MEN'S DRESS.
The latter part of the last century was noticeable for the great, and grave, mutations which took place in masculine attire, and, most particularly, during the times here treated of. Previously, the wig, and dress (quaker cut) coat, had long had a successful run, but people visited the Continent more, especially France, and brought back French fashions, which at this time were particularly fantastic. The Prince of Wales, too, delighted in fine dress, and was "arbiter elegantiarum" of his sex. At every levée, and public appearance, his dress was always expatiated on, and the "gilded youth" of the period, dressed up to him, and copied his manner, even to his bow.
We, in our days, cannot afford to jeer at the accompanying illustration, when we see, in the advertisement sheets of some of our periodicals, men's stays advertised, and even vividly depicted; and, therefore, we must not throw the first stone of laughter at the fashions of 1788.
Here we see the transition stage, the modification of the old courtly wig, with its accompanying powder, and black silk bag for the queue, now only to be seen pinned on to the coat collars of court officials, and extremely magnificent major domos, &c., and, also, we see the old court dress coat has now taken unto itself a collar, of that exaggerated description which was so much in vogue during the next twenty years. Frilled shirts, and ruffles, still existed, and the curious custom of wearing two watches was the fashion. Here, again, history has somewhat repeated itself in our modern double watch-chain, except that now only one watch is worn, the other side guarding a sovereign purse.
Brighthelmstone or Brighton—beloved of George the Magnificent, whether as Prince, Regent, or King—was the place where the fashionable youth congregated, and therefore we may take the following extract from the Morning Post (the doyen of the Daily Press) of 18th September, 1788:—
"Brighton Dress.
"The fashionable bathing dress, at Brighton, is chiefly a pair of buff trousers, with a slight jacket.
"This is adopted by all the young men of the place, and a number of idle, sauntering land lubbers meet the eye every morning on the Steyne, that one cannot help wishing for a sturdy pressgang to give them useful employment, or at least keep them out of mischief.
"After breakfast they are accoutred for the sports of the field.
"The sporting dress is a brown jacket, with a multiplicity of pockets, on each side, that reaches from the bottom to the top, so that, from this appearance, it is somewhat difficult to determine which the fashionable tribe most resemble—a set of grooms, or a company of smugglers.
"When the dinner hour arrives, after these sprightly and heroic gentlemen have 'slain their thousands, and ten thousands,' according to their own account, in the field, with as little winking and blinking as Major Sturgeon himself, they then attire themselves in order to enjoy the pleasures of the table, and, however deranged they may afterwards be by convivial excess, they march or stagger away to the Rooms, as circumstances may determine, and entertain the Ladies with elegant and decent gallantry."
The Prince's Bow "Monstrous like the Prince! The very bow, demme!"
Tight Lacing.—1788. "These tight Stays will be the death of me!"
About this time flourished that curious being, the "Macaroni," but most of his portraits are evidently such gross caricatures, that I have not cared to reproduce them. I have been compelled to draw upon the satirical prints of the period, as a future historian would take the pictures from Punch, if he wanted to hit the passing folly of the day; but we must not forget that the satirical prints of the last century, did not their spiriting so gently as our modern caricaturists, but exaggerated in every way, in facial expression, and in costume.
The following brace of Macaronis is taken from a print of the "Mock Duel, or a trip to Flanders," 26th May, 1789: and, although the costume is scrupulously correct, yet one can hardly help thinking that the designer of the wig, which was typical of the genus, has somewhat "drawn upon his imagination for his facts." The name Macaroni was applied, in derision, to those youths who had made the Grand Tour, and were fond, on their return, of shewing off their superior graces, and extolling the polished manners, and superior civilization, of the countries they had visited. In those days you were nothing unless classical. Modern languages were rarely taught, Science was all but unknown, Latin and Greek were the chief branches of education, and rich men were keen collectors of everything classical, marble statues and busts, bronzes, and coins—so Italy was naturally the bourne of these travelled youths, and John Bull, who then was, in the aggregate, a very stay-at-home animal, derided them, when they came back, with the epithet Macaroni, an elegant title derived from the popular Italian dish.
The home-keeping youths imitated their brethren as well as they could, but it was at a very humble distance, and their dress, though partially modelled on that of their confrères, was much exaggerated, and did not display such simplicity or good taste.—John Bull had a name ready for him; a home-manufactured Macaroni was "a Jessamy."
These Jessamies were, like the modern Mashers, effeminate, and comparatively harmless beings—entirely taken up with the contemplation of their external appearance, and the attempted subjugation of the other sex.
