By Summer Anne Lee
Summer Anne Lee, Fashion Historian and Research Volunteer at Bow Street Police Museum, brings to light tales of men’s fashion and theft in 1800s London. They say that clothes make the man — but what if the man’s clothes were stolen, and it’s nineteenth-century London?
A person’s attire says a lot about them. For example, its cost or fashionability can signify financial success, and condition can reveal how good a person’s hygiene is. Throughout the 1800s, this was perhaps even more important than it is today. One need not look further to understand, therefore, why clothing and accessories were often the target of thievery. To a common thief, a stolen set of clothing, boots, or gold pocket watch could be their meal ticket. For an unclothed pauper, a new coat obtained by any means could restore their dignity.
How did Bow Street Police intervene in these nineteenth-century crimes of fashion, and what might the punishments be for the perpetrators? Continue reading this blog to learn the answers from real historical accounts!
WHAT WAS MEN’S FASHION IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY LONDON?
By the start of the nineteenth century, the English taste in menswear was the height of fashionability in Europe and the United States (see fig. 1). Although France was once the centre of European luxury, the mid-eighteenth century saw a wave of “Anglomania” that even had Frenchmen dressing in the English style. For men, dressing the English way meant eschewing luxurious lace, embroidery, and over-the-top hairstyles and adornments in favour of simpler clothes and more practical accessories. International English influence on menswear became even stronger after George Bryan “Beau” Brummell popularized his refined way of dressing, called “dandyism,” during the Regency period (1811-1820).
In the image above (fig. 2), Brummell is depicted wearing a dark blue double-breasted tailcoat with bright metal buttons, a white waistcoat and high-collared shirt, long, tight pantaloons, and tasselled black Hessian boots. His accessories include the black high-crowned top hat, walking stick, and gloves in his hands, and a large wax seal seen at his right hip. This would have been used as a fob attached to the same chain as the pocket watch. Perhaps surprisingly for a clothing-obsessed man, Brummell was not a fan of bright colours or extravagant ornamentation. However, he was a perfectionist when it came to dressing. For example, he was famously meticulous in the way he tied the starched, white cravat around his neck.
Certainly, not all nineteenth-century Englishmen were dandies. Because of their perceived vanity and lack of masculinity, dandies were commonly the subject of satire and scrutiny. However, Brummell’s perfectionism in dress was emblematic of a larger shift in men’s fashion towards precise tailoring and subtle colours in contrast to women’s fashion.
The staples of English menswear generally remained the same for decades, though by the middle of the nineteenth century professional gentlemen began to favour the frock coat instead of the tailcoat. Rather than being waist-length in the front with long “tails” at the back, the frock coat featured a horizontal waist seam and skirts all around. One can be seen on the gentleman wearing the top hat in Figure 3 above, an English fashion plate from 1869. The other man appears to wear a fur-lined greatcoat over an angle-fronted coat, which was a relatively short-lived menswear trend most popular from about 1870-1880.[1]
During the 1880s and 1890s, styles that were previously thought to be too casual became popular for daily wear. This includes the rounded “bowler hat” and the informal “lounge suit,” both of which would become mainstays of men’s fashion in the early twentieth century. As seen in the 1887 photograph of Arthur, Duke of Connaught (fig. 4), the lounge suit included a short-skirted, single-breasted coat and trousers of matching fabric. Increasingly by the end of the nineteenth century, dark and sombre hues were preferred for men’s suits — such as black, gray, brown, and navy blue. Flashy patterns and pops of colour, such as orange, yellow, bright blue, or red could be acceptable for men’s gloves, neckties, waistcoats, and at-home leisure clothing, though generally these were considered a part of the feminine domain.
All the same, jewellery and accessories were still important for respectable London gentlemen in the late nineteenth century. The Duke of Connaught posed for that 1887 photo with a walking stick not because he required a mobility aid, but because it was fashionable. Many men still relied on pocket watches to keep time, and these watches could be very expensive. After about 1870, it was fashionable to keep the pocket watch on a heavy chain worn across the front of the waistcoat with a guard on one end. This was known as an Albert watch chain.[2] Also, a decorative scarf pin or breast pin could be worn in a man’s shirt or necktie. In the 1890 illustration of Mr. James Monro of the London Metropolitan Police by Leslie Matthew ‘Spy’ Ward for Vanity Fair, Monro is depicted wearing both of these luxury items (fig. 5).
WHAT ROLE DID CLOTHING PLAY IN THE WORLD OF CRIME?
