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gance. After the Restoration the casual contact of their opponents was not necessary to point out the distinction between the Cavalier and the Roundhead." When they were in mixed society they certainly ran no risk of being mistaken. The ugly dress of the Puritans; their cropped hair, which gained them the appellation of Roundheads, made them appear to disadvantage, in the eyes of all people of taste, by the side of the gay courtiers attired in the stiff, but splendid and majestic, dress of the time of Louis the Fourteenth. It was not till long after the Restoration, when new generations, guided by different political views, found themselves in a new situation, that the tone of society changed, and an alteration was produced both in the character of individuals, and their outward demeanour.
The same aristocratic desire to be distinguished from classes who cannot be kept under, and to whom the circumstances of active life afford a thousand opportunities of surpassing a superior caste, gave birth to the modern dandy. How shall the scions of nobility, who wish to maintain at least a social superiority, now render themselves conspicuous? By splendid dress, and rich ornaments ? By lavish expenditure and display ? Many a grocer or cotton-spinner can outshine even the peer, how much more the younger son ?
All that a young man of rank, therefore, can now do, is to be more careful in the choice and arrangement of his dress; and the secrets of fashion reveal to him niceties of the art that are concealed from vulgar eyes. Shall the relations of the nobility render themselves remarkable by the purity of their language, and their unconstrained demeanour? Education, however, is as general, and even more diffused among the middle classes ; and the majority of the affluent in England, by social intercourse, and travelling in foreign countries, acquire the same elegant manners.
As a matter of course he belongs to that coterie, in which a committee of distinguished ladies, rulers of the fashionable world, award with discrimination the privilege of belonging to aristocratical society, for which so many Englishmen vainly sigh. It may easily be supposed that a dandy shuns the man who is not one. At the play he conducts himself like Hogarth's couple in the print of “ The Laughing Audience.” He goes to the theatre for fashion's sake. If you ask him how he liked the Opera ? he answers, “ the conversation in our box was very pleasant and agreeable.”
Alas! the golden age of the dandy is already past. In the first years of the present century his sun shone in all its splendour in the aristocratic world ; afterwards it became a little overclouded, and suddenly set in 1832, when the Reform Bill was passed. What a magnificent time for the dandy when he could enter Parliament, and was sure by his vote to deserve a reward from the Minister. The high aristocracy, the proprietors of that excellent kind of property, rotten boroughs, used to send numerous representatives of the corps of dandies, of which the younger sons of the nobility usually form the nucleus, to the Lower House. “Send for our school. boys,” said Castlereagh once to a colleague, meaning the dandies, Members of Parliament, who were dispersed in the neighbouring coffee-houses, ready to be called in to vote. Voting, in fact, was their only business; though Sir Francis Burdett and Lord Brougham, then Mr. Henry Brougham, will certainly remember
their cries of " Oh! oh!” “ Order !” or, “ Hear! hear!” when a minister spoke, which were the only sounds by which they notified their presence in the House of Commons. Alas! the lucky star of the dandies, — for, no doubt, they drew all possible advantage from their voices,— has now, with the rotten boroughs, been thrown into the lumber-room.
How, in fact, could a consistent dandy, even though a Tory, now enter Parliament? How could he expose his precious, dear self, to the vulgarities and fatal accidents of an election How could he venture to expose his delicate body and elegant clothes to be pelted with cabbage heads or rotten apples; or run the risk of being obliged to kiss an old woman, during which ceremony an elector would, perhaps, clean out his pipe on his head, as may be seen in Hogarth's engraving, “ The Election Dinner?”
The fashionable man of the last century, the beau, was quite a different apparition. He was equally intent upon adorning himself; but he must indeed have been a little embarrassed on occasions that called for national pride, for he had not a native exterior. While John Bull at that time gave full scope to his national whims, the beau aped French manners, learned dancing and fencing from French masters, ate fricassees instead of succulent roast-beef; fell into ecsta. sies at the singing of Farinelli; kept parrots, apes, French valets, and hair-dressers; sometimes, also, an Italian musician, whom John Bull peevishly called a catgut-scraper. If the beau was informed that his acquaintances had got drunk the night before, and beaten the watchmen; if he heard of cockfights, fox-hunting, and other sports, he frowned, and complained of the existence of barbarous manners. If, however, he was in Paris, he found everything excessively bad; he could not digest French cookery ; declared that the French shrugged their shoulders ridiculously ; eternally found fault with France; and praised his own country: till, at last, after he had fought two or three duels with swords, and purchased a court-dress of the newest fashion in the style of Louis the Fifteenth, he returned to England. In England he found his countrywomen prudish, stiff, awkward, insipid; but, had he recrossed the Channel, and were he asked by a Frenchman what he thought of the French ladies, he would have said, “ Je ne me connais pas en peintures." In short, the beau was far more insupportable to his countrymen and to strangers than the innocent dandy. He was also often ridiculed; the sight of a beau walking the stage like a dancing-master, and speaking broken French, never failed to excite the loud laughter of the pit and galleries, and Hogarth immortalised him by representing him in the most graceful possible attitude taking snuff, in his first plate of “ Marriage à la mode,” or appearing with a monkey's face, dressed in the most showy, tasteless court-dress, and bowing with the most elegant grimace, in his print of Taste, in “ High Life."
