Nor will the dandy express merely a crude
idea of his personality, as does, for example, Mr. Hall Caine,
dressing himself always and exactly after one pattern. Every day as
his mood has changed since his last toilet, he will vary the colour,
texture, form of his costume. Fashion does not rob him of free will.
It leaves him liberty of all expression. Every day there is not one
accessory, from the butterfly that alights above his shirt front to
the jewels planted in his linen, that will not symbolise the mood that
is in him or the occasion of the coming day.
On this, the psychological side of foppery, I know not one so expert
as him whom, not greatly caring for contemporary names, I will call
Mr. Le V. No hero-worshipper am I, but I cannot write without
enthusiasm of his simple life. He has not spurred his mind to the
quest of shadows nor vexed his soul in the worship of any gods. No
woman has wounded his heart, though he has gazed gallantly into the
eyes of many women, intent, I fancy, upon his own miniature there. Nor
is the incomparable set of his trousers spoilt by the perching of any
dear little child upon his knee. And so, now that he is stricken with
seventy years, he knows none of the bitterness of eld, for his toilet-
table is an imperishable altar, his wardrobe a quiet nursery and very
constant harem.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41