Modern Living: Look at the Rain Beau

Another specimen of European faddism has recently caught on: a Persian rain and sun shield called the umbrella. Although many still regard it as a frivolous affectation, some physicians recommend it as an aid to ward off vertigoes, epilepsies, sore eyes and fevers, and several stores in Boston have started advertising umbrellas at prices ranging from 36 to 42 shillings.

The rain contraptions are often so heavy and cumbersome that it is hard to see what advantage they offer over the oiled linen cape. Pieces of leather or waxed cotton are tightly stretched over a spokelike array of rattan or whalebone ribs; the ribs are attached by wires and hinges to a central rod so that the covering can be opened out or collapsed at will. It rarely works as planned. The ribs often lose elasticity when wet and crack when dried out.

The fad came to London from Paris, where, as Horace Walpole says, “they walk about the streets in the rain with umbrellas to avoid putting on their hats.” So whenever London coachmen see anyone using the device, they are apt to crack their whips and shout, “Frenchman!” Or sometimes, more elaborately, “Rain beau!”