U lifffl I H m RiHiil Hilli' mm wHHB Hi Praft ■ M H I IP: HI HI RlilifH II warn H H ■ft*:' THE LIBRARY OF SANTA BARBARA COLLEGE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY . ;:d mrs.h.o. go THE LIFE OF BEAU BRUMMELL VOLUME THE SECOND. PUBLISHER'S NOTE. Three hundred copies of this book printed for England, and two hundred for America. A r o more will be printed. THE LIFE OF GEORGE BRUMMELL, Esq. COMMONLY CALLED BEAU BRUMMELL BY CAPTAIN JESSE Unattached ffiUuisefc anU annotates GETiition from the author's otoit 3(nterIcal)eXi £opE With Forty Portraits in Colour of Brummell and his Contemporaries IN TWO VOLUMES VOLUME THE SECOND LONDON JOHN C. NIMMO i 4) KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1886 vrnvirv , .... ;* •DA E7 T4 CONTENTS OF VOL. II, CHAPTER I. PAGE Death of the Duchess of York — The petition of a Newfoundland - dog, addressed to her Royal Highness — Brummell's memo- randum on the back of it — George the Fourth arrives at Calais — The dinner at Dessin's — The Mayor unfortunately without a snuff-box — The King's remark on leaving the town — The Beau's increasing embarrassments— The tobacconist's opinion of him — The English tuffistes — Their odd assault on one of Brummell's friends I CHAPTER II. The Beau in love — A visit from a friend of the lady's — Brummell's reply to his accusations — Extract from the " Letters of a German Prince " — This traveller at Constantinople — His black compagnon de voyage — Brummell endeavours to obtain an appointment — Is at length successful, and made Consul at Caen — Difficulty of leaving Calais — His liabilities — The sale of his buhl — Erection of the British Episcopal chapel — Brummell puts his name to the subscription- list — Is invited to meet the Bishop — Leaves Calais — The courier's account of their journey to Paris 14 CHAPTER III. Brummell at Paris — Passes a week there — Orders a snuff-box at Dabert's — Arrives at Caen — Takes up his abode at Madame de St. Ursain's — His old valet leaves him — A French cafe — vi ii VV7.V, pau Brnmmell's letter to Mr. Marshall, describing hi ion at Caen— Talleyrand — Monsieur Target — Colonel de la Pom- meraye — Monsieur de Montrond — Sketch (jf liis character . 26 ' VPTER IV. Brnmmell's moming visitors— His hospitality — Mr. Jones and the "pate de foic gras " — Comment on the Beau's letter to the consul at Calais — The English society at Caen — Intruders upon Brummcll's acquaintance — The consequences of it — A mi-apprehension — A letter from the Beau, describing a singular conversation that occurred at a " soiree " — A sonnet to Moggy — Brummcll's patronage of his young favourites . 37 CHAPTER V. The commencement of difficulties — Letter to his banker at Calais — Extract from another to that gentleman — Applications to Mr. Armstrong for assistance — Proceedings of Monsieur Isidore — His valet retires from his service — Mademoiselle Aimable, the daughter of his landlady — Teaches her English Corre- spondence with her 50 CHAPTER VI. The author goes to Caen — Early impressions — The tailor's shop — "Soiree" at Mrs. B 's — First view of Brummcll — His style of dress at this period — The author's costume at fault — — Brummell's dress of a morning — Secrets of the toilette divulged — The Beau taking his afternoon walk — His hatred to clogs 63 CHAPTER VII. Brnmmell's letters to his female friends at Caen — Mi-. Brownrigg the 'prenticide — The prefecture under the Juste Milieu- The " soirees " of the Legitimists — A ball, which the Beau docs not attend — Hi- proxy— Choice of his associates — Lines on the content-, of a lady's toilette table-drawer— Explanatory note — The Voice of Praise, by Lady Granville — Mr. Lister and the modest young man 7;, CONTENTS. ix CHAPTER VIII. PACE 1 ,ines addressed by Brummell to Lady Tankerville — A soiled note — How it became so — Causes that led to the abolition of the Consulate — Lord Palmcrston — The Consular duties — Brum- mell called upon officially to settle a family quarrel — The Lion and the Unicorn taken down — The impatient Restaurateur — Mr. Armstrong sent as " Charge d'Affaires " to England in search of funds — Extract from a letter advising this measure. 84 CHAPTER IX. Letter to the daughter of his landlady — Fitzpatrick's blister — Brum- mell seized with paralysis — Letter written on his recovery — Invited to a French wedding — The result — The Beau in his landlady's wardrobe — Letter from the Duke of Sussex to Brummell— A short memory — The Beau's opinion of Catho- licism and its effects 94 CHAPTER X. Brummell leaves the house of Madame de St. Ursain — Takes up his abode at the Hotel d'Angleterre — A declaration of love — " Luc-sur-Mer " — Bathing parties — The Polish Countess and her pearls — The King's bath — Letter to a young friend at Luc— The " Cours Cafarelli "— " Cours de la Reine "—Pub- lic places of exercise for the lower classes — Brummell's mis- anthropy 104 CHAPTER XI. Letters to his friends living near the sea-side — They return to the town for the season — Gossiping notes to them — Brummell's Christmas-box— Winter festivities — A ball at Madame de Rigny's — "La fille du couvent " — The silent system — An agreeable intimation — Sympathy for the Duchesse de Berri — Fasting Dowagers — " An untoward event " . . 11S CHAPTER XII. Letter to a Mother of Pearls — Brummell's present to her — Old re- gime morality — Brummell again attacked by paralysis — His x CONTENTS PAGE presence of mind on this occasion — Dr. K 's kindness to him — Bmmmell's patience during illness — Letter after his convalescence — I lis young favourite's album — His note to her 128 CHAPTER XIII. Difference between the letters in this chapter and former ones — Letter to his youthful correspondent — A penitent letter — An apologetic note — Brummell tries to appease his fair friend's indignation — A letter relating to a quarrel — A lengthy note on the same subject — Two more fanciful letters — A letter sent with a lorgnette — A note to the mother of his young friend — The Bean's note to a lady whose character had been traduced 13S CHAPTER XIV. Brummell's consideration for dumb animals — His attachment to a mouse — His cynicism — His indignant note to Mademoiselle nable respecting her cats — All hope of employment at an end — Projected trip to the sea-side — His pecuniary troubles — Letter to his friend Lord Alvanley — King Allen — Brum- mell's indiscretion at a soirk — lie celebrates it in verse . 156 CHAPTER XV. r.nimmeH's young friend leaves Caen for England — Farewell letters to her — His advice to her on the choice of her society— A compliment spoiled by its sincerity — Condoles with the truant lady on the dulness of her rural companions — His banker at lis takes proceedings against him — The Hotel d'Angleterre in a state of siege — Poor Brummell lodged in jail — 1 1 is E note after that event ........ 167 CHAPTER XVI. Effects of his imprisonment — Difficulty of procuring moderate ac- commodation — Rules of the jail — Treatment of the prisoners — The situation and description ol hi. room — His companion in misfortune — Letters to his friends in the town — The ruling passion — Letter to Mr. Armstrong — BrummeH's miserable fare — His urgent application for more linen . . . 1S1 CONTENTS. xi CHAPTER XVII. PAGF- Toilette anxieties — M. Godefroi's description of the details — The drummer Lepine becomes his valet — Milk baths — The tam- bour's regrets — Attentions of his friends — Letter to one of them — Fire near the prison — Brummell's midnight adventure — " Le pays de la potence " — Letters to Mrs. B n — Loses all hope of being sent to the hospital — Amiable purveyors . 194 CHAPTER XVIII. Liberty of the press in France — Not much forwarded by the revo- lution of July — Brummell's admiration of Gilbert Gurney — His opinion of Pompeii and Lodore — Contemplations from his window — The Beau's anxieties about his affairs — The ours Mazoyer — The scene in the passage of the prison — Personal discomforts — Their effect upon Brummell . . . 205 CHAPTER XIX. MaryChaworth — Brummell's unpoetical description of her — Wash- ington Irving's — A substantial supper — He changes his pur- veyor — Letter to Mr. Ai - mstrong— The Beau's application to him — The debtor's court — The rendez-vous there — The garden and the debtors — Their civility to Brummell — The dream . 213 CHAPTER XX. Brummell in improved spirits — Letters to his friends — His criti- cism on their sea-side amusements — Explanation of them — Subscriptions made by the English at Caen — Lord Granville assists — Mr. Armstrong despatched to England — A rainy morning 'inspires the Beau with poetical feelings — Lines to Eugenie — Letter accompanying them — A sketch of this young lady ' . . . . 222 CHAPTER XXI. The outre briga,7id — His attempt to change his quarters — Fanny Kemble's Journey in America — The Beau's letters to his friends — Monsieur le Baron de Bresmenil — His dinner to xn CONTENTS. PAGE Hrummell in prison — The abstraction of the brandy bottle — BrummelTs pathetic appeal to the turnkey Brillant — Tin- felon's departure — Mr. Armstrong's mission successful — The triple murder ......... 233 CHAPTER XXII. The Beau is restored to liberty — Presents himself at the General's the same evening — Brummell and his friend the Judge — The hereditary toothpick — Lines to the guillotine — Letter to Mr. I lefroi, with a present of some game — The table d'hote at the II I d'Angleterre — The two gourmets — The Beau's letters to his young friend in England 24O CHAPTER XXIII. lirummell's young favourite returns to Caen — Letters to her — The Beau recommences his drawings for her — -The late Duchess of Rutland — French poetry — Lady Warwick — The picnic at Norwood — The fortune-teller — The two friends — Lady B n — BrummelTs criticisms — The broken bow — Parting letter to his friends — They leave Caen 259 CHAPTER XXIV. Melancholy prospects — The state of BrummeH'.s affairs — Letters to Mr. Armstrong — " Le vernis de Gniton" — A revolution — Tiie black cravat — Prummcll's description of his position at this period — His new dressing-gown — " Lc commencement de la fin " — The memory fails — The dinner at Mrs. G — — Brummcll's appearance at the tabic Lemoine, j Parque Waillier, draper . Ducastel, decorator of ceilings Desjardins, ) . ,, t. • i ^jewellers Boissard, J Fasquel, bootmaker . Piedfort, perruquier. Washerwoman . Fille de chambre Isaac Pecquet, banker Cr. o . 75 • 3°9 24 35 150 8 100 5° 500 Dr. 11504 The two tailors, Pion and Lamotte, were tyros in the art, and were only entrusted with repairs. His principal artiste in the way of clothes was a man of the name of Gaussin, who had been a prisoner in England, and returned to Calais after the peace in a very miserable condition. Finding that he had talent, Brummell patronised him ; this led others to do so, and the pauvre prisonnier was enabled, shortly after the Beau's departure, to retire to his " otium " and cabbages in the country. In fact, most of those who had any pecuniary transactions with Brummell were well paid ; and when, like Gaussin, they were the objects of his patronage, made their fortunes. Two chemists' bills also swell the list of small creditors ; but the reader need not fancy that he went to them for tonics, the barrel of Dorchester ale supplied the place of their villanous drugs : his sympathy on the score of health is not required just yet : their bills 22 THE LIFE OF were simply for lutile antique and cold cream. Three upholsterers look very like the departure of the buhl furniture and the ladies of his harem ; and the last item shows that in every possible instance he kept all his bankers in advance. The consumption of one hundred and seventy-six francs' worth of oils and cold cream, offers a pretty example of the extravagant character of his ordinary habits in dress. Admiration of the hydropathic cure is now the fashionable medical epidemic ; and though prodigality is not separately named in the long list of maladies which Mr. Claridge has assured us may be cured at Graffenbcrg, there can be but little doubt that, as this disease is a mere species of madness, it might be successfully treated there. Two or three months of the doctor's mild but invigorating system of sitz baths, douche baths, curds and whey, wet sheets, sour krout, and hewing wood, would have been of infinite service to the Beau ; and, cured, like a Westphalian ham, he would have arrived at Caen a perfect specimen of prudence and economy ; unfortunately, however, the planet Priessnitz had not then risen to us. But Brummell was not only prodigal of his cold cream, but of his promises, and when his cash was low, no one in Calais was more prompt to make them, or to attach his signature to a list of subscribers for any purpose, than he was. In [829, when a collection was made for the erection of an Episcopal chapel in that town, the person appointed to go round did not omit to pay him a visit and request his support. BEAU BRUM M ELL. 23 " Really, Mr. F." said Brummell, " I am very sorry you did not call last week, for it was only yesterday that I became a Catholic ; — but, never mind, put my name down for a hundred francs." So very handsome a subscription had its effect, and some time after this, he received an invitation from the Consul to dine with Dr. Luscombe, the Paris diocesan, and those entrusted with the erection of the edifice ; which, however, he declined as follows : — " My dear Marshall, — You must excuse me not having the pleasure to dine with you and the Trustees of the Church establishment this day. I do not feel myself sufficiently prepared in spirit to meet a bishop, or in pocket, to encounter the plate after dinner ; moreover, I should be a fish out of water in such a convocation. — Truly yours, George Brummell." It is scarcely necessary to say, that the church was not built with his money. To decline an invitation of this nature was, how- ever, with him a circumstance of rare occurrence, more particularly when it came from Mr. Marshall ; yet it is said to have been at a dinner-party at this gentleman's house, that he gave the following perfect specimen of his prodigious impudence : — On the occa- sion in question, he was as usual accompanied by one of his canine favourites, who crouched at his feet during the repast, and, as will be seen also, partook of the feast. Amongst the delicacies handed round 24 THE LIFE OF was a roasted capon, stuffed with truffles, from which Brummell very considerately helped himself to a wing : this, on tasting, he fancied was tough, and taking it up in his napkin, he forthwith called his dog, and addressing him, said aloud before the astounded guests and his horrified host, " Here, Atous ! try if you can get your teeth through this, for I'll be d — d if I can ! " For a time it was doubtful whether Brummell would be able to enter upon his consulate, and two or three weeks elapsed before he could induce Mr. Leveux to advance twelve thousand francs, the sum necessary to remove the impediments to his departure. To secure the repayment of this, in addition to the twelve thousand already overdrawn, he, according to the due forms of law, made over to that gentleman, by a letter of assignment to Mr. Hertslctt, of the Foreign Office, three hundred and twenty pounds per annum, being all but eighty of his salary as consul. These were hard terms to subscribe to, for they completely crippled his finances : he could look forward to little else than an uninterrupted scries of difficulties for the rest of his life, and such was the result ; but the case was imperative. Towards the end of September, 1830, he was permitted to leave the town in which he had vegetated for fourteen years, and we may imagine he was not in very high spirits. Through the kindness of his friend the consul, he was, however, enabled to reach Paris with a king's messenger, and of course free of expense. This silver greyhound was a very aristocratic BEAU BRUMMELL. 25 Mercury, and duly appreciated the honour of travel- ling with so celebrated a character as Beau Brummell. On his return to Calais, Mr. Marshall was curious to know how they had fraternised on the road, and asked him what kind of a travelling companion he found Mr. Brummell ? expatiating at the same time on his powers of conversation, his fame, and amusing qualities: — "Oh, a very pleasant one, indeed, sir, very pleasant," replied the messenger. "Yes, but what did he say ? " said Mr. Marshall. " Say, sir, why nothing ; he slept the whole way." " Slept the whole way ! " replied Mr. M., " do you call that being pleasant ? perhaps he snored." The bearer of despatches acknowledged that he did so ; but imme- diately, and as if fearful of casting an improper reflec- tion upon so great a personage, he added, with great gravity, " Yet I can assure you, sir, Mr. Brummell snored very much like a gentleman." 26 THE LIFE OF CHAPTER III. Brummell at Pans — Passes a Week there — Orders a Snuff-box at Daberfs — Arrives at Caen — Takes up his Abode at Madame de St. U> sain' s— His old Valet leaves him— A French Caje'—Brum- mell's Letter to Mr. Marshall, describing his Reception at Caen — Talleyrand—Monsieur Target— Colonel de la Pommeraye— Monsieur de Montrond — Sketch of his Character. The streets of Paris were graced by the Beau's presence for a whole week, and during this time he was the frequent guest of Lord Stuart de Rothesay, and several members of the haute voice of the French capital. After having been fourteen years in a dirty fishing-town, he must have enjoyed himself most uncommonly ; but I shall say nothing of his friends, as he records their hospitality with his own pen. Dreadful repletion, however, must necessarily have ensued from dining at such tables as those of the Prince of Benevento, Lord Stuart de Rothesay, and Madame de Bagration ; but though bad nights, and splitting head-aches, were in all probability the conse- quence, he contrived to rise sufficiently early to pass in review all the snuff-boxes in the Palais-Royal and the Rue de la Paix, but not one could he find worthy of his selection, and he therefore left an order BEAU BRUMMBLL. 27 at Dabert's for an enamelled gold one, which when made was to cost the trifling sum of two thousand five hundred francs, — more than his year's income. On the 5th of October, the Beau arrived in Caen, having travelled post from Paris in a carriage hired for the occasion, and with his valet Selegue in the rumble, four horses and two postillions, he drove up amidst a. feu d 'artifice from their whips to the Hotel de la Victoire ; the porte-cochere was thrown open, and in rolled his Britannic Majesty's representative, George Brummell. Higgling for francs, would have been unworthry of a man loaded with all the honours of a consulate, and therefore, stepping from his carriage, he ordered the cook (whom he mistook for the landlord, and into whose greasy arms he nearly fell) to let him have " the best rooms, the best dinner, and the best Laffitte." A week after, he was located in the Rue des Carmes, at the house of Madame Guernon de Saint Ursain, and his old valet having remained a few days to initiate his successor into his duties, he made his bow and departed. This man, who figures for so large a sum in the list of Calais creditors, certainly did not lose by attending him in that capacity for thirteen years : after his return to that town, he removed to Boulogne, and, with the money that he had saved in the Beau's service, set up the Cafe Selegue in the Grande Rue. But the retired valet's ambition did not centre itself in coffee and coffee-pots only ; not content Avith his 28 THE LIFE OF cafe, he speculated and took an hotel. All went on well for some years, but the jealousies of rival land- lords, the invasion of Louis-Napoleon, and the Thiers war-cry, laid his hopes prostrate ; the hotel proved a losing concern, and he was at last obliged to confine himself to the business of simple cafcticr. His cafe is one of the best in Boulogne ; and the fact of his having been chamberlain to such a distinguished char- acter as Beau Brummell, may possibly induce the juvenile exquisite, as he passes through the town, to turn in there (if it still exists) for an ice ; for, as white neckcloths arc coming in again, he may like to ascertain, with precision, how the Beau's were folded, and to what degree they were starched. But a cafe in a French provincial town is not exactly the place to which those should resort whose ideas of cleanliness are of the same stamp as BrummeH's, who, I can assure the reader, was never, during his fourteen years' residence at Calais, guilty of entering one. It would, indeed, have been surprising had he done so, for it is scarcely possible to conceive anything farther removed from that virtue than one of these receptacles for sulky husbands, swell shop-boys, and dirty and idle politicians — to say nothing of the delight of sitting in a concentrated essence of bad smells, animal and vegetable, and in the midst of a shower of refreshing expectorations. But, to return to the Beau : he had scarcely taken possession of his lodgings at Caen, when he found his table covered with the cards of the best French BEAU BRUMMELL. 