The dandy belongs rather to the present and future, than to past time. The reigns of Queen Anne and of the two Georges could furnish no type of him; he was unknown to Addison, Fielding, Smollett, Hogarth. Sheridan was the first, who described him as Lord Foppington.
THE IRISH GENTLEMAN AND THE LITTLE
It's on my wisiting cards, sure enough (and it's them that's all o'pink satin paper) that inny gintleman that plases may behould the intheristhing words, “ Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Knight, 39, Southampton Row, Russell Square, Parrish o’ Bloomsbury.” And shud ye be wanting to diskiver who is the pink of purliteness quite, and the laider of the hot tun in the houl city o' London — why it's jist meself. And faith that same is no wonder at all at all, so be plased to stop curling your nose, for every inch o’ the six wakes that I've been a gintleman, and left aff wid the bog-throthing to take up wid a gintale title, it's Pathrick that 's been living like a houly imperor, and gitting the iddication and the graces. Och ! and wouldn't it be a blessed thing for your sperrits if ye cud lay your two peepers jist upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Knight, when he is all riddy drissed for the hopperer, or stipping into the brisky for the drive into the Hyde Park. But it's the iligant big figgur that I have, for the reason o' which all the ladies fall in love wid me. Isn't it my own swate self now that ʼll missure the six fut, and the three inches more nor that, in me stockings, and that am exsadingly will proportioned all over to match? And is it really more than the three fut and a bit that there is, inny how, of the little old furrener Frinchman that lives jist over the way, and that's a oggling and a goggling the houl day (and bad luck to him !) at the purty widdy Mistress Tracle, that's my own nixt door neighbor, (God bliss her!) and most particuller frind and acquaintance? You persave the little spalpeen is summat down in the mouth, and wears his lift hand in a sling; and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that I'm going to give you the good rason.
The thruth of the houl matter is jist simple enough; for the very first day that I com'd from Connaught, and showd my swate little silf in the strait to the widdy, who was looking through the windy, it was a gone case althegither wid the heart o' the purty Misthress Tracle. I persaved it, ye see, all at once, and no mistake, and that's God's thruth. First of all it was up wid the windy in a jiffy, and thin she threw open her two peepers to the itmost, and thin it was a little gould spy-glass that she clapped tight to one o' them, and divil may burn me if it didn't spake to me as plain as a peeper cud spake, and says it, through the spy-glass “Och! the tip o' the mornin to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Knight, mavourneen; and it's a nate gintleman that ye are, sure enough, and it's meself and me fortin jist that 'll be at yur sarvice, dear, inny time o' day at all at all for the asking.” And it 's not meself ye wud have to be bate in the purliteness ; so I made her a bow that wud have broken yur heart althegither to behould, and thin I pulled aff me hat with a flourish, and thin I winked at her hard wid both eyes, as much as to say “ Thrue for you, yer a swate little crature, Mrs. Tracle, me darlint, and I wish I may be drownthed dead in a bog if it's not meself, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Knight, that 'll make a houl bushel o' love to yur leddy-ship, in the twinkling o' the eye of a Londonderry purraty."
And it was the nixt mornin, sure enough, jist as I was making up me mind whither it wouldn't be the purlite thing to sind a bit o' writing to the widdy by way of a love-litter, when up cum'd the delivery sarvant wid an illigant card, and he tould me that the name on it (for I niver cud rade the copper-plate printing on account of being lift handed) was all about Mounseer, the Count, A Goose, Look-aisy, Maiter-di-dauns, and that the houl o' the divilish lingo was the spalpeeny long name of the little ould furrener Frinchman as lived over the way.
And jist wid that in cum'd the little willain himself, and thin he made me a broth of a bow, and thin he said he had ounly taken the liberty of doing me the honor, of the giving me a call, and thin he went on to palaver at a great rate, and divil the bit did I comprehind what he wud be afther the tilling me at all at all, excipting and saving that he said “pully wou, woolly wou,” and tould me, among a bushel o’lies, bad luck to him, that he was mad for the love o' my widdy Misthress Tracle, and that my widdy Mrs. Tracle had a puncheon for him.
At the hearin' of this, ye may swear, though, I was as mad as a grasshopper, but I remimbered that I was Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Knight, and that it wasn't althegither gentaal to lit the anger git the upper hand o' the purliteness, so I made light o' the matter and kipt dark, and got quite sociable wid the little chap, and afther a while what did he do but ask me to go wid him to the widdy's, say. ing he wud give me the feshionable introduction to her leddyship.
