well.' Those are true words. They are, perhaps, the only true words in
Sartor Resartus. And I speak with some authority. For I found the key
to that empty book, long ago, in the lock of the author's empty
wardrobe. His hat, that is still preserved in Chelsea, formed an
important clue.

But (behold!) as we repeat the true words of Teufelsdro"ck, there
comes Monsieur Barbey D'Aurevilly, that gentle moqueur, drawling, with
a wave of his hand, `Les esprits qui ne voient pas les choses que par
leur plus petit co^te', ont imagine' que le Dandysme e'tait surtout
l'art de la mise, une heureuse et audacieuse dictature en fait de
toilette et d'e'le'gance exte'rieure. Tre`s-certainement c'est cela
aussi, mais c'est bien davantage. Le Dandysme est toute une manie`re
d'e^tre et l'on n'est pas que par la co^te' mate'riellement visible.
C'est une manie`re d'e^tre entie`rement compose'e de nuances, comme il
arrive toujours dans les socie'te's tre`s-vieilles et tre`s-
civilise'es.' It is a pleasure to argue with so suave a subtlist, and
we say to him that this comprehensive definition does not please us.
We say we think he errs.

Not that Monsieur's analysis of the dandiacal mind is worthless by any
means. Nor, when he declares that George Brummell was the supreme king
of the dandies and fut le dandysme me^me, can I but piously lay one
hand upon the brim of my hat, the other upon my heart. But it is as an
artist, and for his supremacy in the art of costume, and for all he
did to gain the recognition of costume as in itself an art, and for
that superb taste and subtle simplicity of mode whereby he was able to
expel, at length, the Byzantine spirit of exuberance which had
possessed St. James's and wherefore he is justly called the Father of
Modern Costume, that I do most deeply revere him. It is not a little