That poor boy is the son of two of my oldest friends; and for himself we have always had the greatest esteem and liking. If he caused us a little annoyance at this time, he had perhaps a sort of excuse for it-which is more than some people can say, when they have long ago got over the jealousies of courtship, and yet do not cease to persecute their wives with far from good-natured jests and it is, I think, a little unfair to represent me as being blind to his peculiar situation, or unmerciful toward himself. On the contrary, I am sure I did every thing I could to smooth over the unpleasant incidents of his visit; but I did not find it incumbent on me to become a partisan, and

spend hours in getting up philosophical-philosophical !-excuses for a rudeness which was really unpardonable. What I chiefly wish for, I know, is to see all those young folks happy and enjoying themselves; but it would puzzle wiser heads than mine to find a means of reconciling them. As for Count von Rosen, if he made up his mind to ask Bell to be his wife, because Ellesmere looked pretty when the moon came out, I can not help it. It is some years since I gave up the idea of attempting to account for the odd freaks and impulses that get into the heads of what I suppose we must call the superior sex."] (To be continued.)

AN almost unparalleled success and popularity, an acknowledged high position in that inscrutable realm known as "the first society," and at a time too when its portals were much narrower and more jealously guarded than in these degenerate days of successful merchandise and nouveaux riches; an intimate acquaintance with "the first gentleman in Europe," and a welcome reception in half the best houses in England, unassisted too by either wealth or connections; surely, with such a combination of distinctions, George Brummel might well lay claim to the position sarcastically allotted to him by Lord Byron, as one of the greatest men of the nineteenth century.

His name is now almost forgotten. We have merged into a totally different phase of society-a society that refuses to award notoriety to the wearer of a perfectlystarched cravat, or creaseless coat; yet a glimpse into "those good old times," and a slight sketch of the life of the once famous Beau, may not, I hope, prove wholly devoid of interest.

George Bryan Brummel was born in June, 1778. Much has been said as to the obscurity of his birth and parentage. According to some statements his father was a confectioner; others declare him to have been one of Lord Bute's household servants; but these and many similar assertions are without foundation. His grandfather, however, certainly appears to have been in trade, though what his calling I can not say; he lived in Bury Street, St. James's, and supplemented his modest income by letting apartments. Mr. Jenkinson, afterwards Lord Liverpool, was one of his first lodgers. The Beau's fa

ther, then a boy, would seem to have attracted this gentleman's notice, for he employed him for some time as an amanuensis, and afterwards obtained him a clerkship in the Treasury. He here acquitted himself so creditably as to be later recommended as secretary to Lord North. He occupied this position until his patron's resignation, in 1788, when he retired from office and purchased a comfortable estate, known as The Grove, near Donnington. He had some years before married a Miss Richardson, reckoned one of the prettiest women of her time.

The Grove appears to have been a popular house, for not only were Fox and Sheridan among its frequent visitors, but many also of the celebrated wits and literary men of the day; and to his early intercourse with such society may I think be traced much of George Brummel's ready wit and excellent conversational powers. The Beau and an elder brother were both sent to Eton. Of his school days there is but little to relate. His contemporaries describe him as a handsome, pleasant, gentlemanly boy, and one who made plenty of friends, but did not specially distinguish himself, either in school or playground. At Oxford, where he completed his education, his career was much the same. His leaving the University was almost immediately followed by a most important event in his life-his introduction to the Regent. One of the many titled friends whom Brummel had so assiduously cultivated, both at Eton and Oxford, contrived a dinner-party for this purpose. The particulars of the interview have not transpired, but it would seem that the Beau's excellent manners and cool, self

possessed bearing on this occasion, though a mere boy, barely seventeen years old, met with His Royal Highness's more than common approval, for almost immediately followed the present of a cornetcy in the 10th Hussars, a regiment then commanded by the Prince himself. So marked a preference from such a quarter of course made Brummel at once the centre of all notice and attention, and many absurd anecdotes are told of the consequent assurance, not to say impudence, of his manner at this time. One of these, though perhaps well known, I can not forbear relating. At a great ball given by a certain law lord, one of the handsomest as well as the most difficile girls in the room was observed to refuse every dance. Late in the evening, however, Cornet Brummel made his appearance, when this haughty beauty at once yielded him her hand and joined the dancers. The dance over, the Beau sauntered up to a friend and inquired with some curiosity who the very ugly man standing near the mantelpiece might be. Why surely you must know him," said his acquaintance; "that is the master of the house." Really?" replied the Cornet, nonchalantly. "How should I? I

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never was invited."