29 families in the town. With a gossiping dowager for a landlady, and eight or ten of the same species in the same street, his former history was soon the topic of general conversation, and his society was at once courted and desired ; but, of his proceedings during the first three weeks after his arrival, his own humorous letter to the consul at Calais gives the best account. "October 25th, 1830. " My dear Marshall, — You would certainly before this have heard de mcs nouvelks, had I not been occu- pied and put out of my usual passive way of existence by endeavouring to settle myself in this place. After passing a week in Paris en route (I wish, by-the-bye, I had never seen it, for Stuart 1 and several of my friends have spoilt me for at least a year to come), I arrived at my destination, and underwent all the horrors, and all the more horrible cheating, of one of the worst hotels, I am confident, in Europe ; though they tell me it is the best here. During seven days I gnawed bones upon unwashed dowlas in this charnel- house — what a difference, after Stuart, Talleyrand, 2 1 Lord Stuart de Rothesay, then our ambassador at the French Court, and always a very kind friend of Brummell's. 2 Charles Maurice Talleyrand de Perigord valued an entree much more highly than he did an oath, and, indeed, was a far better judge of one, though he swallowed nearly as many of the latter as he did of the former — his very name puts one in mind of a delicacy. His cuisine was perfect, and he is said to have been kept alive by his cook rather than his physician; for his digestive powers were exceedingly impaired, and required the most delicate management. Monsieur de Talleyrand was born at Paris on the 7th of March 1754, and died there on the 17th of May 1838. .?o THE LIFE OF Madame de Bagration, and Montrond ! and during seven nights I thought it necessary to scratch myself without sleeping, though I must, in justice, say, I believe there was no occasion for such penance. Good fortune at length led my steps to an admirable lodging, half a house, the property of a most cleanly, devout old lady (the cousin of Guernon de Ranville, 1 one of the condemned ministers), excellently furnished, with a delightful garden, two Angora cats, and a parrot that I have already thrown into apoplectic fits with sugar. From the letter which I brought with me from Paris to the Prefct, 2 the General, and three or four other big-wigs, given to me by no less per- sonages than Mole 3 and Sebastiani, 4 you must know, that, without a sixpence in my pocket, I am become a great man here. They dine me and fete me most 1 Monsieur ile Ranville, who lived at Ranville, a village about six miles from Caen, was incarcerated for several years in the Castle of Ham with Polignac and his colleagues, and this "cleanly and devout old lady" often contributed by her' presence to soften the rigours and enliven the weary hours of his imprisonment. 2 Monsieur Target. This functionary was the son of the notorious avocat of that name who refused the benefit of his legal acquirements to Louis the Sixteenth, when called upon to defend that unfortunate monarch ; and it was, therefore, sufficiently discreditable to the Govern- ment of Louis Philippe to have thus advanced him to the honourable position of prefet ; immediately, loo, after the revolution of July had placed this sovereign on the throne from which his own relative, though, possibly, with justice, had just been hurled ! Monsieur Target died at Caen in the spring of 1843. * Monsieur Mole\ minister of state under LouU Philippe, died in Jb 55 . * Marshal Sebastiani was afterwards ambassador to our court : he married one of the daughters of the Duke de Gnunmont, a sister of the Countess of Tankeiville, and died in 1851. 7 wy&& Prin ce 7a I/eyran d. BEAU BRUM M ELL. 31 liberally ; and I have already been elected a member of their Societe or club, a sort of Brookes's, but in a much more magnificent house, without ballot, an honour not before accorded to any Englishman. All the newspapers and latest periodical productions are there taken in profusion, and as much franc whist, ecarte", and billiards as you please, till eleven o'clock at night. All well-educated, well-mannered, and well-conditioned people ; no industrious master of arts, like . . . ; no superannuated imbecile clodhoppers, like To-morrow I dine at a grand to-do given by the Prefet and Monsieur de la Pommeraye, 1 the depute ; and I am preparing a neat little extempore, which I shall let off upon success to the commerce of the two countries being toasted. The English residents here are very respectable persons ; they keep large and hospitable mansions, and derive the best advantage that families can do — the best possible education in every branch, both male and female, that the whole of France can produce. The two leading Amphitryons de nos compatriotes established in Caen are Messrs. Villiers and Burton, two very good men of indepen- 1 Colonel de la Pommeraye, a gentleman of good Norman family, and an ardent admirer of Napoleon. He served under him, and com- manded a regiment of heavy cavalry at Waterloo, where he was severely injured by his horse falling upon his chest while addressing his men previously to a charge. In 1830 Colonel de la Pommeraye was deputed by the Chamber of Deputies to escort Charles the Tenth to Cherbourg, a duty which he performed to the satisfaction of his own party, and, at the same time, with respect and deference towards the misguided and injudicious, but unfortunate, King. Monsieur de la Pommeraye died three or four years subsequently to the date of this letter. 32 THE LIFE OF dent fortune, with numerous families. Their houses, and, without exaggerating, they are like Devonshire House, or the Embassy at Paris, are generally open at half-past five to a well-provided dinner, and, Heaven knows, I have as yet profited most abundantly by their kindness, and always porks ouvcrtcs in the evening. The French of the best class mingle much in this society, and there is always a fiddle for the amusement of the young ladies. I am doing all that I can to make all parties satisfied with me. I condole with the outs, and agree with the ins : as to my own nation, I have called upon all who are worthy of such a compliment. I shake hands and gossip with the fathers and mothers, and pat all their dirty-nosed children upon the head, and tell them that they are beautiful. What can I do more with my scanty means ? " I foresee, that little or nothing is to be made of my department ; riimporte, I shall try something in the spring to better it. I am perfectly contented with my Chancellor Hayter, who is well versed in his business, and from my investigation, I believe to be an honour- able adjoint. Prostrate my remembrances at the feet of Mrs. Marshall, and of all your family. Scribble me what is going on in your little fishitig-town of Calais, for I shall always bear an interest towards it ; and if there is nothing better to record, tell me whether it makes fine or bad weather. — Very truly yours, " George Brummell." BEAU BRUMMELL. 33 The Monsieur de Montrond mentioned by Brum- mell in this letter died at Paris, in November 1843, and the following sketch of his character is, with some trifling variation, abridged from a French paper. His first appearance in the fashionable world of Paris, which was shortly before the Revolution of 1789, was of the most dashing description; and this to the astonishment of every one, for, as in the case of Beau Wilson, nobody knew of his having any resources : but this was of little consequence ; he was amiable and generous, with naturally pleasing and persuasive manners, which he perfected by the most careful study ; these, combined with the bril- liancy and charms of his conversation, formed a spell so potent that he exercised a despotic influence over persons of all ranks and classes. One man of no slight celebrity in our times submitted, in common with minds of far superior power, to the fascination of this irresistible seducer. M. de Montrond was from the first his petted pupil, and afterwards became his all trusted confidant and inseparable companion ; that man, who betrayed so many kings and friends, who made a jest and a mockery of the powers of Heaven and of earth, never once swerved in his fidelity to this — his one friend. De Montrond, like his patron, was a perfect specimen of diplomatic caoutchouc, — he had suppleness, and a born character for trickery and intrigue, and therefore did not fail to improve under the tuition of such a master. On M. de Talleyrand's first mission to England, vol. 11. c 34 THE LIFE OF under the republic, he accompanied him, and played, though not officially-, such a skilful part, that the minister promised him that talents so admirable should not be allowed to rest ; important opportunities for exercising them afterwards presented themselves. Mrs. Grant, the Bishop's mistress, was to be converted into his wife, and Monsieur de Montrond was despatched to Rome to obtain a dispensation from the Pope ; he succeeded, and, for once in his life, Talleyrand was grateful. De Montrond possessed not political ambition, honour and places were but slight temptations to him, but he was inordinately fond of money ; not to hoard, but to lavish in every kind of luxury, and his friend provided him with the means of gratifying all his wishes, by giving him such information on state secrets as enabled him to specu- late with success and also a good share in his own thrifty schemes. On one occasion, he realised, by a little secret operation, a clear bonus of two millions of francs. " Now you are a rich fellow," said his patron. "Yes, it is a pretty little picking enough." — " Really, de Montrond, you must make some good use of this capital." — " Rely upon me for that." — " And where shall you put this two millions ? — " Why, where should I ? " said de Montrond ; " in my secretaire, of course." He did so, or into a stocking; but the amount soon disappeared, and he was as far from being, like his friend, a capitalist, as ever. Entirely absorbed in the pleasures of the day, he cared not to provide for the future, the idea never BEAU BRUM M ELL. 35 entered his head : all he desired was to maintain, as long as he could, the magnificence which attracted all eyes ; the reputation of a Grand Seigneur, and, most inconsistently, that of an inimitable pettt-maitre. Of course, penury occasionally followed close upon his opulence ; yet, he went on his way rejoicing, day after day, thoughtless as a bird ; sometimes with a hundred thousand Napoleons in his pocket, some- times not five ; but his gaiety and good temper never deserted him, and he used often to say, " Egad, I can't hate anybody, not even people who have done me a service." He had, however, his enemies. Murat, in his coarse dragooning style of abuse, speaking of him and Monsieur de Talleyrand,* said, " They are a couple of dung-heaps in silk stockings," — but with all this coarseness, the Marshal was by far the finest fellow of the three. One day a Princess of the Imperial family ex- pressed to M. de Montrond her astonishment at his profound attachment to Talleyrand. "Ah, madame," he replied, with a mixture of slyness and naivete, " how can one help loving him ? he is so deliciously full of vice ! " After the restoration, the Prince de Benevento preserved his credit and influence, and de Montrond his establishment, his luxuries, and his bonnes fortunes. He was a man over whom time seemed to have no power ; from first to last he was the same gay, gallant, fighting, frivolous, gambling, devil-may-care sort of fellow. The death of M. de Talleyrand was the one sole grief of his life ; the 36 THE LIFE OP only tear lie ever shed was for him ; for M. de Talleyrand had been more than his friend, he had been his good genius, who had ever strown showers of gold in his path. Even on his deathbed the patron did not forget his long-ehcrished protdgc ; and he left him certain state secrets, with their proofs, which M. de Montrond well knew how to use. Such was his influence to the last, that, only a few days before his death, when the police ven- tured to make an inroad upon his salon, in order to seize what they, not very erroneously, believed to be a gambling bank, de Montrond had only to make a representation of the circumstance at the Tuile- rics, and forthwith the prefet of police got a sound rating for the outrage, and M. de Montrond a hand- some indemnity. Of M. de Montrond's claims to admiration, as a clever tool, and a very agreeable companion, there cannot, I suppose, be any doubt ; but to have been a whole life the friend of M. de Talleyrand, is enough to damn any man's character with posterity. BEAU DRV MM ELL. 37 CHAPTER IV. BrummcWs Morning Visitors — His Hospitality — Mr. Jones and the " P&ti de foie Gras " — Comment on the Bean's Letter to the Consul at Calais — The English Society at Caen — Intruders upon Brum- melfs Acquaintance — The Consequences of it — A Misapprehension — A Letter from the Beau, describing a Singular Conversation that occurred at a " Soiree " — A Sonnet to Moggy — BrummelP s Patron- age of his Young Favourites. The appointment of Brummell to the consulate of Caen was known in that town long before he made his appearance there, and the representations of the dowager his landlady, already alluded to, and more particularly those of Madame la Marquise de Seran, who had known him in London during the emigration, made all the young Frenchmen of the Carlist party anxious to become acquainted with him. About a month after he was domiciled in the Rue des Carmes three of them paid him a morning visit, and found him, though late in the day, over head and ears in all the mysteries of his toilet. They were of course anxious to retire immediately, but Brummell opposed their departure. " Pray stay, Messieurs," said the Beau, as he laid down the silver tweezers with which he had just removed a straggling hair, " pray remain ; 3« THE LIVE OF I have not yet breakfasted — no excuses ; there is a p&M dr Zoic gras, a pain dc gibicr," and many other dainties that he enumerated with becoming gastro- nomic fervour. A sense of modest)', however, rather an unusual virtue when the appetite of a gourmand is concerned, prevailed, and the goose's liver failed to overcome the scruples of three of the most noted bon vivants in Caen. Enchanted with Brummell's polite- ness, hospitality, and attractive powers of conversa- tion, they took their leave, with many expressions of cordiality. One of the trio, relating the circumstance a few hours after, remarked that " he must live very well." They little imagined that it was only the ex- treme improbability of their accepting his invitation that induced him to be so exceedingly pressing, and to offer them such a magnificent repast. Had they taken him at his word, they would have found them- selves very nearly in the same plight as the guest of the Barmecide, for the polite and hospitable gentle- man had positively nothing in the house at the time but a penny roll, and the coffee simmering by his bedroom fire. With the juniors of this class of French society he was soon on the most intimate footing. They gained his heart by capital dinners, for Brummell was the prince of gourmets. But a good dinner would have reconciled him to any class of people : his exclusiveness immediately gave way to an in- vitation ; and he would condescend to waive any objections that he might have had to the vulgarity BEAU DRUM MULL. 39 of his entertainer, in the consideration of the excel- lence of his Sillery and a dindc truffec. Thus it was that he frequently visited in houses he would seldom have entered, had he not been enticed within their walls by the delightful odours that came steaming from their kitchens on the rez de chaussee. On the Beau's arrival in Caen he really had a paid de foie gras, to which a droll story is attached. A morning visitor having called, he asked him, as he took his leave, how he intended to pass the even- ing. " Why I dine at Mr. Jones's, in the Rue ," he replied ; " there's a party, and a few people in the evening." — " Well, I think I shall dine there too," said Brummell, musing. " But you have no invitation, have you ? " — " None ; but never mind, I shall dine there : so, au revot'r." His new acquaint- ance left, wondering how he would manage to get invited, and firmly convinced that his tactics must equal Theodore Hook's if he succeeded ; for Mr. Jones was a radical, and a retired soap-boiler, and he had often heard him severely condemn the " profligate appointment of such a man to superintend the in- terests of the British nation at Caen." Mr. Jones and his friends had proceeded to the dining-room before Brummell's morning visitor arrived, and great was his astonishment, when, on bowing to the lady of the house, as he took possession of the vacant chair, he saw Brummell seated next her, evi- dently in immense favour, and making himself as agreeable as he possibly could. The singular plan 4o THE LIFE OF adopted by the consul to obtain his invitation, and his still more singular proceedings on leaving Mr. Jones's house, transpired the next day. It should be observed, that, during his short stay at Paris, Brummcll had not only remembered to order a hundred-guinea snuff-box, but also to purchase the pale already men- tioned, at Chevet's, the niarchaiid dc comestibles, in the Palais-Royal. He had not touched it on his journey ; and, when this dinner was mentioned, it suddenly struck him, that, to present it to Mr. Jones, would be a good preliminary measure towards receiving an invitation : he therefore immediately despatched the pdtc\ and a note, to that gentleman, stating that he had just heard that he was going to give a dinner, that the delicacy was of no earthly use to him, and begged that he would accept it sans facon. The courtesy appeared so disinterested, and the pie so inviting, that they, conjointly, softened the patriotic indignation of the sturdy Jones, and his acknowledg- ments, and a request that the incapable representative of his Britannic Majesty would dine with him at five o'clock, were speedily returned. It has been shown that he went, and on the following morning Brummell's acquaintance again called on him, and very naturally pressed a pardonable curiosity to learn how he had contrived to attain his object, when the Beau briefly related to him the above. " Admirable tact, indeed," said his visitor, " but I never saw anything of the /xih-f" "True," replied Brummell, "I was on the qui woe for it all dinner-time, and eyed every dish BEAU BRVMMELL. 41 that came in ; but, as you very justly remark, it never made its appearance, and disagreeably surprised I was. My dear sir," said the Beau, in a solemn tone, " the pdtc was a splendid pate, a chef d'ecuvre ; and I felt deeply interested in its fate. Accordingly, while I was in the passage putting on my cloak to come away, I desired my servant to inquire of the cook why it was not at table, and what had become of it ; when they told him that Monsieur had kept it for Master Henry's birthday. Had it been destined for his father's, its fate, though unworthy, would have been supportable ; but to be the piece de resistance of a nursery dinner, to be the prey of all the little Joneses and their bonnes was atrocious ; sir, it was an insult to me and my pie. ' Go/ said I to Isidore, ' go back to the kitchen, and say that I particularly desire to see the pate de foic gras.' He soon returned with it ; and, feeling that it would have been a sin to leave it with such people, I ordered him to put it into the carriage, and followed it without delay. It was not honest, but as I cut into it this morning at break- fast, I almost felt justified, for I never inserted my carving-knife into such another." The families mentioned in the letter to Mr. Marshall, the consul at Calais, were, with occasional exceptions, the only two amongst the English who entertained on a large scale, and Brummell was quite correct in say- ing that he availed himself abundantly of their hospi- tality. It continued uninterrupted till they left, which, fortunately for him, was not till some years after. 4: THE LIFE OF But the description that he gives in his letter to Mr. Marshall, of the houses of these friends, in which he was so well received and feted, is not a little exagge- rated ; and was probably owing to his having passed fifteen years in the small rooms of a much smaller town. He must have been wandering when he drew such a tableau, and asserted that the Club at Caen was as large as Brookes's ; or that the other houses to which he alludes were like Devonshire House, or the British Embassy at Paris. It is really like Mr. Clarke's magnificent restoration of Pompeii. To make the sketch perfect, Brummell should have said, that the furniture and decorations of their interiors were also similar. The English society at Caen, at this period, was, generally speaking, good, much superior, in point of respectability, to that of many towns along the coast and in the interior; but still it was of a mixed char- acter, and there were some individuals with whom his consular duties brought him in contact, that he had a decided aversion to include in the number of his associates : others, who had not even the grounds of public business to justify their entering upon personal communication with him, forced themselves upon his acquaintance whenever an opportunity offered. Such persons he studiously avoided, for his frigid demeanour had not the slightest effect upon them. They con- tinually pestered him with civilities (not dinner-parties), merely with a view of gratifying their vanity, by being able to assert that they knew him ; this he naturally BEAU BRUMMELL. 