PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 1.
SEPTEMBER 5, 1841.
THE GENTLEMAN’S OWN BOOK.
Our consideration must now be given tothose essentials in the construction of a true gentleman—thecut, ornaments, and pathology of his dress.
THE CUT
is to the garment what the royal head and arms are to thecoin—the insignia that give it currency. No matter what thematerial, gold or copper, Saxony or sackcloth, the die imparts avalue to the one, and the shears to the other.
Ancient Greece still lives in its marble demi-gods; thevivifying chisel of Phidias was thought worthy to typify thesublimity of Jupiter; the master-hand of Canova wrought the Parianblock into the semblance of the sea-born goddess, giving toinsensate stone the warmth and etheriality of the Paphian paragon;and Stultz, with his grace-bestowing shears, has fashioned West ofEngland broad-cloths, and fancy goods, into all the nobility andgentility of the “Blue Book,” the “CourtGuide,” the “Army, Navy, and Law Lists, for1841.”
Wondrous and kindred arts! The sculptor wrests the rugged blockfrom the rocky ribs of his mother earth;—the tailor clips theimplicated “long hogs”11. The first growth of wool. from the prolificbacks of the living mutton;—the toothless saw, plied by anunweayring hand, prepares the stubborn mass for the chisel’stracery;—the loom, animated by steam (that gigantic child ofWallsend and water), twists and twines the unctuous and pliantfleece into the silky Saxony.
The sculptor, seated in his studio, throws loose thereins of his imagination, and, conjuring up some perfect ideality,seeks to impress the beautiful illusion on the rude and undigestedmass before him. The tailor spreads out, upon his ample board, thehappy broadcloth; his eyes scan the “measured proportions ofhis client,” and, with mystic power, guides the obedientpipe-clay into the graceful diagram of a perfect gentleman. Thesculptor, with all the patient perseverance of genius, conscious ofthe greatness of its object, chips, and chips, and chips, from dayto day; and as the stone quickens at each touch, he glows with allthe pride of the creative Prometheus, mingled with the gentlerecstacies of paternal love. The tailor, with fresh-ground shears,and perfect faith in the gentility and solvency of his“client,” snips, and snips, and snips, until the“superfine” grows, with each abscission, into the firststyle of elegance and fashion, and the excited schneider feelshimself “every inch a king,” his shop a herald’scollege, and every brown paper pattern garnishing its walls, anescutcheon of gentility.
But to dismount from our Pegasus, or, in other words, to cut thepoetry, and come to the practice of our subject, it is necessarythat a perfect gentleman should be cut up very high, orcut down very low—i.e., up to the marquisor down to the jarvey. Any intermediate style is perfectlyinadmissible; for who above the grade of an attorney would wear acoat with pockets inserted in the tails, like salt-boxes; or anybut an incipient Esculapius indulge in trousers that evinced amorbid ambition to become knee-breeches, and were only restrainedin their aspirations by a pair of most strenuous straps. We willnow proceed to details.
The dressing-gown should be cut