See the following quotation from the Morning Post 4th July 1789:—"There is not a man in the nation, no not even Lord Effingham, who bestows so much time and attention in rendering the external appearance of his head, elegant in the extreme, than the Earl of Scarborough. It is said that his Lordship keeps six French frizeurs, who have nothing else to do than dress his hair. Lord Effingham keeps only Five!!!"
The Jessamies, however, were only one class among the youth of the time, and I fear, by far the smallest. The majority were what we now should term "fast." Animal spirits in young men must have vent somehow.
There were then no rowing, cycles, or other means of getting rid of the superfluous energy they possessed. Men's social habits were not at all of a "blue riband" nature, and, after dinner, the bottle circulated freely. So those who, like Charles Reade's description of modern athletic young men, knew "only one language, and lived principally in the open air," naturally became either "A choice Spirit," "A Buck," or "A Blood," descendants of the "Hectors," "Muns," "Titiretus," "Scourers," and "Mohocks"—men that hustled honest folk, sang roaring, maudlin, filthy songs—men from whom no woman was safe; who, armed with bludgeons, and going in company in large numbers, boxed the watch, set the constables at defiance, and made night hideous with their brawls and shouting.
Macaronis (From the Mock Duel, 1789.)
Far be it from me to say that the whole youth of this age could be classed either in one, or other, of these two categories; there were good young men who probably "always came home to their tea," well dressed, well read, well mannered—such as "A Smart."
As a rule, even now-a-days, a man when in the country, very seldom, or never, carries an umbrella: to a Londoner it is part of his costume. In Anne's reign the use of the umbrella was strictly set apart for the softer sex, and then only for those whose avocations compelled them to be out, whatever the weather. As Gay says in his "Trivia"—
"The tuck'd-up sempstress walks with hasty strides,
While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides."
But for men, fie! he must be an effeminate coxcomb who would carry one. Hear what fun was made of him (Female Tatler, December 12):—"The Young Gentleman belonging to the Custom House, that for fear of rain borrowed the umbrella at Will's Coffee House in Cornhill of the Mistress, is hereby advertised that to be dry from head to foot on the like occasion, he shall be welcome to the Maid's Pattens."
One John Macdonald, a footman, who wrote his own biography, helps us to fix a date when the use of them, by men, was so rare as to make the user singular. He says that he had "a fine silk umbrella, which he brought from Spain; but he could not, with any comfort to himself, use it, the people calling out 'Frenchman! why don't you get a coach?'" However, he "persisted for three months, till they took no further notice of this novelty. Foreigners began to use theirs, and then the English." Macdonald wrote in 1778. Jonas Hanway, the philanthropist, who had travelled much in Persia and the East, is said to have been the first Englishman who habitually carried an umbrella whilst walking in the street. He died in 1786.
That it was not in general use in the year 1790, is evidenced by the somewhat sneering title of a "Rain Beau," or one that was afraid of a drop of rain. This illustration shews several modifications of fashion besides the use of the umbrella. The cocked hat had gone out—and the galling yoke of the "chimney pot" was being inaugurated. As yet it was limp, of felt, but there is the hideous head covering that has martyrised at least three generations.
Then we cannot but notice that the hair has lost all trace of the wig—and is allowed to be worn "au naturel." A huge cravat swathes the throat, the coat is cut shorter, and more fly-away than hitherto, that knee breeches are disappearing, and pantaloons coming in, to be in their turn superseded by the modern trouser. Lastly, the term Macaroni, or Jessamy, is replaced by Beau—which will soon have to give way to Dandy.
Jimmy Lincum Feadle shows us the Beau of 1791. Here the fashion is evidently imported from France—loud coloured striped coat—pantaloons, boots and all. The French Revolution was hastening on, rapidly, to its culmination, and, the younger Whigs, before the time came when they were utterly disgusted by the brutal excesses of the French, copied the dress of the Revolutionary party.
A Jessamy.—1790.
A Choice Spirit. A Buck.
The accompanying illustration will show how far they succeeded. There is an elaborately studied negligence about the coat, and a height about the hat, which could never be of native production, whilst the bludgeon must have belonged to some "Merveilleux," (the class whom Bonaparte so cordially detested), and have been imported direct from Paris. The supercilious look, and the mincing gait, are warranted truly Parisian, and I have very little doubt but that Isaac Cruikshank sketched him from the life.
