CHAPTER XXII.

Brummell at the Clubs-Watier's-Lord Byron and the Dandies—The ball at the Argyle-Brummell one of the four gentlemen who gave it―The Regent goes to it-The Beau's run of good luck at Hazard-Alderman Combe and Brummell-High play at Watier's-Brummell's continued losses-His friend's good-natured attempt to save him-Ill success of his scheme-Dick the Dandy-killer-A new way to pay old debts-The sixpence with a hole in it-The storm gathering.

Ar the commencement of Brummell's career, he was generally with the Prince or his great friends, and but seldom at the clubs; so seldom, indeed, that one of his chums in the Tenth told me that he rarely met him at them. He did not at this period require strong excitements, like his friends Sheridan and Fox, and men of similar dispositions; to them the clubs were like night taverns, to which they retired for amusement, after undergoing the terrible sufferings of politicians wisely condemned by the country to legislate for it till midnight. Deep potations, blade-bones of mutton, and the music of the dice box he had, at this time, the good sense to eschew: 'tis true he dropped in occasionally upon their orgies, pour se dévaliser l'esprit, and to enjoy the jokes of others, but not to steep his

own intellects in wine. After his quarrel with the Prince, he was a great deal more at the clubs, particularly Watier's, * which was at the corner of Bolton-street, and extremely select: this club was established by a person of that name, with a committee of gentlemen, Brummell being one of its principal supporters. It is thus alluded to by Lord Byron, who calls it the "Dandy Club," and he speaks of Lord Alvanley, Brummell, Mildmay, and Pierrepoint, as the four chiefs.

"I liked the Dandies," says the noble Poet; 'they were all very civil to me, although in general they disliked literary people, and persecuted and mystified Madame de Staël, Lewis, Horace Twiss, and the like, most damnably. They persuaded Madame de Staël 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-andtwenty. I had gamed and drunk, and taken my

* Brummell was also a member of Brookes's; he was proposed by Mr. Fawkener, on the 2nd of April, 1799, and declined, as it is delicately expressed in the ledger of the club, in May, 1816.

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.

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 thou

sand pounds-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 caster, "what do you set?"

Twenty-five guineas," "Well, then, have at the

answered the Alderman. 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

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