43 saw through, and the impertinent intrusion generally met with a sarcastic rebuke, which his gallantry did not prevent him from administering to the presump- tuous, even among the fair sex. One of the delinquents who suffered somewhat severely for pressing herself rather unceremoniously upon his notice, was a Mrs. G , a daughter-in-law of ./Esculapius ; she was rather a pretty woman, but always aping the great lady, a character most difficult to play before Brummell : for this reason, in particular, the M.D.'s wife was his aversion, and he seized every occasion that presented itself of administering whole- some correction to her foible. He knew, that to have the celebrated Beau Brummell at her house, was the darling object of her ambition ; and, that to be able to write to her friends in England that he had graced her one room, was an event that by good management she fondly hoped ultimately to bring about. This apartment was immediately over the gateway of the hotel at which Brummell sometimes dined ; and one day, as he and a friend were passing under it to take a walk on the Cours Cafarelli, they were detected by the ever-watchful lady, who, modiste-\ike, was sunning herself with folded arms on her balcony. The opportunity was not allowed to escape, and the promenaders, unconscious of the presence of the divinity above, were suddenly arrested by the melli- fluous and persuasive tones of her voice, saying, " Good evening, Mr. Brummell." The gentlemen stopped, raised their heads, and Mr.W his hat; but 44 THE LITE OF his companion had sufficiently discomposed the folds of his cravat by looking up ; and they were on the point of resuming their walk, when his aversion again interrupted his onward course, by calling out, " Now won't you come up, and take tea ? " Severe, indeed, was the expression of BrummcH's countenance at this extraordinary address from a person with whom he was scarcely on bowing terms ; he was motionless, and for half a minute speechless : collecting his scat- tered senses, however, he again raised his eyes — those small grey eyes, pc'tilhvit cF esprit, with laughter in each corner — and addressed the following laconic, pithy, and impudent reply to " the lady on the first- floor front : " — " Madam, you take medicine, you take a walk, you take a liberty, but you drink tea : " this he was determined not to do, and without another word, made a stiff bow, pressed the arm of his friend, which he had not relinquished, and proceeded on his way. At this time, the year of his arrival, he had all his wits about him, was quite equal to his reputation, and his sarcastic vein was very droll and amusing to those who were not at the moment the objects of his satire ; but friends and foes alike left his presence with the conviction that each would in turn be served up, a hi Tartan, for the amusement of his neighbours : he was, in fact, a walking lampoon ; every individual that came within the sphere of his vision was subjected to his censorious spirit. The best houses did not escape, not even those in which he received the most kind- BEAU BRUMMBLL. 45 ness : a French Family in the neighbourhood had given a dinner, almost expressly on his account, and everything had been done to make it perfect, if pos- sible ; the ortolans had been sent from Toulouse, and the salmon from Rouen, and the company were legiti- mists to the backbone. The morning after this fete some one who met him inquired how the diner com- mande had passed off? when the Beau, lifting up his hands, and shaking his head in a deprecatory manner, said, " Don't ask me, my good fellow ; but, poor man, he did his best." Of those among his country men and women, whose manners were not quite so polished as they might have been, he would observe, " How can such people be received ? it is deplorable to be in such society ! " Brummell affectioned all those who fell in with his own ideas, or appeared to make observations in a similar vein. Very soon after I was introduced to him, I found that I had unwittingly gained his appro- bation by a remark accidentally made in this spirit, or rather, that he chose to construe as such : the cir- cumstance occurred at a large evening party, when, after having made my bow to the lady of the house, I approached the fire-place and said to one of the com- pany, who I thought was in the country, "Why, Mr, D , are you here ? " Brummell overheard the exclamation, and imagined that I meant to imply that he was not fit to be there; whereas it was a simple expression of surprise, and of a totally diffe- rent kind. Satirical remarks, like those I have cited, 46 THE LIFE OF were of course repeated again and again by those to whom they were made, especially as they were gene- rally accompanied by some capital ban mot, which was laid upon the victim of the moment. It may there- fore be easily imagined that Brummell was not very popular with this class of his countrymen ; but, as those a grade above them were, like the generality of the world, always ready to laugh at the vulgarities and infirmities of those below them, he was never cordially condemned, — on the contrary, they were delighted, and remained on excellent terms with him so long as he retained the power of amusing them. The following letter certainly shows that some of his acquaintance were not very refined, and drew his sarcastic remarks upon themselves, by their own con- duct ; it was addressed to an elderly lady with whom he was intimate : — " Tuesday. "My dear Mrs. , — You desired me to divulge the denouement of a recent cntrcticn with Mademoiselle . 1 will endeavour to recollect it in all its pris- tine purity. La Donzella had been asking me who figured at Mrs. 's late hop. My answer was that there was not any one particularly frappemtt; that the only novelty I had remarked was a duenna in the family of Mr. , who certainly accompanied the quadrilles with harmonious hands upon the piano, and subsequently danced herself, to the discord of others, with the obedient foot of Taglioni ; that thr BEAU BRUMMELL. 47 absence of attraction from the face and figure of la gouvcrnante in question was partially compensated by the accomplishments which she exhibited. Our mtretien wavered to the brilliancy and comfort of General Corbet's fire, and progressively to one of my familiar agrc'mcns during the winter nights, an earthen bottle clad in a petticoat of flannel containing hot water. " To my amazement and discomfiture she na'ivement asked me, ' Would you not prefer being married to the governess you have been praising than to the bottle in the bed ? ' I found it was high time to cor- rect the irregular bearing of this interrogation, and I abruptly responded, ' The lady in question, to whom you so unreservedly return, might indeed prove a preferable substitute for the innocent bottle, but I have much too good an opinion of her to suppose she would entertain such warming-pan ideas.' The un- daunted , instead of fainting, as I expected, at the look of deep censure which accompanied my remark, exploded into a boisterous fit of horse laughter, with screeching turbulence, to attract the attention of the whole assemblage ; and your humble reporter resorting to a pinch of snuff, to conceal his confusion, rose from the profane conference, and with wounded feelings at the unguarded ingenuousness of this Highland hoyden, retired to his solitary chamber, painfully ruminating upon the lax morality of society. — Blushingly yours, G. B. " A Madame , Place . 48 THE LIFE OF " P.S. As a refreshment for the mind, I leave Cobbct and the parsons at your door. Dr. , who a [instant is feeling my left pulse, is anxious to be asked to your soiree this evening. I send you a son- net upon Miss , of whose propreti I have my doubts. 'MES ADIEUX A MOGGY. ' Fair Moggy, fair Moggy, the morning falls foggy, And your tears, like the rain, may soon piteously pelt ; Yet my hopes still denote, that at sight of my note, Your reason, like butter in sunshine, will melt. "Tis unkind to deceive, in my candour believe, All the perfumes of Araby will not now plight us ; Shed your skin, like the snnke, and perhaps, for your sak , More refreshing amtfi/taay itifin unite us.'" To the few, both French and English, to whom he was really partial, particularly those of the beau sexe, he was most agreeable ; and like many, perhaps the generality of elderly people, he much preferred the society of young persons to that of those of his own age. With some of the damoscls he would assume a protecting air, giving them advice as to little niceties in manners and conversation ; his patronising look at such moments, savouring a good deal of byegone days, seemed to say, " Now that I have noticed you, you may take your place in society without fear of being criticised." To his extreme favourites he would occasionally despatch a billet breathing deep rever- ence for their many excellent qualities ; and this mark of his approbation and regard was sometimes accom- BEAU BRUMMELL. 49 panied by a drawing of his own, and sometimes by one of the various little trifles that ornamented his table, or his mantelpiece, or reposed in the recesses of his secretaire. In this manner fugitive pieces of his poetry, and a few autograph letters of celebrated people he had formerly known, were bestowed upon one or two ladies with whom he was on the most friendly terms. With them he also occasionally corresponded ; and his letters to them, and the notes already alluded to, pleasingly relieve a biography which is entirely devoid of stirring or adventurous incident. For those with whom he was, in the literal sense of the term, inti- mate, he had a fund of conversational wit and an inexhaustible store of anecdote ever ready. His good stories were never repeated, and his desultory reading (for he had all the new publications from Paris) ren- dered him as amusing a companion as he had ever been. With these friends his reserve gave way : he not only conversed with them freely on topics con- nected with his early days, but described most delight- fully all the bright and gay scenes in which he had participated, laughing most heartily at the folly of those who had permitted him to exercise such an absolute influence over the fashionable world, and to which they themselves were slaves. VOL. II. D 5o THE LIFE OF CHAPTER V. The Commencement of Difficulties — Letter to his Banker at Calais — Extract from Another to that Gentleman — Applications to Mr. Armstrong for Assistance — Proceedings of Monsieur Isidore — His Valet retires from his Service — Mademoiselle Aimable, the Daughter of his Landlady — Teaches her English — Correspondence with her. Though Brummell met with the kindest reception at Caen, both from the French and English, and soon formed agreeable intimacies with a few of the best families of either nation, yet malgrc the dinners of Mr. Burton and Mr. Villiers, his gay demeanour, his sallies, and apparent insouciance, he must have been at times exceedingly harassed and annoyed ; for he had scarcely been six months in the town before he was up to his wig in difficulties. His eighty pounds a year, all that he was receiving out of his salary of four hundred, was insufficient for rent and washing : the latter amounted to eight hundred francs, rather more than a third of it ; and though this was not extraordinary for a man who had lived through life as he had, and invariably draped his elegant form in three shirts and three neckcloths per diem, such habits were annihilation to such an income. Lest any of my readers should BEAU BRUM M ELL. 51 think me guilty of exaggeration with respect to this item of Brummell's weekly expenditure, I will here insert what Prince Puckler, in one of his letters to Julia, calls the weekly statement made by the fashion- able blanchisscusc that he employed when in London, who he asserts was the only person that could make cravats of the right stiffness, or fold the breasts of shirts with plaits of the right size. " An elegant then requires per week twenty shirts, twenty-four pocket-handkerchiefs, nine or ten pair of summer trousers, thirty neck-handkerchiefs (unless he wears black ones), a dozen waistcoats, and stockings a dis- cretion." By-the-bye I should mention that Brum- mell told me that he invariably went home to change his cravat after the opera, previously to attending his other engagements, either ball or supper. But inde- pendently of his large washing bills, he had not yet learned to dress himself without the assistance of a valet ; and he also gave a few dinner parties, so that his annual expenses must have amounted to more than eight times his income. But he was Consul, he was Beau Brummell, and credit was easily obtained. This he took advantage of immediately after his arrival, and also again applied for assistance to Mr. Leveux. I have given one of his letters to this gentleman a place here only with the view of showing a specimen of his knowledge of French. The reader will perhaps criticise it in an indulgent spirit, when he recollects (for the anecdote has been already given) that it is written by one who, in his hopeless endea- 5 2 THE LIFE OF vours to learn the language, had been stopped " like Buonaparte by the elements." x "Caen, U \\AvrU 1831. "Mon ciier Monsieur, — Jc nc croyais gueres il y a six mois me trouver encore expose a L'extrgmite* dc recourir a votrc bontr. J'ai trop calcule, comme vous le savez, sur les promesses de mes amis ; ils n'ont rien fait pour moi, et il sera pcut-Ctre encore un autre pcnible siecle, de quatre ou cinq mois, avant qu'il ne leur plaise a me tircr de la position actuellc dont j'ai dernierement lutte contrc les desavantages. Cette position est enfin devenue plus perilleuse, je ne me soucic pas de la privation des luxes ni des agremens de la vie, il y a longtcms qu'il m'a fallu savoir m'en passer : mais il y va a l'instant dc mon honneur, de ma reputation, et de tous mes intcrets presens et a l'avenir, puisque j'ai lieu de craindre que le manque total de moyens de pourvoir mime aux depenses officiclles qu'imposcnt chaque jour les obligations de mon consulat, et que l'cclat de l'ignominie qui m'en- visage d'etre continucllement poursuivi pour des petitcs 1 " Crushed was Napoleon by the northern Thor, Who knock'd his army down with icy hammer, Stopp'd by the elements, like a whaler, or A blundering novice in his new French grammar." Beppo. Lord Byron says in his diary, "I have put this pun into Beppo, which is 'a fair exchange and no robbery ; ' for Scrope made his for- tune at several dinner! (as lie owned himself) by repeating occasionally as his own some of the buffooneries with which I had encountered him in the morning." BEAU BRUMMELL. 53 dettes, que j'ai neccssairement contractces dans cctte ville de Caen, ne soient bientot cause de la perte de ma place. " Je vous supplie done de prendre en consideration les divers embarras de mon etat pour vos propres interets, que je vous jure me sont plus sacres que les miens ; je vous supplie d'y reflechir et de tacher en subvenir a 1'extreme besoin. Ne consultez que ces sentimens de liberalite et amide que vous m'avez temoigne pendant quinze ans, et que je n'abuserai jamais. Ne pretez pas l'oreille aux indignes conseils de ceux (je les connais sans les nommer) qui pour satisfaire leurs injustes et miserables demandes contre moi, cherchent a me nuire dans votre estime. — Avec la plus parfaite consideration, je suis, mon cher Monsieur, votre tres-fidele et obeissant serviteur, " George Brummell. " A Monsieur Jacques Leveux, Banquier, Calais." This heroic indifference to privations he had never yet submitted to, and his alarm for his honour and reputation is somewhat entertaining. The tact also is excellent, with which he presents Mr. Leveux's interests to his consideration, by way of an argument for advancing his own ; it was, however, an unsuc- cessful application, as the following extract from another letter to the same gentleman, written about a month after, will prove : " Je me suis flatte, mon cher Monsieur, pendant un mois, d'avoir de vos nouvelles. 54 THE LIFE OF Pousse* a la derniere cxtivmiu'-, et pour mc soustrairc aux poursuites des gens de ccttc villc, pour sauvcr enfin l'habit a mon dos, qui est vdritablement a pcu pres, tout ce qui me reste/' &C, &C This second letter had the desired effect, and his bill was cashed, but the relief was but temporary, and he now began to feel the distress which had hitherto presented itself to his mind only in imagination. The supplies that he had formerly received from his friends, were probably withdrawn, under the feeling that he was provided for; and the hope of benefiting by any windfall from an old acquaintance, was now out of the question. Caen was an outlying piquet, and never visited, whereas, Calais, being on the high road between Paris and London, was the very place for a mendicant of his stamp — he there levied a toll on all those who had formerly travelled with him along the diaussce of fashionable life. Three months after the date of the preceding letter, Brummell was in the most abject state of dependence, and was reduced to beg and borrow of those he would once have held at an immeasurable distance. But one of his own letters shall describe his present position : it is addressed to Mr. Armstrong, the factotum of the English at Caen, who united in his own person the several occupations of packet-agent, grocer, and tea-dealer, and wine merchant : he also hired houses for his countryman, and cashed their bills, and singularly enough, for perhaps he was the only person in the world who would have done so, he BEAU BRUM M ELL. 55 on this occasion cashed one or two of Brummell's, and settled with several of his most pressing creditors. "August 1 83 1. " Dear Armstrong, — I have been reduced to so low an ebb during the last three weeks, by delay, and not receiving promised remittances from England, that it is impossible for me to hold up my head, or to exist in my actual state a day longer. For ten days I have actually not had five francs in my possession, and I have not the means of procuring either wood or peat for my scanty fire, or of getting my things from the washerwoman. A trifling advance would arrange these difficulties, and give me further time, but I know not who to apply to in this place. " You have as yet been a good friend to me, and may have sufficient confidence in me, and inclination to extend some additional timely service to me. What I have already assured you I now repeat, with every honourable intention and feeling, you will not repent your kindness. " I have not anything to offer you by way of security, excepting my signature, if it is not my small stock of plate, for which I paid six hundred francs, and my watch and chain, worth as much more : to these you are welcome, only do not let me be exposed to tne most utter distress and want, from my tem- porary inability to command a few miserable francs. I am not going out, and if you can, spare five minutes 5 6 THE LtFE OF in the course of the morning, you will oblige me by coming down here : these matters are better arranged in person than by writing. — Yours, G. B." But a short time had elapsed after Mr. A. had relieved these difficulties when his valet threatened to open the trenches of the law against him. He had found out that his master was without funds, and became impertinent ; but Brummell, like every gentle- man in similar circumstances, was obliged to put up with his insolence till his servant gave him warning : this he did not long delay doing, and, unreasonable being ! actually demanded his wages. The result was another application to Mr. Armstrong and his cash-box, in the following characteristic terms : — " Dear Armstrong, — That d — d ungrateful brute, Isidore, persecutes me at every instant : the fellow says he is going to Paris on Thursday, and will not depart without being paid, in money or by bill, and I believe him capable of employing a Imissier. " I am wretchedly bedevilled, and out of spirits, and hate going out of the house, or I would call and thank you for your note of yesterday. — Truly yours, " G. B. " A Monsieur Armstrong, KucSt. Jean." Two bankers, Messrs. Gilbert and Bellamy, followed in the pertinacious^, Isidore's wake, who was, it seems, BEAU BRUMMELL, 57 ungrateful ; why, does not appear. By renewing bills, by promises, compromises, and the assistance of Mr. Armstrong's signature, the bankers' demands were staved off for a season ; ready money, however, was absolutely necessary at times, to stop the proceedings of some other importunate creditor, or to provide for the daily disbursements of his menage; and towards the end of the year we again find the Beau applying to his Croesus of the Rue St. Jean, and once more offering his plate as security. One of his gold watches, with the chain and seals, was already in Mr. Armstrong's possession. 