The term "a Crop," is indicative of Revolutionary and Republican sympathies. Lucius Junius Brutus, and all the ancient Romans, wore their hair cut short—and so we must needs copy them, and have a revolution in hair cutting, just to show the outer world what our thoughts are on the present position of political parties. The elaborate hair of the Macaroni or the Jessamy, or even the negligent, but natural chevelure of the Beau, would not suit Republican simplicity, and, as in our own Commonwealth, the men of the Republic cropped their heads, as a testimony against their political opponents, so did they in 1791. The Duke of Bedford, especially, attracted public attention, by having his hair cut short, and many are the allusions to him, with respect to it, in the public prints.
But with 1792 came another change of fashion, of which we get two views, back and front, and as they are by a lady (Miss Keate), they are probably not caricatured.
Here we see a return to a more natural style of dress, the colours of which, in "Neck or Nothing," are well chosen, and very becoming. Of course the awful cravat is of white cambric or muslin, and he wears a pink underwaistcoat, white over-waistcoat, and knee-breeches, a mulberry-coloured coat, and blue and white stockings; hair powdered.
"A back view of the cape" is not so felicitous as regards colour, being somewhat "prononcé." The coat is green, breeches yellow, necktie yellow, stockings grey, powdered hair, and a liberal supply of powder on the back of the coat.
In order to keep this hair powder on the hair, it was necessary to saturate it with some kind of grease, even if only a tallow dip, or rushlight, were used; but an advertisement in the Times, of 7th February 1793, gives us some notion as to the antiquity of Bears' Grease, which must have been undoubtedly genuine, if the last paragraph can be taken as a fact:—
"JUST KILLED, an extraordinary fine Fat Russian Bear, at Ross's Ornamental Hair and Perfumery Warehouse, No. 119 Bishopsgate Street (late Vickery's), three doors from the London Tavern.
"The excellent virtue which the fat of Bears possesses, has been experienced by thousands of both sexes, and of all Ages, in this Metropolis. To those who have used the real Bears' Grease, it is evident no Grease whatever beside, retains its moisture so long upon the head, it being the only thing possible to make the Hair grow thick and long, recover it after illness, prevent it falling off, or turning grey, during life: being the most efficacious remedy for making the Hair grow on Horses' knees when broken or chafed.
"It is sold at 1s. per ounce, or 16s. the pound, to be seen cut off the Animal in the presence of the purchaser."
Apropos of "cropping," take the following skit from the Times, January 21, 1794:—
"Sir Robert Mackworth is at Bath, and seems to be no otherways distinguished than by the particularity of his equipage: he drives four horses of different colours in his phaeton, which has four wheels painted to correspond with the colours of the horses: in the midst of his badge of distinction, the bloody hand, is the figure of 4, which he explains in this way, four in hand. The motto 'This is the Tippy.' If anything can add to the folly of the whole it is that he intends to crop four opposite ears of his horses, to make room for four monstrous roses, of different colours, to match."
A Smart.—1790.
A Rain-beau.
The Court dresses which the Nobility and Gentry then wore, were magnificent, and the following are only a few, taken as an example, from the Times, June 4, 1794:—
"KING'S BIRTHDAY.
"Yesterday, being the anniversary of the King's birthday, when His Majesty entered into the 57th year of his age, a Drawing-Room was held in the afternoon, and, at night, a Ball at St. James'. The Gentlemen's dresses were in general embroidered silks and silk cloths: but one half were dressed in Regimentals.
"His Majesty, as usual on his own Birthday, was in a plain suit of clothes. The best dressed Gentlemen whom we saw at Court, and indeed their dresses were very generally noticed for their taste and splendour, were—
"Mr. Skeffington.
"A brown spotted silk coat and breeches, with a white silk waistcoat richly embroidered with silver, stones, and shades of silk: the design was large baskets of silver and stones, filled with bouquets of roses, jonquilles, &c., the ensemble producing a beautiful and splendid effect.
"The Hon. Thomas Anson.
"A striped silk coat and breeches, with a white silk waistcoat, richly embroidered with white silk and dentelle: the waistcoat embroidered to match the coat.
"A brown and blue striped silk coat and breeches, with a white silk waistcoat, the suit elegantly embroidered with silver, stones, and bouquets of flowers.
"Duke of Queensberry.
"A striped, and spotted silk coat, and breeches, with diamond buttons, with a white silk waistcoat embroidered with silver, stones, and silk.
"Marquis of Lorn.
