“Innumerable are the illusions and legerdemain-tricks of Custom:  but of all these, perhaps the cleverest is her knack of persuading us that the Miraculous, by simple repetition, ceases to be Miraculous.  True, it is by this means we live; for man must work as well as wonder:  and herein is Custom so far a kind nurse, guiding him to his true benefit.  But she is a fond foolish nurse, or rather we are false foolish nurslings, when, in our resting and reflecting hours, we prolong the same deception.  Am I to view the Stupendous with stupid indifference, because I have seen it twice, or two hundred, or two million times?  There is no reason in Nature or in Art why I should:  unless, indeed, I am a mere Work-Machine, for whom the divine gift of Thought were no other than the terrestrial gift of Steam is to the Steam-engine; a power whereby cotton might be spun, and money and money’s worth realized.

“Notable enough too, here as elsewhere, wilt thou find the potency of Names; which indeed are but one kind of such custom-woven, wonder-hiding Garments.  Witchcraft, and all manner of Spectre-work, and Demonology, we have now named Madness, and Diseases of the Nerves.  Seldom reflecting that still the new question comes upon us:  What is Madness, what are Nerves?  Ever, as before, does Madness remain a mysterious-terrific, altogether infernal boiling-up of the Nether Chaotic Deep, through this fair-painted Vision of Creation, which swims thereon, which we name the Real.  Was Luther’s Picture of the Devil less a Reality, whether it were formed within the bodily eye, or without it?  In every the wisest Soul lies a whole world of internal Madness, an authentic Demon-Empire; out of which, indeed, his world of Wisdom has been creatively built together, and now rests there, as on its dark foundations does a habitable flowery Earth rind.

“But deepest of all illusory Appearances, for hiding Wonder, as for many other ends, are your two grand fundamental world-enveloping Appearances, SPACE and TIME.  These, as spun and woven for us from before Birth itself, to clothe our celestial ME for dwelling here, and yet to blind it,—­lie all-embracing, as the universal canvas, or warp and woof, whereby all minor Illusions, in this Phantasm Existence, weave and paint themselves.  In vain, while here on Earth, shall you endeavor to strip them off; you can, at best, but rend them asunder for moments, and look through.

“Fortunatus had a wishing Hat, which when he put on, and wished himself Anywhere, behold he was There.  By this means had Fortunatus triumphed over Space, he had annihilated Space; for him there was no Where, but all was Here.  Were a Hatter to establish himself, in the Wahngasse of Weissnichtwo, and make felts of this sort for all mankind, what a world we should have of it!  Still stranger, should, on the opposite side of the street, another Hatter establish himself; and, as his fellow-craftsman made Space-annihilating Hats, make Time-annihilating!