DANDYISM

Otago Witness, Issue 3768, 1 June 1926, Page 76

DANDYISM

By

Colonel Arthur Lynch.

(Fob thr Witness.)

XVIII

Dandies have always been theoretically unpopular. I say ‘‘theoretically,” for the contempt in which they are held is really more likely to be found in literature, or in the moralities, than in real life. If they did not meet with approbation they would hardly continue their efforts, for dandies are not usually cast in heroic mould, and their great desire is to please, or at least to excite admiration.

Carlyle, in his Sartor Resartus. devotes a chapter to the dandiacal sect, and he crushes these delicate butterflies rather heavily, oossibly by way of getting a blow at Lytton, whom he did not like, believing him to be a perverter of young minds in that day. Dandyism is considered effeminate, and Hotspur’s description of the fop, in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, is often quoted with enjoyment; but in history it is found that many a redoubtable warrior has himself been a dandy, and we may cite no less a leader than Julius Caesar. The great conqueror, though he had been a handsome man in his youth, was of a neurotic constitution, and being undnly thin he tried to hide the defect by adding to his tunic a sleeve reaching to his wrist and terminating in a sort of muslin frill while it is said that he rejoiced to receive the laurel crown because it helped him to conceal his premature baldner' Cato called him ‘‘that woman.”

Napoleon, who was also of a highly nervous temperament, was shockingly neglectful of his appearance as a young man, and Mile. Clery. to whom he proposed marrige, laughed at him as “puss in boots.” In his prosperous days as Emperor he was not unmindful of the importance of show, and he chose his clothes with an eye to effe The famous Napoleonic hat did not come there by accident. Even Washington, simple indeed and somewhat austere republican as he was, at least originally, became careful of his dress as he advanced in power and also in autocracy. Henry VIII, Charles 11. and George IV were in their day all dandies, and although their conduct might be the subject of reprobation, yet they were each in turn the most intelligent of their ' line. George IV is credited with the invention of a shoe-buckle, so that be his faults what they may, he has not left-.us without compensation. I will pass in silence his invention of a new kind of punch. Amongst literary men Byron was for a time quite in the dandy set and lie was pleased afterwards to look back on his little • flutter, in that charmed circle. Dickens was, if not a dandy, at least over-dressed. As an admirer of his good heart and racy humour, I regret to think, but it was so, that he dres:ed like a commercial traveller raised to opulence. French writers have always been noted for extravagance in dress, whether for extreme neglige or for magnificent red waistcoats, like those of Barbey d’ Aurevilly or Theophile Gautier. A modern French novelist of note, who tried to imitate English modes, once called my attention to his waistcoat which he thought ‘‘tres snob.” It was. But the great dandy of all time is our national possession—Beau Brummell, for _ the Beau reached the pinnacle of his art, he became world famous, and he was not only a dandy, but nothing but a dandy. Moreover, he achieved this splendid result without meretricious effects; he preserved the British mode, solidity, sobriety, a sort of toned greatness, reminding one of a reception at the Palace or the interior of the House of Lords. Byron said of him that his dress was noticeable only for a sort of “exquisite perfection.” Beau Brummell may not have been a great man, but he was a conscientious worker in his profession, for rightlv understood dandyism was his mode of livelihood.

He was not godly, but in his primy days he was scrupulous in cleanliness, and he has left us a model to aim at though never to attain. He achieved glory, but he has made great sacrifices; good character, self-respect, morality, even common honesty and mundane usefulness, all these went by the board, but he gave us the supreme, the unassailable image of the perfect dandy.