Spruce, Handsome, Decent

Robert Burton lists neat dressing as among the cures for melancholy, and poor dressing as a cause for dejection, Anatomy of Melancholy (Pt.2, Sec. 5):

Let him not be alone or idle (in any kind of melancholy), but still accompanied with such friends and familiars he most affects, neatly dressed, washed, and combed, according to his ability at least, in clean sweet linen, spruce, handsome, decent, and good apparel; for nothing sooner dejects a man than want, squalor, and nastiness, foul or old clothes out of fashion.

More Clothes from Trees

This passage from the Natural History of Pliny the Elder mentions a tree in Africa which had leaves that clothing could be made from — (Trans.) Book 5, section 14:

[Seutinonius Paulinus] further adds that the lower slopes [of the Atlas Mountains] are filled with dense forests of tall trees of an unknown species: they have very tall trunks notable for their sheen and freedom from knots. Their leaves, like those of the cypress except for the heavy scent, are covered with a thin down, from which, with a suitable technique, clothing can be made just like that derived from the silk worm.

It reminded me of a passage from Typee, given here, in which Melville describes the Polynesians’ manufacture of “tappa” from trees. In that case, though, the fabric was made from the branches, not the leaves.

Frescoes and History of S-211

So in Caro I came across a brief description of the fresco in S-211 (the office LBJ came to adopt as majority leader) — Master of the Senate (1018-1019):

On its high ceilings, above its big crystal chandelier, were frescoes (as soon as he chose the office, painters began touching them up) of boys carrying baskets of flowers and young maidens reclining on couches: a Roman emperor’s banquet. Reporters began referring to it as “The Emperor’s Room” before coining another name, which stuck: “the Taj Mahal.”

Searching for more information I come across, in Google Books (here), the book “Mike Mansfield, Majority Leader: A Different Kind of Senate, 1961-1976″, which indicates the fresco was made by Constantino Brumidi:

As majority leader Johnson had occupied the Brumidi room. Located immediately off the senate floor, the room was opulent in size and decor. it dated back to the construction of the Senate wing of the Capitol in the mid-nineteenth century. Its high, arched ceiling was lavished with the imposing frescoes of the Italian painter, Constantino Brumidi, whose work also adorns the rotundan and other places in the Capitol.

[Note to self: it goes on to describe details of Mansfield's office]. Wikipedia tells of Brumidi, and has an involved entry on The Brumidi Corridors. Finally, I come across this site, which has about everything you need to know about S-211: descriptions/ photos of the frescoes, history, room assignments, and more. The site does not corroborate Caro’s description of the frescoes, however, which are said to be more allegorical depictions of History, Physics, and the Telegraph than scenes from “a roman emperor’s banquet.”

Gregor Samsa’s Room, framed image from a magazine

From the second paragraph of the Metamorphosis, Muir translation, what we’re given is a framed cut-out from a magazine hanging above a table on which Gregor Samsa, a “Commercial Traveler”, has laid out samples of cloth:

His room, a regular human bedroom, only rather too small, lay quiet between the four familiar walls. Above the table on which a collection of cloth samples was unpacked and spread out –Samsa was a commercial traveler– hung the picture which he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and put into a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady, with a fur cap on and a fur stole, sitting upright and holding out to the spectator a huge fur muff into which the whole of her forearm had vanished!

Some observations: The word “fur” is repeated three times (at least in translation) and seems to invite a contrast with the cloth samples on the table; the cut-out seems incongruous in the frame, the reproducible photograph treated as unique or an object of sentiment; “Human bedroom” (an eye-catching phrase because we would already assume the bedroom to be human) makes more sense in the context of the full passage; — No guess as to what the forearm’s about, though that the “huge muff” is being proffered to the spectator invites some speculation as to why we, or Gregor, would be offered this.

Suitcase of Votes

The previous post, about the etymology of “suit”, has reminded me of this passage in Parting The Waters (pp.366) in which “Daddy King” (MLK’s father), formerly a Nixon supporter in the 1960 Presidential election, pledges to give Kennedy his “suitcase of votes” in the wake of actions taken by the Kennedy campaign toward getting MLK out of a serious legal entanglement. This is Daddy King addressing his congregation:

“But now [Kennedy] can be my President[...] He has the moral courage to stand up for what he knows is right. I’ve got all my votes and I’ve got a suitcase, and I’m going to take them up there and dump them in his lap.”

“Suitcase” is attested from 1902, according to the online etymological dictionary — originally a case for carrying suits.

Etymology of Suit

Reading much about lawsuits in Taylor Branch, it occurred to me to wonder why issues brought before a law court and a matching set of clothes are called by the same name, “suit”. It seems that both senses arose around the same time (early fifteenth century) out of the original meaning of a suit of courtesans –attendees of the court. Online Etymological Dictionary:

1297, “attendance at court, the company attending,” also their livery or uniform, via Anglo-Fr. siwte, from O.Fr. suitte “attendance, act of following,” from Gallo-Romance *sequita, fem. of *sequitus, from L. secutus, pp. of sequi “to attend, follow” (see sequel). Meaning “application to a court for justice, lawsuit” is first recorded c.1412. Meaning “set of clothes to be worn together” is attested from c.1420, from notion of the livery or uniform of court attendants (a sense recurded from 1297). As a derisive term for “businessman,” it dates from 1979. Meaning “set of playing cards bearing the same symbol” is first attested 1529, also from the notion of livery. Hence, to follow suit (1680), which is from card playing. Suitcase first recorded 1902, originally a case for holding a suit of clothes.

