about becking and grimacing there,--on a sudden, the Earth yawns
asunder, and amid Tartarean smoke, and glare of fierce brightness, rises
SANSCULOTTISM, many-headed, fire-breathing, and asks: What think ye
of me? Well may the buckram masks start together, terror-struck;
'into expressive well-concerted groups!' It is indeed, Friends, a most
singular, most fatal thing. Let whosoever is but buckram and a phantasm
look to it: ill verily may it fare with him; here methinks he cannot
much longer be. Wo also to many a one who is not wholly buckram, but
partially real and human! The age of Miracles has come back! 'Behold
the World-Phoenix, in fire-consummation and fire-creation; wide are her
fanning wings; loud is her death-melody, of battle-thunders and falling
towns; skyward lashes the funeral flame, enveloping all things: it is
the Death-Birth of a World!'

Whereby, however, as we often say, shall one unspeakable blessing
seem attainable. This, namely: that Man and his Life rest no more on
hollowness and a Lie, but on solidity and some kind of Truth. Welcome,
the beggarliest truth, so it be one, in exchange for the royallest sham!
Truth of any kind breeds ever new and better truth; thus hard granite
rock will crumble down into soil, under the blessed skyey influences;
and cover itself with verdure, with fruitage and umbrage. But as for
Falsehood, which in like contrary manner, grows ever falser,--what can
it, or what should it do but decease, being ripe; decompose itself,
gently or even violently, and return to the Father of it,--too probably
in flames of fire?

Sansculottism will burn much; but what is incombustible it will
not burn. Fear not Sansculottism; recognise it for what it is, the
portentous, inevitable end of much, the miraculous beginning of much.
One other thing thou mayest understand of it: that it too came from