Georgette Heyer's Regency World Read online

  Fashionable gentlemen could often be seen tooling a curricle down Piccadilly

  or St James’s Street in London.

  In his daily life the Regency man enjoyed a much wider range of entertainments than his female counterpart. Whereas a female’s reputation was among her most important assets, a male’s reputation was far more resistant to scandal. Married or single, a well-born and well-heeled man could frequently indulge in quite shocking behaviour on the streets and in the bars, brothels and gaming hells of Regency London without becoming a social outcast. Nell Cardross’s reprobate young brother Dysart engaged in all manner of outrageous pranks and even joined Lord Barrymore’s infamous Beggar’s Club without seriously endangering his social standing. When in society, however, he was bound to abide by the protocols and etiquette of his class, like most well-bred gentlemen who adhered to an unwritten code of honour that determined their behaviour in a range of social situations.

  Well-bred men were often seen enjoying the company of loose women,

  or Cyprians, in the foyer of Covent Garden.

  In elite social circles a man was expected to be elegant in both dress and manner when in public and to pay due deference to women and his social superiors. A man’s behaviour in private, when among other men or ‘in his cups’ (never in front of a lady), could be determined by a completely different set of much looser moral standards. In public a man was expected to adhere to the modes and manners of polite society in which, for example, open shows of affection were considered inappropriate and a kiss between a man and a woman denoted an intention to marry—assuming they were of the same class. Class was a powerful factor in determining a man’s behaviour, for a ‘gentleman’ might kiss or make up to a servant girl or country maid with a fair degree of impunity—although in Sprig Muslin the rakish old uncle sends a young servant girl, ‘unused to the ways of the Quality’, into hysterics. In general, the lower classes were expected to understand this sort of behaviour as the way of the Quality and accept that no serious relationship could be expected to result from it. In The Unknown Ajax, dandified Claud Darracott exemplifies this attitude by engaging in a series of flirtations with serving girls, dairymaids and, in the nearby town, the blacksmith’s daughter without any serious intention. Attitudes of the upper class to the middle class were very different, however, and only a scoundrel such as Sir Montagu Revesby in Friday’s Child would stoop to seducing a respectable girl of good family and subsequently deserting her and their bastard child. Paradoxically, upper-class society perceived his sin not in having fathered an illegitimate infant or having multiple affairs but in his not providing for the child. It was, after all, perfectly acceptable to be a rake but not to disregard one’s moral duty. The upper class, despite its insistent demands for propriety, was extraordinarily inconsistent in its responses to the excesses of behaviour by the ton.

  A man’s first responsibility was to his name and to the enhancement of his family’s wealth, power and prestige. On leaving school or university he was usually taken by his father or other well-born male sponsor to a levee (an all-male affair) at St James’s Palace where he would be presented to the monarch or his representative after which he could take his place in society. If he were an eldest son and the heir to an estate he was expected to marry before he was too old to father a son to carry on the family name. It was this responsibility that compelled Sir Gareth Ludlow in Sprig Muslin to seek a suitable bride after his brother Arthur was killed at Salamanca. If a man was a younger son, once he had completed his education it was incumbent upon him to make his way in the world by living within any allowance provided for him or by entering one of the professions. A married man was expected to support his wife and children materially and be discreet in managing his extramarital affairs or in keeping a mistress.

  As a father, a man’s interaction with his children could be extremely limited but he was expected at least to teach his sons the ways of the world, to educate them in manly pursuits such as hunting and shooting, and to impart a sense of duty to the family. For his daughters he was required to enable his wife to ‘fire them off’ into society and to provide a dowry in the event of their marriage. Some chose to involve themselves more fully in their children’s upbringing but society did not usually look askance at those men, like Adam Deveril’s father Bardy Lynton in A Civil Contract, who did little more than father his offspring, provide them with life’s necessities and introduce them into society when they came of age.

  A formal education was considered essential for the upper-class man and he began learning his letters at an early age. At five or six he usually entered the home schoolroom where he was taught by a governess, or a tutor if he had no sisters. A proper education was one grounded in the Classics and most boys were sent away after the age of eight to one of the well-established public schools such as Eton, Harrow, St Paul’s or Winchester. There they were taught Latin, Greek, languages such as French or Italian, history and mathematics in a large schoolroom in the company of several hundred other boys. School life was often extremely harsh and many boys endured meagre servings of poor food, freezing conditions, physical, sexual and emotional abuse, rats in the dormitories, loneliness and anxiety. Parents such as Gerard Monksleigh’s mother in Bath Tangle frequently worried over the rigours and privations of boarding-school life. There were happy moments, however, and many pupils greatly enjoyed the freedoms that life away from home offered and engaged in all manner of pranks and activities both inside and outside the school grounds. Many boys forged friendships during their school years which continued at university and beyond. At the age of sixteen or seventeen boys went up to either Oxford or Cambridge or, like Hugo Darracott in The Unknown Ajax or Adam Deveril in A Civil Contract, went straight into the military.

  Although many young men opted for a life of pleasure while at

  university some students chose an academic life.