11 Dear Armstrong, — I am positively pressed for two hundred and eighty francs, at the moment, that is, before four o'clock to-day, or I shall be exposed to the utmost disgrace. The things, that is, the plate, are in the closet in my room, and you may have them by sending any confidential person for them ; but I do not like to trust my servant with them, as it may be known, or she may be seen with them in the street. It is the urgency of the moment that I am anxious to weather ; small difficulties often extend to irreparable destruction of character ; such is my situation at this instant. — Yours, G. B. "A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." These miseries continued uninterrupted till his death. Before, however, entering further upon them, 5 8 THE Lll B OF or describing his external appearance or daily routine of life, I must, out of respect for those who love chronological accuracy, introduce here two or three of his letters; they were written in the winter of 1831, and form part of a correspondence which was kindly placed in my hands by a relative of the lady to whom they are addressed. These notes are valuable, since they show that there was one useful occupation amongst the many idle ones in which Brummell's mornings were generally consumed ; this was, to teach Mademoiselle Aimable, the daughter of his landlady, how to write the English language, and to correct the themes which she brought home from her master. The young lady was about fourteen years of age when he undertook to assist her in this branch of her education ; and, from the eulogiums which he passes upon her diligence, she appears to have profited by his tuition. Never having had the pleasure of seeing or conversing with his pupil, I am ignorant whether he pursued the Lancasterian or 1 Iamiltonian system ; nor have I any reason to suppose he adopted the one he advocates in a subsequent letter, in which he says, " I hear that Mademoiselle Eugenie is advancing in the knowledge of pure Celtic, which they say is always best taught and learnt by the eyes ! " I lis young French acquaintance, though very probably conversant with this system, would scarcely have acquired a knowledge of any language from BrummcH's at this period of his life, for they were now dim with . and anxiety. Indeed, I believe his method consisted BEAU URL MM ELL. 5.; simply in an exchange of notes, of which the follow- ing are specimens, or in hearing her read when he visited Madame St. Ursain's drawing-room, and copy- ing verses for her album. " November 1 S3 1 . " My dear Miss Aimable, — During the present week I have led a most idle and unprofitable life ; never in bed before the moon has retired, and in consequence unable to open my jaded eyes till the morning has almost vanished. I am angry with my- self, now that this dissipation is passed, because it has made me inattentive to our correspondence in English. I shall certainly turn over a new leaf, and amend the evil course of these late hours, if it is only in deference to my promise to improve you in the knowledge of my uncouth native dialect. You are anxious to learn, and you merit every commendation for your assiduity. If you were not influenced by such laudable solicitude, I am sure you would not voluntarily undertake these constant peregrinations to Miss Wheatcroft's, 1 in such abominable weather, for the purpose of conferring in other languages than your own with Miss Davidson and Signor Matteo ; 2 the former may possess the instructive talents of the cele- brated Mrs. Trimmer, and for your sake I hope she does ; but for the soi-disant Signor, I must confess my doubts with regard to his capacity to impart either the 1 The mistress of an English school at Caen. ' The Italian master. 60 THE LIFE OF idiom or the accent of the lingua Toscana. Prosecute your studies with the same amiable attention and emulation that you have already evinced, and you will soon be omniscient. I am half asleep ; my ideas are as dense and foggy as the morning; and one might write as well with Ourika's paw, 1 as with the pen with which I am labouring. — Very sincerely yours, " G. B. " To Miss Aimable de , cVc. &c." " Thursday Evening. " It is in vain I had promised myself a quiet evening at home, I am really obsede to attend a stupid soiree, and without being guilty of a palpable untruth, it is impossible for me to send an excuse. I am compelled, then, to defer the pleasure of writing to you, more diffusely, and more academically, till to-morrow morn- ing. Good-night, and happy dreams be with you. — Always yours, G. B. 11 To Miss Aimable de , &c. &c." " December 1 83 1 . " My very dear Miss Aimable, — All the plagues of Egypt, in the shape of visitors, have obtruded them- selves upon me this morning, on purpose, I believe, to interrupt my transcribing verses, or otherwise com- muning in manuscript with you : it is not, then, my fault, though I daresay you will accuse me of idleness, 1 One of the Angora cat. c . BEAU BRUMMELL. 61 that I am compelled to be brief in writing to you ; but you have promised to take a lesson with me to- morrow morning, Christmas-day ! What a period of rejoicing and fete, according to the customs of my native country, this used to be to me, some years since; while now, of 'joys that are past how painful the remembrance ! ' I am out of humour with myself this morning, and more so with those troublesome people that break in upon my domestic tranquillity : I have not, indeed, much to enliven rne ; but with all my cares and vexa- tions, you are always a consolation to me. — Most sincerely yours, G. B. " To Miss Aimable de , &c. &c." " Tuesday. " The moment I had begun to write to you yesterday morning, one of my usual time-destroying friends came in, and extended his visit and his idle confabulations till it was too late in the day to pursue my letter. I am this instant out of bed, though I am half-asleep, knocked up, and tormented with the headache, and I really feel myself incapable of inditing two rational connected sentences to you. My own venial amour propre will not then allow me to scribble nonsense, and I must enfoncer my shivering knees into the fire, and my crazy head into the back of my bergere, while I commune with my inveterate morning companions, the blue devils, — and be assured, my very dear Miss Aimable, that one of the most prominent and vexatious 62 THE LIFE OF of these evil spirits is, the compunction of having neglected my promised duty to write to you : I believe I am falling into second childhood, for I am incom- petent to do anything but to ruminate over the broken toys of my past days. — Most sincerely yours, "G. B. " To Miss Aimable < fore. But whether he was led into giving the information respecting the consulate, through an official application BEAU BRUMMELL. 9' from his superiors, or whether it was his own volun- tary act, is of little consequence : in either case it was a miserable piece of economy on the part of the Government, his friends ; for a few years only, and his death would have relieved the country from the cost of maintaining him, and themselves from the odium, had there been any, attached to their preserving an old and infirm man from the irretrievable wretched- ness into which the measure plunged him. They did indeed offer him another appointment, but at the same time recommended him to refuse it, as will be seen in a subsequent letter. He left Calais, upon the strength of the consulate being a permanent appointment ; and it was most cruel to deceive a man at his time of life, and place him in a worse pecuniary position than he was before. Caen, as I have already observed, was not so good a beat as Calais, for a fashionable pauper ; by accepting the situation, he had got heavily into debt at both places ; and by its abolishment he was literally thrown upon the charity of former friends, without a farthing in his pocket, and in a decidedly worse plight than he was previously to their having interested themselves in procuring it for him. Directly it was reported in the town that Brummell was no longer his Britannic Majesty's representative, his creditors, who would scarcely believe it possible, flocked to the hotel of Madame Guernon de St. Ursain, to see whether the lion and the unicorn were still there " fighting for the crown." Alas ! the royal emblems, resplendent with vermilion and gilding, graced no more 92 THE LIFE OF the Beau's doorway : they were indeed gone ; and, in the agony of the moment, his creditors fancied that their hits were gone with them. He had been badly enough off before this blow came upon him ; but having lost his supporters, his credit went with them, and he was beset on all sides. Amongst the foremost of his tormentors was a Monsieur Longuet, the Ude of Caen, who had a claim upon him for twelve hundred francs. This man not only vowed that he would have him arrested if he was seen in the street, but, that in case he kept the house, he would starve him into leaving it, by stopping his miserable rechauffe's. The siege, however, was raised, by a corps of young Frenchmen, Monsieur de Casserole's best customers, who, going immediately to his shop, informed him, that, if he attempted to molest his unfortunate debtor, they would never dine at his house again. But matters got worse and worse, his health indifferent, and he was soon without a franc in his pocket — as these few lines will show. •• Wednesday, " Dear Armstrong, — Send me seventy-five francs to pay my washerwoman ; I cannot get a shirt from her, and she is really starving on my account. I have not actually money to pay my physician, or for my letters to and from England. — Your , G. B. " A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." BEAU BRUM M ELL. 93 In the autumn of 1832 his distress became so urgent, that nothing was left to be done but to send Mr. Armstrong to England ; for he very justly con- ceived that the representation of his embarrassments would be more fully impressed upon his friends by the viva voce statement of a man of business, who was himself a large creditor, than by any letters of his own. He was probably encouraged to adopt this plan by the following passage in a letter from a friend received at this period : — " I really think that a personal interview of Mr. Armstrong with the persons you have named would do more good than letters. The difficulty of doing so would be great, but all that I can do to insure his seeing them I will. I don't know how to get at the Duke of Wellington or Lord Willoughby. I will write to George Anson and his brother Litchfield, Bagot, Alvanley, and many others that may occur to me, who I may think can be of any use ; and among them, by the way, old Allen, who, I assure you, spoke of you the other day in the kindest manner, and I tried hard to get a pony out of Coventry for you when I was in town. Worcester, I fear, is still ill in the country, otherwise I am sure he would have been more ready to exert himself than any one." 94 THE LIFE OF CHAPTER IX. Letter to the Daughter of his Landlady — Fitzpatrick's Blister — Brum- mell Seized with Paralysis — Letter Written on his Recovery — Invited to a French Wedding — The Result — The Beau in his Landlady's Wardrobe — Letter from the Duke of Sussex to Brum- mell — A Short Memory — The Beau's Opinion of Catholicism and its Effects. While Brummell was thus endeavouring to arrange a plan of operations for the guidance of Mr. Armstrong, he was, as if something were yet wanting to crown his misfortunes, taken suddenly ill. The symptoms first manifested themselves while he was inditing the following letter to the daughter of his landlady : — " Sunday evening. " Oh this uncomfortable weather ! I am freezing an coin de tnon feu, and my ideas are as much congealed as my limbs. You must not, then, in common com- passion, expect either amusement or instruction from a malheureux in my torpid state. There are moments too, when I am subject to that sort of overwhelming depression of spirits that makes mc incapable of any- thing but to brood over my own grievances, fancied or intrinsic, it does not signify. I cannot shake off its BEAU BRUMMELL. 95 gloomy influence. I should like to retire to my bed, and, if it was possible, to sleep till the spring, or till nature would beneficently animate my dejected thoughts as she regenerates the leaves and flowers of the earth. I am at the instant subdued by chill- ness and blue devils, and feel as if I was in my grave, forsaken and forgotten by all those who were once most dear to me. " Le plus grand des malheurs est celui de ne tenir a rien, et d'etre t'sole." I am sick of the world and of existence. ' Whate'er they promised or profess'd In disappointment ends ; In short, there's nothing I detest So much as all my friends.' l " You must perceive, that is, if you have the patience to read these vague saturnine jeremiades, that " Here poor BrummeH's pen dropped from his hand ; paralysis had seized him, and he was endeavouring to rise from his chair to call for assistance, when the servant most fortunately came into the room. A medical man was quickly in attendance, and bleeding and blistering were immediately resorted to. The fit was a very severe one, the whole of his face being affected by it, especially the right side, and also his speech ; but he imagined it was a severe attack of rheumatism to which he was subject, and he was at one time in such a precarious state, that it was not 1 These lines are General Fitzpatrick's. 96 THE LIFE OF thought advisable to undeceive him. The following note, written as soon as he could make use of his pen, proves, that some of his friends of the gentler sex were anxious about him, and sympathised with his sufferings : — " Thursday. 11 Mrs. , on her own part, and that of , wrote on Monday evening, to request Madame to make inquiries respecting my invalid state ; this has only this morning been communicated to me. It has, like all kindness, most sensibly affected me ; and I will humbly solicit you to impart to , and , my sincere gratitude for their flattering interest to- wards me. " I have risen to-day with my head perfectly quiet, my chest and all its vicinity composed, and free from that oppression and those excruciating spasms, which I thought, and at one time sacrilegiously prayed, would put an end to my sufferings in this world. Once more, thanks to Heaven and a constitution still unshaken, I am returned to my senses and at peace. — Yours sincerely, G. B. " X Madame , Rue ." But whatever might have been the extent of his mental sufferings, in the privacy of his own room, neither illness, nor the hopeless state of his affairs, had yet so lowered his strength and spirits, as to allow him BEAU BRUMMELL. 97 to betray his anxieties to the world : in society, he was as ready as ever with his joke, and full of fun and good-humour. Shortly after this attack, and while Mr. Armstrong was in England, a French wedding was solemnised, and the marriage, singularly enough in France, was entirely one of inclination — really a love- match. Brummell was invited to assist at the fete, and, a few days, certainly not a week, after the happy event had taken place, an acquaintance met him in the street, and asked him whether he had heard anything of the nouveaux mariis ? " No," said the Beau, " but I believe they are still living together." On the return of his ambassador with the subscriptions, his creditors were paid, for Mr. Armstrong's visit to Brummell's former friends was attended with the very best results : every one of the gentlemen mentioned by his friend in a note already given, came forward in the most generous manner to his assistance. To their names should be added those of Lord Burlington, who contributed the sum of fifty pounds ; Lord Pem- broke, Mr. C. Greville, and Mr. Standish, also sub- scribed. One of Brummell's heaviest creditors was the lady of the house in which he had for the last two years resided ; for, with the exception of the sum of six hundred francs, Madame de St. Ursain had never received one louis during the whole of that period. Though this unconscionable delay must have been extremely inconvenient to her, it did not in any way interfere to lessen the friendly terms on which they lived : nothing could be more kind than her conduct VOL. 11. g 98 THE LIFE OF to Brummell at all times ; and in the paralytic seizure by which he was attacked before he left her house, he was nursed with as much cart- and attention as if he had been surrounded by the members of his own family. For many a good turn was her lodger indebted to her ; and perhaps the most essential piece of service she ever rendered him was performed not long before the consulate was abolished, when, having heard that bailiffs were at the door, who threatened to make an irruption into his apartments, she hurried him up into a spare room, and shut him up in her garde-robe: nay, she was even polite enough, as a last alternative, to offer him the sanctuary of her bedroom, — into which, by the laws of France, the officers of justice had no right to intrude. On this nervous occasion Brum- mell's presence of mind did not forsake him, and Madame had scarcely stowed him away, amongst the suspended dresses, flounces, and furbelows, and locked the door, than she heard him screaming, in a voice deadened by the forest of habiliments, " Madame de St. (Jrsain, de grdce prenez la cleft" Brummell had too much tact not to ingratiate him- self with one who had it in her power to be of so much use to him ; and he found little difficulty in doing this, for she was an excellent companion, extremely well read, and had nearly as much esprit de salon as himself. / gitimiste aufond de Ffime, and her relative a prisoner in a fortress of Ham, it was not singular that she should detest every one, and everything, connected with the revolution of July. Brummell soon gained her good BEAU BRUMMELL. 99 opinion, by showing great consideration for her feelings on this subject ; and though he was, in his official capacity, called upon to illuminate and to display the flag of his own nation, on the anniversaries celebrated by the new regime, he refrained from hoisting the union-jack at his own window, and placed it a little lower down the street, at a house rented by his " chancellor," Hayter, for a bureau. Though Madame could not get paid, she occasionally turned the Beau to account ; and being anxious to obtain some infor- mation from the late Duke of Sussex, she prevailed upon Brummell to write to him on the subject. He promised to do so, but so many weeks passed without farther allusion to the circumstance, that the lady at length fancied he had not written ; or, if he had, that the Duke was disinclined to send a reply ; she was therefore rather surprised when the Beau presented her with the following letter : — " Holkham, April igth, 1832. " Dear Sir, — A period of twenty-two or twenty- three years having elapsed since the circumstances to which you allude took place, I cannot state facts so correctly as I might have done then. A person, of the name of Count , was introduced to me at Mr. 's, by , with whom I was acquainted. In consequence of this presentation, a communication took place between us, and after some time, by virtue of the Alien Act, he was removed out of the country, and went to Portugal, afterwards to Spain, when I joo THE LIFE OF totally lost sight of him. 1 never knew him to be a Spanish grandee: indeed, though naturally clever, he was a man of no education, and could not write. He took me in at that period, as he did many others ; and I bought my experience at no less a price than from eleven to twelve thousand pounds : however, the circumstances occurred so long ago, that I have for- gotten much of what took place at the time, and con- sider myself fortunate in having lost sight of him. He certainly did live for a time in street, previous to his removal from the country. I have written these lines to answer your inquiries only, as everything that took place at that time was in conse- quence of the French Revolution, and connected with it. I understood him to have come from Italy, where he had connections ; however, as I said before, he took the road to Portugal and Spain, when sent out of England by the Government of the day. — I am, dear Sir, with consideration, &c, &c., " Augustus Frederick. " To George Brummell, Esq., Caen, &c. &c." It is not necessary to explain the subject of this letter; it has been inserted here merely as a trait of good-nature on the part of His Royal Highness, for, to judge by the handwriting, it would appear to have been penned with difficulty and I x< rtion. When tin Beau vacated his apartments in the Rue des Carmes, a stp which he was very l"th to take, for he knew BEAU DRUMMELL. 