Brummel only remained in the 10th until 1798. His reasons for selling out have never been thoroughly ascertained, and it certainly does seem incomprehensible that he should thus early have given up a position so much coveted by others, and which must too have been such a pleasant one to himself. The unsettled state of Europe at that time rendered it highly probable that the regiment might be required for active service, and it is said by many that this was a contingency specially distasteful to Brummel. The reason he himself gave to the Prince was the fact that the regiment was suddenly ordered to Manchester. "I have heard, your Royal Highness," he said, "that we are ordered to Manchester. Now you must be aware how disagreeable this would be to me. I really could not go. Think, your Royal Highness-Manchester ! Besides, you would not be there. I have, therefore, with your Royal Highness's permission, determined to sell out." Oh, by all means, Brummel," said the Prince, "do as you please, do as you please."

Before following George Brummel's further fortunes it may be worth while to con

sider his right to the sobriquet of Beau, and how he obtained it. The term "beau," in those days, was synonymous with our more modern word "dandy," and was applied without distinction to all who were remarkable for care in the style and taste of their attire.

Dress had at that time become very untidy. Fox, and many of the leading men of the day, affected a supreme contempt for all outward adornment; and it consequently grew to be considered the mode for a gentleman's appearance to be as négligé, or to speak more correctly, as slovenly, as possible. But a reaction was gradually setting in, and Brummel, who had been conspicuous from boyhood for the scrupulous neatness of his appearance, now determined to be the best dressed man in London. His figure was remarkably good, and he took care that it should always be displayed to the fullest advantage, by a perfectly-fitting coat. His special aim, however, was to avoid any thing marked, considering it a great mortification for any gentleman, that his dress should attract observation in the street. In this particular he was most successful, being distinguished only, as Lord Byron truly said of him, by "the exquisite propriety of his appearance." His chief forte lay in his cravat; this important article had hitherto consisted of a piece of limp cambric, loosely fastened round the throat. Brummel, however, took care to have his slightly starched, and the arrangement of this part of his dress would seem to have been fraught with the deepest anxiety; for it is related that a friend, calling upon him one morning before the completion of his toilet, met his valet coming down stairs with a quantity of neck-cloths, slightly tumbled under his arm. On being questioned on the subject, the man replied with great gravity, "Oh, these are our failures." But enough, has, I think, been said to justify Brummel's fullest claims to the title of Beau; and I will only add a few words as to his personal appearance before passing on to the more interesting portion of his life. His figure, as has already been mentioned, was undeniable, but there all his claims to beauty ceased; his face, though pleasing, was not handsome-it was too long, though otherwise well shaped, and his features were ordinary; his complexion and hair were fair, the latter, as well as his whiskers, inclined to sandy; his eyes gray,

and in this feature, as well as the mouth, lay his great power of expression.

On leaving the 10th Brummel established himself in Chesterfield Street, May Fair. The fortune left him at his father's death, some few years before, now amounted to 30,000l. Being now of age, and perfectly independent, he resolved, with the assistance of this ample sum and a large circle of friends, to devote himself to a life of pleasure. His ménage, though small, was most recherché; its leading characteristic being an excellent cook. This chef de cuisine was no bad speculation; the Beau's little dinners soon became renowned, and were not unfrequently honored by the presence of royalty itself. His style of living at this time was, if luxurious, certainly not extravagant; he gratified, it is true, all his expensive tastes, but was as yet wise enough to keep clear of the ruling passion of the day-high play.

The next ten years of his life were his halcyon days, spent as they were in constant intercourse with the creme de la creme of the fashionable world. The Prince's patronage had of course given him a footing in this society to which he could never otherwise have attained; but to his own merits alone was due the position he subsequently occupied there. George Brummel, whatever may have been his follies, was always a gentleman, his tastes were cultivated, and his manners distinguished by that chivalrous courtesy which characterizes what we term "the old school." That he was far from being the mere brainless fop that some would have us believe, may I think be judged from the esteem in in which he was held by many of the literary men and women of his day. Though his reading was not deep it was extensive, so that with a retentive memory and considerable powers of observation, he managed to take, if not a leading, still a prominent part in any conversation that might be started. With women he was an especial favorite; his artistic tastes finding great favor in their eyes. Without any unusual talent, he was still a clever draughtsman; he possessed too some knowledge of music and a good voice, his dancing was perfect, and he was quite an adept in writing vers de société—an art then much in vogue. It is passing strange that with so many points in his favor he should never have been able to consolidate his prosperity by

a good marriage. His offers were numerous, but they never seem to have been either made or received in earnest; he could not enlist sufficient interest in any affaire de cœur to carry it to a successful termination; he considered it a proper compliment to every woman he admired to make her an offer, but without the slightest wish or expectation of its being accepted. As a sportsman he did not distinguish himself; the exertion was too great, in fact the whole thing bored him; he however kept several hunters, and presented a most ornamental appearance at meets, but was generally found at home again toward luncheon time.

