LAST OF THE DANDIES

Evening Star, Issue 18031, 27 July 1922, Page 7

LAST OF THE DANDIES

TRAGEDY OF BRUMMELL

HIS UNBRIDLED TONGUE,

Tho dandy has figured in eVcry period of historv, and practically every ago has riven him a fresh name. ‘‘B« c k>., “ beau,” “swell,” “masher,” 'ion, “dude,” “ knut ’ —the titles aro variable, tho type is eternal. Probably no profession has been so overrun with amateurs, and only once or twice have men achieved renown because of expensive devotion to their personal appearance. Some ideas concerning the really great dandy, however, need to be corrected. The most widespread impression is that he must have been a fool, whose folly took tho form of extravagance in dress. That impression is much more foolish than was tho behaviour of the dandy. Whatever he was, he was rarely a fool, Manv of his imitators were. they thong-lit that to he a successful dandy it was only necessary to dress in costly, conspicuous stylo. There was Henry Cope, for instance. Probably you never heard of him. That just proves that to dress ostentatiously docs not impress anybody. Cope was a man of fashion in the time of George IV. Ho was known as “The Green Alan of Brighton,” because ho regularly dressed in green pantaloons, waistcoat, frock, and cravat. He ate nothing but greens; his house and everything in it was painted green; his gig, livery, portmanteau, gloves, and whip were* green. With a green silk handkerchief in his hand and a large watch chain with green seals fastened to the groan buttons of his green waUftcoat ho paraded every day. It was all of no use. No one copied Henry while lie lived; only the curious historian troubles' about him now lie is dead. .Many a, man of ability has filled the role of dandy. Alexander the .Groat was one; Sir Waiter Raleigh was another. The famous story of Raleigh’s cloak circulates os proof of his chivalry, but it also attests that ho was a, dandy. Ho was passionately fond of rich-colored apparcll studded with gems. Even when he was in the Tower ho walked daily on tho terrace at tho top of tho wall, and crowds came to see him, for his whole attire, from cap to shoo strings, blazed with rubies, emeralds, and pearls.

Nearer to us in time arc Lord Chesterfield, Charles James Fox, tho Duke of Queensberry, and the Duke of Wellington —dandies all. Of course, the success of tho dandy depended very largely on tho state of contemporary society. The Restoration, for example, was favorable to the development of his special qualities. In the days of the Regency, again, he had a good innings; the Regent himself aspired to be an artist in dress. But not tho boldest dandy of them all would long have displayed dress exuberance at the decorous Court of Queen Victoria. Tho dandy then passed under a cloud, from which, in all tho fullness of his glory, he has never again emerged. During tho eighteenth century the dandies were quite a recognised and influential class. They were mostly old men, and frequently not very desirable old men. Immaculate in dress and affected in manner, they believed themselves irresistible. They padded and corseted themsolves, thinking' to hide the ravages of time. Old men though they were, they ogled all tho pretty girls who passed the club windows in the West End of London. Their performances make the decent men of to-day blush for their species. Tho Duke of Queensberry—old Q., and one of tin) wickedest of wicked old men—used to sit on the balcony of his house in Piccadilly when ho was well over eighty. When any passing girl attracted his fancy a messenger was sent after her to ask her to come in.

Happily, the later type of dandy was no roue. it is, indeed, proudly and quite justly claimed that no breath of scandal ever attached to tho man who was the greatest dandy of them all. As in every profession some name is pre-eminent, so among the dandies the name of Brummell is immortal. Though his fame rests almost exclusively on tho way he wore his clothes, ho has been described by Lord Byron as one of the three greatest men in the early part of the nineteenth century. Ho was a poem in his clothes, but he was no mere coxcomb. It was not the absurdity, but the perfect harmony of his dress that made his reputation. He always said it was tho worst of taste to bo so dressed that public attention was attracted, and he never violated his own maxim. When ho began to exercise his influence English dress was the worst in the world. There was exaggeration in one direction, laxity in another. Into the chaos stepped Brummell, a man of inherent good taste. Tho quality is not so prevalent as is generally supposed. Instinctively Brummell felt that gaudy colors and flaring patterns wore not what should be. Ho saw that immaculate cut, subdued hues, and homogeneity in tho entire dress were tho things to aim at. He set himself to effect the desired change in taste, and it stands to his credit that ho did. Ho made loud fashions look vulgar; he gave masculine dress a distinction it sadly lacked. Not less important, he taught the desirability of washing oneself and one’s clothes. The old beaux had never been noted for cleanliness. They went in for grea sing more than washing. Brummell was a merry fellow, although ho could also be girlishly vain, and in his later years abominably rude. Ho was far from aristocratic in origin, but ho was educated at Eton, where ho was more conspicuous for his daintiness about clothes than for his attention in classes. At Eton ho was introduced to (he Prince of Wales, and on the strength of that incident he entered t,ho Prince's Regiment when ho was only sixteen.