  University was considered important, not so much for its academic opportunities (serious study was an option rather than a requirement) but for the social life and the friends and contacts which could be made there. Viscount Pevensey and his devoted and foolish friend, Cornelius Fancot, met at Harrow and embarked on a riotous career of pranks, dares and wagers which, in April Lady, continued during their time at Oxford and became the highlight of their bachelor life in London. The nature of university life, with its emphasis on high-spirited behaviour and apparent acceptance of young men as being naturally inclined to engage in all manner of pranks, dares and other reckless deeds, meant that it was not uncommon for students to find themselves rusticated (sent down or suspended) for at least part of a term as a result of activities deemed unacceptable even by the university authorities, such as riding a horse up the college stairs or, as Nicky Carlyon does in The Reluctant Widow, borrowing a bear to chase a couple of university dons up a tree. Some students did engage in academic life, however, and serious-minded young men such as Aubrey Lanyon in Venetia, who was entered at Trinity College Cambridge, aspired to be scholars and win a fellowship. Young men usually spent two or three years at the university before entering society as fully fledged adults.

  In April Lady Dysart, Viscount Pevensey, was famous at Oxford for leaping

  his hunter over a dining table and engaging in many of the outrageous

  pranks and escapades that were an accepted part of university life.

  A BACHELOR’S LIFE

  During the Regency the life of the well-bred and financially independent bachelor was often one of unalloyed pleasure. After a pleasant spell at either Oxford or Cambridge the sons of the nobility would frequently remove to London and take rooms in one of the many gentlemen’s lodgings in the West End of town. Duke Street, St James’s Place, Clarges Street, Ryder Street or any of the streets in the area of St James’s were popular, as was a set of chambers in Albany. The chambers, or ‘sets’ as they are still called within Albany, were available only to single men and consisted of comfortable bachelor apartments with two spacious
main rooms, an entrance hall and two or three smaller rooms which could house the kitchen, bathroom and either a study or second bedroom if one of the main rooms was used as a master bedroom. Each set also had space allocated to it in the basement and attics for servants’ quarters and storage. Lord Byron lived in Albany in 1814–15 as did The Foundling’s Gideon Ware who, as a captain in the Lifeguards, appreciated its close proximity to his headquarters. Albany’s central location just west of Piccadilly made it popular with many a Regency bachelor who wanted easy access to the clubs, pubs, hells, pleasure haunts and glittering social life available to the well-bred man of leisure.

  Many a young Regency blade aspired to spar with ‘Gentleman’

  John Jackson at his famous boxing saloon in Bond Street.

  As long as he had some form of income, a dedicated bachelor (such as those younger sons of the aristocracy not subject to family expectations and the need to provide an heir) could spend his life indulging his various whims and fancies. His day often did not begin until after noon, when he arose, ate a leisurely breakfast, and spent considerable time dressing before setting off for his club around three. He could take a look in at Tattersall’s and get the latest sporting news or engage in a sparring match at Jackson’s Saloon. At five he might join the promenade in Hyde Park, there to admire the ladies, converse with friends or show off his riding or driving style if he was an accomplished equestrian or whip. In Arabella young Bertram Tallant, on his first trip to London, eagerly anticipated the pleasure of an evening spent with friends going to the theatre or the opera, eating supper at the Royal Saloon or the Piazza, or visiting popular haunts such as the Daffy Club, Limmer’s Hotel or Cribb’s Parlour, where he might smoke a pipe, listen to the conversation of the sporting men and even handle the Champion’s silver cup.

  A well-bred bachelor, such as Freddy Standen in Cotillion, was a favourite among society hostesses who could rely on him to make up the numbers at a dinner party or be an agreeable guest at a ball. Some bachelors took pleasure in escorting married ladies to the theatre or Almack’s club, safe in the knowledge that no demands of a matrimonial nature would be made of them. A bachelor was also more at liberty than most married men to extend an evening spent at a ball, party, masquerade or the opera, into an all-night affair and thought nothing of drinking at his club, visiting a gaming hell or imbibing rough liquor in the seedier parts of town until after sunrise. Outside of the Season, a personable bachelor like Felix Hethersett in April Lady might join the fashionable set at a seaside resort or accept an invitation to stay at a country house where he could begin shooting in late August and (if he could afford it) join the hunt from November. Even for those single men compelled to earn a living and exercise their talents in the army, the navy, the Church, parliament or the law, it was possible for those dedicated to sport or the pursuit of pleasure to minimise the demands of their profession and dedicate a large part of their daily life to the delights of a bachelor existence.

  Like many young men of his day Bertram Tallant in Arabella wanted nothing more than to join a Hussar regiment.

  Although the younger sons of the nobility did not have to fulfill the expectations and responsibilities incumbent on the eldest son, neither did they enjoy the wealth and power that came with his inheritance. Although in some cases younger sons like Claud Darracott in The Unknown Ajax inherited land or money from their mothers or other relatives, most relied on the income (usually a competence only) supplied to them by the family estate and which could sometimes be paid at the discretion of the heir. While such an allowance might enable them to live a pleasant bachelor existence it was rarely enough to support a family. As a result, many younger sons were compelled to find employment and generally found themselves restricted by the conventions of the period to the handful of professions considered suitable for the sons of the upper class.