Though I have described the Beau in most respects as a gentleman, he had one great defect, that not unfrequently dangerously threatened his reputation in that character; I mean his excessive impertinence. He rarely visited it upon those he considered his equals or superiors, but chiefly such persons as presumed, as he thought unworthily, on an intimacy with him. The following anecdote may serve as an illustration of this fact. Brummel had been dining with a young man, who, though very wealthy, was scarcely, as he considered, in his world, and before the party separated he asked who would take him to Lady Jersey's that evening. host, who was also invited, proud of the prospect of being seen in such company, eagerly placed his carriage at his disposal. "Thank you exceedingly," said the Beau, "very kind of you indeed. But pray how are you to go? You surely would not like to get up behind? No; that would not be right. And yet it will scarcely do for me to be seen in the same carriage with you." His authority on all social matters at length came to be regarded as unquestionable, and his approbation was earnestly sought for, even by persons of high distinction, moving in his set. "Do you see that gentleman near the door ?" asked an experienced chaperone of her daughter, a débutante, making her first appearance at Almack's, "he is now speaking to Lord

-" "Yes, I see him," replied the lighthearted girl. "Who is he?" "A person, my dear, who will probably come and speak to us; and if he enters into conversation, be careful to give him a favorable impression of you, for he is the celebrated Mr. Brummel."

Brummel's intimacy with the Regent

continued unchecked for many years. How the difference came about that finally separated them it is difficult to say; but it certainly did not originate in the wellknown story of "Wales, ring the bell," which Brummel himself always indignantly denied. He said, "I was on such intimate terms with the Prince that if we had been alone I could have asked him to ring the bell without offence, but with a third person in the room I should never have done so; I knew the Regent too well." It was much more likely due to Mrs. Fitzherbert's influence. No friendly feeling ever seems to have existed between herself and the Beau; she always mistrusted and disliked him, and he, in turn, being jealous of her power, frequently indulged in sarcastic remarks at her expense, not even sparing the Regent sometimes in the flashes of his bitter humor. No pains were of course spared by Mrs. Fitzherbert in repeating these speeches to the Prince, and with so much success, that after a time she effected a total estrangement between them. But Brummel's excellent position and unscrupulous audacity rendered him no inoffensive antagonist, as his royal patron discovered, on one occasion at least, to his own cost. The story connected with this circumstance is very well known, and has been constantly repeated, but as no account of Brummel would be complete without it, I shall not apologize for relating it. There are many versions of it, but I have good authority for thinking the following to be the really

correct one:

Lord Alvanley, Brummel, Henry Pierrepoint, and Sir Harry Mildmay gave a ball at the Hanover Square Rooms, which was called the Dandies' Ball, the four gentlemen mentioned being members of that club. Upon the Regent's expressing a wish to be present, he received an invitation, though the rupture with Brummel had but just taken place. On his entry into the ball-room, the four donors of the entertainment stood waiting to receive him.

He greeted them all with some words of friendly recognition, with the exception of Brummel, at whom he stared as if he did not know who he was or why he was there. Stung to the quick by this public insult, the Beau said in a loud tone to Alvanley, immediately their royal guest had passed on, "Alvanley, who's your fat friend?" The Prince heard the remark,

and was as much mortified by it as even its author could have desired.

When all hopes of a reconciliation with the Regent were at an end, Brummel assiduously cultivated the acquaintance of the Duke of York. Between him and the Duchess there had long subsisted a most sincere friendship, and one which continued unaltered until her death. But dark days were coming for Brummel. Unusual success at play-for he had of late years become an inveterate gambler-was followed by as disastrous losses. raised money in all directions, but only to be spent in the same way. At length his credit was gone, and he found himself completely beggared.

He

Ruin stared him in the face, and the only hope left him was timely flight. The night of the 16th of May, 1816, saw him on his way across the Channel, and the morning of the 17th found him safely landed at Calais, out of reach of his creditors, who had just discovered his flight, and were loudly and vainly bewailing their consequent heavy losses.

