A plentiful fortune is reckoned necessary, in the popular judgment, to the
completion of this man of the world; and it is a material deputy which walks
through the dance which the first has led. Money is not essential, but this wide
affinity is, which transcends the habits of clique and caste and makes itself
felt by men of all classes. If the aristocrat is only valid in fashionable
circles and not with truckmen, he will never be a leader in fashion; and if the
man of the people cannot speak on equal terms with the gentleman, so that the
gentleman shall perceive that he is already really of his own order, he is not
to be feared. Diogenes, Socrates, and Epaminondas, are gentlemen of the best
blood who have chosen the condition of poverty when that of wealth was equally
open to them. I use these old names, but the men I speak of are my
contemporaries. Fortune will not supply to every generation one of these
well-appointed knights, but every collection of men furnishes some example of
the class; and the politics of this country, and the trade of every town, are
controlled by these hardy and irresponsible doers, who have invention to take
the lead, and a broad sympathy which puts them in fellowship with crowds, and
makes their action popular.
The manners of this class are observed and caught with devotion by men of taste.
The association of these masters with each other and with men intelligent of
their merits, is mutually agreeable and stimulating. The good forms, the
happiest expressions of each, are repeated and adopted. By swift consent
everything superfluous is dropped, everything graceful is renewed. Fine manners
show themselves formidable to the uncultivated man. They are a subtler science
of defence to parry and intimidate; but once matched by the skill of the other
party, they drop the point of the sword, --points and fences disappear, and the
youth finds himself in a more transparent atmosphere, wherein life is a less
troublesome game, and not a misunderstanding rises between the players. Manners
aim to facilitate life, to get rid of impediments and bring the man pure to
energize. They aid our dealing and conversation as a railway aids travelling, by
getting rid of all avoidable obstructions of the road and leaving nothing to be
conquered but pure space. These forms very soon become fixed, and a fine sense
of propriety is cultivated with the more heed that it becomes a badge of social
and civil distinctions. Thus grows up Fashion, an equivocal semblance, the most
puissant, the most fantastic and frivolous, the most feared and followed, and
which morals and violence assault in vain.
There exists a strict relation between the class of power and the exclusive and
polished circles. The last are always filled or filling from the first. The
strong men usually give some allowance even to the petulances of fashion, for
that affinity they find in it. Napoleon, child of the revolution, destroyer of
the old noblesse, never ceased to court the Faubourg St. Germain; doubtless with
the feeling that fashion is a homage to men of his stamp. Fashion, though in a
strange way, represents all manly virtue. It is virtue gone to seed: it is a
kind of posthumous honor. It does not often caress the great, but the children
of the great: it is a hall of the Past. It usually sets its face against the
great of this hour. Great men are not commonly in its halls; they are absent in
the field: they are working, not triumphing. Fashion is made up of their
children; of those who through the value and virtue of somebody, have acquired
lustre to their name, marks of distinction, means of cultivation and generosity,
and, in their physical organization a certain health and excellence which
secures to them, if not the highest power to work, yet high power to enjoy. The
class of power, the working heroes, the Cortez, the Nelson, the Napoleon, see
that this is the festivity and permanent celebration of such as they; that
fashion is funded talent; is Mexico, Marengo, and Trafalgar beaten out thin;
that the brilliant names of fashion run back to just such busy names as their
own, fifty or sixty years ago. They are the sowers, their sons shall be the
reapers, and their sons, in the ordinary course of things, must yield the
possession of the harvest to new competitors with keener eyes and stronger
frames. The city is recruited from the country. In the year 1805, it is said,
every legitimate monarch in Europe was imbecile. The city would have died out,
rotted, and exploded, long ago, but that it was reinforced from the fields. It
is only country which came to town day before yesterday that is city and court
today.
