Muffs must be remembered, as every dandy carried a muff in winter, some big, others grotesquely small. Bath must be remembered, and the great Beau Nash in the famous Pump-Room—as Thackeray says, so say I: ‘I should like to have seen the Folly,’ he says, meaning Nash. ‘It was a splendid embroidered, beruffled, snuff-boxed, red-heeled, impertinent Folly, and knew how to make itself respected. I should like to have seen that noble old madcap Peterborough in his boots (he actually had the audacity to walk about Bath in boots!), with his blue ribbon and stars, and a cabbage under each arm, and a chicken in his hand, which he had been cheapening for his dinner.’
It was the fashion to wear new clothes on the Queen’s birthday, March 1, and then the streets noted the loyal people who indulged their extravagance or pushed a new fashion on that day.
Do not forget that no hard-and-fast rules can be laid down; a man’s a man for all his tailor tells him he is a walking fashion plate. Those who liked short cuffs wore them, those who did not care for solitaires did without; the height of a heel, the breadth of a buckle, the sweep of a skirt, all lay at the taste of the owner—merely would I have you remember the essentials.
There was a deal of dressing up—the King, bless you, in a Turkish array at a masque—the day of the Corydon and Sylvia: mock shepherd, dainty shepherdess was here; my lord in silk loose coat with paste buttons, fringed waistcoat, little three-cornered hat under his arm, and a pastoral staff between his fingers, a crook covered with cherry and blue ribbons; and my lady in such a hoop of sprigged silk or some such stuff, the tiniest of straw hat on her head, high heels [!-- original location - full page illustration of men from 1745 and 1758 --] tapping the ground, all a-shepherding—what? Cupids, I suppose, little Dresden loves, little comfit-box jokes, little spiteful remarks about the Germans.
Come, let me doff my Kevenhuller hat with the gold fringe, bring my red heels together with a smart tap, bow, with my hand on the third button of my coat from which my stick dangles, and let me introduce the ladies.
THE WOMEN
I will introduce the fair, painted, powdered, patched, perfumed sex (though this would do for man or woman of the great world then) by some lines from the Bath Guide:
‘Bring, O bring thy essence-pot,
Amber, musk, and bergamot;
Eau de chipre, eau de luce,
Sanspareil, and citron juice.
* * * * *
In a band-box is contained
Painted lawns, and chequered shades,
Crape that’s worn by love-lorn maids,
Watered tabbies, flowered brocades;
Straw-built hats, and bonnets green,
Catgut, gauzes, tippets, ruffs;
Fans and hoods, and feathered muffs,
Stomachers, and Paris nets,
Earrings, necklaces, aigrets,
Fringes, blouses, and mignionets;
Fine vermillion for the cheek,
Velvet patches à la grecque.
Come, but don’t forget the gloves,
Which, with all the smiling loves,
Venus caught young Cupid picking
From the tender breast of chicken.’