After reading this a couple times, it remains unclear to me if the matching-suit-of-clothes definition of ’suit’ owes itself more to the idea of ‘following’ (suivre) or of the court; i.e., whether a suit is simply like something people wore at a court or if a suit had pieces of clothing which were thought to “follow” or “match” each other. It seems, in any case, that those who attended the court, and what they wore, were closely linked. Here is the etymology of ‘sue‘.

“Strip Botticelli”

Second chapter of The Crying of Lot 49 Oedipa loads up on clothing before playing a variant of strip poker (”Strip Botticelli”) with the lawyer Metzger:

Odeipa skipped into a bathroom, which happened also to have a walk-in closet, quickly undressed and began putting on as much as she could the clothing she’d brought with her: six pairs of panties in assorted colors, girdle, three pairs of nylons, three brassieres, two pairs stretch slacks, four half-slips, one black sheath, two summer dresses, half dozen A-line skirts, three sweaters, two blouses, quilted wrapper, baby blue peignoir and old Orlon muu-muu. Bracelets then, scatterpins, earings, a pendant. It all seemed to take hours to put on and she could hardly walk when she was finished. She made the mistake of looking at herself in the full-length mirror, saw a beach ball with feet, and laughed so violently she fell over, taking a can of hair spray on the sink with her.

She later adds a couple more items:

She shut the door behind her and took the occasion to blunder, almost absently, into another slip and skirt, as well as a long-leg girdle and a couple pairs of knee socks.

Pynchon makes the point that, as the game proceeds, Oedipa is continously removing clothing yet getting no closer to nudity… Some vocabulary I wasn’t sure about: muu-muu; orlon; peignoir; girdle; scatter-pin; stretch slacks (?); half and full slips; A-line skirts and dresses.

Interior and Exterior of Rooms and Clothes

Some philosophizing from my notebooks:

One can be inside a room, one can also be inside clothes; yet the feeling of being inside a room is one of having something projected on you, while with clothing it is the opposite, more something you are projecting.

I’m puzzling over similarities between rooms and clothes and am not really sure what I think about it… It seems at first as if clothes have only an exterior and rooms have only an interior; because we mainly think of clothes as projecting an appearance only to the beholder of them, and of rooms projecting an appearance only to the inhabitant of them. However, contrary to that impression, clothes do project on the wearer of them in the sense that the fabric produces a feeling on the skin (of tightness, loosness, coarseness, smootheness); and indeed this can be a dominant factor in deciding what to wear. Thus we might say that, while rooms have only an interior (because what is the exterior of a room?) clothing has both an interior and an exterior –a feeling of fabric for the wearer, an appearance of color and design for the beholder. Yet, just as a person’s choice about how he dresses may be governed more by concerns of comfort than by concerns of appearance –by concerns of what’s interior to clothing– a person can arrange his room in a way that appeals to himself personally rather than out of concerns about what he may be projecting to others. In this sense, on the level of feeling, rooms can also be said to have an exterior and interior, as they project one thing to the resident of a room, the one to whom it belongs, and another thing for the stranger who temporarily occupies it.

*
Rooms don’t have a physical exterior in the same way that clothes don’t seem to have a physical interior; but both rooms and clothes mean something different to the one whom they belong to and the stranger who is viewing them, and in that much can be said to be expressive in both an interior and exterior way.

Wainscot

A half-decorated room from Lost Illusions/ Deux Poets, tr. Ellen Marriage (pp.13):

The sitting-room had been partly modernized by the late Mme. Sechard; the walls were adorned with a wainscot, fearful to behold, painted the color of powder blue. The panels were decorated with wall-paper –Oriental scenes in sepia tint– and for all furniture, half-a-dozen chairs with lyre shaped backs and blue leather cushions were ranged round the room. The two clumsy arched windows that gave upon the Place du Murier were curtainless; there was neither clock nor candle sconce nor mirror above the mantel-shelf, for Mme. sechard had died before she carried out her scheme of decoration; and the ‘bear,’ unable to conceive the use of improvements that brought in no return in money, had left it at this point.

Wainscotting/ etymology. Murier, blackberry bush.

A room of blankets and parallel bars

The Castle chapter 10. A school teacher has arrived at school to find the janitor and his family are sleeping in her school room. She says:

“I simply cannot tolerate this. What a fine state of affairs that would be. You merely have permission to sleep in the schoolroom, I’m not obliged to teach in your bedroom. A janitor’s family lounging about in bed till late morning. Ugh!”

The janitor is K., and his family Frieda and the two assistants. This is very funny… While the latter two are staring dumfounded at the teacher and children, Frieda and K. create a ramshackle room to conceal themselves as they dress:

Well, you could object to some of that, especially about the family and the beds, thought K., while he and Frieda –the assistants could not be used for this; lying on the floor, they were staring in wonder at the schoolmistress and the children– in great haste dragged over the parallel bars and the horse, threw the blankets on them, creating a little room where one could at least dress, shielded from the children’s stares.

Translation.