DANDY*O*RAMA - Charles Annesley (Disraeli)

We have forgotten the most important personage. It is the first time in his life that Charles Annesley has been neglected. It will do him good.

Dandy has been voted vulgar, and beau is now the word. It may be doubted whether the revival will stand; and as for the exploded title, though it had its faults at first, the muse of Byron has made it not only English, but classical. Charles Annesley could hardly be called a dandy or a beau. There was nothing in his dress--though some mysterious arrangement in his costume, some rare simplicity, some curious happiness, always made it distinguished--there was nothing, however, in his dress, which could account for the influence which he exercised over the manners of his contemporaries. Charles Annesley was about thirty. He had inherited from his father, a younger brother, a small estate; and, though heir to a wealthy earldom, he had never abused what the world called 'his prospects.' Yet his establishment, his little house in Mayfair, his horses, his moderate stud at Melton, were all unique, and everything connected with him was unparalleled for its elegance, its invention, and its refinement. But his manner was his magic. His natural and subdued nonchalance, so different from the assumed non-emotion of a mere dandy; his coldness of heart, which was hereditary, not acquired; his cautious courage, and his unadulterated self-love, had permitted him to mingle much with mankind without being too deeply involved in the play of their passions; while his exquisite sense of the ridiculous quickly revealed those weaknesses to him which his delicate satire did not spare, even while it refrained from wounding. All feared, marry admired, and none hated him. He was too powerful not to dread, too dexterous not to admire, too superior to hate. Perhaps the great secret of his manner
was his exquisite superciliousness, a quality which, of all, is the most difficult to manage. Even with his intimates he was never confidential,
and perpetually assumed his public character with the private coterie which he loved to rule. On the whole, he was unlike any of the leading men of modern days, and rather reminded one of the fine gentlemen of our old brilliant comedy, the Dorimants, the Bellairs, and the Mirabels.

Benjamin Disraeli: The Young Duke.

DANDY*O*RAMA - Count Alcibiades de Mirabel (Disraeli)

The Count Mirabel could talk at all times, and at all times well. Practised in the world, the Count Mirabel was nevertheless the child of impulse, though a native grace, and an intuitive knowledge of mankind, made every word pleasing and every act appropriate. The Count Mirabel was gay, careless, generous. It seemed that the Count Mirabel's feelings grew daily more fresh, and his faculty of enjoyment more keen and relishing.

»I live to amuse myself, and I do nothing that does not amuse me.«

The Count stood before him, the best-dressed man in London, fresh and gay as a bird, with not a care on his sparkling visage, and his eye bright with bonhomie. Care he knew nothing about; Time he defied; indisposition he could not comprehend. He had never been ill in his life, even for five minutes. Ferdinand was really very glad to see him; there was something in Count Mirabel's very presence which put everybody in good spirits. His lightheartedness was caught by all. Melancholy was a farce in the presence of his smile; and there was no possible combination of scrapes that could withstand his kind and brilliant raillery. Ceremony was a farce with Alcibiades de Mirabel.

He had the most perfect cabriolet in London. Ferdinand enjoyed his gaiety, as he listened to his light, lively tales, and his flying remarks, so full of merriment and poignant truth and daring fancy. Count Mirabel, who had the finest tact in the world.

Benjamin Disraeli: Henrietta Temple.

DANDY*O*RAMA - Sir Ferdinand Armine, the younger (Disraeli)

At ten years of age he was one of those spirited and at the same time docile boys, who seem to combine with the wild and careless grace of childhood the thoughtfulness and self-discipline of maturer age. In the village, where he was idolised, they called him 'the little prince;' he was so gentle and so generous, so kind and yet so dignified in his
demeanour. He developed a taste for the fine arts. It was his mother who taught him not only to sing, but to dance. Ferdinand could not have found a more skilful instructor than his father, a consummate sportsman, and who, like all his ancestors, was remarkable for his finished horsemanship and the certainty of his aim. Ferdinand Armine was early and ever taught to be sincere, dutiful, charitable, and just.
With great gifts of nature, with lively and highly cultivated talents, and a most affectionate and disciplined temper, he was adored by the friends. There were moments when Ferdinand Armine loved to be alone.

Nature, that had endowed him with a fiery imagination and a reckless courage. Ferdinand Armine was, in truth, a singular blending of the daring and the soft. He asked himself if he had not inherited the energies with the name of his grandsire, and if their exertion might not yet revive the glories of his line. He felt within him alike the power and the will.

Young, lively, kind, accomplished, good-looking, and well-bred, Ferdinand Armine had in him all the elements of popularity. Never was a person so popular as Ferdinand Armine. He was the best rider among them, and the deadliest shot; and he soon became an oracle at the billiard-table, and a hero in the racquet-court. His refined education, however, fortunately preserved him from the fate of many other lively youths: he did not degenerate into a mere hero of sports and brawls, the genius of male revels, the arbiter of roistering suppers, and the Comus of a club. Excited by his situation, Ferdinand was soon tempted to incur expenses which his income did not justify. The facility of credit afforded him not a moment to pause; everything he wanted was furnished him.

No one had been educated with more care than Ferdinand Armine; in no heart had stricter precepts of moral conduct ever been instilled. But he was lively and impetuous, with a fiery imagination, violent passions, and a daring soul. Sanguine he was as the day. He broke into profuse expenditure; he purchased a yacht; he engaged a villa; his racing-horses and his servants exceeded all other establishments, except the Governor's, in breeding, in splendour, and in number.

No one, indeed, who knew Ferdinand Armine could deny that he was a rare being.