« Is it there ye are ?” said I thin to meself — “and it's thrue for you, Pathrick, that ye 're the fortunnittest mortal in life. We'll soon see now whither it's your swate silf, dear, or whither it's little Moun. seer Maiter-di-dauns, that Misthress Tracle is head and ears in the love wid.”
With that we wint aff to the widdy's, next door, and ye may well say it was an illigant place—so it was. There was a carpet all over the floor, and in one corner there was a forty-pinny and a jews-harp and the divil knows what ilse, and in another corner was a sofythe beautifullest thing in all natur — and sittin' on the sofy, sure enough there was the swate little angel, Misthress Tracle.
“ The tip o' the morning to ye,” says I --- Mrs. Tracle"- and then I made sich an iligant obaysance that it wud ha quite althegither bewildered the brain o' ye.
“Wully woo, pully woo, plump in the mud,” says the little furrener Frinchman—"and sure enough Mrs. Tracle,” says he, that he did — “isn't this gintleman here jist his riverence Sir Pathrick O’Grandison, Knight, and isn't he althegither and entirely the most purticular frind and acquaintance that I have in the houl world?"
And wid that the widdy she gits up from the sofy, and makes the swatest curtchy nor iver was seen; and thin down she gits agin like an angel; and thin, by the powers, it was that little spalpeen Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns that plumped his self right down by the right side of her. Och hon! I ixpicted the two eyes o' me wud ha cum'd out of my head on the spot, I was so dispirate mad! Howiver — “Bait who!” says I, after a while. “Is it there ye are, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns?" and so down I plumped on the lift side of her leddyship, to be aven wid the willain. Botheration! it wud ha done
your heart good to persave the illigant double wink that I gived her jist thin right in the face wid both eyes.
But the little ould Frinchman he niver beginned to suspict me at all at all, and disperate hard it was he made the love to her leddyship. “Woully wou,” says he—“Pully wou,” says he“ Plump in the mud.”
“ That's all to no use, Mounseer Frog, mavourneen,” thinks I; and I talked as hard and as fast as I could all the while ; and troth it was meself jist that divarted her leddyship complately and intirely, by rason of the illigant conversation that I kipt up wid her all about the swate bogs of Connaught. And by and by she giv'd me sich a swate smile, from one ind of her mouth to the other, that it made me as bould as a pig, and I jist took hould of the ind of her little finger in the most dillikittest manner in natur, looking at her all the while out o' the whites of my eyes.
And thin only to persave the cuteness of the swate angel; for no sooner did she obsarve that I was afther the squazing of her flipper, than she up wid it in a jiffy, and put it away behind her back, jist as much as to say, "Now, thin, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, there's a bitther chance for ye, mavourneen; for it's not althegither the gentaal thing to be afther the squazing of my flipper right full in the sight of that little furrenner Frinchman, Mounseer Maiter-didauns."
Wid that I giv'd her a big wink, jist to say,—"Lit Sir Pathrick alone for the likes o' them thricks.” And thin I went aisy to work, and you'd have died wid the divarsion to behould how cliverly I slipped my right arm betwane the back o' the sofy and the back of her leddyship, and there, sure enough, I found a swate little flipper all a-waiting to say, “ The tip o' the mornin' to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Knight." And wasn't it meself, sure, that jist giv'd the laste little bit of a squaze in the world, all in the way of a commincement, and not to be too rough wid her leddyship? — and och, botheration, wasn't it the gentaalest and delikittest of all the little squazes that I got in 'return? “Blood and thunder, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen !” thinks I to meself, “ faith, it's jist the mother's son of you, and nobody else at all at all, that's the handsommest and the fortunittest young bogthrotter that ever cum'd out of Connaught!” And wid that I giv'd the flipper a big squaze - and a big squaze it was, by the powers, that her leddyship giv'd to me back. But it wud ha split the seven sides of you wid the laffin to behould jist thin all at once the consated behaviour of Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns. The likes o'sich a jabbering, and a smirking, and a parly-wouing as he begin'd wid her leddyship, niver was known before upon arth; and divil may burn me if it wasn't my own very two peepers that cotch'd him tipping her the wink out of one eye. Och hon! if it wasn't meself thin that was as mad as a Kilkenny cat, I shud like to be tould who it was !
“Let me infarm you, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns," said I, as purlit as iver ye seed, “that's not the gintaal thing at all at all, and not for the likes o' you inny how, to be after the oggling and a-goggling at her leddy ship in that fashion." And jist wid that such another squaze as it was I giv'd her Aipper, all as much as to say, “ Isn't it Sir Pathrick now, my jewel, that 'll be able to the proticting o' you, my darlint?" And thin there cum'd another squaze back, all by