101 that he was much more comfortable there than he was ever likely to be at the Hotel d'Angleterre, his treacherous memory failed to remind him of all Madame de St. Ursain's kindness to him ; the nursing, the friendly shelter of her wardrobe, the A.igora cats, and the parrots — all were forgotten, and l.e actually left her house without taking leave, though to gain the street he was obliged to pass the door of her drawing-room. "C'etait un original que ce monsieur," said this lady to me, " but I confess to you, that I was mortified at such egotism ; however, I took no notice of it. Six months after, to my great astonishment, he knocked at my door, and entered the salon as if he had seen me only the day before ; my reception, however, was not very flattering, for I considered that he had not only been ungrateful, but guilty of a great piece of rudeness, line intpolitesse. On my telling him this, he appeared greatly distressed, and I was wondering how he would get out of the scrape, when he rose from his chair, and taking my hand, said, with great emotion, ' Madame de Saint Ursain, I would willingly have wished you good-bye, but I was in tears.' " He did not, however, forget his young friend her daughter, to whom, after his departure, he sent the following letter, which leaves room for regret that he did not more often apply his mind to subjects of a serious character ; as it is evident that, when he was excited to notice them, he possessed a latent sound sense, and force of expression, for which no one is likely to give him credit. The spirit of his remarks is not unworthy LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF r* T v SANTA BARBARA 102 THE LIFE OF of serious attention at an epoch when many, though within the pale of our Established Church, are seeking to subvert its truths and undermine its independence. "■December loth, 1832. " You are wrong in supposing that the presence of Monsieur de Saint Quentin, or of any other person, interfered with my promise to write to you. ' Heu ! quantum minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse.' l I have been engaged during the last four days with letters upon business ; irksome, indeed, to indite, but which admitted of no delay. So, mis- taken Miss Aimable, do not unjustly reproach me with negligence or forgctfulness. " This cold morning has almost deprived me of the use of my fingers as well as of my faculties ; therefore, in commiseration, you must not expect a prolonged epistle from me. You are certainly severe, but incorrect, in your conjecture that the destruction by lightning of the tower at Harfleur [struck on the 2nd of Dec. 1832] was a judgment of Providence against the English heretics who built it. Pardon 1 From an inscription at the Lcasowes to tlic memory of Miss Dolman, a beautiful and amiable relation of Mr. Shcnstonc's, who died of the small-pox, when about twenty-one years of age : — Ah ! Maria ! puellarum ele^antbsima ! ah ! florc venustatis aba va I heu quanto minu cum reliquis vcr.-an quam tui meminisse. BEAU BRUMMELL. 103 me, but you betray a little anachronism in your ideas ; at the period at which this tower was con- structed by the English, their religion, if they pro- fessed any, was universally of the Catholic faith. Martin Luther and Calvin did not appear till more than a century afterwards, to preach and promulgate those rational Protestant doctrines and precepts that have since been so deservedly estimated and followed, in England, in the Low Countries, and in a consider- able part of German}^. Would it not be less partial to your own countrymen, and more morally probable, to suppose that this summary infliction from above against the innocent tower, indicated the wrath of Heaven against those modern, insidious, Jesuitical, and -intolerant Catholic priests, whose pernicious in- fluence and profane buffoonery exasperated the whole nation, and effected the downfall of the unfortunate Bourbon dynasty ? The same perdition, an age and a quarter since, fell upon the last of the reigning Stuarts in England, because, against the general will and remonstrance of the country, he chose to be per- verse in the mockery and treachery of Catholicism. " But enough of religion ; my fire is extinguished, because I have paid more attention to you and my plume than to the tongs, and I am freezing. The best faith, I believe, in this weather, is that of the poor Laplander, who adores the sun alone — when he sees it. — Very sincerely yours, George Brummell. "To Miss Aimable, Rue des Cannes." ro4 THE LIFE OF CHAPTER X. Brum well leaves the House of Madame de St. Ursain — Takes up his Abode at the Hotel d Angletcrre — A Declaration of Lor.- — " Liu-sur-Mer" — Bathing Parties — The Polish Countess and her Pearls — The King's Bath — Letter to a Young Friend at Luc — The "Cours Cafarclir— li Coins d: la Heine"— Public Places of Exercise for the Loiuer Classes — BrutnmeWi JLisanthrofj: Brummell left Madame dc St. Ursain's in September 1832, and established- himself ait Iroisicuic, at the I Intel d'Angleterre ; he was there en pension, dining at the table-d'hote, and breakfasting in his room. After settling himself in his new abode, the tran- quillity of mind produced by his being relieved from daily persecutions of a pecuniary nature, enabled him to regain his strength, and for some months he led a tolerably comfortable, but not a very animated life. In the summer of 1833, his correspondents, like every one else who could leave the town, were at the sea- side or their country-houses ; but he, from want of funds, could not follow them, and was therefore obliged to spend that season in wandering about the deserted Cours, without mi ( ting any one on whom to bestow an epigram, or a glance of recognition. Ih. consequence of this was, that his gossiping BEAU BRUMMELL. 105 notes to his friends became letters, and writing them appears to have been his chief recreation. In one of these to a young favourite, with whose family he was extremely intimate, he, in a mood half serious, half jocular, made a declaration of love ; and I think that my fair readers will admit that, as a specimen of sexagenarian feeling in these matters, this very humorous composition stands unrivalled. k " Tuesday, July. " Millions of thanks to you for Ayesha. 1 I have not quite finished with her ; for I cannot now read, nor write, nor do anything in a methodical way ; therefore I return her to you, with every expres- sion of admiration for your mutual excellences ; with Ayesha, indeed, I have only made a transitory acquaintance, — you I know already by heart. " Why, in the name of common prudence and my own tranquillity, could I not have been contented to restrict my knowledge of you to the worldly etiquette of taking off my hat to you when we casually met ? During those years that I have vegetated upon the barren moor of my later life, I have sedulously avoided running my crazy head into what may be termed, inconsequent distractions ; and now, in spite of all my theoretical circumspection and security, I find myself over head and ears, heart and soul, in love with you. I cannot, for the life of me, help 1 « Ayesha, the Maid of Kars," a novel by James Morier. io6 THE LIFE OF telling you so ; but, as all considerate reason has not at times utterly abandoned me, I shall put myself into a strait waistcoat, and be chained to the bed-post. " Perhaps, after having undergone such compulsa- tory infliction, and the bereavement of at least half the blood in my veins, I may be restored to my more cool and sedate senses. I shall then turn Anchorite, and flee away to the desert. Adieu ! I have yet sufficient command over my drooping faculties to restrain any tributary tears from falling over my fare- well ; you might doubt their reality ; and we all know that they may be counterfeited upon paper, with a sponge and rose-water ! " Addio, ben mnata — it was my intention to go to the sea-side for a day, and be dipped, as they treat unfor- tunates suffering under hydrophobia ; but, without a miracle, I do not presume that I shall have regained force of resolution and intellect adequate to my attempt- ing the voyage. And there, too, I should see you again, source and spirit of all my tribulations, and my cicatrising wounds would bleed anew ; still that would have been my sole object in going, to exist amphi- biously, like an Undine, between raging billows and desolate rocks; and yet the shepherd in Virgil grew, at last, acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks. But you would laugh clandestinely at me in your bustled sleeve ; for there is nothing more ridiculous than a person in my desperate state ; and I should only have to ' bay the moon ' with my solitary plaints, and exasperate you, and the winds and the BEAU BRUMMELL. 107 waves, with my vain jeremiades. For the future, I shall haunt you with sentimental elegies upon mourn- ing paper, with a death's head crucified upon bones, by way of an appropriate vignette. 1 " I think beautiful, and I like her manner as much as her face. If you send me back , I shall suppose you are offended with me : keep it with you at Luc ; that will be some consolation to me while I am at the St. Luke's of this place. What am I to do for a diurnal matinal correspondent and afternoon gossip, now that you are ' over the hills and far away ? ' I am almost inclined to think that your sensibilities are as marbrees as your snowy com- plexion ; still I shall ever be immutably yours in this world ; and if our most devoted wishes and memories are allowed in the next, mine will still remain inviol- able towards you. George Brummell. " A Mademoiselle , Luc-sur-Mer." Had Brummell gone to Luc, there was no danger that his young friend would have betrayed her par- tiality, as did the wild beauty Undine, and plunge her teeth into his emaciated digit ; he might have disported 1 This is a faosimile of his own sketch. 10S THE LIFE OF himself for an eternal summer, " between the raging billows and desolate rocks," without receiving such a flattering proof of success in his wooing. This village, which is on the coast, and about nine miles from Caen, is a most unromantic spot. The accommodation for visitors is extremely bad ; the sea-breezes are strongly impregnated with the smell of herrings, and not a bathing-machine or a tree is to be seen. It is, how- ever, much frequented by the fashionables of the adjoining departments, and sometimes by a few cxclu- sives of the haute societc of Paris, afraid of the con- tamination with the bourgeois crowd at Dieppe ; and who, ladies and gentlemen, resort to the beach together, and politely dip each other. These bathing parties, and the celebrated oysters from the Rochers de Cancale, a few miles from the shore, are in general its only attractions ; but this season could boast an extra, and very novel one, in the shape of a charming Polish Countess, who came neither in the pursuit of health nor amusement, but for the sole benefit of her pearls, of which she had a splendid suite, — a suite that the very oysters opposite would have envied ; and while the general dipping and ducking was going on, she passed her mornings in airing them on the beach, in order that they might be more than brilliant the next winter at Vienna. To an Englishman of the pri < nt generation, this strange mode of bathing, and mi:. mn of sexes, waves, sands, sea-weed, j< Uy-fish, and conversation, is a decided novelty ; but that is all, for 1 never heard of BEAU BRUMMBLL. 109 any impropriety occurring in consequence of the cus- tom : and I always found these reunions in the water equally agreeable with those in the salons of Caen. Some of the ladies who were very careful of their complexions, which, by-the-bye, is, generally speaking, a useless anxiety in France, invariably took their parasols into the sea with them ; and others, on leaving it, dried their hair, by promenading with it hanging loose down their backs, like the horse-tails on the old helmets of the Life Guards, though, to be sure, of a somewhat finer texture. A spirited authoress, who has lately given to the world her Last Tour and First Work, has described French watering-places to perfection, and also touched upon this social system of bathing. Lady Vavasour considered the English mere babies in the art compared with our neighbours. She says that at Plombieres there was only a wooden partition (enough, one should think) between the ladies and gentlemen, and the noise the latter made (mark, the latter) was beyond anything she ever heard. The bathers on both sides commenced their ablutions to instrumental music, then sang a duet, laughed, joked, and hallooed ; and lastly, they danced, for a French lady proposed a quadrille. In another bath the company remained eight hours at a sitting, both sexes enjoying the natation together. Here a friend's friend of her ladyship, who had been invited to take a bath, was greatly surprised to find still in it the whole party he had supped with the no THE LIFE OF night before ; one gentleman having actually " break- fasted, dined, and supped in it." Should Lady V. be inclined to gratify her numerous admirers with a second work, I would recommend to her notice the aquatic quadrilles on the shores of the Black Sea, where (though I cannot, unfortunately, promise her the society of my own sex, or the enlivening harmony of a military band) she will see the fair Sclavonians bathing en costume do bal, dancing to the music of the murmuring waves of the Euxine. With this recom- mendation, however, I ought in fairness to remind her that Odessa can only be reached by a pilgrimage over miles of steppe, or through the spoglia of a Russian quarantine. Extraordinary as this method of French bathing now seems to an Englishwoman, and " babies " though we be " in the art of bathing," we were not such tyros in the days of our ancestors. There may perhaps still be a few who remember sitting in the King's bath, of old Bladud's healing waters, with their partners in the minuet of the night before, their heads powdered and pomatumed with all the rigeur qu'exigeaii la mode du jour, and who recollect having swam their snuff-boxes across the bath in their wooden bowls to a friend on the opposite side. But her ladyship has possibly never seen the Bath Guide, and the description given by the poet-laureate of the habits of that re- nowned place of public resort, who remarks how pretty it was to sec the visitors put on their flannels, And then take the water like so many spaniels ; BEAU BRUM M ELL. in And though all the while it grew hotter and hotter, They swam just as if they were hunting an otter ; 'Twas a glorious sight to behold the fair sex, All wading with gentlemen up to their necks." But to return to Brummell. His young friends at the sea-side were not left long without hearing from him ; and the next amusing letter, from the length of the piece of poetry it enclosed, probably consumed more than one of his dull evenings in composing and inditing. " Saturday evening, August 1833. " That ourang-outang of a bookseller has sent me a miserable French translation of Manzoni, instead of the original Italian which I demanded. He says the other was stolen from him. I am ashamed to convey this to you : from a superficial glance it looks as if it would bore you. If such may be its fate give it a worse, and cast it into the sea. There has been nothing, as yet, affichc in London or Paris which offers any assurance of being worthy to be read : the moment there is, you shall have it. " My existence here has become perfectly drear)', insipid, and unprofitable : scarcely I see any one, speak to any one ; and I find myself so miserably abatta and distrait, that I am incapable of passing away the lingering hours in those occupations which used to be my resource and my amusement. This is all very wrong. I am conscious of all my culpable lassi- tude of mind and spirit, but for the soul of me I can- not collect sufficient energy to force myself away from U2 THE LIFE OF this wretched place, much as it would be beneficial for me to do so. I have not sufficient fortitude, or the patience, or the resignation of Sadak, 1 who wore away his life in traversing the wilds of Asia to find out the waters of oblivion. My only excursions from my cell are to the Cafarelli, — not a civilised being now there to exhilarate my solitary ramble, — with all the perse- cuting delusion of my distempered thoughts, I detect myself frequently looking back, in the fancy of seeing you and .... coming over the bridge ; but no such happiness awaits me. When I get home I strive to propitiate a few hours' forgetfulness in sleep — all in vain, and the morning comes again bright and bloom- ing, but as little refreshing and satisfactory to me as the past night. But enough of these fantastic vapours of the brain. To change this larmqyant, &c. — " Here followed a copy of the Butterfly's Funeral, already given in the first volume. The letter con- cludes thus : — " I could go on writing all night, but my perverse lamp is getting sleepy and closing its eyes. It will leave me in the dark, as you did, par pmruthese, by the abrupt and ungenerous termination of your last amiable note to me. Good night, good night ; unfad- 1 According to J. Ridley's "Talcs of the Genii," first published in 175 1, the wife of Sadak, the commander of the forces of Amurath, Sultan of Turkey, was carried off to the lattcr's seraglio, whilst her husband was sent off in search of the Waters of Oblivion. On his return the Sultan drank these waters, and found out that oblivion isonly to be obtained in death. The injured husband was made Sultan in his stead. BEAU BRUM M ELL. 113 ing welfare and happiness be constantly with you, and may you dream of butterflies. — Eternally yours, " G B " A Mademoiselle , ; **' "' Luc-sur-Mer." The extent to which Brummell evidently felt, and lamented, the total want of society, is distressing to think of, when his age, sickness, poverty, and early habits of intercourse with the highest and most accom- plished is remembered ; and, though it is true that he brought himself into that position by his own folly, the visitations of his declining years were much more severe than ever fell upon many of his class, more vicious and mischievous than he was. The promenade alluded to by the Beau in the pre- ceding letter, as the one to which he usually resorted for daily exercise, is situated on the banks of the Orne, beyond the port, and in the direction of the sea. The walk is approached from one of the quays by a bridge, and, being at a considerable distance from the principal streets, is little frequented, excepting by the bourgeoisie, who have their diminutive gardens near it ; or on Sunday evenings, when the band of the regiment quartered in the town performs there, and attracts the whole population en masse. It received its appellation of Cafarelli, in compliment to one of Napoleon's prefets of that name, under whose admini- stration the ground was laid out, and planted with several rows of trees ; but the situation is bleak and unfavourable to their growth ; their foliage is too vol. 11. h ii 4 THE LIFE OF scanty to afford any shade for the promenaders ; and the picturesque appearance of the walk is about on a par with that of a Dutch toy. Caen, like the generality of large country towns on the Continent, has several public walks ; and it is impossible to see how much they contribute to the comfort of the humbler classes of their inhabitants, and not regret the want of them in our own manu- facturing cities, in which, from the extreme density of the population, the}- would be doubly valuable : — the want of them is a cruel deficiency in our social system, which ought to be remedied without delay. Surely no class of people in the world stands more in need of these arenas for exercise and relaxation than our operatives, who, from the very moment of their birth, breathe the unwholesome atmosphere of a room, in which the members of a numerous family, and per- haps even more than one family, are huddled together. While yet mere children, they exchange this impure element for that of a crowded factory, which the cupidity of their employers and the nature of their occupation render still more deleterious than that in which they have till then existed ; the vicinity of the fly-wheel of the engine is the only spot in this heavy mass of close and foetid vapour that is ever agitated ; the baneful effects of which are daily witnessed, in the diseases that consign thousands of these miserable beings to an untimely grave. To them, alas ! Nature is unknown ; the carol of the lark, the call of the cuckoo, the cheerful hum of the bees returning from BEAU BRUM M ELL. 115 their toil, are sounds that the ears of many could not recognise ; of the colour of the harebell or the gorse, the smell of the honeysuckle or the new-mown hay, they are equally ignorant — and the fresh air of the early morning in the spring has never fallen on their brow, to gladden their hearts, or invigorate their bodies and their minds. If the artificial state of society with us has created a population thus