MR. EDITOR,
A FEW nights ago, being in company where the character of exquisites (of whom I myself am one) was very roughly handled, I determined on begging the favour of your publishing a few words in its defence. Our chief characteristic is a studied attention to change of fashions, gentility of appearance, and elegance of manners. Why a set of persons, whose occupation, to say the worst of it, is so utterly harmless, should be ridiculed, scoffed at, and scouted, is more than I can divine; unless the pretended disdain, with which many affect to treat us, springs from envy and disappointment, in not being able to accomplish in themselves what they see brought to perfection in us. Verily, ye slanderers, ye should be reminded of the fable in Phaedrus “de vulpe et uvis.”
I fear that the greatest injury which our corps has sustained has sprung from the deserved contempt thrown upon certain would-be exquisites, who have just got enough of sense to distinguish between right and wrong; without, however, being able to attain “the steep where Fame’s proud temple shines afar,” and assume the appearance, or enter into the spirit which distinguishes and actuates the genuine exquisite.
Who that has watched one of these pretenders to fashion and elegance at an assembly, has not seen his fingers covetly sneaking up towards his neck, to feel whether the tie of his cravat be exactly in its place, and his anxious eyes stealing a glance down his tights, to search where they may have discovered a crease? Who has not perceived with what care he dolls his gloves when about to hand negus to a lady, lest they should be soiled and rendered unfit for the next quadrille? The exquisite, ere he left home, spent an hour before his glass in adjusting his neckcloth, after having rejected two or three that were not sufficiently starched or ironed; he need not therefore be in fear lest its economy might be deranged by dancing, or lest any one might with justice say of him
His very neckcloth’s Gordian knot was tied
Almost a hair’s breadth too much on one side.
His pantaloons first saw the light in Bond Street, under the hands of Hudson and Story; how then can he for a moment suppose that they do not fit him as closely as wax? And unless it be to display the aristocratic whiteness of his fingers, why need he take off his gloves? Surely he cannot grudge their being steeped in wine, when his pocket contains a second pair, made to his measure by Hill (of Jermyn Street) or Paynter (of Fleet Street).
You will not, I hope, Mr. Editor, fall into the vulgar error so frequently committed by many who ought to know better; I mean, the mistaking an exquisite for a mere fop; because in an untutored mind, and one not conversant with the higher circles of life, at the mention of an exquisite what visions arise of curls and Circassian cream, of scents, stays, and stiffeners, of a tripping gait and lisping tongue! Now, Mr. Editor, with respect to attention paid to our hair, as it merely arises from the love of neatness and cleanliness, surely no one can object to it. As for stiffeners, where is the need of them for a man whose neckcloth is starched? And as for stays, strike me crooked if the mob has not called after me , “There he goes! he has got on stays!” when the bare fact was that George Willis (of St. James’s Street) had fitted a tight coat to a slender waist.
Again, when I happen to stray beyond the pale of civilization, and venture to the wrong side of Temple Bar or the Pantheon; then, Heaven defend me if I do not endeavour to speak broad like a Cockney, to pronounce v for w like Sir Villiam C—, and to aspirate vowels like a Halderman! then, Heaven protect me, if I do not splash through the mud like an errand boy carrying parcels, and set my foot as closely to the ground as a clown in a wrestling match, or the Roman gladiator! for no sooner does some attorney’s clerk or linen-draper’s apprentice perceive the air and manner of a gentleman than cubito stantem prope tangens, he begins: “Twig the west-ender! my eyes, what a swell!” while their masters but whisper behind my back: “What affectation in his speech! what effeminacy in his walk!” Having thus endeavoured to refute or account for some of the charges commonly brought against us, I must next hint at our qualifications.
First and foremost, a man who would pass for an exquisite must either be possessed of an independence or bear his Majesty’s commission; for the confinement occasioned by all professions, save that of arms, and the grovelling train of ideas invariably attendant on commerce or trade, utterly incapacitate the lawyer, the merchant, the manufacturer, and the shopkeeper, from devoting themselves to the study of the fashions; I mean not only the fashions of dress, but of demeanour and conversation, which among us vary as much as any other; while the two classes of society, which are intrusted with the souls and bodies of their fellow-creatures, are, by the importance of their functions and the gravity of their calling, prevented from assimilating themselves to any set of men who may be accused of frivolity or insignificance.
Besides being possessed of this indispensable qualification, an exquisite ought to have received a liberal education, and to be superficially conversant with some of the arts and sciences, at least with those which may be in vogue at the time being, or in character with his present situation.
