Men’s dress—the “Jean de Bry” coat—Short coats fashionable at
watering-places—“All Bond Street trembled as he strode”—Rules for
the behaviour of a “Bond Street Lounger.”
OF DRESS, either of men, or women, there is little to chronicle during
this ten years. The mutations during a similar period, at the close
of the previous century, had been so numerous, and radical, as to be
sufficient to satisfy any ordinary being; so that, with the exception
of the ordinary changes of fashion, which tailors, and milliners will
impose upon their victims, there is little to record.
At the commencement of the year 1800, men wore what were then called
“Jean de Bry” coats, so named from a French statesman, who was somewhat
prominent during the French Revolution—born 1760, died 1834. The
accompanying illustration is somewhat exaggerated, not so much as
regards the padding on the shoulders, as to the Hessian boots, which
latter might, almost, have passed a critical examination, had it not
have been that they are furnished with bells, instead of tassels.
The coat was padded at the shoulders, to give breadth, and buttoned
tight to show the slimness of the waist; yet, as this, under ordinary
circumstances, would have hidden the waistcoat—the coat had to be made
short-waisted.
[Illustration: A JEAN DE BRY.]
Then, the same year, only towards its close, came a craze for short
coats, or jackets, resembling the Spencers, but they did not last long,
being only fashionable at Brighton, Cheltenham, &c. There seems to have
been very little change until 1802, when a modification of the Jean de
Bry coat was worn, with the collar increasing very much in height, and
boots were discarded in walking.
The portrait of Colonel Duff, afterwards Lord Fyfe, on the next page,
is only introduced as an exemplar of costume, and not as a “Bond
Street Lounger,” of whom we hear so much, and, as not only may many
of my readers like to know something about him, but his character is
so amusingly sketched by a contemporary, and the account gives such a
vivid picture of the manners of the times, that I transcribe it. It
is from the _Morning Post_ of the 6th of February, 1800; and, after
premising that the Lounger is comfortably settled at an hotel, the
following instructions are given him, as being necessary to establish
his character as a young man of fashion. “In short, find fault with
every _single_ article, without exception, d———— n the _waiter_ at
almost regular intervals, and never let him stand _one moment still_,
but ‘keep him _eternally_ moving;’ having it in remembrance that he
is only an _unfortunate_, and _wretched_ subordinate, of course, a
_stranger_ to feelings which are an ornament to Human Nature; with
this recollection on your part that the more illiberal the abuse he
has from _you_, the greater will be his admiration of your _superior_
abilities, and _Gentleman_-like qualifications.
[Illustration: ALL BOND STREET TREMBLED AS HE STRODE.]
Confirm him in the opinion he has so justly imbibed, by _swearing_
the _fish_ is not _warm_ through; the poultry is _old_, and ‘tough as
your _Grandmother_’; the pastry is made with butter, _rank Irish_;
the cheese, which they call _Stilton_, is nothing but _pale Suffolk_;
the malt liquor _damnable_, a mere infusion of _malt_, _tobacco_, and
_cocculus Indicus_; the port _musty_; the sherry _sour_; and the whole
of the dinner and dessert were ‘infernally infamous,’ and, of course,
not fit for the entertainment of a _Gentleman_; conclude the lecture
with an oblique hint, that without _better_ accommodations, and more
ready _attention_, you shall be under the necessity of leaving the
house for a more _comfortable_ situation. This _spirited_ declaration
at _starting_ will answer a variety of purposes, but none so essential
as an _anticipated_ objection to the payment of _your bill_ whenever
it may be presented. With no small degree of personal ostentation, give
the waiter your name ‘because you have ordered your letters _there_,
and, as they will be of importance, beg they may be taken care of,
particularly those written in _a female hand_, of which description,
many may be expected.
