckh, that listenest while others only gabble, and with thy quick tympanum hearest the grass grow!

At the same time is it not strange that, in Paperbag Documents destined for an English Work, there exists nothing like an authentic diary of this his sojourn in London; and of his Meditations among the Clothes-shops only the obscurest em-blematic shadows? Neither, in conversation (for, indeed, he was not a man to pester you with his Travels), have we heard him more than allude to the subject.

For the rest, however, it cannot be uninteresting that we here find how early the significance of Clothes had dawned on the now so distinguished Clothes-Professor. Might we but fancy it to have been even in Monmouth Street, at the bottom of our own English ink-sea,' that this remarkable Volume first took being, and shot forth its salient point in his soul,—as in Chaos did the Egg of Eros, one day to be hatched into a Universe!

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CHAPTER VII.

ORGANIC FILAMENTS.

For us, who happen to live while the World-Phoenix is burning herself, and burning so slowly that, as Teufelsdröckh calcu lates, it were a handsome bargain would she engage to have done 'within two centuries,' there seems to lie but an ashy prospect. Not altogether so, however, does the Professor figure it. In 'the living subject,' says he, change is wont to be gradual: 'thus, while the serpent sheds its old skin, the new is already 'formed beneath. Little knowest thou of the burning of a World'Phoenix, who fanciest that she must first burn out, and lie as a 'dead cinereous heap; and therefrom the young one start up by 'miracle, and fly heavenward. Far otherwise! In that Fire'whirlwind, Creation and Destruction proceed together; ever as 'the ashes of the Old are blown about, do organic filaments of 'the New mysteriously spin themselves: and amid the rushing ' and the waving of the Whirlwind-Element, come tones of a me'lodious Deathsong, which end not but in tones of a more melo'dious Birthsong. Nay, look into the Fire-whirlwind with thy 'own eyes, and thou wilt see.' Let us actually look, then to poor individuals, who cannot expect to live two centuries, those same organic filaments, mysteriously spinning themselves, will be the best part of the spectacle. First, therefore, this of Mankind *in general:

'In vain thou deniest it,' says the Professor; 'thou art my 'Brother. Thy very Hatred, thy very Envy, those foolish Lies 'thou tellest of me in thy splenetic humour: what is all this but 'an inverted Sympathy? Were I a Steam-engine, wouldst thou 'take the trouble to tell Lies of me? Not thou! I should grind 'all unheeded, whether badly or well.

'Wondrous truly are the bonds that unite us one and all;

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