Discretion was hoped for, even expected, but if he failed in its delivery a man could still be accepted into the heart of the ton . Given the nature and indulgences of the Prince Regent himself, this was not surprising. So much of the grand self-indulgence, the immorality, the gambling, the ornamentation and the waste perpetrated by the upper class and condemned by the middle and lower classes was to be found in the actions of the once-loved, but now increasingly despised, Royal Prince. Although often well intentioned and with an eye for beauty and a love of the arts, the Prince Regent and his royal brothers (in particular the Dukes of Clarence, Cumberland and York) seemed to lead the way in almost every area of vice. Practically nothing was too extreme or too opulent or too expensive, making it difficult for criticism to be effectively levelled at those who followed their example. Lord Ombersley in The Grand Sophy was a particular friend of the Duke of York’s and, like him, pursued a life of pleasure which was marked by debt, mistresses and a sublime disregard for many of the proprieties laid down by the ton .
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,