»'Oh! my dear, I met a charming man there, I forget his name, but the most distinguished person I ever met; so very handsome, so very witty, and with blood in his veins«, says Lady Bellair about Ferdinand Armine.

»The truth is, Captain Armine has been wild, very wild indeed; a little of a roué; but then such a fine young man, so very handsome, so truly distinguished«, added Mrs. Montgomery Floyd.

Benjamin Disraeli: Henrietta Temple

DANDY*O*RAMA - Sir Ferdinand Armine, the elder (Disraeli)

At length arose, in the person of the last Sir Ferdinand Armine, one of those extraordinary and rarely gifted beings who require only an opportunity to influence the fortunes of their nation, and to figure as a Cæsar or an Alcibiades. Beautiful, brilliant, and ambitious, the young and restless Armine quitted, in his eighteenth year, the house of his fathers, and his stepdame of a country, and entered the Imperial service. His blood and creed gained him a flattering reception; his skill and valour soon made him distinguished. The world rang with stories of his romantic bravery, his gallantries, his eccentric manners, and his political intrigues, for he nearly contrived to be elected King of Poland. Whether it were disgust at being foiled in this high object by the influence of Austria, or whether, as was much whispered at the time, he had dared to urge his insolent and unsuccessful suit on a still more delicate subject to the Empress Queen herself, certain it is that Sir Ferdinand suddenly quitted the Imperial service, and appeared at
Constantinople in person.
(...) the English baronet soon rose high in the favour of the Sultan, assumed the Turkish dress, conformed to the Turkish customs, and finally, led against Austria a division of the Turkish army. Having gratified his pique by defeating the Imperial forces in a sanguinary engagement, and obtaining a favourable peace for the Porte, Sir Ferdinand Armine doffed his turban, and suddenly reappeared in his native country.

After the sketch we have given of the last ten years of his life, it is unnecessary to observe that Sir Ferdinand Armine immediately became what is called fashionable; and, as he was now in Protestant England, the empire of fashion was the only one in which the young Catholic could distinguish himself.

He was never content except when he was astonishing mankind; and while he was apparently exerting all his efforts to become a King of Poland, a Roman cardinal, or an English peer, the crown, the coronet, and the scarlet hat were in truth ever secondary points with him, compared to the sensation throughout Europe which the effort was contrived and calculated to ensure.

(...) he remained quiet for several years, until, on the breaking out of the French Revolution, he hastened to Paris, became a member of the Jacobin Club, and of the National Convention. (...) He was hurried to the guillotine, and met his fate with the greatest composure.

Benjamin Disraeli: Henrietta Temple.

DANDY*O*RAMA: Frédérick Hombert (Alfred de Musset)

Frédérick mietete sich nicht mehr im Quartier Latin ein; er hatte im Justizpalast zu tun und nahm daher ein Zimmer nahe beim Quai aux Fleurs. Kaum eingezogen, besuchte ihn sein Freund Gérard. Der hatte, während er fort war, eine beträchtliche Erbschaft gemacht. Durch den Tod eines alten Onkels wurde er ein reicher Mann, hatte Pferd und Wagen, eine geräumige Wohnung in der Chaussee d'Antin und eine hübsche Geliebte. Er sah viele junge Leute bei sich und spielte mit ihnen den ganzen Tag und zuweilen auch die ganze Nacht. Er besuchte Bälle, Schauspiele, Ausflüge und wandelte sich von dem bescheidenen Studenten zu einem begehrten jungen Herrn.

Frédérick vernachlässigte seine Studien nicht; aber er wurde doch in den Strudel hineingezogen, in dem sein Freund lebte. Bald lernte er die Vergnüglichkeiten der Chaumière verachten; denn dort ging die sogenannte jeunesse dorée nicht hin.

Er verkehrte mit Spielern, leichtsinnigen Brüdern und Leuten, die lächelnd von zweihundert Louis letztnächtlichem Verlust erzählten. Er war mit ihnen die Nacht durch zusammen und sah sie, die zwölf Stunden hindurch Wein tranken und Karten mischten, am nächsten Tage wieder, wie sie Toilette machten und sich fragten, welches die Vergnügungen des neuen Tages sein würden. Er wurde zu Soupers eingeladen, wo jeder eine bezahlte Frau zur Seite hatte, mit der er nicht sprach und die er nach Hause mitnahm wie einen Stock oder einen Hut. Er machte alle Unsinnigkeiten und Abwechslungen eines Lebens mit, das leicht war, unbekümmert unter dem Schild der Schwermut und geführt von einigen wenigen Auserwählten, die nur durch den Genuß zu den übrigen Menschen zu gehören scheinen.

Er hatte zum Spielen nicht genug und spielte. Zu seinem Unglück gewann er auch noch am Anfang und konnte dann seinen Gewinn verlieren. Früher ließ er bei einem alten Schneider in Besançon arbeiten, der seit vielen Jahren für die Familie lieferte. Jetzt schrieb er ihm, daß er seine Anzüge nicht mehr wolle, und nahm einen modernen Pariser Schneider. Bald auch fand er nicht mehr Zeit für den Justizpalast; denn die jungen Leute, die den ganzen Tag über nichts zu tun haben, finden nicht einmal Zeit, eine Zeitung zu lesen. Er verlegte seine Tätigkeit auf den Boulevard, speiste im Café, ging in den Bois, hatte schöne Anzüge und Goldstücke in der Tasche. Zu einem vollendeten Dandy fehlte ihm nur noch ein Pferd und eine Geliebte.

Aus: Alfred de Musset: "Frédérick und Bernerette" In: Ders.: Sämtliche Romane und Erzählungen. Wiesbaden: Drei Lilien Verlag, 1980.