CHAPTER XXX.
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.
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.
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.”
