A Spencer and a Thread Paper.—1792.
"The high kick of fashion is to wear only one spur, like a postillion, and to have an assortment of long whips tied up behind the curricle, in case of wearing them all out in Bond St., during a ride in the morning."—(Times, August 3, 1796.)
We need not go very far, any day in Winter, to see the young men of our day, doing the same thing, and looking extremely "Norse"—they never telling of the Chamois leather vests they wear.
"One of the latest roads to fame that any of our young men of ton have discovered, is to wrap their bodies carefully in flannel under the shirt, and to keep the coat and waistcoat quite open, to show the strength of their constitution, and set the snow at defiance."—(Times, January 2, 1797.)
"Margate is already beginning to be crowded, as usual, with all sorts, and for all purposes, some to undo, and some to be undone; wives to leave their husbands, and misses to procure theirs. Some tradesmen gone down to get, and others to get rid of their money: old maids to display tresses not their own, and the young men to show off Brutus heads, when the grand point is, whether their's or their type's in Ross's shop window have the most brains: perhaps there cannot be situations more calculated to display what Shenstone terms 'The various ways of dressing a calf's head.'"—(Times, August 5, 1799.)
"Milan, July 15th.—In order to a due execration of the licentious dresses which our Government has forbidden, the executioner of this place, with his wife, appeared in the public walk. He was elegantly dressed, with his head à la Brutus, a large cravat which, concealing the chin, reached to the mouth: long pantaloons, hanging loose: and shoes, the points of which were a finger's length. His wife was quite à la guillotine—naked shoulders, neck and arms."—(Times, August 5, 1799.)
"Our emaciated beaux in their quilted lappelles and stuffed sleeves are like a dry walnut in a great shell."—(Times, August 20, 1799.)
This paragraph is easily explained by a reference to the two accompanying engravings.
These peculiar garments were called "Jean Debry," after the French statesman of that name, who was born in 1760, died 1834. He was a somewhat prominent figure in the French Revolution, and, as his name was at this time much in men's mouths, he was made the peg on which to hang a coat.—"A French Taylor fitting John Bull with a Jean de Bry," is by Gillray, 18th November 1799, and, although a gross Caricature, fairly represents the garment. The tailor is in ecstasy with the fit. "Aha! dere my friend, I fit you to de life! dere is Liberté! no tight Aristocrat Sleeves, to keep from you vat you like! a ha! begar, dere, he only want von leetle National Cockade to make look quite a la mode de Paris!"
John Bull surveys himself in the looking-glass, grumbling at his change of costume. "Liberty! quotha! why, zounds, I can't move my arms at all! for all it looks woundy big! Oh! damn your French Alamodes, they give a man the same Liberty as if he was in the Stocks! give me my old Coat again, say I, if it is a little out of Elbows!"