THE BEAUX AND THE DANDIES

Northern Advocate, 24 October 1936, Page 14 (Supplement)

THE BEAUX AND THE DANDIES

gf I 1 1 HE long period in which the * I fashionable beaux reigned more "X X or less imperiously over at least a certain strata of society has m. always exercised over those who en**joy the consideration of particular and passing phases of social development sta certain amount of curious attraction. U Beginning with or about the time of *Beau Nash, perhaps the most famous l&of all these fashionable and fastidiously dressed and mannered, gentleJ|men, the epoch and its makers are regarded as becoming finSally extinct with the death of Comte i-d’Orsay, the “last of the dandies”— ■ * v -g which term was but a change of “name with the passing of the years . :£for the more early attribute “beau,” *;This era may be considered to extend "from the earliest years of the eighteenth century to the middle of the '"nineteenth, a full hundred and fifty iiyears. . ’. ■p With its advent there was still a amount of rather boorish S,Uncouthness in much of what passed lor polite society, a countrified air and bearing and a crudity of speech and manners which unquestionably was ‘ftio little, smoothed and tempered by :the codes of courteous behaviour inculcated and insisted upon by such men as the master of the ceremonies at Bath. That the thing became carried to excess upon occasions, and at times even to sheer exaggeration, is true, but despite that it was distinctly beneficial, as are many of the restraints placed upon man by himself or his fellows, so that they be accepted and appreciated as desirable. j - Naturally much fiction and many • serious works have been devoted tol

* • various phases and periods of this reign of elegance. Here it is only intended and only possible to refer to one such: Conan Doyle’s delightful picture of Regency days. It is true the delineation of the beaux here is but a small and even secondary aspect of the story, but it is an extremely able and satisfying one. These men must have been at once the delight and the despair of the tailors, hatters, hairdressers and shoers of their patronage. They set a standard which was

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satisfied with, and would accept nothing less than the best, and this to a degree which was absolute perfection, if such a thing is humanly attainable in any sphere. Moreover, they so thoroughly imbued with their awn ideals these adorners of humanity that often there existed a subtle sympathy between them which was little short of a deep intuition. It is said, for instance, that Comte d’Orsay was once approached by a fox-hunt-ing country gentleman, one of his friends, with a request that he, d’Orsay, would recommend him to a tailor who would dress him fittingly for his stay in London, yet without making him appear what he was not. D’Orsay selected from among the hundred walking canes which he owned —for it was necessary to have one in keeping with whatever outfit might for the moment be worn—one with a handle consisting of a curved stag’s foot shod

with silver. He bade his friend take this to a tailor whom he named, and request the man on behalf of Comte d’Orsay to dress him in keeping with it. The country squire carried out the instructions, afterwards admitting that never in his life had he been better or more suitably dressed. Now let us pass to Conan Doyle’s 1 description, in “Rodney Stone” of such a “buck.” First he describes the figure and features of the man, then: “He wore a deep brown coat with a collar as high as his ears and tails as low as his knees. His black breeches and silk stockings ended in very small pointed shoes, so highly polished that they twinkled with every movement. His vest was of black velvet, open at the top to show an embroidered shirt-front, with a high, smooth, white cravat .above it, which kept his neck for ever on the stretch. He stood easily, with one thumb in the arm-pit, and two fingers of the other hand in his vest pocket. ... ', “He handed his open snuff-box to my father, as Ambrose followed my, mother out of the room.

