Here is the Diary of a Dandy (Sept., 1818):—
"Saturday.—Rose at twelve, with a d——d headache. Mem. Not to drink the Regent's Punch after supper.—The green tea keeps one awake.
"Breakfasted at one.—Read the Morning Post—the best Paper after all—always full of wit, fine writing, and good news.
"Sent for the tailor and staymaker—ordered a morning demi surtout of the last Parisian cut, with the collar à la Guillotine, to show the neck behind—a pair of Petersham Pantaloons, with striped flounces at bottom—and a pair of Cumberland corsets with a whale-bone back.—A caution to the unwary. The last pair gave way in stooping to pick up Lady B.'s glove.—The Duke of C——e vulgar enough to laugh, and asked me in the sea slang, if I had not missed stays in tacking. Find this is an old joke stolen from the Fudge Family.—Query. Who is this Tom Brown? Not known at Long's or the Clarendon.
"Three o'clock.—Drove out in the Dennet—took a few turns in Pall Mall, St. James's Street, and Piccadilly.—Got out at Grange's—was told the thermometer in the ice cellar was at 80. Prodigious! Had three glasses of pine and one of Curaçoa—the Prince's Fancy, as P—— calls it.—P. is a wag in his way.
"Five to seven. Dressed for the evening—dined at half-past eight, 'nobody with me but myself,' as the old Duke of Cumberland said—a neat dinner, in Long's best style, viz., A tureen of turtle, a small turbot, a dish of Carlton House Cutlets.—Remove—a turkey poult, and an apricot tart.—Dessert—Pine apple and brandy cherries.
"Drank two tumblers of the Regent's Punch, iced, and a pint of Madeira.—Went to the Opera in high spirits—just over—forgot the curtain drops on Saturdays before twelve.—Mem. To dine at seven on Saturdays.
"Supped at the Clarendon with the Dandy Club—cold collation—played a few rounds of Chicken Hazard, and went to bed quite cool.
"Sunday. Breakfasted at three—ordered the Tilbury—took a round of Rotten Row, and the Squeeze, in Hyde Park—cursedly annoyed with dust in all directions—dined soberly with P——m and went to the Marchioness of S——y's Conversatione in the evening—dull but genteel—P. calls it the Sunday School.
"N.B. P——m, who is curious in his snuff as well as in his snuff boxes, has invented a new mixture, Wellington's and Blücher's, which he has named, in honour of the meeting of the two heroes, after the battle of Waterloo—La belle Alliance—a good hit—not to be sneezed at."