Brummel had a curious way of accounting for this and all his subsequent misfortunes. He used to say that up to a particular period of his life every thing prospered with him, and that he owed this good luck to the possession of a certain silver sixpence with a hole in it, that had been given him years before, with the injunction to take good care of it, as every thing would go well with him while he did so, and the contrary if he happened to lose it. In an evil hour, he gave it by mistake to a hackney coachman, when the threatened ill-luck at once befell him. In vain he advertised his lost treasure. Many sixpences with holes were brought to him, but the missing one was not amongst the number.

On his arrival in Calais the Beau established himself in elegant apartments in the best part of the town, and proceeded to surround himself with all those luxuries which the constant habit of years had now rendered almost a necessity to him. The generosity of his friends enabled him to do this, and for some time his life in exile differed but little from his previous one. He at first entered into no society, and it was not until some of his former friends came and established themselves at Calais that he appeared at any of the entertainments given by the English residents.

The next few years passed uneventfully, the continued kindness of his friends enabling him to live in a species of magnificent mendicancy, having absolutely no income whatever of his own.

In September, 1821, the Regent, now George the Fourth, stayed two days at Calais en route for the Continent; but his visit, from which Brummel had hoped much, passed off, as far as he was concerned, fruitlessly. The King was well aware of his old associate's whereabouts and distressed circumstances, but it would appear that he had neither forgotten nor forgiven the past, for Brummel received no indication that he might visit him, and, uninvited, he could not, much as he might have desired it, presume on such a step. An accidental rencontre, however, could not be avoided. As the Beau was returning from his usual walk he came suddenly upon the King's carriage making its way to the hotel. The great crowd rendered any retreat impossible, and he was obliged to wait with the rest until it had passed. In those few seconds his Majesty saw and recognized him, and exclaimed in a loud voice, "Good God, Brummel!" The latter, pale as death, crossed the street and entered his lodgings. They never met again.

The remaining years of Brummel's sojourn at Calais were rendered most uncomfortable by constant pressing need for money. Since he had abandoned all hopes of returning to England, he had been endeavoring to obtain some small of ficial appointment in France, sufficient to keep him from want, but for some time without success.

At length, however, after many difficulties and disappointments, he received the offer of the consulship at Caen, with a salary of about £400 a year. But even this did not prove of much assistance to him; for to be able to leave Calais, where he was deeply in debt, he was forced to borrow so large a sum of money that a considerable portion of his yearly salary would have to be expended for some time to come in defraying it. Both French and English residents at Caen received him most cordially; for in spite of his altered fortunes his former fame rendered him an object of great interest. The Beau seems to have entered very readily into their plans for his entertainment, and dined with every one who invited him, a good dinner

being an object of as much importance to him as formerly and much less easy of attainment. Still those who unceremoniously intruded themselves on his notice, and they were not a few, he studiously avoided. One lady in particular suffered severely at his hands for a similar indiscretion. Perceiving the Beau and a friend walking down the street past the open window at which she was sitting, she wished them good evening, adding, "Now won't you come in and take tea ?” “Madam," replied Brummel laconically, "you take medicine, you take a walk, you take a liberty, but you drink tea;" and with a stiff bow he passed on with his friend. Misfortune never seemed weary of pursuing the unfortunate Beau, for scarcely had he held the consulate two years when the English government determined to abolish it. It is said by some that Brummel brought this calamity on himself by declaring that he had nothing to do and that the office was an unnecessary one, but this seems very unlikely, as it was his only possible means of subsistence. The consulship, however, was abolished, and notwithstanding many promises to the contrary, the poor Beau soon found himself again in an almost destitute condition. Added to this his health was much weakened by a stroke of paralysis by which he was attacked in the winter of 1832.

Through the kindness of his numerous friends, both English and French, at Caen, he received every attention during his illness, and ultimately recovered, but only to meet fresh calamities. A small portion of the sum he had borrowed to enable him to leave Calais had been defrayed by his first two years' income as consul, but the remainder, a large amount, it was now entirely out of his power to repay. His creditors, being aware of this fact, pressed him for the money, and at length, with the view of extorting it from his powerful friends in England, suffered the law to take its full course upon him. The poor Beau was rudely aroused from his slumbers one morning by the grasp of a captain of gendarmes, and shortly afterwards conducted to prison. One of his English friends at Caen at once proceeded to England to represent his deplorable situation to his former friends there, and owing to their generous liberality the debt in a short time was paid and Brummel released; but the three months' captivity he had endured