that A

had a hundred thousand a year, &c., &c., till she praised him to his face for his beauty, and made a set at him for and a hundred fooleries besides. The truth is, that though I gave up the business early, I had a tinge of Dandyism in my minority, and probably retained enough of it to conciliate the great ones, at five-and-twenty. I had gamed and drunk, and taken my degrees in most dissipations, and having no pedantry, and not being overbearing, we ran on quietly together. I knew them all, more or less, and they made me a member of Watier's (a superb club at that time), being, as I take it, the only literary man, except two others (both men of the world), Moore and Spencer, in it. Our masquerade was a grand one, so was the Dandy ball too."

This memorable fête was given at the Argyle Rooms in July 1813, by the four gentlemen already mentioned, after winning a very considerable sum one evening at hazard. Elated with their run of good luck, they very gallantly determined to give a fancy ball, one that would astonish their friends: a serious question, however, arose among them, whether they should or should not invite the Prince, who had previously quarrelled with Brummell and Sir Henry Mildmay; but after a long, loyal, and solemn discussion on this most important subject, Brummell very properly laid aside his own feelings, and it was agreed that Mr. Pierrepoint should sound the Regent, and ascertain if he would like to accept the invitation. The Prince immediately intimated, and with some

eagerness, his desire to be invited, and he accordingly was so, in the names of all the four votaries of Terpsichore; and on the night in question my informant went early, with a few others, in order that they might get well placed, for the purpose of witnessing the manner in which His Royal Highness would notice Brummell and Sir Henry.

When the Prince arrived he made one of his stately bows to Lord Alvanley and Mr. Pierrepoint, and shook each of them cordially by the hand; but of the other two gentlemen he took no notice whatever, nor would he even appear to know that they were present. The consequence was, that when the Regent retired, Brummell, justly incensed at the insult thus publicly and designedly put upon him, would not attend him to his. carriage this the Prince did not fail to observe, and the next day, when speaking of the circumstance, said, "Had Brummell taken the cut I gave him good-humouredly, I would have renewed my intimacy with him," which, in conformity with the feeling thus expressed, he never afterwards did. This anecdote is in strong contrast to the general opinion, that the Prince was the most finished gentleman of his day. Surely it was undignified on his part, to take advantage of his rank, and cut his old companion when he was actually his guest, and certain that he could not retaliate.1

When Brummell first commenced play, he was very successful, the case with nine men out of ten, and on one occasion he won six-and-twenty thousand pounds 1 See Vol. II., Appendix.

-pretty high play for a man whose patrimony did not much exceed that sum. His friends after this lucky hit strongly recommended him to buy an annuity; but he either refused to adopt the suggestion, or neglected to act with sufficient promptitude upon their advice, and a few nights after he lost it all again. The following is an example of his success and of his impudence, and also the rather unusual circumstance of his getting the worst of a joke. The loser was the late Alderman Combe, also a great gamester, and who, though unsuccessful in this instance, made, it is said, as much money by his dexterity at play as he did by brewing. One evening while he filled the office of Lord Mayor of London, he was busily engaged at a full Hazard-table at Brookes's, where the wit and the dice-box circulated together with great glee, and where Brummell was also one of the party : "Come, Mash-tub," said the Beau, who was the castor, "what do you set?" "Twenty-five guineas," answered the Alderman. "Well, then, have at the Mayor's pony only, and seven's the main," replied Brummell; and he continued to throw until he drove home the Brewer's twelve ponies running; he then rose from his chair, and, making him a low bow whilst pocketing the cash, exclaimed; "Thank you, Alderman; in future I shall never drink any porter but yours." "I wish, sir," said Combe," that every other blackguard in London would tell me the same." 2

1 In gaming slang, a pony means twenty-five guineas.

2 New Monthly Magazine.

1

During the height of his prosperity," says Tom Raikes in his Journal, "I remember him coming in one night after the Opera to Watier's and finding the Macao table full, one place at which was occupied by Tom Sheridan, who was never in the habit of playing, but having dined freely, had dropped in to the Club, and was trying to catch the smiles of fortune by risking a few pounds which he could ill afford to lose. Brummell proposed to him to give up his place and go shares in his deal; and adding to the ten pounds which Tom had in counters before him £200 for himself, took the cards. He dealt with his usual success, and in less than ten minutes won £1500; he then stopped, made a fair division, and giving £750 to Sheridan, said to him: 'There, Tom, go home and give your wife and brats a supper, and never play again.' I mention the anecdote as characteristic of the times, the set, and of a spirit of liberality in Brummell."

The reaction, however, came at last; the stakes. were too high, and the purses of his companions too long, for him to stand against any continued run of bad luck; indeed, the play at Watier's, which was very deep, eventually ruined the club, as well as Brummell and several other members of it; a certain Baronet now living is asserted to have lost ten thousand pounds there at écarté, at one sitting: but play ran high at all the clubs; "Pay fifteen hundred pounds to Lord ***," said the late Marquis of H― one night

1 Macao was a game of cards, somewhat resembling vingt-et-un.'