Professor Teufelsdroeckh's Book be marked
with chalk in the Editor's calendar. It is indeed an 'extensive
Volume,' of boundless, almost formless contents, a very Sea of
Thought; neither calm nor clear, if you will; yet wherein the toughest
pearl-diver may dive to his utmost depth, and return not only with
sea-wreck but with true orients.

Directly on the first perusal, almost on the first deliberate
inspection, it became apparent that here a quite new Branch of
Philosophy, leading to as yet undescried ulterior results, was
disclosed; farther, what seemed scarcely less interesting, a quite new
human Individuality, an almost unexampled personal character, that,
namely, of Professor Teufelsdroeckh the Discloser. Of both which
novelties, as far as might be possible, we resolved to master the
significance. But as man is emphatically a proselytising creature, no
sooner was such mastery even fairly attempted, than the new question
arose: How might this acquired good be imparted to others, perhaps in
equal need thereof: how could the Philosophy of Clothes, and the
Author of such Philosophy, be brought home, in any measure, to the
business and bosoms of our own English Nation? For if new-got gold is
said to burn the pockets till it be cast forth into circulation, much
more may new truth.

Here, however, difficulties occurred. The first thought naturally was
to publish Article after Article on this remarkable Volume, in such
widely-circulating Critical Journals as the Editor might stand
connected with, or by money or love procure access to. But, on the
other hand, was it not clear that such matter as must here be revealed,
and treated of, might endanger the circulation of any Journal extant?
If, indeed, all party-divisions in the State could have been abolished,
Whig, Tory, and Radical, embracing in discrepant union; and all the
Journals of the Nation could have been jumbled into one Journal, and
the Philosophy of Clothes poured forth in incessant torrents therefrom,
the attempt had seemed possible. But, alas, what vehicle of that sort
have we, except _Fraser's Magazine_? A vehicle all strewed
(figuratively speaking) with the maddest Waterloo-Crackers, exploding
distractively and destructively, wheresoever the mystified passenger
stands or sits; nay, in any case, understood to be, of late years, a
vehicle full to overflowing, and inexorably shut! Besides, to state the
Philosophy of Clothes without the Philosopher, the ideas of