I HAD the misfortune to dine alone yesterday, (an evil which sometimes occurs to us bachelors,) and, having nothing better to do in the evening, I took down a volume of Johnson and Steevens’s Shakspeare, to pass away the time before I retired to bed. As I was engaged in unravelling one of Dr Warburton’s long notes, I was, some how or other, surprised by that sort of stupor, so ably accounted for by Professor Stewart, in which a certain consciousness of visible objects still remains, though the faculties are, in other respects, under the influence of a dream. In this state, I imagined myself on a sudden transported into the 22d century; and, by a similar Legerdemain of the senses, the book I held in my hand appeared to be converted into a volume of Tristram Shandy, printed in the year 2118, in which I fancied I read a series of comments upon a passage, which does not, at the present day, seem to require much explanation. The whole was so fresh in my memory when I awoke, that I was enabled to commit it to paper, with tolerable fidelity. As you may possibly esteem it sufficiently curious to obtain a place in your valuable repository, I take the liberty of transmitting it to you, in the following words:

“Speaking to a little dwarfish bandy legged drummer,” I think we should read bendy legged, from the verb, to bend, or bow. In the Latin the word “valgus” is employed, which signifies bowed or crooked legged. , POPE.

The precise meaning of the word “valgus,” is of little consequence, as the author seems to have aimed at any thing, rather than a literal translation; otherwise, he surely never would have rendered, “nequaquam, respondit uxor,” by, “’tis a pudding’s end, said his wife.” I suspect Shandy wrote “bendy locked,” for curly headed, the drummers of those days having been always boys. Sometimes they were called drum-boys. This reading is, moreover, countenanced by the epithets, “little,” and “dwarfish.” , THEOBALD.

This passage has been strangely corrupted. Beyond all question the author wrote “dandy ragged dreamer.” The word “dandy” frequently occurs in the romances or novels (as they were then called) of the early part of the nineteenth century. The “Dandies” appear to have been a sect that flourished about this period, and were remarkable for the wildness of their tenets. Of what nature these were, no sufficient evidence has come down to us, nor is it even clear whether they were a philosophical or religious sect. I am, however, inclined to adopt the former opinion, from a passage I accidentally discovered in a fragment of a romance entitled ” Glenarvon,” printed in 1816, now in the
posession of Mr Heber, and which that gentleman, with great apparent probability, ascribes to the pen of Dr Howley, then bishop of London.

In this book, a certain lady, who is described as a great patroness of the literary and scientific characters of the day, is reproached with being at all times ready to flatter a needy dandy. From this I infer, that they were a species of empyrics in experimental philosophy, something like the alchymists of old, for poverty is seldom the companion of religious adventurers. I am, therefore, persuaded, that Shandy wrote “dandy ragged dreamer,” i. e. indigent, visionary dandy. The word ” ragged” may also have been used to indicate the slovenliness of their dress, as well as their poverty, for it is not probable that these philosophers paid much attention to their personal appearance. This reasoning is amply confirmed by what follows, a little further on in the story: , “What a pity it is,” cried the dandy ragged dreamer, “that we did not both touch it!” This exclamation of regret is perfectly suitable to the character of a zealous experimentalist, when we recollect that the subject in debate was the extraordinary phenomenon of the stranger’s nose, and the immediate question of what material it was composed. Now, our author would never have committed the impropriety of putting these words into the mouth of a German drummer, who must have known, that, had he ventured to lay hold of the gentleman’s nose, on any pretence however innocent, he would have been instantly conveyed to the halberds, and severely punished for his presumption. The German military discipline was then the strictest in Europe. , WARBURTON.

Great learning and ingenuity are certainly displayed in the last note; but I cannot help thinking that the Doctor has taken rather too great a liberty with the text. It is true I can find no meaning for the word “bandy,” so that some alteration appears absolutely necessary. Mr Pope’s emendation, is by no means satisfactory to my mind; for why should a drummer, more than any other man, be supposed to have bended or bowed legs? As it is, however, a well-known fact, that the legs of those persons, who labour principally with their arms, (as watermen, for instance,) are apt to dwindle away, I propose that we should read “dainty legged,” the word “dainty ” having been used, in our author’s time, for delicate, or slender. , EDWARDS.

I see no reason why a drummer should be supposed to have slender legs. A drummer marches with his corps, and beats his drum on the march, to which he himself, as well as his companions, is obliged to keep time with his legs. My opinion is, that the original reading is right; particularly as all the copies agree in this respect. “Bandy” is probably equivalent to banded, “band” anciently signifying a ribbon, (sometimes written ribband,) or string; , from whence the verb to band, of which bandy was the participle. At that time or day, drummers, and other musicians belonging to the army, were distinguished from the fighting men by a fantastic dress. Indeed, this dress was subject to great variations; and it is a curious, though well attested fact, that the Regent himself not only paid the greatest attention to the subject, but (what will hardly be credited at the present day) a Board of general officers was actually appointed for the superintendence of the army tailors. There is still to be seen in the Tower a military effigy, accoutered something after the manner of a Roman soldier, except that, instead of a helmet, it has a bonnet or cap, of a singular form, and which certainly never was intended for defence. This, as well as a short jupon, or petticoat, which reaches nearly to the knee, is party-coloured. But, what is most to our purpose is, that it wears a kind of sandal, to which are attached two broad woollen ribbons, or bands, twined cross-wise up the leg, to keep it on. This figure unquestionably represented a drummer of the day. , STEEVENS.

Perhaps this was the dress common to all musicians. I have frequently met with the phrase, “band of music,” for а company of musicians, in old authors. They may have been so called from the above peculiarity in their dress, under the rhetorical figure Synedoche. – MALONE.

Mr Stevens is right. With respect to the word “Dandy,” I greatly doubt whether it denoted any particular sectarist. I am disposed to consider it as a general name for the most celebrated writers of the day. In a leaf of the “Morning Chronicle” for the year 1818, preserved in the British Museum, I find an allusion to some of these Dandies, each of whom seems to have been distinguished by a particular epithet, in the nature of a surname. Thus, we have the Commercial Dandy, the Deo Dandy, the Dead Dandy, &c. The first of these probably treated of commercial subjects, a principal branch of what was called, in the jargon of the day, “political economy;” the second was a deist, or asserter of pure Theism; and the third may have been a materialist, who, denying the notion of a future state, contended, that death was the consummation of our being. JOHNSTON.

The real meaning of the word “Dandy” seems to have hitherto escaped the commentators. In the lead of the “Morning Chronicle,” lately discovered at York, the expressions, “Dowager Dandy,” and “Desart Dandy” are to be found. It was probably a word of contempt for an impostor of any kind. Dowager Dandy may have been a person who paid his court to rich old widows, from interested motives. Desart Dandy is not so easily explained. I have likewise met with “Handy Dandy,” which, I presume, meant a pickpocket, and “Dirty Dandy.” This last epithet, I conceive, did not designate any particular Dandy, but was a general term for the whole race, and is, perhaps, not to be understood as referring so much to the foulness of their bodies, as to the depravity of their minds. I am, Sir, your obedient servant.

R.T.

Quoted from: The Edinburgh magazine, and literary Miscellany. Vol. II, June 1818.