un- happily circumstanced, it surely is a duty imperative on those who profit by their misery, to alleviate it, and on the legislature of their country, to secure to them the enjoyments of these natural pleasures — created by the Almighty to bless alike the rich and poor. I was led into this digression by the remembrance of the pleasure I had often felt in observing the cheer- ful countenances of hundreds of the poor inhabitants of Caen, strolling on the fine summer evenings along the splendid promenades of the town ; and the many old lace-makers, sitting under the trees diligently plying their bobbins, and earning, a pittance it is true, but not at the risk of their lives. The favourite rendez-vons, however, are the " Grand Cours," and the " Cours de la Reine," which every Norman justly considers the chief ornaments of the province : these noble public walks are more central than the Cafarelli. One side of the Grand Cours is watered by the Orne, which, owing to the weir above the bridge, is always kept at a high level ; the meadow on the other, occupying a surface of many hundred acres, and n6 THE FIFE OF bounded by the village of Louvigny at one end, and the heights of Allemagne in the distance, is enlivened by large herds of cattle, and a branch of the Orne, which, diverted from its course, meanders through it, fertilizing its rich and extensive pasture. This stream afterwards takes a winding course through the very centre of the town, and rejoins the river at the ex- tremity of the quay. The hills of Allemagne are of great interest in the eyes of an Englishman, for, from them were quarried, eight centuries ago, the stones of that noble Abbey, within whose walls repose the honoured remains of so many of England's most gallant and intellectual sons. The splendid avenues of stately elms which grace this Cours, look nearly as venerable as that ancient pile ; and the trees near the river spread their giant branches and redundant foliage far across its tranquil surface. On a fete-day, the farmers' wives and daughters, who arc to be seen here with their high caps, flow- ing lappets, and bright green or red aprons, are as line specimens of nature as the elms, both in height and beauty ; but they, and a multitude of merry faces beaming with a homely, but happy, disposi- tion to please and be pleased, had no charms for a misanthrope. Brummell, either from affectation, or the early habit of constantly associating with the most select society, disliked large crowds of people, where its different classes were mingled togethi I'he fair, which lasts a fortnight, and is held on the Grand Cours and the Cours de la Reine, he never BEAU DRUM M ELL. 117 entered ; but inquired occasionally of his acquaint- ance, what was going on there ? To have been seen within its precincts, would have been far too much like the rest of the world. Lister says, " that in London, in his palmy days, he never went beyond the door at a ball, except at some favoured houses. He generally stood at the entrance, and paid the usual compliment of a few minutes' conversation to the lady of the house, and did not commit himself by jostling within." The Beau sought the Cours Cafarelli for its retirement, perhaps for its formality ; and there wore away many a weary hour, with no other companions than his dog and his own cheerless thoughts. MS 77//? LIFE OF CHAPTER XI. fitters to his Friends living near the Sea-side — They Return to the Town for the Season — Gossiping Notes to them — BrummdPs Christmas-box— Winter festivites— A Ball at Madame de Rigny's — "La fille du Convent" — The Silent System — An Agreeable Intimation — Sympathy for the Duchess de Berri — Fasting Dow- agers — "An untcrward Event. " To return, however, to his last letter. He had the gratification of finding The Butterfly's Funeral favour- ably received, and his Iris/cssc procured him a com- passionate reply, which seems to have had the happiest effects upon his spirits, for his next is written in a much more cheerful tone. " Tuesday evening. " May the recording angel, who registers above the amiable feelings and thoughts of mortals, preserve you for having written that last note to me ! It has at once extricated me from the v< rv abyss of gloomy and disconsolate reflections, and has restored me to peace and equanimity. After reading it, I sought another wander to the Cafarelli, and returned home to my solitary room at the hotel, contented with BE A U BRUMMELL. 1 19 myself and all the world. I do not know myself again. " I have this morning perambulated over this deserted town, acknowledged every one whose physiognomy was familiar to me, lance two bad jokes at his Excel- lency Monsieur le Baron de , in judgment of his new heathenish mouse-coloured pantaloons, and even disturbed my hat with my best strait-laced salutation to Madame d'A , and her contemptible troop of monkeys in the shape of men. When I mentioned the Baron to you the other day, as having fallen into an inheritance, it was all mythological moonshine. — Poor fellow ! I believe he has nothing but his panta- loons and his misconceived amour propre } to which he can look forward. " Upon my knees I supplicate one of you to write to me, when you have not any more interesting object to divert you ; when the expanse of waters, and the unfruitful waste of earth which surrounds you, have wearied your unvaried prospect — pray write and tell me you think of me, be it so or not ; ' be for once forsworn,' l if you are thinking of any one else ; it will gratify me beyond all other sublunary blessings. " Do not imagine that I am endeavouring to flatter you ; I never did encourage such a subtle and de- grading intention, and I never shall, but you write beautifully. " I have sent you some books in continuation of \ See vol. i. chapter xviii. page 353, Mrs. O'Neill's verses. i2o THE LIFE OF ' Lcs deux Fiancees,' which I have never read, by way of courier. — Ever yours, G. B. " .Mademoiselle Luc-sur-Mer." When the autumn was over, his friends returned to their habitations in the town, and the Beau appears to have marked his gratitude to one of his marine correspondents of the summer by presenting her, on Christmas Day, with an r'liriuic in anticipation of the New Year. The presentation of this gift is the prin- cipal subject of his next note. "December 25, 1833. " It is the hallowed fete of Christmas, nativity, mince-pies, mistletoe, wind, gentle evergreens, and itrennes. Sanction the latter offrandc with your habi- tual Christian amenity, and comblez the charitable feeling by the recompense of one of those halcyon billets de reconnaissance that you know so well to write. I solicit you to prostrate it aux pieds de Mademoiselle : rii boudoir, as I should not like that she blushed at Its insignificance en socUU. " I must forbear to dedicate any sentimental effusions to you upon this festive yet consecrated day. I am no Don Escobar, nor do I bear the sanguinary badge of the cross of Palestine upon my shoulder, still I am anxious to get through the morning's commemoration with every exemplary propriety, as a sort of anticipated penance for the trespasses to which 1 may be exposed in the evening —for I dine with the Pharisees. BEAU BRUMXIELL. 121 " My fire is going to give up the ghost in sighs of smoke from suffocation, and my wayward fancies are congealed by the severity of the breeze that moans upon entrance under my door — I am as cold as the dormouse without a home — my regard for you all may be said to be, just now, as pure but inanimate as the falling snow, and my best friends, in good faith and fair truth, seem to be frozen at the bottom of the well. When addressing you, (test tottjours tin degel de cccar, but, at this instant my torpid hand and faculties refuse to answer to the grateful summons of more deserved eulog}', and, in timely silence, sans compltmens, I will bid you good-morrow, peace and welfare, and redeem- ing thaw to myself. Mademoiselle writes like a recording angel ! If you have any Canterbury Tale to e'pancher — pray let me into the secret. — Most sin- cerely yours, G. B. " A Madame , Rue . " P.S. — Madame de Rigny announces a bal pare on the 31st. I must elapse from my sabots upon the occasion, and galope with the rest." Brummell, happily for him, was sufficiently thawed to go to this ball ; indeed he was seldom so frozen in the evening that he could not " elapse," when and wherever there was any whist going on, or an oppor- tunity offered for quizzing. Of the latter he was certain to have plenty at Madame de Rigny's, whose 122 THE LIFE OF salons resembled a jar of piecalilly ; for here might be seen the ultra-Carlist, the niudar, and the juste milieu ; indeed partisans of all kinds, Guizotistes, Moleistes, Thieristcs, Sec. These parties were very agreeable to Brummell, for his waltzing days were over ; but to a young Englishman who dances, a French provincial ball will scarcely appear so amusing as those in his own country, and he must string his nerves as tight as the instruments he is about to caper to, to encounter, with tolerable comfort, the two formidable rows of females ranged round the walls of the room. On the upper tier are the dowagers and chaperons, judiciously rouged and enamelled, busily scrutinizing one another's toilette and renovations, the immense supply of flowers in their heads leading one to suppose they had plundered the flower-pots intended to ornament the staircase ; for on no occasion could I ever detect a single blossom on these plants. On the lower bench are the young ladies, each with a volume of microscopic dimensions in her hand, looking as formal and precise as their natural vivacity and elegant tournure will permit. The gentlemen, also, with books in their hands, are in rapid movement in front of them, bowing, shuffling, scribbling, scraping, and crossing from one side of the room to the other. What crowding and pushing, what fuming and fussing ! " Aurai-je Fhonneur," says one gentleman, pulling out his jewelled pencil-case. " Pardon, Madame," exclaims another, having just then half crushed a foot, chaussc in satin, with his thick- BEAU BRUMMELL. 123 soled boot ; while the girls write away like mad, and murmur the number of their different partners, as glibly as if they were Paternosters or Ave Marias. A New- market man, ignorant of French, would fancy they were making bets, instead of booking engagements to dance for the whole evening, — for such is the invariable routine with which the ball commences. This anxiety off the minds of the indefatigable cavaliers, the bustle subsides, and the lady of the house, who has meanwhile been standing, like a queen on a twelfth cake, in the centre of the room, gossiping with the old gentlemen, retires, and leaves the ground open to the dancers. But the formality of the two female circles, into which a male never presumes to intrude, is infused into the quadrille. All personal introduction is, it is true, dispensed with ; the mere fact of a man's being in the same room with a lady, entitles him to ask her to dance, and she cannot refuse the obtrusive compliment, no matter whether he is well or ill mannered, graceful or gawky ; whether his face is as smooth as her own, or covered with as much hair as a Russian mujik's ; whether he is scented with eau de Portugal, eau de vie, or bad cigars, she must be his for one mortal half-hour — perhaps to waltz — " ay, there's the rub ! " The same free-and-easy custom prevails even at the public balls at the Prefec- ture and the Hotel de Ville. This system, which is lax enough to have suited Egalite himself, " avec son time de /aqitais," and of which extreme formality is the result, would at first sight [24 THE LIFE OF appear to have a very opposite tendency. But this is not the case ; half the figurants and figurantes do not know each other's names ; and if, as in Madame dc Rigny's salons, the society is mixed, they may not wish to do so : there is, therefore, every inducement to avoid rather than enter into conversation. As married women, they have every right to be as loquacious as they please ; and, by a very recent innovation, the girls are occasionally seen to waltz : but in the contre-danses, to which their exertions have hitherto been confined, it is an understood thing that they are to be mum ! At a ball, some years ago, in the same town of Caen, " when 1 was in my thoughtless youth," and yet ignorant that in a French quadrille Harpocrates was always the companion of Terpsichore, a French sylph in her teens, just fresh from her convent, enlightened me upon this subject in the most novel and amusing manner possible. Poor little creature ! she looked delighted to escape from confinement; and when we had taken our places I lost no time in opening an animated battery of conversation upon her ; but conn ive my consternation, my gentle countrywomen, particularly you who have just laid your governesses on the sin It, and full of spirits ami English independence, anticipate by day and dream by night of the triumphs of tin- approaching season ; conceive my agitation when, at the very first pause that occurred, my pretty partner addressed me in these words: — "Monsieur, nous sommes ici pour danscr, pas pour causer." I looked BEAU BRUMMELL. 125 no doubt annoyed, as well I might : it was of no use, however, she was mute : but her piquante face, with hair a la Chinoisc, and very speaking eyes, seemed to say, " Ah certes quand je serai mariee je causerai a mon gre." The quadrille over, I led her, as etiquette decreed, to her place ; and, bowing as low as the bench on which she seated herself, left her to relate the details of such an unusual and tragic occurrence to Madame la Marquise Mere, who expressed herself of course sufficiently astonished at such English igno- rance and effrontery, and applauded her daughter's perfect discretion. In France, an Englishman is soon made aware that to speak to a girl, even when sitting next to her mother, is indecorous, unless it be to ask her to dance ; but to say a word to her, when she has assumed the perpendicular for that purpose, is a positive breaking down the quickset of proprieties " that doth hedge " a demoiselle. Do these precau- tions improve the connubial qualifications of French- women, and make them better wives ? It is doubtful. Ideas and forms of this nature arising from the " non- intervention " system, throw a coldness over French society, and an unpleasant reserve is the consequence. In a ball-room the dancers are reduced to automatons, and mechanically return, as the music of each set ceases, to the seats they originally and respectively occupied, and which are as strictly kept as those of a theatre. The privileges and pleasures of a ball are ours ; on this, the French side of the Channel (which, 126 run LIFE OF by the way, we have, with Brummellian cxclusive- ness, called the British, as if we had both sides of it), there is no pleasant promenade with a pretty or witty girl, to look fur an ice in the refreshment room, or quiz and confabulate about old partners, and captivate and secure new ones. The salon of a few of the stoutest legitimists at Caen were exceptions to the extreme coldness and formality I have described ; for though the same rule existed as to individual introductions, the families were all known to each other, and no one of modified opinions ever thought of disturbing the aristocratic repose of their portc-cochcrcs. It was however some- times impossible to help smiling at the manner in which this party testified their loyalty, and the un- grateful return it met with. The winter of 1833 was made as dull as a funeral to the whole of the legitimist party in France by the arrest of the Duchess of Berri, and her incarceration at Blaye. She was at this time the soul of the cause, and looked up to as a second Clemence de Condd ; not a creature would dance, and it was said that a few of the most devoted and devout of the dowagers actually fasted. In fact, the conduct of this party went far to disprove the assertion so piquantly made by their countryman Stanislas de Girardin, who, when his friend the Prefet complained that the inhabitants of Caen would not erect a triumphal arch, and give a suitable reception to Napoleon, said, " Comment DzicAes; BEAU DRUMMELL. 127 voulez-vous inspirer de l'enthousiasmc a des gens qui ne boivent que du cidre ? " As the young men could not dance, they took care to substitute the agriment of dejeuners a la fourchctte. At one of these, when busily engaged with the 03'sters, we were suddenly interrupted in this agreeable occu- pation by the unexpected entrance of an old veteran royalist of their acquaintance. " Mon Dieu, Messieurs," said the intruder, in great distress, " have you heard the news ? the Duchess " — " is delivered ? " we all exclaimed, " Non mes enfans, mais accouchee." This " fait accompli " went far to annihilate the personal interest in the Royalist cause excited by the intre- pidity of the Duchess de Berri. [28 Till: LIFE OF CHAPTER XII. Letter to a Mother of Pearls — Brummell' s Present to her — Old Rigime Morality — Brummell again Attacked by Paralysis — His Preset!, e of Mind on this Occasion — Dr. K 's Kindness to him — Brum- nidi's Patience during Illness — Letter after his Coi:i ] alescence — His young Favourite's Album — His Note to h A few days after the mince-pie and mistletoe note was despatched, Brummell forwarded another (Ironic to one of his fair friends. Lest the reader should be mystified by his splendid metaphorical allusions, it will perhaps be as well to observe, that the matron in question numbered the Graces in her family, fortu- nately, not the Muses ; and that the gift was a paper- knife, the material of which was mother-of-pearl. The result of his thus putting his language upon stilts is the most complete confusion; for a plain man, if indeed he could make anything of it at all, would suppose that the lady was in the habit of dividing the leaves of the last new novel, or marking her place, with the greasy knife that she had just used to cut her "bread and butter." This is really atrocious, and Brummell, with all his elegance, deserved to be well trounced for subjecting her to such a foul sus- picion. BEAU BRUMMELL. 