FROM SETH SHIRTLESS
To the Editor of The Idler.
Dear Sir: I am the victim of a most peculiar affliction. I am suffering from what appears to be a sort of disease and which can not be classified. As I am not able to find the true explanation of this matter myself and as physicians seem to be equally at a loss in regard to it, I have decided to appeal to the public at large in the hope that some one who reads my communication will be able to suggest a cure or at least some method of alleviation.
There is an old saying, Mr.Idler, borrowed from some author, if I mistake not, that “the apparel oft proclaims the man.” This I consider a true saying aptly put; but I believe, Sir, that apparel sometimes does more than proclaim the man—that it sometimes actuallymakesthe man. It is well known that men are often affected by the clothes they wear. Goodclothing has a tendency to inspire confidence in the breast of the wearer, while poor clothing robs a man of his assurance, if not of his self-respect. That all men are more or less subject to the influence of their garments, there can be no doubt, but I, Sir, am peculiarly susceptible to it. It has been so all my life. Even in childhood I became supercilious and insolent with pride when clad in my best, and most envious and depressed the moment I had changed to my every-day wear.
Since I have come to manhood, I have felt this weakness growing upon me despite my most earnest efforts to resist it, until now, Mr.Idler, my character and my wardrobe are so inextricably mixed together that I may be said to change my nature with my clothing. When I am richly dressed Ifeelrich, and my thoughts and sentiments are those of a wealthy person. At such times I am a firm believer in all measures for the protection of property and vested rights. I am a hearty adherent of the established order and I am distinctly suspicious of all so-called reforms and innovations in governmentalmachinery. When, on the other hand, I am dressed shabbily, my views and my feelings undergo a complete change. I am no longer a believer in the sacredness of property rights. Indeed, I look upon all rich men as so many robbers who have seized upon the land and the natural resources which should, of right, be the common property of all mankind. I feel that I have been defrauded of everything they have which I have not. Their insolence vexes me and their display drives me into a very fury of rage which is partly inspired by just indignation and partly by simple envy. At these times I am fiercely radical in politics. No measure of reform can be too revolutionary for my taste. My dearest wish is that the whole social fabric may be rent to shreds and rewoven in a pattern after my democratic heart.
To such extremes of sentiment do my clothes carry me. When I am fashionably clad a Socialistic pamphlet irritates me as a red rag enrages a bull. But when I am poorly dressed and shod,I write such pamphlets. Write them,and, Sir, incredible as it may seem, leave them lying about my quarters for the very purpose of irritating myself, and well knowing that when my eyes light on them while in my conservative frame of mind I shall fall upon them and tear them to tatters. I, Sir, am as a house divided against itself—I am a man at war with his own soul!
You have heard, I doubt not, of the celebrated case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and of other instances of double personality, where men, by reason of contending spirits within them, have been forced to lead double lives. I do not hesitate to say that such are blessed when their lot is compared to my own unhappy state, for I lead, not a double, but atrebleexistence. In addition to these two personalities, which I term for want of a better nomenclature my Aristocratic and my Proletarian selves, I am also possessed of a Normal self which is in evidence only when I am completely disrobed.
Can you fancy, Sir, what this means to me? Can you imagine in what straits a man must bewho can think clearly and logically only when he is naked, and who, before he can decide upon any matter of importance, must hurry home and throw off his clothes lest he be led astray by rabid prejudice or blind enthusiasm? That, Sir, is precisely my situation. When I awake in the morning I am compelled to make a choice between my two antagonistic personalities. My wardrobe stares me in the face as if asking the eternal question, “Which is it to be to-day—Aristocrat or Proletariat?” Always, upon falling asleep at night, I am haunted by the specter of the ordeal which awaits me in the morning.
In addition to this, my Aristocratic and my Proletarian selves have recently conceived a violent dislike for each other and they have begun to vent their spite in many petty ways, much to the disgust of my Normal self who has small use for either of them. For example, about a fortnight ago, my Proletarian self indulged himself freely in gin, a drink which is loathsome to my Aristocratic self. He stayedin this condition for a matter of four days and upon his return to my—perhaps I should sayourchambers, he wantonly destroyed a new top hat which my Aristocratic self had carelessly left lying upon the hall table. By way of retaliation, my Aristocratic self seized some overalls belonging to my Proletarian self and flung them into the ash-barrel. Altogether, they behave, Sir, in a fashion to make me thoroughly ashamed of them both.
Possibly you are wondering how it comes that I am in the habit of changing my clothing so frequently and varying the quality of my dress in this way. I may as well tell you that for many years I was a professional politician, much in demand as an orator, and that I was called to speak before audiences of widely different character, so that I sometimes found it expedient to dress in evening clothes and at other times it was necessary for me to appear a workingman. My constantly changing political convictions made it impossible for me to continue in this work, but by the time I gave itup I had come to know these two personalities so well that I was unwilling to trust myself for long in the hands of either of them. I have thought of purchasing a decent outfit of ready-to-wear clothing, but I realize that the result of such a step would be to render me hopelessly middle-class, a condition I have hitherto escaped. I have no desire to add a fourth personality to those I already possess.
I have consulted my tailor without good result, and the best that my physician has been able to do for me was to suggest a period of rest in the country. I am now very comfortably lodged in a quiet house in the suburbs, where I came upon the advice of my doctor and two of his colleagues with whom I discussed my trouble.
I am very well content here for a man who is virtually a prisoner. Not that I am confined by force, Sir, but I have determined never to put on another suit of clothes until I have solved the problem which confronts me, and I can not leave my room without dressing; the landlord of this place objects to my doing so. Here,then, I expect to remain until I hit upon some solution of my difficulty or until some other person is good enough to suggest a way out of my dilemma. I am, Sir,
Seth Shirtless.