A strange being (1822)

• Posted by mgr on April 24th, 2008 filed in Zeitdokumente
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To the Editor

SIR, — You will perceive I am not much accustomed to write, at least for the press; but, notwithstanding, I am determined to run all risks, in order to acquaint you with a very interesting exhibition lately witnessed at a friend’s house, where a few ladies and gentlemen had been invited to spend the evening. When most of the company had assembled, a very significant knock was heard at the door : it sounded in my ears, for all the world, like da-a-ап-dy, and the look of every one seemed to say, who comes now ! Almost immediately, a strange being made its appearance in the room, which, I afterwards understood, was an ultra dandy from London.

In speaking of this interesting object, I must use the impersonal pronoun, for it seemed to be neither man nor woman, but a spoiled resemblance of both. It was starched and stayed to such a degree, and its movements were so stiff, that nature seemed to have made its neck and backbone without a single joint. In paying its acknowledgments to some ladies in the company, its air was so affected and ridiculous, as to produce a titter; for its bow was a kind of awkward courtesy. Its articulation was so very indistinct, that it seemed to speak, not with its mouth, but with its throat ; and one half of its words consisted of ha, ha, ha.

At length it was seated, and, full of self-admiration, it every now and then lifted up its hand towards its neck, shook its head, and uttered its favourite monosyllable, ha, ha. It was stuffed on all sides; and, will you believe it, Mr. Editor, that to make its breast full and protuberant, it actually wore a stomacher. I now verily think that these creatures, called dandies, will, ere long, become so effeminised as to lose all the distinctive properties of men.

When I returned home, I told papa what a strange being I had seen; and he laughed heartily on hearing it was a London dandy. Papa has a great antipathy to animals of this kind: for they are, he says, neither one thing nor t’other, and he thinks they ought to be called land-mermaids. There is an excellent article, he informs me, in the Champion newspaper, about dandies.

Now, Mr. Editor, I should like dearly to see a good account of them; and if you can lay your hands on the Champion, do, Mr. Editor, do copy this article into the Kaleidoscope. I shall have no other chance of seeing it; for though we hear something of politics in our house, we are not allowed to look much into political works ; for, papa seems to be of opinion, that women, having no political rights, ought not to trouble their heads with political matters. I hope the writer in the Champion will acquaint us with the origin of the dandies; and, what would be still better, assure us of their speedy extinction.

A correspondent of yours seems to think that the etymology of the word dandy is somewhat uncertain; and he has gone as far as France and Spain to find anything that bears a resemblance to it. Your friend has, indeed, travelled a great way to search for what he might, probably, have found at home, if he had taken the trouble to look about him. Although papa is no great philologist, yet he positively maintains that dandy comes from the verb to dandle, and that, in strictness, it should be dandly ; but, for the sake of the sound, the letter l has been dropped. It is no uncommon thing, he says, for English words to suffer in this manner; and we daily hear our merchants speak of the ‘Change instead of the Exchange.

A dandly, or a dandy, means, as he thinks, one who is so silly and childish, that he never can be nursed into а man; and that the old saying may be applied to him, “once a child and always а child”

Of the derivation of words, girls, like me, know very little; but, if the nature of a thing is allowed to suggest a suitable name, I think papa’s etymology is not far amiss. A gentleman, who was at our house the other evening, gave us an amusing account of a trial that took place somewhere in America, I think at New York, to decide whether a whale is a fish. All the learned men there, it seems, were positive that a whale is not a fish ; but the jury, who, as he said, were governed by old-fashioned and vulgar notions, brought in a verdict that a whale is a fish. Now I should like that some of our philosophers or wise men would take as much pains to find out the class or genus to which dandies belong. They are generally thought to be non-descripts: and much praise would be due to him who should dissect them, minutely and accurately. I do not mean, however, that they should be cut up, but only taken to pieces. Such an exposure, I am sure, would be quite delightful to every one who wishes to see the “lords of the creation” preserve the character originally impressed upon them by the hand of nature. This it is in their power to do, if they give up their unmanly attempts to put on habits which do not belong to them, and cease to render themselves ridiculous by assuming manners that are neither masculine nor feminine.— I am, yours,

April 4, 1822. CHARLOTTE.

Quoted from: The Kaleidoscope, or, Literary and Scientific Mirror. Vol. 2 No. 93. Liverpool, 1822: 320.

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