129 "January 3, 1834. " In vain I have been expecting Beckforcl's Letters 1 from Paris ; this moment the answer comes to me, that there is not a copy remaining, and I must attend the republication — they were destined for your accept- ance, and it is very hard upon me. En attendant, I will take the liberty to submit the offering of a modest tribute intended as an accessory, more harmonising with your fair hands, than the forbidding instrument that usually administers to your morning's repast (in plain language, I mean cutting bread and butter !) which by some treacherous tachc a la tartinc, may endanger the opening or the record of the page you read. I wish it consisted of one Genuine Pearl ! — it is but the nominal mother of them. Yet, you possess the happy privilege to claim that congenial title, and I beg to present it, as the humble counterfeit of yourself. " Korizaida is a beautiful modern Greek name which Byron mentions as often found among the ' native seraphs ' of those soft classic isles — its construction is ' Cluster of Pearls ; ' should you be disposed to change your own, it would, in metaphor, be appropriate to you all. " I have no news favourable or adverse to commu- nicate ; for many days I have not transgressed the wicket of my cell before vespers — I sit en Calmonk, enveloped in sable, musing over the fire like a poet in 1 The Beau means probably William Beckford's " Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal," which had just been published. VOL. II. I 130 THE LIFE OF distress, and ruminate upon other times and fairy pro- spects that will never come again, and I scarcely know whether the sun has been in shine or in sorrow. " I was up to a dissipated hour this morning, playing at five-sous whist, with Madame d'A . Improvi- dent pursuit! She made half-elosed C3'es at me, instead of attending to the game : this afflicted me afterwards with a relative cauchemar—l fancied, in the dream, I was struggling with my Aunt Margaret's ghost 1 — I am still dormant, and only just able to whis- per to you how — Sincerely I am yours, G. B. " A Madame , Rue des ." The person whose sentimental glances thus afflicted tin- Beau with nightmare, was a diminutive wizen old Countess of good family, who took quantities of snuff, occasionally dimmed the shining parquet with an ex- pectoration, wrote satirical verses on the manners of the juste milieu, and sonnets to the youthful Henri Cinq. To hear one of these antique specimens of the ancien regime dilate upon the state of French society as it was in their youth, was not very creditable to their generation ; and this lady, in her extreme dctes- 1 This "ghost" perhaps refers to Sir Philip Forester, who appears to Lady Jemima and her sister in the magic mirror, in Sir Walter Scott's tale, " My Aunt Margaret' r;" or may be an allusion t<> "Margaret's Ghost," a ballad by David Mallet (1724), which relates how a certain William courted the fair Margaret and jilted hei ; how she languished and died, and how her ghost appeared to the faithless lover, who first went raving mad, then hied to her grave and " never word --pake mon Henry 5*^ of France. BEAU BRUM M ELL. 131 tation of anything sober, certainly overrated the improvement of the present. u Ah, Monsieur," I heard this octogenarian say one evening, " que nos salons sont tristes ! Je ne m'y reconnais plus. Dans ma jeunesse, une femme avait ses amies, et son mari les siennes ; chacun s'amusait a sa maniere : a present on voit les epoux toujours ensemble ! — c'est bien cela. Ah ! qu'ils sont vilains les usages d'aujourd'hui." Towards the end of April, 1834, poor Brummell was again attacked by paralysis : he was seized at the table d'hote ; and the circumstance that first made him conscious of the fact, was finding that his soup was trickling down his chin instead of going into his mouth. Instead of making any exclamation or gesture of surprise, he, with his usual presence of mind, immediately rose from the table, and quietly putting his napkin to his face, left the room with such perfect deliberation and self-possession, that none of the guests were at all aware of his misfortune, and they imagined that he retired merely from some feeling of temporary indisposition. But before going to his room, the staircase leading to which was on the other side of the court-yard of the hotel, he went into one adjoining that in which the table d'hote was held, and consulted the looking- glass over the mantel-piece. One glance was sufficient, for it showed him that his mouth was drawn up to his ear, and he hastily retreated to his apartments. This mode of proceeding was characteristic of the Beau, who had a great antipathy to being thought 132 THE LIFE OF either old or ill ; and he was quite as anxious to establish five-and-forty, as Louis Quatorzc was to fix seventy, for " Fdge de tout le monde; " in fact Brummell, when speaking of his age, never owned to more than fifty. If any lady pressed him on this delicate sub- ject, he always called in the name of some noble friend to his aid, who, according to the Peerage, was many years younger than himself, and, asserting that they were at school together, would plausibly make him out to be two years his senior. I lis medical adviser who attended him on this and other occasions was a very humane and generous man, and paid him the greatest possible attention, without fee or reward of any kind. Dr. K gave him an excellent character as an invalid, and said that he never knew any one more gentle or obedient in severe illness. Only once had they any difference of opinion ; it was caused by BrummeH's affection for a few stray hairs that grew at the back of his head, and which, though concealed by his wig, he was most anxious to preserve. When it was found necessary to apply a blister, he strongly objected to parting with these few mementoes of his former chevelure, and asked Dr. K , with a melancholy smile, whether he must absolutely lose them ? but, on his assuring him that the blister could not be put on unless they were removed, he resigned his head to the hairdresser with becoming composure. The next letter was written almost immediately after his recovery from this attack, and shows not only how severe his illness must have BEAU BRUMMELL. 133 been, but how his drooping energies were devoted to his favourite protegees. " Monday morning. " Allow me to present you with a sketch ; it is in a sadly unfinished state, but it will at least prove to you that I can sometimes keep my promise, and travaillcr for your album. I have lately possessed neither nerves or capacity to go on with two other drawings that I have stir les mains. They require more assi- duity and fatigue than I can at present bestow upon them, and, as I am anxious that they should be perfect, you must accord me time and health to accomplish them. " The sketch is from memory : it is a resemblance of a very amiable person, who is now no more, — of Georgiana, Lady Worcester. In former days I drew a miniature of her, which Worcester now has, and the traits are still fresh in my remembrance. It is the first thing that I have attempted since my resurrec- tion ; for you must know that I have been in the other world, and I can assure you I found it no paradise. " It seems that I have recently been in a state of absence, or aberration of mind, and utterly unconscious of it till this morning, when, upon my interrogating him, — I mean one of my doctors, — he told me that when he came to me eight days ago I was in a high fever, and that during three days and nights I had frequently asked absurd questions, and talked to him in a distrait and unconnected manner ; in short, that 134 THE LIFE OF I was wandering in my senses, and ' babbling about green fields and butterflies.' I recollect nothing but their having deprived me almost of daily bread, and my making resistance and wry faces at lancets and lenitives. As I do not like to be regarded as a con- nrmed lunatic, pray keep this a secret. "I am not of adequate dignity to have daily bulletins of my health, for I hate troubling other people about it ; but now, that the visitation is over, I can produce, if necessary, under their hands, the authenticity of what I have taken the liberty to represent to you. I am now passing well, though rather reduced and weak: let all your amabUiU be gathered together to commiserate me. " Do you intend to summer among the mermaids ? I have the truest wish to shake hands with you again ; but do not, which you may mean in kindness, ask me anything about my health ; it makes me melancholy, and that abaissetnent sometimes makes me very childish. Addio cara arnica. — Ever sincerely yours, G. B. '• A Mademoiselle , Luc-sur-Mer." It will be seen by the latter part, and the address of this letter, that his more intimate friends had again migrati d to the sea-side, when his gossiping billets, as usual, became more circumstantial. " Thursday evening. " It would be trespassing too much upon your indulgence, to retain your album any longer. A BEAU BRUM M ELL. 135 wandering sea-gull, dripping from the waves, has this morning perched at my window, and has told me delicately, through the curtains, that you were at every moment anxious about it — he did not tell me why. — I restore it to you. It was my wish to have delivered it in my own humble person this very day ; but maturer reflection, and indisposition, have dis- suaded me from that gratification. " I am unwell — I had flattered myself that I was progressing towards my ancient regular health ; and now those who look after me professionally, will insist upon it that my lungs are seriously affected, and pester me with all the alarming hyperbole of their vocation, upon my malady. They are weaving a shroud about me ; still, I trust I shall yet escape. " I have obtained some new magnifying-glasses, and have been striving to make two drawings for you. I have accomplished all the early preliminary outlines, and to proceed, I am only waiting for my colours, which Mrs. B (devil take her carelessness) has decamped with to the country. I am, however, con- cerned to perceive, that I cannot draw and finish as I used to do ; my vision seems to grow opaque, and indiscriminating ; (I need not tell you this,) my head is scarcely ever exempt from some disquietude or other ; and my hand, from a sort of nervousness, which incessantly visits me, trembles like the rushes that shade the ' Grave of the Butterfly.' " I have sent to Paris and to London for other draw- ings, that will better suit your fancy and your purpose. 136 THE urn OF 1 do not admire engraved vignettes and prints intro- duced into an album where there is only writing ; besides they are always commonplace, therefore I do not take the liberty to send you any. " In regard to poetry, I dare not monopolize even half a vacant page in inditing sonnets to your beautiful eyebrows, or in pathetic numbers singing, like the dying swan, my own elegy. You already possess my album, which is a faithful record of almost all the metrical romance of my past days, and also of the productions of several of those brilliant planets who once diffused their rays about the world. If it may sometimes be of use or amusement to you, accept it from me ; it is but a poor old album indeed, and unworthy as a gift to you ; but it has been for years the constant companion and friend of more solitary hours, and has often solaced and diverted me through the many vicissitudes, errors, and disappointments of my life. " It has lately been intimated to me, that I must be prepared to leave Caen ; this is from Government in England ; how soon, I know not. 1 am ignorant also of my destination — that will depend upon, and be dictated by, those in power, who have still the kind consideration to think of me and my broken fortunes. For years, I have cherished the wish to go to Italy ; and, if what 1 have solicited in my answer should be accorded to me, I shall take up my wallet and my staff, and seek the auspicious heaven of that country and climate. This is no fairy dream ! BEAU BRUM ME LL. 137 " Yesterday, for the first time for four days, 1 left my room and dined with . . ., and Henri de Vau- quelin ; the former seems delighted to be released from refreshing billows and herrings, — happy Jiuron I " And now I will bid you the best of all good nights, faites moi Famitie de me prostemcr moi et mes souvenirs les phis ddvoue's, at the feet of Madame . . . . ; you will not reject them, though from their frequent itera- tion they may have become rather cnnayeiix and maussadcs, and in one brief month from my disap- pearance, do not forget the earnest interest and friend- ship that I shall always feel for you. — Ever sincerely yours, G. B. " A Mademoiselle Luc-sur-Mer." i 3 8 Til II LIFE OF CHAPTER XIII. Difference between the Letters in this Chapter and former Ones — Letter to his Youthful Correspondent — A Penitent Letter — An Apologetic Note — Brummell tries to Appease His Fair Friends Indignation — Letter relating to a Quarrel — A Lengthy Note on the Same Subject — Two more Fanciju! Letters — Letter sent with a Lorgnette — A Note to the Mother of his Young Friend — The Beau's Note to a Lady whose Character had been Traduced. There is much good feeling expressed in the letter with which the last chapter concludes — gratitude to his friends, and regret for his errors : tiny arc re- verted to so naturally and unaffectedly, that it would be scarcely charitable to doubt his sincerity, and there is something very pleasing in the manner in which he lays his griefs and cares before his youthful corre- spondent. I wish the same could be said of the I< iters contained in this chapter, which betray hardly any good taste, and are particularly offensive in the adjurations and the flippant remarks concerning the ultimate fate of others in the next world. It is sur- prising that Brummell's young friend, after having received such lett< rs, p< rmitt< <1 the correspondence to continue. His admiration seems to have become so intense that there is every reason l<> suppose his feel- BEAU BRUMMELL. 139 ings, such as they were, became entangled, need I say hopelessly. At first, indeed, the young lady affected to receive his attentions with pleasure, and this led the old Beau to make further exertions with pen and pencil. Morning calls and walks added fuel to the flame ; and at length the fantastically poised sentences in each succeeding note assumed a warmer character, which ended eventually in expressions that revealed the torments of his pent-up soul, and he addressed her in the accents of love. The following are some of his epistles, now published for the first time : — " Saturday evening. " From my very soul I believe in the sincerity of your professed friendship for me, and I should be an infidel if I could ever again doubt it. The convincing proof of the never-failing ascendancy you do or say to me in kindness, is, that after I had read over your delightful note about twenty times,- — for at first it was illegible for my foolish tears, — I felt as if I had been rescued from the grave, and that all my former self, all my sinking spirits and health, were restored by some miraculous transformation ; and God only knows that I have lately suffered more deeply, both mentally and physically, than I have ever dared to express. May the light of every happiness descend serenely from heaven upon your beautiful head ! Why cast a passing shade over the cheering comfort of that note? why the invidious introduction, even if it was par plai- santerie, of the possibility of my ever forgetting you, or 140 THE LIFE OF repenting the gift of anything that was ever dear to me, to 3'ou? If you knew me better you would never have written such a reflection upon me ; and I have a great mind to repeat some of my former rhapsodies and adjurations to you, only I dare not (how I hate that word dare). I shall simply and frankly say that every thought, every sacred feeling of my future life, will be devoted to you, and to you above all others. You can never deprive me of the rooted interest I cherish towards you, though it shall be always ex- pressed by your injunctions. I am still unfit to write you another long letter. " I shall go and get some new magnifying glasses, and then recommence mes ouvrages to you. I send every day to Mrs. B.'s for my colours, and the daily response is ' that the poor child is dying ! ' 1 wish it was in Heaven ! I shall be able to find nearly the same implements here with the exception of the proper paper — that which I have is like drawing upon a sponge. As to quitting this place for Italy, or for any other remote part of the world, my itinerant dis- position has most wonderfully changed ; I will not now abandon Caen for embassies or for worlds ; while you are In re and rest the same dear and excellent friend to me, I shall never depart ; I would rather starve. "Are you unwell? If so, in kindness tell me. I remember warning you about too much of that odious sea. Send back the keepsake which conveys this note when you have tiiii.-.hcd with it ; I have only BEAU DRUMMELL. 141 borrowed or rather stole it. If I said anything in this note that you disapprove of, say so ; but do it gently and with your natural good grace. — Ever most sincerely yours, George Brummell." Brummell's rhapsodies and repentance seem to have followed close upon each other, and the next letter shows that he was again a trespasser upon forbidden ground, for these paroxysms had now alarmed his correspondent, and she had in one of her own letters given him to understand that he must not persist in his Wcrtherian strains. " Thursday morning. " To you, most beneficent of beings, I first turn with anxious penitence, for I see in my writing-case two notes, the last that were written to me by } r ou, the one demonstrating your never-failing good feelings in asking after my health, the other in anger with me ; the sense of it I miscomprehended, conceiving it was only a reproach to me for having babbled something about you. I now see my error ; there is nothing that impeaches me for having said anything relative to you by implication ; it, however, refers to two notes which you had apparently received from me on Monday, by which I am justly criminated, in having in an unmannerly and flagrant manner offended you. It seems to me as if my senses had migrated in some frightful dream ; the present consciousness of having wounded your feelings and amour-propre rends my very heart-strings, and I scarcely dare supplicate your 1 12 THE I ll l OF forgiveness; the only plea, the only possible extenua- tion I can offer for having so transgressed, is, that during three days and nights I was in a state of positive delirium ; my better faculties revived, and my feelings arc now, as they used to be before 1 knew you, suppressed and tranquillizi d ; yet the injury of which I have been culpable towards you corrodes like a poisoned dagger in my heart, and will remain rankling there, till you, with a Samaritan's hand, remove it. Mercy then, Mercy to him that crieth in the wilderness ! I am no longer the victim of delusion, and with every deep-felt contrition, I am prostrate at your feet; tell me, with all the angel consideration that is innate in your being, that you forgive and will forget for ever all my past faults and follies towards you. You will never repent such redemption, such regeneration of me ; restore me to the number of your nearest friends ; let me, while you remain at Caen, endeavour to amuse you as I used to do when we were first acquainted ; give me the gratifying privilege of resuming my original letters to you, and the flatter- ing office which you attach to me in your enchanting dream, before I disturbed you, of patronising you as my favourite and protigee. 1 can venture to assure you that in such halcyon capacities you will find me a much more agreeable friend as cicisbeo than you ever did as a disconsolate lover and aspirant. Try me by some delightful probation ; nev< r entertain fears of my relapsing into new insanities; my i ■■ will be without spectacles and my nerves well strung ; and BEAU BRUMMELL. 143 my heart is already crystallized into adamant. You will never find me again a culprit in your fairy train ; and should some sinister cloud hereafter lower upon your beautiful brow, and I be near, or thousands of leagues from you, try me more strenuously, and you will still find me the same pretending and undeviating attached friend, who would cry with you, laugh with you, and, if it was necessary, immolate his life to promote your well-being. "My Esculape will not allow me to go to De Chazot's to-day ; I must, therefore, have recourse to another, and I trust, an early day. Louis de Vauquelin says you are looking remarkably well ; if you have never read them, read ' The Rivals ' and ' The School for Scandal.' — Ever yours sincerely, " George Brummell." The succeeding letters are repentant apologies for two other notes that he had written to the same lady : " Friday evening. " With every abject sense of the injury I have offered you in daring to address you two letters which I believe were written and sent to you at Luc during the last six days — with every intense agony of repent- ance, and the deepest affliction of heart and mind that may become a man who never yet was lost to the sacred influence of honour or to the kindest feelings of nature, prostrate to the earth I supplicate your forgiveness ; I ask it as the responsibility of my 144 THE LIFE OF existence, for I never can survive the consciousness of having insulted you ; save me in the hallowed name of Him whom we both adore, but who has forsaken me in the hour of tribulation; save me from the destruction that is before me ; save me from myself. Tell me at once that you forgive me ; that, forgetting every past dereliction, spontaneously from your benevolent heart you forgive me. You never more shall hear from me nor sec me — solemnly I swear this to you, if you may enjoin it — therefore, neither you nor the world can be acquainted with what has befallen me. Farewell. — Yours with every submission and sincerity, George Brummell." This note, however, failed to appease the young lady's indignation, and the reason for this is dis- covered in the following letter. She appears to have accused him of making her the subject of conversation, but this was a fictitious imputation, her real motive being a desire to bring his love-sick, swain-like corre- spondence to a conclusion. '' Saturday. " By my eternal and omniscient God in Heaven who now sees and hears me, and by my sacred hope of redemption hereafter, I am innocent of that of which you now accuse me. " I have ncvftcncc at my writing to you sans reticence, lor it is dictated sacredly by the most interested anxiety for your eventual well- being. You asked me the other day why I gave my- self the trouble to write letters to Brighton on your account. You are incapable of meaning that question to be in unkindncss ; therefore, as I do not wish to expose myself again to your disapprobation, I shall say no more about it ; 1 will only now trust myself upon one retrospective subject. I owed you reparation for past errors ; for days and months they preyed incessantly upon my mind, for I was deeply sensible that 1 had lost that fairest attribute of good faith, your confidence. In the extent of my pour ability 1 sought every occasion to retrieve them in your estimation — th< y w< re errors only of the moment, rep< nt< d as soon as betrayed, and might in charity have b< en regarded as more venial. In recent instances 1 have voluntarily, zealouslyi and with undeviating Loyalty to yon endea- voured to befriend you wlun I considered your earlier hopes and present tranquillity to I"- implicated. — I did so with utter indifference to another opinion but your own, and with every passive disregard to any other feeling than the desire to conciliate your perfect for- giveness. In some partial sense then my delin- BEAU BRUMMBLL. 