Aristocracy and fashion are certain inevitable results. These mutual selections
are indestructible. If they provoke anger in the least favored class, and the
excluded majority revenge themselves on the excluding minority by the strong
hand and kill them, at once a new class finds itself at the top, as certainly as
cream rises in a bowl of milk: and if the people should destroy class after
class, until two men only were left, one of these would be the leader and would
be involuntarily served and copied by the other. You may keep this minority out
of sight and out of mind, but it is tenacious of life, and is one of the estates
of the realm. I am the more struck with this tenacity, when I see its work. It
respects the administration of such unimportant matters, that we should not look
for any durability in its rule. We sometimes meet men under some strong moral
influence, as a patriotic, a literary, a religious movement, and feel that the
moral sentiment rules man and nature. We think all other distinctions and ties
will be slight and fugitive, this of caste or fashion for example; yet come from
year to year and see how permanent that is, in this Boston or New York life of
man, where too it has not the least countenance from the law of the land. Not in
Egypt or in India a firmer or more impassable line. Here are associations whose
ties go over and under and through it, a meeting of merchants, a military corps,
a college class, a fire-club, a professional association, a political, a
religious convention;--the persons seem to draw inseparably near; yet, that
assembly once dispersed, its members will not in the year meet again. Each
returns to his degree in the scale of good society, porcelain remains porcelain,
and earthen earthen. The objects of fashion may be frivolous, or fashion may be
objectless, but the nature of this union and selection can be neither frivolous
nor accidental. Each man's rank in that perfect graduation depends on some
symmetry in his structure or some agreement in his structure to the symmetry of
society. Its doors unbar instantaneously to a natural claim of their own kind. A
natural gentleman finds his way in, and will keep the oldest patrician out who
has lost his intrinsic rank. Fashion understands itself; good-breeding and
personal superiority of whatever country readily fraternize with those of every
other. The chiefs of savage tribes have distinguished themselves in London and
Paris, by the purity of their tournure.
To say what good of fashion we can, it rests on reality, and hates nothing so
much as pretenders; to exclude and mystify pretenders and send them into
everlasting 'Coventry,' is its delight. We contemn in turn every other gift of
men of the world; but the habit even in little and the least matters of not
appealing to any but our own sense of propriety, constitutes the foundation of
all chivalry. There is almost no kind of self-reliance, so it be sane and
proportioned, which fashion does not occasionally adopt and give it the freedom
of its saloons. A sainted soul is always elegant, and, if it will, passes
unchallenged into the most guarded ring. But so will Jock the teamster pass, in
some crisis that brings him thither, and find favor, as long as his head is not
giddy with the new circumstance, and the iron shoes do not wish to dance in
waltzes and cotillons. For there is nothing settled in manners, but the laws of
behavior yield to the energy of the individual. The maiden at her first ball,
the country-man at a city dinner, believes that there is a ritual according to
which every act and compliment must be performed, or the failing party must be
cast out of this presence. Later they learn that good sense and character make
their own forms every moment, and speak or abstain, take wine or refuse it, stay
or go, sit in a chair or sprawl with children on the floor, or stand on their
head, or what else soever, in a new and aboriginal way; and that strong will is
always in fashion, let who will be unfashionable. All that fashion demands is
composure and self-content. A circle of men perfectly well-bred would be a
company of sensible persons in which every man's native manners and character
appeared. If the fashionist have not this quality, he is nothing. We are such
lovers of self-reliance that we excuse in a man many sins if he will show us a
complete satisfaction in his position, which asks no leave to be, of mine, or
any man's good opinion. But any deference to some eminent man or woman of the
world, forfeits all privilege of nobility. He is an underling: I have nothing to
do with him; I will speak with his master. A man should not go where he cannot
carry his whole sphere or society with him,--not bodily, the whole circle of his
friends, but atmospherically. He should preserve in a new company the same
attitude of mind and reality of relation which his daily associates draw him to,
else he is shorn of his best beams, and will be an orphan in the merriest club.
"If you could see Vich Ian Vohr with his tail on!--" But Vich Ian Vohr must
always carry his belongings in some fashion, if not added as honor, then severed
as disgrace.
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