  They could enter the navy—and gain a suitable position through patronage of the kind Mr Beaumaris planned for Harry Tallant in Arabella—or join the army by buying a commission into a regiment. During the Regency a pair of colours in a Hussar regiment cost approximately £800 pounds and automatically made a man an officer regardless of his capability or qualifications. Intermittent conflict with the former American colonies, and Napoleon’s campaigns in Europe in the early years of the Regency, made the military an attractive occupation for many adventurous or romantically minded young men. For the less bold, taking Holy Orders and becoming a beneficed clergyman was generally an undemanding way of life which enabled many practitioners to continue to enjoy the popular activities of the period—riding, hunting, drinking and gaming—without censure, and, for those who wished to marry, a well-endowed living provided ample means for supporting a wife and family. The Reverend Hugh Rattray in Cotillion, while conscientious in the performance of his clerical duties, was also a sporting man and prided himself on his athletic prowess. A desire to enter the Church did not necessarily have to spring from a strong religious conviction or a passion for the calling; for many younger sons it was a position which could ensure a reasonable degree of comfort based on an income derived from one or more livings which were frequently made available from the family estates (known as ‘livings in the gift’).

  The other main occupation for an upper-class man was in politics, either as a member of the House of Commons, or through service in the diplomatic corps or the Foreign Office. In The Reluctant Widow, of Lord Carlyon’s three younger brothers one was an army officer, one was at Oxford and the third, John, was secretary to Lord Sidmouth at the Home Office. For some men it was also possible to acquire a government sinecure or subsidy through appointment to public office. Sinecures were a form of government patronage often used by the King or his ministers to secure political support from powerful families or individuals. There were many positions in the gift of the government which could be bestowed on the men and women of the aristocracy and their dependants and they often paid handsomely. Carlyon’s uncle, Lord Bedlington, although a close friend of the Prince Regent and honoured with a barony, was not (unfortunately) the recipient of such a grant although he tended to live as though he were the beneficiary of a generous government stipend. During the Regency, parliament was made up of the monarch, the House of Commons and the House of Lords. Whigs and Tories were not political parties in the modern sense of having a defined organisation but were two entities loosely held together by common philosophies, shared interests and the desire for power. Individual MPs were free to move between the parties and vote according to their conscience or personal interest, although family allegiances, traditional beliefs, friendship and patronage all played a part in determining where their loyalties lay. Although they had their differences, both Whigs and Tories came from the upper class and whether they were an aristocrat, member of the gentry or rich financier, they had many things in common—including an allegiance to the Church of England, a desire to protect their interests and a belief in a natural social order which placed them firmly at the top of the heap. Although his father had been a Whig, Adam Deveril, the new Viscount Lynton in A Civil Contract, shocked his friends by choosing to take his seat in the House of Lords as a Tory so that he might better support the Duke of Wellington in his fight against Napoleon.

  The Tories were traditionally the more conservative of the two parties and were often identified as supporters of the Crown and allies of the Church of England. They were derogatorily referred to (by the Whigs) as the ‘King’s Friends’. After the Napoleonic Wars the Tories were inclined to be reactionary in government and generally resisted moves for reform. During the Regency two Tory prime ministers held office: Spencer Perceval from 1809 until his assassination in 1812 and Lord Liverpool from 1812 to 1827. The Whigs tended to be identified with the great landowners, and with parliamentary rather than kingly authority. Although they were, like the Tories, mostly conservative, the Whigs were more tolerant of religious dissent and more likely to favour (cautious) reform. During the Regency the Whigs struggled for polit
ical unity but were constantly put at a political disadvantage by internal divisions and a failure to find one leader among the various Whig factions—all of whom had their own interests to promote. In The Unknown Ajax, Matthew Darracott’s defection from his father’s Whiggish beliefs to his wife’s Toryism earned him many parental snubs but also saw him rise steadily up the political ladder.

  MARRIAGE

  Not all men chose to marry, but for those who sought to become leg-shackled, marriage could be a serious business with the potential to materially affect a man’s social standing, wealth, power and influence. An eldest son with a title and expectations of a considerable inheritance usually had a wide choice of potential wives and it was expected that he would marry for the good of the family. In Sylvester, the hero startled his mother when he asked her advice about the list he had made of well-born ladies from which he planned to choose his wife since he seemed to assume that any of the ladies under consideration would be his for the asking. For the upper-class man, marriage usually meant finding a partner from within his own social sphere and, if possible, selecting a bride with a large dowry. An eldest son with lands to inherit but no fortune to go with them would often seek an heiress or a bride with a sizeable dowry or marriage portion—even if it meant stepping down the social ladder to find her. Stacy Calverleigh in Black Sheep was determined to win himself a bride with a large fortune and was quite prepared to marry a female from a lower social class to do so, while, despite her merchant-class origins, the possession of a large fortune made Tiffany Wield of The Nonesuch an attractive prize to many better-born men. During the Regency many daughters of the new wealthy merchant class married into the aristocracy and (both genetically and financially) brought new lifeblood to the upper class.