MR. WHITE : , The Optimists assert that this little world of ours, is continually and most marvellously improving in every thing. But, begging their pardon, I humbly conceive that this is claiming rather too much for its onward march towards perfectibility. Many notable instances might be adduced to prove that it is so; but I will go no further for such proof, than to contrast the Dandyism of the present age with that of the olden time. This term (by the way) although of modern coinage, is but a new name for an old thing. So old indeed, that, like the common law, it may be traced back to a period beyond which “the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.” From the multitude of its votaries and the indefatigable diligence with which it has always been practised, it may justly be ranked among the arts; although we must admit it to be one of no very difficult attainment by any whose taste leads them to prefer general contempt to universal esteem.
The great aim of this art being to mar effectually whatever beauty either of person or countenance nature has bestowed on us, the task would seem to be one of very easy accomplishment for most men. A simple disfigurement therefore, would be no indication of genius, since the visages upon which the laudable experiment is most frequently tried, require very little aggravation to effect the object. But an entire metamorphosis in the appearance of the whole animal, or at least such a change as to render both its genus and species doubtful, being the grand desideratum; it is here that the modern Dandies have betrayed a most woful and egregious poverty of invention, compared to those of former times. Of this I shall presently offer indisputable testimony.
The Dandies of our day however, may justly claim the palm of superiority, at least in one particular; I mean, quo ad, the head, both inside and out: for, what with internal emptiness and external whiskers and mustaches, many have contrived to render not only the features of the face “perfectly unintelligible, (if I may borrow a phrase from the Pugilists,) but to disprove the long admitted dictum of philosophy, that there is no such thing in all nature as a vacuum. An instance of this most successful face-marring has lately fallen under my own observation, which I will endeavor to describe, although in utter despair of doing justice to the original.
Many months ago, being in a much crowded public room, I was not a little startled by the sudden appearance of a most fantastic, grim looking biped moving among the crowd, which I first took for one of those strange animals then showing about the country, that perhaps had escaped from his keepers. A more deliberate view, however, from a corner into which I had taken care to ensconce myself to keep out of harm’s way, soon satisfied me that it was nothing more formidable than one of those harmless burlesques of manhood called Dandies, that so much resemble the Simia genus, as hardly to be distinguished from them. It had two large ropes (as they appeared to be) of tawny colored hair, hanging out from between the collar and the cheek bones, and reaching down some seven or eight inches over the breast. These I at first supposed might be the skins of a water dog’s fore legs, forming the ends of some new fashioned comforter to keep the neck and cheeks warm in cold weather, to which these bipeds are particularly sensitive. But upon diligent inquiry among several, who seemed to be as much struck as myself with so uncommon and apparently formidable a looking animal moving upon two legs, instead of four, as might more reasonably have been expected, we were informed that these tawny appendages, in regard to which I had made such an egregious mistake, actually consisted of the united hairs of the throat and cheeks, so elongated by indefatigable culture, as to produce the grotesque appearance that had so strongly excited the wonderment of us all. The whole was surmounted by a pair of mustaches of the same tanned-leather color; which so completely obscured the countenance, that not a particle of it was discernible but the two lack-lustre eyes; and the nose, like a sort of watch-tower overtopping the wilderness of shaggy hair by which it was surrounded.
It is the recollection of this never to be forgotten figure of an entire stranger, seen for the first and probably the last time in my life, which induced me to claim for the Dandyism of the present day, a decided superiority over that of the by-gone times; at least so far as the disfigurement of the countenance can go towards the establishment of so enviable a claim. That it is indisputable, I think certain; for neither in the pictures nor histories of past ages which have reached us, can any thing be found at all comparable to what I have just endeavored to describe, but in language so inadequate, that I am almost ashamed to send you this communication.
The bodily disfigurements of our modern Dandies having a great degree of sameness in them, and being matters of general notoriety, ’tis needless to particularise them. But to give you an opportunity of judging whether I have unjustly charged them with poverty of invention, when compared with their prototypes of the olden time, I beg leave to present you with the description of an English Dandy of the fourteenth century. It is taken from Dr. Henry’s History of England, and he quotes Camden, Chaucer, and Street, as his authorities.
“He wore long-pointed shoes, called crackowes, the upper parts of which were cut in imitation of a church-window. The points of these were fastened to his knees by gold or silver chains. He had hose of one color on one leg, and of another color on the other; short breeches which did not reach to the middle of his thighs, and disclosed the shape completely; a coat, one half white, and the other half black or blue; a long beard; a silk hood buttoned under his chin, embroidered with grotesque figures of animals, dancing men, &c. and sometimes ornamented with gold, silver, and precious stones. This dress, which was the very top of the mode in the reign of Edward the Third, appeared so ridiculous to the Scots, (who probably could not afford to be such egregious fops,) that they made the following satirical verses upon it:
“Long beards hirtiless,
Peynted whoods witless,
Gay coats gracelies,
Maketh England thriftlies.”
I would add to the above what the grave Doctor says of the fashionable ladies of those times; but being a great friend to the “womankind,” as that queer, caustic old Batchelor Monkbarns used to call them, I forbear to run the risk of their displeasure, by disparaging their sex so much as I should be compelled to do, were I to repeat the Doctor’s words. And now, my good sir, confidently trusting that you yourself, as well as your readers, will admit the irrefutable character of the proofs which I have adduced to establish my assertions, I bid you farewell, and remain
Your friend and constant reader,
OLIVER OLDSCHOOL.
P. S. For the satisfaction of yourself and readers, who might otherwise suspect me of malevolence towards some individual, (of which I know myself to be incapable,) I beg leave to assure you that, although the portrait which I have endeavored to sketch is not a fancy piece, my sole design in presenting it is general, not particular. It is to aid, as far as I possibly can, in banishing from our land a fashion, not only preposterous, absurd and filthy in the highest degree, but actually disgraceful to rational creatures. Let it gо back to the savage Cossacks, from whom ’tis said to be borrowed, and no lопgег beautify (if I may coin such a word,) the appearance of the rising generation.
Quoted from: The Southern literary messenger. Vol. 1. No. 5. January 1835.