Dandies in general — Dandy Automata and their Tailors — Dandies in Wax —Grecian and Roman Dandies — French Petits-maitres and Gourmands — Duke of Cumberland’s Wig—Dandy Relics.

It is a common notion, that the present age abounds more than any preceding one in those frivolities of dress, which, in different times, have been known by so many various designations. And the man of grave habits, (I may use this expression in a double sense,) who is occasionally obliged to do penance as a pedestrian, through the fashionable haunts of the ‘West End,’ encountering, on his route the swarm of dandies, that. ‘thick as autumnal leaves in Vallombrosa,’ are scattered along that quarter of the town, seldom fails to return home with the most alarming impressions against the unparalleled foppery of the age. For my own part, however, I am much disposed to set down this notion among our ‘vulgar errors,’ since I cannot but think, that the insignificant tribe in question, whether under the appellation of beaux, fops, petits-maitres, dandies, or exquisites, have equally abounded in all ages, and have, for the wisest purposes, been destined to act as a foil or set-off to the more sober part of their species.

Accordingly, when, in my peripatetic excursions, I fall in with any of these non-descripts, the circumstance throws me into a fit of philosophical speculation on the inanity of their pursuits, as contrasted with the more important objects of mankind. And the latter are proportionably elevated in my opinion, as they are thus brought into a comparison so much in their favour. The frivolous creature, who lives only in his clothes, may justly be considered as being nothing out of them; — be it in fact no more than an automaton, made to shew off the newest fashion, — a mere walking figure, designed to display to the best advantage the dexterity of his tailor, and too often, his own in the bargain, when he happens to walk away, much to the cost and chagrin of the aforesaid ingenious artificer. And this, by the bye, is the grand mark of distinction between the walking dandy and that of wax, which remains stationary in the tailor’s shop-window to the great edification of all admiring passengers. But, whatever ingenuity the automata in question may occasionally evince in this particular, I still hold them to be as unqualified for any rational functions as Punch and Judy themselves, and should as little think of entering into conversation with them, as with the Italian images that perambulate our streets, or with the royal effigies in the tower.

But I have said, that the race of irrationals under consideration are by no means confined to our age and country. On the contrary, we read of them in all times and among all nations. Even those sage and philosophical people, the Greeks and Romans, were not exempt from them. A modern traveller in Greece discovered amongst the ruins of the Parthenon, the representations of several Grecian dandies, attired in the full costume of jockey-boots and gypsey-hats, and thus exhibiting complete prototypes of certain well-dressed gentlemen in the present day. But the wise man has said, that ‘there is nothing new under the sun;’ and it is, therefore, probable, that all the incentive powers of our modern fabriquans des habits have been unable to add any thing material to the discoveries of their precursors of Athens and Rome.

It is among the Romans, however, that we are to look for the ancient dandies in the greatest perfection, not only are they described by their poets, and depicted in their statues, but they are even recorded by their historians. For myself, I have no wish, at present, to put forth my learning in this abstruse science, by introducing, as I might, an erudite dissertation on the toga, (?), pephis, or cinctus gab’nus. Yet these, with a thousand other varieties in the Roman costume, would form an edifying study for the dandies and tailors of this metropolis, who might thus add materially to the grace and refinement of the art in which they so much delight. Among all the garments worn by the beaux of Rome, the multitium seems to have been the favourite: it was of a fine transparent nature, and therefore well adapted to display the human shape to advanage. Juvenal, in whose time this effeminacy appears
to have been all the rage, inveighs against a distinguished warrior of the day, for having assumed it. These are his words:—

— sed quid
Non facient alii, cum tu multitia sumas,
Cretice ?—,

What, valiant Creticus, won’t others do,
When thus we see such foppery in you?

But the ultra-dandies of Rome went still further than this, and not content even with the transparency of the multitium, appeared frequently, as to the upper part of their persons, puris naturalibus. Thus Horace in allusion to a beau of the name of Telephus, says:

‘Dum tu, Lydia, Telephal
Cervicem, roseam, et cerea Telephi
Laudas brachid, &c.’

While Telephus’s blooming charms,
His rosy neck and waxen arms,
With rapture, Lydia, yon admire.

Far be it from me, however, as a grave and moral peripatetic, to insinuate that our modern fops ought to emulate those of Rome in abandoning, à la Byron, their cravats and collars, or in appearing without sleeves to their coats or shirts. All this may be very well on Moulsey Hurst or Hornsey Down, but would, I admit, be quite against all bienséance in Pall Mall or the Park. For this reason, I would, by no means, insist on this point, much as I might be disposed to recommend the Roman toga in preference to the tight-laced dandy jacket, to say nothing of the stays, now so much in rogue.

It would be easy enough to show, that the rage of dandyism, under other names, has ever prevailed, more or less, in this country, and that France, in particular, was, at no very distant period, the grand mart for all things needful for our bodies, whether externally or internally, whence it became the perpetual resort of our milliners, caterers, cooks, beaux, epicures, et hoc genus omne.

Our dandies, therefore, remain the same witless automata they have always been. But it may be some consolation to them to reflect, that, a century hence, their hats, stays, or trowsers, (should they luckily escape the ravages of time and old-clothesmen) may become objects of as great curiosity, and be as highly prized by antiquarians and virtuosos, as a roman vitta or pilum would be now, or as the great Duke of Cumberland’s wig was, about ten years ago, when it was bought for fifty pounds sterling. It may then be worthy the consideration of our fops and exquisites, whether, instead of bestowing their cast-off habiliments on a set of thankless valets and grooms, it would not be more advisable to direct them, by their last wills, to be carefully treasured for the benefit of posterity, so that, by being disposed of as pieces of virtu, they might acquire a value which never belonged to their wearers. Lit.-Chron.

From: The Manchester Iris. A Weekly Literary and Scientific Miscellany. June 7, 1823. No. 71, Vol. 2.