Punch or The London charivari (3.1842)

60

PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON IDLER,

CHATTER VI.— CONCERNING THE GENT.

F all the loungers who cross our
way in the public thoroughfares,
the Gent is the most unbearable,
principally from an assumption
of style about him—afutileaping
of superiority that inspires us
with feelings of mingled con-
tempt and amusement, when we
contemplate his ridiculous pre-
tensions to be considered " the
thing."

Were we inclined to dismiss
the subject of our chapter in a
few words,but,at the same time,
anxious to give our readers the
best general idea of him, we
should say that the finest speci-
mens of the Gent might be seen
pourtrayed in the coloured
" Fashions" with which certain
tailors adorn their windows. In
these pictorial representations
of presumed style, some favourite
West-end locality is taken for
the back ground, and in front are
many Gents, in such attitudes
as may display thoir figures and
littleboots to thebestadvantag:e.
Some are presumed to be ar-
rayed for an evening party in
green dress-coats and puce
tights; some again are represented as sportsmen, with pinched-in
waists that the shock of the first leap, or kick of the first fire, would
knock in half; and others are promenade Gents in frock-coats and
corded trousers, bowing to one another with much grace, or leading
little Gents by the hand, who look like animated Daguerreotypes of
themselves.

A grade lower are the representations of men of fern, who figure at the
side of cheap tailors' advertisements ; and at the bottom of the scale
stand the dummies we sometimes see displayed at the doors of ready
made clothes-' shops, invested in the splendour of an entire suit
" made to measure for the same terms." The announcements peculiar
to the Frankensteins of these strange creations are both imaginative
and full of spirit ; we write one of them, and present the copyright
to any of them who may choose to adopt it :—

THE ATTEMPT ON THE QUEEN'S LIFE.

A wild excitement reigns throughout the town,

Policemen scour the city up and down,

And try throughout the day to capture Bean,

Who snapp'd the pistol at our lovely Queen.

Each guileless hunchback foils a ready prey,

And to the station-house is hauled away.

But had their garments been by Stitchtapes made,

To show their forms they had not been afraid.

Mark their drab Chesterfields of the first water,

With the first rain 'twill shrink four inches shorter.

One pound's the price—it surely can't be dear,

And warranted to wear for half the year.

The celebrated window-cleaning blouse,

To buy at six-and-six you can't refuse.

Their new dress-coat they make for one pound nine,

And at this price of course 'tis superfine.

With contract suits they build for eager nobs,

Tn the most dashing style of Sunday snobs.

Coarse cloth, rude work, bad cutting, and quick wear,

With Stitchtapes' grand depot what can compare?

And recollect—old suits must be return'd,

If when worn out they're not worth being burn'd.

Then haste to Stitchtapes', and inspect their store,

For going once, you will return no mere*.

Such is the ubiquity ef the Gent, and under so many phases does
he move, that it is next to impossible to place him in any regular

* Not ten days back, since this chapter was written, we were disgusted at per-
ceiving a puffing; advertisement of the class above alluded to, in which the melancholy
death of the Duke of Orleans was made the medium of attracting the eye of the
reader to the trumpery doggrel which followed.

classification. However, evening is approaching, (the time when
Gents and cheap umbrellas chiefly flourish), and we will therefore
sally forth and jot down the peculiarities of such specimens as we
may encounter, for the instruction of our friends.

We have stumbled over one the minute we have quitted the house.
This species is possibly a clerk, who is scribbling in an old coat all
day at his office, and now puts on a cheap Taglicni, or one of the
"Gent's new horsecloth envelopes," dons a cheap pair of gloves, sticks
a cheap cigar in his mouth, and imagines that he is "rather the Stil-
ton than otherwise"—" Stilton," or " cheese" being terms by which
Gents imply style or fashion. He is pursuing a pret ty girl, of modest
deportment, who is possibly going home after her hard day's toil at
the bonnet-shop.

The Gent has not the sense to perceive that his advances are
repulsed with scorn and indignation. lie imagines, that by addressing
his coarse and annoying attempts at gallantry to an unprotected girl,
he is acting as if he was " upon town"—" a fast man"—" up toa thing
or two"—"a roue"—or some other such epithet ; which it is the am-
bition of the Gent to get attached to his name.

There are a group of thorough bred Gents (be careful, reader, not
to confound them witli thorough-bred gentlemen), whom we see
through the window, lounging in a tobacco-shop—some leaning
against the counter, others seated on tubs, and occupying the like
positions. This employment is another variety of what Gents think
knowing.

The presiding goddess of this temple of smoke is an uneducated
woman, who has been more or less pretty at some time or another ;
but still retaining sufficient attraction, it would seem, to draw the
Gents about her. Here they will pass hours, finding intense plea-
sure in her common-place, uninteresting conversation—retailing dull
jokes, worn-out anecdotes, 01 vapid inevitable puns to each other ;
and staring at any casual purchaser who may enter the shop, as if he
were an intruder on their domain.