"A blue and brown striped silk cloth coat, and breeches, with a white silk waistcoat, embroidered with dentelle, and shades of silk.
"Lord Willoughby de Broke.
"A dark olive spotted silk coat, and breeches, with a white silk waistcoat, the suit richly embroidered in silver, coloured stones, and shades of silk."
Anent Hair Powder, we have the following, which may be a libel:—
"As a Frenchman cannot exist without a powdered head, and meal being so dear in France, the Beaux are under the necessity of wearing powdered whiting. Rouge is plenty enough, that article not being put in requisition: the ladies therefore, as usual, wear their faces under red masks. They go to bed as blooming as Sol, when he retires to the Lap of Thetis: and rise as pale as Cynthia, in her nocturnal visits to the earth."—(Times, Nov. 29, 1794.)
"Mother of Pearl buttons are likely to take the lead in the fashionable world, as they are both beautiful and ornamental, as well as durable and economical: on the contrary, those made of steel, and other metals, soon rust, and want frequent cleaning."—(Times, Dec. 16, 1794.)
Jimmy Lincum Feadle—1791.
A Scaramouch.
By the 35 Geo. III., c. 49—a Duty was laid on Hair powder—and "the Crops," besides their (as we should term it) Radical tendencies, were extra unpopular among the Tories, because they evaded the Hair Powder duty, by wearing none:—
"A numerous club has been formed in Lambeth, called the Crop Club, every member of which, on his entrance, is obliged to have his head docked as close as the Duke of Bridgewater's old bay coach-horses. This assemblage is instituted for the purpose of opposing, or rather evading, the tax on powdered heads."—(Times, April 14, 1795.)
"The following Noblemen and Gentlemen were of the party with the Duke of Bedford at Woburn Abbey, when a general cropping, and combing out of hair powder took place: Lord W. Russell, Lord Villiers, Lord Paget, &c., &c. They entered into an engagement to forfeit a sum of money if any of them wore their hair tied, or powdered, within a certain period. Many Noblemen and Gentlemen in the county of Bedford have since followed the example: it has become general with the Gentry in Hampshire, and the Ladies have left off wearing powder."—(Times, Sept. 25, 1795.)
"The Bedford Crops.—Something has at last fallen from this party to entertain the Public. We hope they will find their heads cooler for this salutary operation. Dr. Willis[3] is of opinion, that more than one of them ought to have been shaved. If the Shavees think by publishing their names they will gain proselytes, till their absurdity is lost in the crowd, they are mistaken. Can it be supposed that a few drunken persons in a frolic, will be followed by the sober part of the people of England?
"The new Crop is called the Bedford Level.
"An Irish Member once proposed in the House of Commons of that Country, to encourage the breed of Crops. We believe no such proposition is likely to be renewed upon the present occasion."—(Times, Sept. 29, 1795.)
"The price of hair is considerably fallen. The wig-makers declare people are so afraid of having anything from the crops, that they can't sell a single peruke."—(Times, Nov. 23, 1795.)
We get a curious insight into the manners of the young men of that day, in the following cutting from the Times, Dec. 14, 1795:—
"If the young men of the present day have not much wit in their heads, they have it at least in their hats. Amongst the pleasantries we have seen in this way, are the following: 'Not yours.'—'Hands off'—'No vermin'—and 'Rip this as you would a hot potato'—and other charming sallies of refined and elegant vivacity. But the wittiest linings are the political ones: Upon a table, the other day we observed one perfectly clean, in which was written 'Avaunt, Guinea Pig!' and on the lining, in a very powdery hat, that lay in a window in the same room, were inscribed the two following monosyllables, 'Off Crop.'"
"A Crop, who had begun to let his hair grow, was accused of aristocracy, and had his head shaved in the form of a horse-shoe at Wooburn, by a verdict of his Peers."—(Times, Dec. 30, 1795.)
Clothes were dear in those days, as the following Tailor's bill shows—because we must reckon the value of money then at more than double what it is now:—
"Address to the Public.—Those Gentlemen who are inclined to a solicitude to their interests, the undermentioned prices will be found to be highly advantageous:—
"G. Brown & Co., Taylors, No. 17 Sun St., Bishopsgate.
"The above Prices are calculated for middle-sized men only, and the difference in all colours in grain, Blues and Greys, gilt or extra buttons, Waistcoat sleeves, &c., must be paid for extra."—(Times, April 16, 1795.)