When one considers the important role that clothing played in men’s lives in the nineteenth century, it should come as no surprise that it was frequently the subject of theft. After all, finely made clothing and accessories in good condition could be very valuable, so thieves could expect to sell them for a good sum of money. As such, there are reports of stolen clothing from all throughout the century. For example, in 1801, the Ipswich Journal advertised a reward of £10 for any information leading to the conviction of a robber who stole, from the dwelling house of Mark Singleton, Esq. at Cavendish,
“Two Black Cloth Coats, Three pair of Black Breeches, Two Black Cloth Waistcoats, One Pair of Black Cloth Pantaloons, One Pair of Boots, One Pair of Shoes, Two striped coloured Dimity Waistcoats, several spotted Silk and Muslin Handkerchiefs, One Pair of Leather Breeches, One Pair of Black Silk Stockings, several pocket Handkerchiefs, marked M.S. 24, a Groom Boy’s Blue Cloth Coat, with round White Buttons, and a Pair of Dark Thick-set Breeches, a pair of Leather Saddle Bags, and sundry other things.”[3]
Due to the high volume and variety of clothing stolen, we can assume the thief did not intend to use all of the items for themselves and that their motivation was financial gain. If not sold for money outright, clothes could also be used in a barter system. First published in 1861, Henry Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor: The condition of those that will work, cannot work, and will not work, Vol. 1., includes a street-seller of crockery-ware (fig. 6) who commonly exchanged tableware for old clothes in decent condition. Mayhew’s informant explained that:
“There is always a market for old boots, when there is not for old clothes. You can any day get a dinner out of old Wellingtons; but as for coats and waistcoats — there’s a fashion about them, and what pleases one don’t another.”[4]
Therefore, as you may expect, boots were valuable commodities to thieves — and even if someone did not personally steal them, it was still illegal for a person to possess stolen goods. That was exactly the charge brought upon a man named George Edwards at the Bow-street Police Court in September of 1897.[5] The “peculiar” case was described as this: Two men by the nicknames “Blotchy” and “Sailor” broke into a showcase at 284 High Holborn in London, and several pairs of expensive boots were stolen. These men were eventually caught by police thanks to local intelligence, but before then, sold a pair of patent leather boots to the prisoner, Edwards, for three shillings. However, the pair turned out to be mismatched, so Edwards was unable to use them and turned the boots into the police — who promptly arrested him for having purchased them in the first place. Edwards denied knowing that the boots were stolen property.
Even police officers at Bow-street weren’t safe from having their boots stolen! In 1882, The Standard reported that a police constable named Ephraim Miller was convicted of stealing a pair of uniform boots belonging to another officer at the Bow-street police station. Miller had only been on the job for a few weeks at the time of the theft and was sentenced to hard labor for four months.[6]
Men’s jewellery items like pocket watches, watch chains, and breast pins were also targeted as they were likely easier both to steal and sell when compared to articles of clothing while they were being worn. In fact, an 1886 Morning Post reported out of Bow Street that a detective rescued a man’s silver watch and watch chain from an alleged thief at Gaiety Theatre without the man even realizing they were missing.[7]
Others were not so inconspicuous. More news from Bow Street reported by the Morning Post in 1889 announced that a man called Hugh Harvey was charged with stealing a watch and chain belonging to a solicitor named Mr. Myers as he was passing along the Strand one evening.[8] Harvey allegedly snatched at the chain, breaking it, and ran off with the pocket watch. The watch and chain were valued at £30, and according to the CPI Inflation Calculator, £30 in 1889 is equivalent in purchasing power to over £4,830 in 2024. Harvey was caught and detained until police came, and is quoted in the paper as having said “It looks a good lot; I wish I had got away with it.” In yet another case, from London in 1840, a man named James Davey was incarcerated for a year after having been found guilty of stealing another man’s breast pin from the drawer of a boarding house and hiding it in the lining of his waistcoat.[9]
Of course, clothing was also stolen with the intention of wearing it. One very strange case, reported by the Illustrated Police News in 1879, involved an acrobat who allegedly robbed a Londoner of his hat, coat, and waistcoat by convincing him to take them off in order to participate in a “rope-tying trick” and running off with the articles.[10] The accompanying illustration shows the acrobat absconding with a bowler hat and clothes under his arm (fig. 7).
Some reports out of Bow Street reveal instances of men stealing clothing out of necessity, due to their poverty. In 1879, this even included a tailor’s apprentice named Michael Hedderman. Only seventeen years old, Hedderman was charged with absconding with a coat that his master, Dominie John Fogarty, tasked him with repairing. It was noted that Hedderman was very dirty in appearance, and the unhygienic condition of his situation was his motivation for stealing the coat. At court, he announced that he hadn’t been given a clean shirt in months and that he would rather go to prison than remain in Fogarty’s care.[11] We may speculate that Hedderman may have intended to wear the coat if he was without a suitable one of his own. Yet no case thus far has illustrated the motivation of the impoverished to steal clothing more than one from 1880 involving a man named William Jordan.
Jordan was charged at Bow Street for stealing a light overcoat from the doorway of a tailor shop of High Holborn. He ran and was eventually caught by a police constable and charged. It was then that he showed the magistrate how the tailcoat he was currently wearing was very torn and falling apparent, and said: “It’s a very bad coat, your worship, and the fact is that I was very much ashamed to be seen in it. I thought it was about time I had another, but you mustn’t think I’m a thief, because I’m not. I’m an honest man, and am surprised that anybody should have the impudence to charge me.” Because he had no previous convictions, Jordan was sentenced to one month’s imprisonment.
