Cum pulchris tunicis sumet nova consilia et spes.--Horace.
And look always that they be shape, What garment that thou shalt make Of
him that can best do With all that pertaineth thereto.--Romaunt of the
Rose
How well I can remember the feelings with which I entered London, and
took possession of the apartments prepared for me at Mivart’s. A year
had made a vast alteration in my mind; I had ceased to regard pleasure
for its own sake, I rather coveted its enjoyments, as the great sources
of worldly distinction. I was not the less a coxcomb than heretofore,
nor the less a voluptuary, nor the less choice in my perfumes, nor the
less fastidious in my horses and my dress; but I viewed these matters
in a light wholly different from that in which I had hitherto regarded
them. Beneath all the carelessness of my exterior, my mind was close,
keen, and inquiring; and under the affectations of foppery, and the
levity of a manner almost unique, for the effeminacy of its tone, I
veiled an ambition the most extensive in its object, and a resolution
the most daring in the accomplishment of its means.
I was still lounging over my breakfast, on the second morning of my
arrival, when Mr. N--, the tailor, was announced.
“Good morning, Mr. Pelham; happy to see you returned. Do I disturb you
too early? shall I wait on you again?”
“No, Mr. N--, I am ready to receive you; you may renew my measure.”
“We are a very good figure, Mr. Pelham; very good figure,” replied the
Schneider, surveying me from head to foot, while he was preparing his
measure; “we want a little assistance though; we must be padded well
here; we must have our chest thrown out, and have an additional inch
across the shoulders; we must live for effect in this world, Mr. Pelham;
a leetle tighter round the waist, eh?”
“Mr. N--,” said I, “you will take, first, my exact measure, and,
secondly, my exact instructions. Have you done the first?”
“We are done now, Mr. Pelham,” replied my man-maker, in a slow, solemn
tone.
“You will have the goodness then to put no stuffing of any description
in my coat; you will not pinch me an iota tighter across the waist
than is natural to that part of my body, and you will please, in your
infinite mercy, to leave me as much after the fashion in which God made
me, as you possibly can.”
“But, Sir, we must be padded; we are much too thin; all the gentlemen in
the Life Guards are padded, Sir.”
“Mr. N--,” answered I, “you will please to speak of us, with a separate,
and not a collective pronoun; and you will let me for once have my
clothes such as a gentleman, who, I beg of you to understand, is not a
Life Guardsman, can wear without being mistaken for a Guy Fawkes on a
fifth of November.”
Mr. N--looked very discomfited: “We shall not be liked, Sir, when we are
made--we sha’n’t, I assure you. I will call on Saturday at 11 o’clock.
Good morning, Mr. Pelham; we shall never be done justice to, if we do
not live for effect; good morning, Mr. Pelham.”
Scarcely had Mr. N--retired, before Mr.--, his rival, appeared. The
silence and austerity of this importation from Austria, were very
refreshing after the orations of Mr. N--.
“Two frock-coats, Mr.--,” said I, “one of them brown, velvet collar same
colour; the other, dark grey, no stuffing, and finished by Wednesday.
Good morning, Mr.--.”
“Monsieur B--, un autre tailleur,” said Bedos, opening the door after
Mr. S.’s departure.
“Admit him,” said I. “Now for the most difficult article of dress--the
waistcoat.”
And here, as I am weary of tailors, let me reflect a little upon that
divine art of which they are the professors. Alas, for the instability
of all human sciences! A few short months ago, in the first edition of
this memorable Work, I laid down rules for costume, the value of which,
Fashion begins already to destroy. The thoughts which I shall now
embody, shall be out of the reach of that great innovator, and
applicable not to one age, but to all. To the sagacious reader, who has
already discovered what portions of this work are writ in irony--what
in earnest--I fearlessly commit these maxims; beseeching him to believe,
with Sterne, that “every thing is big with jest, and has wit in it, and
instruction too, if we can but find it out!”
MAXIMS.
1. Do not require your dress so much to fit, as to adorn you. Nature is
not to be copied, but to be exalted by art. Apelles blamed Protogenes
for being too natural.
2. Never in your dress altogether desert that taste which is general.
The world considers eccentricity in great things, genius; in small
things, folly.
3. Always remember that you dress to fascinate others, not yourself.
4. Keep your mind free from all violent affections at the hour of the
toilet. A philosophical serenity is perfectly necessary to success.
Helvetius says justly, that our errors arise from our passions.
5. Remember that none but those whose courage is unquestionable,
can venture to be effeminate. It was only in the field that the
Lacedemonians were accustomed to use perfumes and curl their hair.
6. Never let the finery of chains and rings seem your own choice; that
which naturally belongs to women should appear only worn for their sake.
We dignify foppery, when we invest it with a sentiment.
7. To win the affection of your mistress, appear negligent in your
costume--to preserve it, assiduous: the first is a sign of the passion
of love; the second, of its respect.
8. A man must be a profound calculator to be a consummate dresser. One
must not dress the same, whether one goes to a minister or a mistress;
an avaricious uncle, or an ostentatious cousin: there is no diplomacy
more subtle than that of dress.
9. Is the great man whom you would conciliate a coxcomb?--go to him in
a waistcoat like his own. “Imitation,” says the author of Lacon, “is the
sincerest flattery.”
10. The handsome may be shewy in dress, the plain should study to
be unexceptionable; just as in great men we look for something to
admire--in ordinary men we ask for nothing to forgive.
11. There is a study of dress for the aged, as well as for the young.
Inattention is no less indecorous in one than in the other; we may
distinguish the taste appropriate to each, by the reflection that youth
is made to be loved--age, to be respected.
12. A fool may dress gaudily, but a fool cannot dress well--for to
dress well requires judgment; and Rochefaucault says with truth, “On
est quelquefois un sot avec de l’esprit, mais on ne lest jamais avec du
jugement.”
13. There may be more pathos in the fall of a collar, or the curl of a
lock, than the shallow think for. Should we be so apt as we are now to
compassionate the misfortunes, and to forgive the insincerity of Charles
I., if his pictures had pourtrayed him in a bob wig and a pigtail?
Vandyke was a greater sophist than Hume.
14. The most graceful principle of dress is neatness--the most vulgar is
preciseness.
15. Dress contains the two codes of morality--private and public.
Attention is the duty we owe to others--cleanliness that which we owe to
ourselves.
16. Dress so that it may never be said of you “What a well dressed
man!”--but, “What a gentlemanlike man!”
17. Avoid many colours; and seek, by some one prevalent and quiet tint,
to sober down the others. Apelles used only four colours, and always
subdued those which were more florid, by a darkening varnish.
18. Nothing is superficial to a deep observer! It is in trifles that the
mind betrays itself. “In what part of that letter,” said a king to the
wisest of living diplomatists, “did you discover irresolution?”--“In its
ns and gs!” was the answer.
19. A very benevolent man will never shock the feelings of others, by an
excess either of inattention or display; you may doubt, therefore, the
philanthropy both of a sloven and a fop.
20. There is an indifference to please in a stocking down at heel--but
there may be a malevolence in a diamond ring.
21. Inventions in dressing should resemble Addison’s definition of fine
writing, and consists of “refinements which are natural, without being
obvious.”
22. He who esteems trifles for themselves, is a trifler--he who esteems
them for the conclusions to be drawn from them, or the advantage to
which they can be put, is a philosopher.