' “ ‘You number yourself in an illustrious company by dipping your finger and thumb into it,’ said he. “ ‘lndeed, sir!’ said my father, shortly. “ ‘You are free of my box. as being a relative by marriage. You are free also, nephew, and I pray you to take a pinch. It is the most intimate sign of my goodwill. Outside ourselves there are four, I think, who have had access to it—the Prince, of course; Mr Pitt; Monsieur Otto, the French Ambassador; "and Lord Hawkesbury. I have sometimes thought that I was premature with Lord Hawkesbury.’ “ ‘I am vastly honoured, sir,’ said my father, looking suspiciously at his guest from under his shaggy eyebrows, for with that grave face and those twinkling eyes, it was hard to know how to take him.” But these men of ultra-fashionable-ness were by no means mere idlers

and dilettantes; they could box, fight and stake their lives upon the veriest trifle at need. Here is the final stage of* the race on the Brighton Road between Tregellis and Sir John Lade. “Thought so!” cried my uncle. “If he doesn’t brake, why should I? Now, my darlings, one good spurt, and we’ll show them the colour of our tailboard.” We shot over the brow and flew madly down the hill with the great red coach roaring and thundering before us. Already we were in her dust, so that we could see nothing but the dim scarlet blur in the heart of it, rocking and rolling, with its outline hardening at every stride. We could hear the crack of the whip in front of us, and the shrill voice of Lady Lade as she screamed to the horses. My uncle was very quiet, but when I glanced up at him I saw that his lips were set and his eyes shining, with just a little flush upon each pale cheek. There was no need to urge on the mares, for they were already flying at a pace which could neither be stopped nor controlled. Our leader’s head came abreast of the off hind wheel, then of the off front one—then for a hundred yards we did not gain

an inch, and then with a spurt the bay leader was neck to neck with the black wheeler, and our fore wheel within an inch of their hind one. “Dusty work!” said my uncle, quietly. “Fan ’em, Jack! Fan ’em!” shrieked the lady. He sprang up and lashed at his horses. “Look out, Tregellis!” he shouted. “There’s a damnation spill coming for somebody.” We had got fairly abreast of them now, the rumps of the horses exactly a-line and the fore wheels whizzing together. There was not six inches to spare in the breadth of the road, and every instant I expected to feel the jar of a locked wheel. But new, as we came out from the dust, we could

| see what was ahead, and my uncle I whistled between his teeth at the sight. { Two hundreds yards or so in front of us there was a bridge, with wooden posts and rails upon cither side. The road narrowed down at the point, so that it was obvious that the two carriages abreast could not possibly get over. One must give way to the other. Already our wheels were abreast of their wheelers. “I lead!” shouted my uncle. “You must pull them. Lade!” “Not I!” he roared. “No, by George!” shrieked her lady-* Ship. “Fan ’em, Jack; keep on fanning ’^m!” It seemed to me that we were all going to eternity together. But my uncle did the only thing that could have saved us. By a desperate effort we might just clear the coach before reaching the mouth of the bridge. He sprang up. and lashed right and left at the mares, who, maddened at the unaccustomed pain, hurled themselves on in a frenzy. Down we thundered together, all shouting, I believe, at the top of our voices in the madness of the moment; but still we were drawing steadily away, and we were almost clear of the leaders when we flew on to the bridge. I glanced back at the

coach, and I saw Lady Lade, with her savage little white teeth clenched together, throw herself forward and tug with both hands at the off-side reins. “Jam them. Jack!” she cried. “Jam the —v- before they can pass.” Had she done it an instant sooner we shc-uld have crashed against the wood-work, carried it away, and been hurled into the deep gully below. As it was, it was not the powerful haunch of the black leader which caught our wheel, but the forequarter, which had not weight enough to turn us from our course. I saw a red wet seam gape suddenly through the black hair, and next instant we were flying alone down the road, whilst the four-in-hand had halted, and Sir John and his

lady were down in the road together tending to the wounded horse.

“Easy now, my beauties!” cried my uncle, settling down into his seat again, and looking back over his shoulder. “I could not have believed that Sir John Lade would have been guilty of such a trick as pulling that leader across. I do not permit a ‘mauvaise plaisanterie’ of that sort. He shall hear from me tonight.”

“It was the lady,” said I. My uncle’s brow cleared, and he began to laugh.

“It was little Letty, was it?” said he. “I might have known it. There’s a touch of the late lamented Sixteenstring Jack about the trick. Well, it is only messages of another kind that I send to a lady, so we’ll just drive oh our way, nephew, and thank our stars that we bring whole bones over the Thames.”