This may be considered a light sentence when one remembers that theft has been considered a very serious crime in various civilizations over thousands of years, and throughout history, many people have lost their lives for the crime of stealing. Even in the Victorian era, punishments for the theft of clothing could be quite severe, including for children. In 1840, a thirteen-year-old boy named George Smith was indicted for stealing a waistcoat valued at one shilling. The waistcoat in question was hanging inside of the door of a clothes shop in Plummer-street, City-road, London. A man named John Cottrell witnessed Smith use a “little whip” to hook the waistcoat off of the door, and once it was away, hid it underneath his jacket. Cottrell felt that Smith “did not do it for want” and alerted a nearby police officer. Smith was found guilty of this crime and was sentenced to be transported for seven years. This method of punishment, known as penal transportation, was a method of relocating criminals often to far-away British colonies.
If Cottrell’s belief that young Smith did not steal the waistcoat out of need, then what could his motivation have been? Some nineteenth-century phrenologists may have believed that he was predisposed to stealing based on the size and shape of his brain.[12] However, perhaps his reason was not unlike people who shoplift in the twenty-first century: impulse, a desire to own things they cannot afford, the thrill of feeling like an “escape artist,” or even depression and other forms of mental illness.[13] Whatever his reason was, we will never know. We will also never know what the waistcoat looked like. Was it plain or flashy, embroidered like a circa 1840s waistcoat from the Metropolitan Museum of Art (fig. 8)? Did Smith intend to keep it and wear it himself, sell it, or perhaps give it as a gift to someone he knew?
It’s impossible to know these details about the crime so many years later. Yet we know that Smith paid for his “crime of fashion” by surrendering the remainder of his teenage years.
Bibliography
- “Advertisements & Notices.” Ipswich Journal, 12 Sept. 1801.
- “(Before Mr. P. H. EDLIN, Q. C., Assistant Judge).” Standard, October 6, 1882, 6.
- Buckler, Henry. Central Criminal Court Minutes of Evidence Taken in Short-hand. Volume XII. Session VII. To Session XII. London: George Herbert, Cheapside, 1840.
- Cumming, Valerie, C. W. Cunnington, and P. E. Cunnington. The Dictionary of Fashion History. Oxford: Berg Publishers, 2010.
- “Loafers In Hyde-park.” Morning Post, September 7, 1897, 6.
- “Master and Apprentice.” Sunday Times, 23 Feb. 1879, p. 6.
- Mayhew, Henry. London Labour and the London Poor: The condition of those that will work, cannot work, and will not work, Vol. 1. London: G. Newbold, 1851.
- “Police Intelligence.” Morning Post, January 13, 1886, 6.
- “Police Intelligence.” Morning Post, October 9, 1889, 2.
- Shteir, Rachel. The Steal: A Cultural History of Shoplifting. London: Penguin Books, 2012.
- “Shocking Brutality.” Illustrated Police News, 15 Nov. 1879.
[1] Cumming, Valerie, C. W. Cunnington, and P. E. Cunnington. “Angle-fronted coat, university coat.” The Dictionary of Fashion History. Oxford: Berg Publishers, 2010. 5. Bloomsbury Fashion Central. Web. Accessed 14 Jan. 2024.
[2] Cumming, Valerie, C. W. Cunnington, and P. E. Cunnington. “Albert watch-chain.” The Dictionary of Fashion History. Oxford: Berg Publishers, 2010. 3. Bloomsbury Fashion Central. Web. Accessed 14 Jan. 2024.
[3] Advertisements & Notices.” Ipswich Journal, 12 Sept. 1801. British Library Newspapers. Accessed 12 Jan. 2024.
[4] Mayhew, Henry. London Labour and the London Poor: The condition of those that will work, cannot work, and will not work, Vol. 1. London: G. Newbold, 1851.
[5] “Loafers In Hyde-park.” Morning Post, September 7, 1897, 6. British Library Newspapers. Accessed Jan. 14, 2024.
[6] “(Before Mr. P. H. EDLIN, Q. C., Assistant Judge).” Standard, October 6, 1882, 6. British Library Newspapers. Accessed Jan. 14, 2024.
[7] “Police Intelligence.” Morning Post, January 13, 1886, 6. British Library Newspapers. Accessed Jan. 14, 2024.
[8] “Police Intelligence.” Morning Post, October 9, 1889, 2. British Library Newspapers. Accessed Jan. 14, 2024.
[9] Buckler, Henry. Central Criminal Court Minutes of Evidence Taken in Short-hand. Volume XII. Session VII. To Session XII. London: George Herbert, Cheapside, 1840.
[10] “Shocking Brutality.” Illustrated Police News, 15 Nov. 1879. British Library Newspapers. Accessed 12 Jan. 2024.
[11] “Master and Apprentice.” Sunday Times, 23 Feb. 1879, p. 6. The Sunday Times Historical Archive.. Accessed 12 Jan. 2024.
[12] Shteir, Rachel. The Steal: A Cultural History of Shoplifting. London: Penguin Books, 2012.
[13] Ibid.