Aping the Frenchman
Among the eccentricities of Costume, was a Coat devised by the then Earl Spencer. He made a bet that he would cut off the tails of the coat which he then wore, and appear in public in a jacket, which, within a week, should be the fashion. He did so, and won his bet. Gillray caricatured the Earl, in a picture 17th May, 1792. Earl Spencer wears (in the picture) a blue spencer red coat with brass buttons, yellow trousers, and blue and white stockings. The "Threadpaper" has a green coat and grey stockings. Both have plenty of powder on the backs of their coats.
The fashion is alluded to in a paragraph in the Times of 16th May 1795, and the "livery" therein alluded to is a covert satire on the "Windsor Uniform," which has been the semi-court dress, from George III.'s time to our own. It is said to have been taken from the uniform of a Berkshire Volunteer Cavalry Regiment, of which the King was Colonel:—
"The general fashion of wearing Spencers, reminds us of a wager laid by Lord March, who betted several years ago a considerable sum with some of his friends, that he would be able to introduce to general imitation, the most humiliating fashion he could think of. Accordingly he appeared several days successively about the Royal Exchange, dressed like a livery servant. The livery consisted of a blue coat, with crimson collar and cuffs; and he gained the wager."—(Times, May 16, 1795.)
The accompanying illustration by W. Hanlon (11th July 1795) is, of course, a caricature, but it is intended to show the eccentricities of dress, in which the "Crops" indulged.
THE BOND STREET LOUNGE.
AN IMPROMPTU.
Modo vir, modo fœmina.—Virgil.
(Times, January 7th, 1796.)
When men in Petty-Coats appear,
No wonder Wives the breeches wear:
Assuming manners quite robust,
Game, swear, drive, box, or take a thrust.
But happier far would be the case,
Were each to keep their proper place:
The fair ones wear the female dress,
And men adorn their persons less;
For such the fashion of the day,
They make it difficult to say,
Whether the pretty things we meet,
Parading through their fav'rite street,
A Male or Female we may call,
Their shapes are so equivocal. V.
London Coffee-House,
January 7th, 1796.
Neck or Nothing; A Back View of the Cape—1792.
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!"
"The items of a fashionable Taylor's bill are not a little curious at present:—Ditto, to pasteboard for your back; ditto, to buckram for your cape; ditto, for wool for your shoulders, and cotton for your chest. Shakespeare talks of Nature's Journeymen who make men indifferently, but our Journeymen Taylors make their customers of any form and dimensions they think proper."—(Times, Sept. 6, 1799.)
"A Jean Debry" (Mr. Skeffington.)
French Tailor fitting John Bull with a "Jean de Bry"
Modern Costume.
"The Long-toed Shoe which now figures in Bond Street was regulated by an Act of Parliament so long ago as the reign of Edward III. No person under the rank of a Knight then had a right to advance his toe more than four inches beyond the natural extremity.... If ever, in some centuries to come, the little hat, stuffed coat, and long-toed shoe of a modern fine Gentleman should be discovered in some Museum of Antiquities, or to survive upon the Stage, they would no doubt give birth to many learned doubts and extraordinary speculations. By the size of a pair of modern Leather Breeches, it will naturally be inferred that the present race of men were of a Colossal form. When we suppose in the same collection a pair of our Hussar Boots to have escaped the ravage of time, will not our descendants enquire by what descending scale of rapid decay and diminution mankind is hastening into the pigmy state, or the dwarf? Our Coats too, in which the Cotton, the Wool, the Tow, and all the et cetera of quilting, which now form one half of our bulk, will then only seem the remains of the art of the virtuoso: and the curious stuffing he has devised to represent the gigantic proportions of the wearer. It ought, however, to be known, for the honour of this commercial nation, that it is to the spirit of justice and liberality of our tradesmen, that this extraordinary augmentation of our bulk is to be attributed. Having doubled the price of every article upon us, they have very fairly given us double measure, both in our Coats, Boots, and Breeches. The Hatter, I am sorry to say, is not entitled to the same commendation, for he has of late years perpetually diminished and circumscribed the little brim he allows us, in the exact proportion that he has advanced the price of it, so that the scarcity of felt is like that of bread, the less you have, the more you are to pay for it. I paid a guinea and a quarter for the last I bought, and I was ingenuously told that by the time a hat cost two guineas, it would exactly be the size and the weight of one. All these tradesmen, in a fairer sense than the hatters, make the most of their customers: but he to whom the nobler part of man, the head, is committed, diminishes in the most scandalous manner the protection it requires...."—(Times, Sept. 20, 1799.)
Brobdignag.