When he enters the room at Somerset House, he knows at a glance Wilkie’s groups and Sir Thomas’s portraits: at the water colour exhibition, he tells you that Fielding, Varley, and Robson are the supports of the Society; that Proutt’s style is broad, and that Cristall excels in chaste outlines. At the opera, he complains of the omission of Giovinetto Cavalier, in Il Croriato, owing to Bonini’s incapacity of singing it: and at the Ancient Concert, he assures you that Francois Cramer is to the full as good a leader as his father was before him. If you meet him on a race course, he knows the favourites, and can point out Buckle or Chiffney. If you meet him at Willis’s rooms, he can instruct you in the figures of the latest quadrilles, just written by Hart or Gow, and introduce you to a dozen fair partners.
I accordingly conceive that one of the principal characteristics, by which an exquisite of the genuine school may always be distinguished, is the perfect consonance of dress and demeanour with every situation in which he may be fortuitously placed. Of this versatility my friend Sir Charles Allfit affords a most striking example, as I can well testify, who have seen him under every variety of circumstances. When in company with ladies, who can appear more modest than Sir Charles? His voice so low, his manners so mild, nay, bashful! Next day I have seen him in the field whoop and hollow with the hounds, while volumes of abuse, thickly larded with oaths and execrations, flowed from his lips in abundance on the ill-fated wight who chanced to cross the scent, or head the fox. Have I not seen him drive our Tallyho at eleven miles an hour, and touch his hat, with “Please, Sir, remember the coachman,” while the passengers whispered, “What a smart looking driver we have, is he a proprietor?” And then again, how well his academic garb suited him! O, thou blessed cap and gown, to be revered by every exquisite! Thou that suitest alike the black coat and trowsers of the reading man and the Newmarket jacket, with shorts and continuations of the horse-and-dog man. Thou that appearest to advantage alike, whether carefully folded over the back of a chair and half concealing from our sight a table covered by a heap of books, and by the tea tray with a solitary cup and saucer, just left by the bed-maker, in the room of a man who keeps in college; or whether (as oft I have seen thee) carelessly thrown on a sofa, half propped up by the foil or tandem whip, and affording a temporary lair for some favourite terrier; thou ever appearest in character. But alas! “days of my youth, ye are fled.”
To conclude, Mr. Editor, I must beg leave, for the general benefit of your readers, to lay before you a few of the rules respecting dress, which we have adopted, only premising, that our principal rule is always to dress appropriately; and that, according to our opinion, the whole mystery of dress is comprised in a strict attention to that single adverb.
If a man be going to an evening party, let him dress appropriately; let him dress as plainly as possible. No large massy gold rings, or seals, or brooches! for my boot-maker’s foreman wears all these in abundance. No flowered velvet waistcoats! for the last that I rejected and returned to my tailor, I hear, one of his apprentices straightway sold to a master carpenter.
If a man intends to walk out in the morning, let him not, for Heaven’s sake, like some puppies, wear silk stockings or a white waistcoat, nor sport a cloak; all these are only fit for the evening: but then, mark me, he must not fall into the opposite extreme neither, nor stalk about town in a velveteen jacket and leather gaiters, or a hunting coat and top boots, like a gentleman’s game-keeper, or Jerry Hawthorn: and although a great coat is more appropriate in the morning than a cloak, yet need it not be adorned with either pearl or wooden buttons, which give their wearer the appearance of a Paddington coachman out of employ.
If a man wishes to show himself possessed of an elastic hat, made by Dollman; pray let him take it to the Argyll Rooms, where he may with propriety fold it under his arm, or sit on it; but let him not walk through the Arcade with it perched on his head.
But be not too nice neither – let your own discretion be your tutor – suit your manners to your dress, and your dress to your situation; with this special observance, that you forget not the propriety of appearance; for any thing overdone is from the purpose of an exquisite, whose aim, both at first and now, was and is to put, as it were, the last finish to a gentleman, to show foppery its own feature, inelegance its own image, and set on the very fashions and manners the stamp of correctness and gentility. Now this over done, or neglected, though it make the censorious sneer, and the vulgar stare, cannot but make the judicious grieve: the censure of which must (by your leave) outweigh the animadversion of the others. O! there be dandies, that I have seen dandified, and seen others admire, and that greatly, who, not to speak it profanely, neither having the manners of exquisites, nor the dress of exquisites, gentlemen, or men, have so bedizened and so conducted themselves, that I have thought their grooms have taught them dress and behaviour, and not taught them well, they imitated us exquisites so abominably.
ln justice to myself, Mr. Editor, I must further add, that, in all the remarks I have made, I have never had in view any particular person, but have merely endeavoured to expose what is wrong in general, so that any one who feels himself aggrieved, and accuses me of personality, will only proclaim his own foibles to the world.
If you can find room for the insertion of this communication, I may possibly soon find time for writing again; meanwhile
Believe me yours,
Long’s Hotel, Friday Morning. X. Y. Z.
From: The Literary Lounger. London (1826).