Brununcll was a chocolate soldier. But bo had a ready tongue, which often served him well by tho impudence ho made it utter. As a rule, however, lie was goodnatured and witty. Gradually the Prince of Wales sought hia company. Tho Prince himself spent many thousands a. year- on clothes, and he began to defer to Brunimcll on all questions of taste. The care Brummell gave to Ids own dress seems nowadays incredible. It was said lie employed three coiffeurs to do his hair, three glovers to make his gloves. His dress became the general model. When lie bit on a new idea it progressed downwards from tho highest to the lowest classes. His neckcloth was his great, triumph. The cravat had loyg been of muslin, bagging round the threat and sagging under Ills chin. Brummell hit on (he idea, of starch. Tho first day*he were his starched neckcloth excitement was intense. It was bis anxiety to have bis neckcloth adjusted perfectly that gave rise to one familiar story. A friend, visiting Brummell one morning, met his valet with his arms piled) with muddiod cravats. “These are our failures,” ho said, sadly, 'Before long his imitators were starching their neckcloths so stiff that they could not turn their heads. For a lark ona night Brummell, when sitting next but one to Lord' Worcester, slaved straight in front of him and'Tasked, “Is Lord Worcester here?” “Yes, sir,” said the waiter. “ Will you tell His Lordship I shall be happy to drink a glass of wine with hira'(” After a pause Brummell asked, “Is His Lordship ready?” “Yes, sir,” said the waiter. “Then tell him that I drink His Lordship’s health,” said Brummell, suiting tho action to tho word, but never turning Jus head. Brummell’s great defect was his inability to bridle his tongue. The remark that leapt to his lips had 1 to come out, however cutting. Naturally the Prince began to take offence at the dandy’s impertinences, and finally they quarrelled. On ono_ occasion, after receiving an affront from his old add Royal friend, Brummell observed, humorously, yet conceitedly; “ 1 have half a mind to cut the young one and bring old George into fashion.” The acme of Brummell’s audacity is supposed to be enshrined in the “ring the bell” story. It has many forms, but the one most generally received is that Brummell eaid at the dinner table one night: “George, ring the bell." Tho Prince rang the bell,-.anal when the servant appeared ordered Mr Brammell’s carriage, Tho truth of the story is now gravely doubted,. More -credence- may.-bo. given to the state-.

ment that, after the Royal quarrel, Brummell was out riding with a friend when they met the Prince. The Prince ha lieu and spoke to tho friend, taking no notice of Brummell, who stood silently by. But as the great man was moving away Brnrnmell said, loudly enough for the. Prince to hear, “Who is our fab friend?” For years Brummell continued- to -bo tho supremo dictator on all questions of dress and manner in high-class English society. But gambling was then the social vice, and Brummell was unlucky. His money ran out, and at last, because of a financial quarrel, ho look flight to Franco. Many of Ins old, distinguished friends remembered him, and the Duke of Wellington secured for him the consulship of Caen. But two years later the office was abolished, and ho became the victim of both financial and physical misfortunes. He was arrested for debt; he was landed in gaolhe was lodged with criminals; ho was glad to beg at last for a pair of old patched boots. Finally and mercifully, after much poverty and humideath -beckoned the greatest, if not quite the last, of the dandies.

Tho sordidness of his life’s close is striking by contrast with its noontide splendor. Perfection in dress was surely as paltry a purpose as any to which a human life could bo dedicated. Yet probably Brummell would have rejoiced to knojv that Ids name would remain for many a generation as the symbol and apex point of English dandyism. That it was all worth while may bo very seriously doubted. Certainly a miserable death in an -alien land was all he got out of it.