“Having thus introduced you to, and fixed you, recruit-like, in _good
quarters_, I consider it almost unnecessary to say, however _bad_ you
may _imagine_ the wine, I doubt not your own _prudence_ will point out
the characteristic necessity for drinking enough, not only to afford
you the credit of reeling to bed by the aid of the banister, but the
collateral comfort of calling yourself ‘damned queer’ in the morning,
owing entirely to the villainous adulteration of the wine, for, when
_mild_ and _genuine_, you can take off _three_ bottles ‘without winking
or blinking.’ When rousing from your last somniferous reverie in the
morning, ring the bell with no small degree of energy, which will serve
to convince the whole family you are awake; upon the entrance of either
_chamberlain_ or _chambermaid_, vociferate half a dozen questions in
succession, without waiting for a single reply. As, What morning is it?
does it hail, rain, or shine? Is it a frost? Is my breakfast ready? Has
anybody enquired for me? Is my groom here? &c., &c. And here it becomes
directly in point to observe, that a _groom_ is become so evidently
necessary to the _ton_ of the present day (particularly in the
neighbourhood of Bond Street) that a great number of _Gentlemen_ keep
a _groom_, who cannot (except upon _credit_) keep a _horse_; but then,
they are always upon ‘the look out for horses;’ and, till they are
obtained, the employment of _the groom_ is the embellishment of _both
ends_ of his master, by first dressing his head, and then polishing his
boots and shoes.
“The trifling ceremonies of the morning gone through, you will sally
forth in search of adventures, taking that great Mart of _every_
virtue, ‘BOND STREET,’ in your way. Here it will be impossible for
you (between the hours of _twelve_ and _four_) to remain, even a few
minutes, without falling in with various ‘feathers of your wing,’ so
true it is, in the language of Rowe, ‘you herd together,’ that you
cannot fear being long alone. So soon as three of you are met, adopt
a Knight of the Bath’s motto, and become literally ‘Tria juncta in
uno,’ or, in other words, link your arms so as to engross the whole
breadth of the pavement; the _fun_ of driving fine women, and old
dons, into the _gutter_, is exquisite, and, of course, constitutes _a
laugh_ of the most _humane_ sensibility. Never make these excursions
without _spurs_, it will afford not only _presumptive_ proof of your
_really_ keeping a horse, but the lucky opportunity of _hooking_ a
fine girl by the gown, apron, or petticoat; and, while she is under
the distressing mortification of disentangling herself, you and your
companions can add to her dilemma by some indelicate _innuendo_, and,
in the moment of extrication, walk off with an exulting exclamation of
having ‘cracked the muslin.’ Let it be a fixed rule never to be seen in
the LOUNGE without a _stick_, or _cane_; this, dangling in a string,
may accidentally get between the feet of any female in passing; if she
falls, in consequence, that can be no fault of _yours_, but the effect
of her indiscretion.
“By way of relief to the sameness of the scene, throw yourself
loungingly into a chair at Owen’s,[45] cut up a _pine_ with the
greatest _sang froid_, amuse yourself with a jelly or two, and, after
viewing with a happy _indifference_ whatever may present itself, throw
down a _guinea_ (without condescending to ask a question) and walk off;
this will not only be politically inculcating an idea of your _seeming_
liberality upon the present; but paving the way to _credit_ upon a
_future_ occasion. I had hitherto omitted to mention the necessity
for previously providing yourself with _a glass_ (suspended from your
button-hole by a string) the want of which will inevitably brand you
with _vulgarity_, if not with indigence; for the true (and, formerly,
‘unsophisticated’) breed of _Old John Bull_ is so very much altered
by _bad crosses_, and a deficiency in constitutional stamina, equally
affecting the _optic nerves_, that there are very few men of fashion
can see _clear_ beyond the _tip_ of the _nose_.
“At the breaking up of the parade, stroll, as it were, accidentally
into the Prince of Wales’s Coffee house, in Conduit Street, walk up
with the greatest ease, and consummate confidence to every box, in
rotation; look at everybody with an inexplicable _hauteur_, bordering
upon contempt; for, although it is most likely you will know _little_
or _nothing_ of _them_, the great object is, that they should have a
_perfect knowledge_ of _you_. Having repeatedly, and vociferously,
called the waiter when he is most _engaged_, and, at each time asked
him various questions equally frivolous and insignificant, seem to
skim the surface of the _Morning Post_ (if disengaged), humming the
_March_ in _Blue Beard_,[46] to show the _versatility_ of your genius;
when, finding you have made yourself sufficiently _conspicuous_, and
an object of general attention (or rather attraction), suddenly leave
the room, but not without such an _emphatical_ mode of _shutting_ the
_door_, as may afford to the various companies, and individuals, a most
striking proof of your departure.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]