First, touching Dandies, let us consider, with some scientific strictness, what a Dandy specially is.  A Dandy is a Clothes-wearing Man, a Man whose trade, office and existence consists in the wearing of Clothes.  Every faculty of his soul, spirit, purse and person is heroically consecrated to this one object, the wearing of Clothes wisely and well:  so that as others dress to live, he lives to dress.  The all-importance of Clothes, which a German Professor, of unequalled learning and acumen, writes his enormous Volume to demonstrate, has sprung up in the intellect of the Dandy without effort, like an instinct of genius; he is inspired with Cloth, a Poet of Cloth.  What Teufelsdrockh would call a “Divine Idea of Cloth” is born with him; and this, like other such Ideas, will express itself outwardly, or wring his heart asunder with unutterable throes.

But, like a generous, creative enthusiast, he fearlessly makes his Idea an Action; shows himself in peculiar guise to mankind; walks forth, a witness and living Martyr to the eternal worth of Clothes.  We called him a Poet:  is not his body the (stuffed) parchment-skin whereon he writes, with cunning Huddersfield dyes, a Sonnet to his mistress’ eyebrow?  Say, rather, an Epos, and Clotha Virumque cano, to the whole world, in Macaronic verses, which he that runs may read.  Nay, if you grant, what seems to be admissible, that the Dandy has a Thinking-principle in him, and some notions of Time and Space, is there not in this life-devotedness to Cloth, in this so willing sacrifice of the Immortal to the Perishable, something (though in reverse order) of that blending and identification of Eternity with Time, which, as we have seen, constitutes the Prophetic character?

And now, for all this perennial Martyrdom, and Poesy, and even Prophecy, what is it that the Dandy asks in return?  Solely, we may say, that you would recognize his existence; would admit him to be a living object; or even failing this, a visual object, or thing that will reflect rays of light.  Your silver or your gold (beyond what the niggardly Law has already secured him) he solicits not; simply the glance of your eyes.  Understand his mystic significance, or altogether miss and misinterpret it; do but look at him, and he is contented.  May we not well cry shame on an ungrateful world, which refuses even this poor boon; which will waste its optic faculty on dried Crocodiles, and Siamese Twins; and over the domestic wonderful wonder of wonders, a live Dandy, glance with hasty indifference, and a scarcely concealed contempt!  Him no Zoologist classes among the Mammalia, no Anatomist dissects with care:  when did we see any injected Preparation of the Dandy in our Museums; any specimen of him preserved in spirits!  Lord Herringbone may dress himself in a snuff-brown suit, with snuff-brown shirt and shoes:  it skills not; the undiscerning public, occupied with grosser wants, passes by regardless on the other side.