169 quencies have been expiated. You have since told me you would never forget my kindness ; that assurance confirms my fears as far as I can ever regain it, and is my recompense. Preserve, I implore you, the remembrance of that consolatory expression, and my gratitude will be as boundless, devoted, and surviving as my friendship to you. " I cannot call to say farewell, even if you would see me ; I have not sufficient strength of nerves, and I have already cried myself into second infancy at your departure. I will faithfully attend to all my promises to you, and to everything that more nearly and dearly affects your interests ; I think I can secure the means of communication wherever you may be in ignorance of every one but yourself. — Ever yours sincerely, " George Brummell. " P.S. I ought not, in consecrated regard to your excellent feelings — and excellent I know them to be — to have touched upon the conclusion of your farewell note to me ; I had resolved to do so when we met the day of your going away, but I could not then utter a word, and if I had attempted it I should only have conducted myself with boyish weakness. " Dis- united " — more I dare not say ; these mysterious words have affected and perplexed me more than I can express. Am I unworthy of your confidence ? Be- lieve me when I speak, and it is from the very depth of my soul, had you reposed any confidence in me, it would have been hallowed as sacredly as my faith 170 THE FIFE OF and hope in Heaven. Deal with me, I implore you, with that ingenuousness and truth which arc impressed upon your countenance ; you will never repent it." " Thursday. " You are going away. It is a melancholy reflec- tion for me that this is probably the last time I shall ever again write to you. Some day, perhaps, ere long, you will read more of me, with the rest of the world who may give themselves the trouble. " Our acquaintance has been destined to a limited probation ; but had it been for years I could not better estimate all your many amiable perfections, or more sensibly deplore your absence. If 1 can, at any time or under any circumstances, be of the remotest service to you, either in England or elsewhere, I will humbly request you to remember, that the same zealous interest towards you which has always influenced me, will remain undiminished to the end of my lit' . "There arc two drawings before me dedicated to your album, with which I proceed alternately ; but, alas ! too slowly — they will not, I fear, be acheve before your departure : I am anxious they should be well finished, and deserving of their destination, and there is much to be done. The days are short and dense, and they will be more gloomy when you are away, and my fading vision will not allow me n travailler by the taper's light. If they an- not ready by Wednesday, they shall be faithfully transmitted to you by . . . . , or through any other channel you may indicate. BEAU DRUMMELL. 171 " Farewell, my protegee. May Heaven, in its kindest mercy, make you happy ! I pray you will sometimes read the lines on that depressing word, which are in my album : they are a faithful transcript of my feel- ings. — Once more, Adieu ! G. B. " A Mademoiselle , Rue ." The following are the stanzas to which Brummell here alludes : — ON THE WORD "FAREWELL." Thou cruel word, whose magic power Of pleasure cheats that precious hour, Which, doubly dear to parting friends, Too swiftly flies, — too quickly ends. Parent of sighs, what sorrows swell The breaking heart that bids farewell ! What shivering chillness thrills the frame When by the taper's glimmering flame We rise, and hail with grief the day Which bears us from our friends away ; Where all our dearest pleasures dwell, Pleasures we now must bid farewell ! Then the full heart attempts to say Ten thousand things that die away, Unheard, upon the faltering tongue ; — Then o'er our weaken'd nerves a throng Of fears, ill-boding, wildly tell, We may for ever bid farewell ! Let those whose hearts have learn'd to glow With warm affections, teach me how To paint the tumult of the soul, When heavy wheels, with sullen roll, C5 172 THE LIFE OF Of joy d sound the knell, And bid us take a last farewell ! I i. nn each pale check the colours fly, Tears tremble in each swimming eye ; By turns each offer'd hand we grasp, By turns each much-loved friend we clasp ; Whilst bursting sighs too plainly tell The anguish of a long farewell. Hut if you've shared the Wanderer's pain, Pity the wretched who remain : Fix'd on the lessening wheels they gaze ; Watch where the road, with winding maze, Conducts them near yon op ning dell — I ir n, weeping, sigh once m n Farewell ! Yet ah ! where'er they turn their eyes, Some fond r< membrance seems to rise ; The vacant chairs can e'en impart A poignant sorrow to the heart ; Still on their cars the voices dwell Which lately sigh'd a sad farewell ! At length the long, long day is pass'd, And gentle evening comes at last ; How simple wonder oft beguiles The lin hour ! how many miles The weary travellers may tell, Since they at daybreak bid farewell ! But, soothed by evening's peaceful calm, New life, new hopes, their bosoms warm . Fair truth unfolds the instructive page, Her precept-, ever;, iSUage, Whilst of a brighter world they tell, Where they no more shall bid farewell ! As there is nothing to record for the next thre< months, I shall proceed to lay before th< r< ad< r BEAU DRUMMELL. 173 another letter written to this lady before her depar- ture, and two during her absence. " Caefi, March 1835. " Inclosed I send } ? ou letters, if you should wish to have recourse to them during your scjour at . I have taken the liberty to mention in them the name of ... . The persons to whom they are addressed are two of my oldest friends, high in their office at Court ; and I will be responsible, that through their mediation you will be favourably received in the quarter to which they will present you. " I will not now attempt to advert to the resources of another and gayer sphere of life to you — the time is unfortunately not appropriate, still, pour chasser de sa souvenance anything that may be cnmtyeux, one may persuade oneself that new scenes, and faces, and voices, may in some measure contribute to dis- sipate more melancholy thoughts, and the domestic gloom of long evenings at this period of the year ; and you may always avail yourself of the opportunity I have the pleasure to offer you. " In the progress of time you will visit London, and I have already told .... of the gratification I should derive from being the humble means of introducing 3'ou to some of those exalted female coryphees who still control what is termed the fashion- able world : to those among them who deserve to know you, and may be of service to you, I will equally answer for their attention to you and .... i 7 4 TIIF LIFE or In this remote place I am apparently sequestered and estranged from those with whom my former life was intimately connected ; but I am neither forgotten nor neglected by them. Should you enter into society, let it be confined to the best part ; no other is worthy of the most distant connaissattce ; and to the best alone would I venture to recommend you. I am afraid that .... and .... arc not much calcu- lated to propitiate this primary object, nor any other of adequate advantage ; but I will not drop a Sibyl's leaf in your path : devoutly I pray it may invariably be strewed with unfading flowers. " My nerves arc too shattered, and my rheumatism too inveterate, to enable me to call and take leave. I mourn your departure, and cannot more truly re- present the dejected thoughts that at the instant press upon me, than by those beautiful lines of Petrarch : — O giorno, o ora, o ultimo momento, O stclle congiuratc a impovcrirme ! O fido sguardo e die vole' tu dirme Partcnd' io per non esscr mai contento ? Addio, arnica per semprc carissima — mai intanto de- plorata ! G. B. "A Mademoiselle , Rue ." By the next letter it would seem that the young absentee did not find English country life so suited to her taste as the winter gaieties of a French town, in which she had been entirely brought up, and BEAU DRUMMELL. 175 Brummell condoles with her accordingly. The air of her native land, however, did not disagree with her ; but the hearty description given of her healthy appearance by the naval chaplain, who was the bearer of a missive from her to Brummell, seems sadly to have shocked the Beau's refined ideas, and he warmly expresses his disapprobation. "April, 1835. " For more than a month I have not heard a word from you ; it is a disheartening lesson experience has long since taught me, that memories left to themselves, in absence soon fade away. " The prophet G. . . ., who seems to embellish material as well as spiritual subjects, tells me you are looking ' charmingly well ! ' Quelle gaucherie de sen- timent ! I was not inquiring after the cherry-ripe cheeks of Lady . . . .'s dairy-maid ! I will, however, forgive the familiar barbarism of his phraseology : he has navigated back with such a redundant glow of freshness in his sainted face, that he may well dis- pense a liberal portion of the deodand to you ; still he should identify you with more considerate reverence and becoming grace to the refined ears of those who are anxious about you — but what can one expect from a ' true Englishman ? ' " I condole with you upon your meagre diet of reason at Park. Exclusive discussions upon animals, agriculture, and politics, are sorry aliments for your 1 elegant sensibilities ! ' A dog, indeed, or a horse, casually mentioned, might en passant be venial — the THE LIFE OF one recalling to you the absent moan of the faithful Gyp, the other a summer's canter on your Arab down to Luc; but 'harrowing fields' must harrow up your very soul ! and politics drawl you to death from prolixity ! "There certainly exist de nos compatriotes of my nearer acquaintance, who arc gifted with the happy tact, to make themselves agreeable, without descending to the abominations of which you complain. If their livelier senses are not in decline, I wish they were around you. London is now in its zenith, and they arc of course flourishing in its favours ; it is th< sphere of their local homage, their hearts being generally tenfold entangled at this period ; and from the mere on ditol a retired hermit, they would be loth to leave the fragrance of its incense for the remoter purity of sea-breezes, at least till the dream of the season is over! With all my panegyric of you, the attempt might therefore be arduous to convoke a few enpdlerin to your shrine at . Do you sometimes enlighten the gine that environs you by reading? You QSi d to amuse yourself with a cursory meander in the romances of the day. Read ' Trevelyan ' x if you have not; it is well written; 1 would also introduce to your lecture 'Tynley Hall;' 8 if the 1 "Trevelyan,'' written by Lad; C. I . Scott and published in 1831, produced a great sensation, and was, a^ well as her former novel, "A Marriage in High Life," full of allusions to and stories about persons of noble rank. 2 The Leau means evidently "Tylncy Hall," a novel written by Thomas Hood, the poet, publi hed in [834. BEAU BRUMMELL. 177 prominent role was not evidently intended as the portraiture of a person much distinguished by your partiality. " You number, I hear, thoughts and instances in a journal, commemorative and touching as the effusions of Amelia Galotti I 1 It is, alas ! sacred from vulgar eyes, reposing in its sanctuary with you, as profoundly as . It drives me into a brain fever even to think of it ! " I must close my scrawl, or I shall be too late for the post. With all your distractions, agrees mille fois rcpe'te's my fervent acknowledgments for your ' forget me not.' You do not know the good your letter has done me. — Most sincerely yours, G. B. " To Miss , Park, Sussex." Ten days after Brummell had penned this letter, he was visited by a misfortune infinitely more severe than any he had yet suffered. When the consulate at Caen was abolished, of course all hope of paying M. Leveux was at an end, unless, indeed, some other appointment should enable him to do so : this was improbable in the extreme ; and as the chances of success in his endeavour to get one became more remote, and his health more indifferent, M. Leveux, or his partners, determined upon arresting him. The 1 "Emilia Galotti," a German drama by Gotthold Ephraim Less- ing, was published in 1772; its subject is a father stabbing his daughter, in order to save her from the dishonour of becoming the mistress of a prince. VOL. II. M 178 THE LIFE 01 proceeding was rather a severe one ; for he had strictly fulfilled the engagement he entered into, on receiving the money in question from M. Leveux, until the Government deprived him of the power of so doing. From this time, his creditors had no security or shadow of one, and they probably calculated that if Brummell was once in jail, his friends would come forward and pay the debt. The preliminary steps therefore were taken, and early one morning in May 1835, tnc Hotel d'Angleterre was surrounded by gen- darmes, who were unusually numerous for an occasion of the kind ; certainly more so than was necessary to secure the person of a rheumatic and paralysed old man : some persons said it was intended as a compli- ment to the official situation he had formerly held ; at all ev< nts, the French were agreed in thinking that no debtor in the town of Caen had ever been so handsomely arrested. While the subordinates lined the gateway and back entrance, and cut off all chance of escape, the juge-de-paix, taking a couple of them with him, ascended the staircase that led to BrummcH's apartments; they then j I through the salon, entered his bed-room without giving the slightest notice, and at once surrounded his b< d. The poor Beau was asleep, but the rough grasp of one of the jack-booted gentlemen soon aroused him from his slumbers, and he awoke to find himself in the hands of justice. If at first he thought it was only a horrid dream, he was soon undeceived by the BEAU BRUMMELL. 179 Jutissicr, who produced a writ of arrest, at the suit of M. Leveux, for fifteen thousand francs, and bluntly informed him, that he must go to prison unless he could pay that sum. His agitation at this summons was extreme, and on the entrance of the waiter, who now made his appearance, he was totally overcome, and gave way to a burst of grief — the remainder of the scene was of the same distressing character. Being ordered to dress, he begged that he might be left alone, for a few minutes, to do so : but this favour was refused, and he was obliged to get out of bed, and slip on his clothes before the intruders. Those who knew Brummell, may imagine what an effect this must have had upon his vanity and refinement ; but there was no help for it, and, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was under the necessity of dressing in a hurry. In the meantime, the landlord had despatched a servant to several of his friends to acquaint them of his arrest ; but the sum was so large, that any kind intervention on their part was impossible. This he was well aware of himself, and therefore sent for a coach to take him to the prison, which he had not enough money in the house to pay for : he also requested the attendance of his landlady, and entreated her to take especial care of all his papers. " They are," said he, " the only things I possess to which I attach particular value, they are of no use to any one else, mats pour mot, Madame Fichet, ils sont un vrai tre'sor; when I am gone, pray collect them, and lock them up with your own hands." The fiacre was 180 THE LIFE OF now announced, and two gendarmes and the huissier having entered it with him, they were soon at their destination. On his arrival there, he was locked up in a place, it cannot be called a room, with the common prisoners, for there was no separate apartment to be had. The floor of this den was of stone, and the furniture consisted only of the three truckle-beds of his companions ; as to chairs, there were none, but one was brought in for his use. The next day he sent the following note to a friend ; it had been hastily written with a pencil, and was scarcely legible. " In Prison, yh May, 1835. " I still breathe, though I am not of the living — the state of utter abstraction in which I have been during the last thirty hours yet clouds my every sense. I have just received your note — may Heaven bless you all for your good devotedness in remembering me at such a moment. " I have been the victim of a villain, who has closed upon me, without giving mc the remotest intimation of his designs. I am perfectly innocent of anything bearing the least dishonourable construction in this malheureuse affaire; and if I was not deserving of the interest you express as well as . . . towards me, I would not demand it. " I will write to you win n I can. — Ever most sin- cerely yours, G. B. "X Madame , RUC ." BEAU BRUMMELL. 181 CHAPTER XVI. Effects of his Imprisonment — Difficulty of Procuring Moderate Accom- modation — Rules of the Jail — Treatment of the Prisoners — The Situation and Description of his Room — His Companion in Mis- fortune — Letters to his Friends in the Town — The Riding Passion — Letter to Mr. Armstrong — Brummelts Miserable Fare — His Urgent Application for more Linen. It is not surprising that Brummell should inveigh thus bitterly against the author of his misfortune, for in this business he was decidedly much less to blame than he had been in any other transaction con- nected with money matters. He had done all he could to settle the debt, and it would have been can- celled in due course of time had he not been deprived of his consulate. At first he was deeply affected by his arrest, and gave way for several days to violent paroxysms of grief. The morning after his incarce- ration one of his friends, who had just heard of his calamity, went to see him ; and as he entered the apartment poor Brummell threw himself into his arms and sobbed like a child, exclaiming, in broken sentences, " Imagine a position more wretched than mine, — they have put me with all the common people. I am surrounded by the greatest villains, and have i82 THE I TFE OF nothing but prison fare." He was in fact for some days in a state of weakness perfectly childish. But this deplorable incapability of meeting his misfor- tunes with a proper degree of resolution is no matter of reproach or astonishment in an elderly man, who had recently suffered from two attacks of paralysis, which had completely undermined his nervous system ; and man}- of his acquaintance feared that his imprison • ment would inevitably bring on another and fatal one. The clay subsequent to that on which he was committed to prison, his friends, both French and English, exerted themselves to the utmost to obtain for him the indulgence of a private room ; but the jail being very full at the time, they unfortunately failed to accomplish their good intentions. Through the interest, however, made by one of the judges, also an acquaintance of Brummell's, he was after- wards permitted to share during the day the apart- ment of a Monsieur Godefroi, the responsible editor of the Amide la Write, (a legitimist paper published in the town), who was confined for a political offence. At night he lept in a narrow passage (couloir) com- municating with another part of the prison, which was now rarely used. It is true that this passage was only a few inches wider than his bed, but it was a little paradise compared with the common room ; here, however, he remain* d, until his friend the judge exercised his influence, obliged to associate not only with the debtors, but with felons, who l»-forc con- BEAU BRUMMELL. 183 viction are permitted to purchase the indulgences of " the Pistole : " in this part of the prison a bed, the use of the debtors' court, and other advantages, are obtained upon paying certain fees, amounting, in former days, to a pistole — thence the term. This system of mixing the. debtors with criminals who may be, and frequently are, condemned to the galleys for life, does not speak well for the discipline of French prisons. In other respects, the jail seemed to be in good order, and Monsieur Godefroi, who was kind enough to accompany me, when I went there in the spring of 1843, to see Brummell's room, said that great ameliorations had taken place within the last four years. The cells, however, in which refractory prisoners are confined at the mandate of the governor, appeared damp, dark, and dreadfully small : in one of them, and on a little loose straw thrown upon the ground, we saw one of these unfortunates lying. In these dungeons, the prisoners condemned to death are also placed after their trial, and here they learn the result of their last appeal to human clemency. Two, and even three months, sometimes elapse before the decision of the Com' de Cassation is promulgated ; and during this long period of protracted misery, the criminal, with a chain of sixteen pounds weight, is attached to a staple in the wall ; nor does he ever move one foot from the spot, until he is led forth to meet his doom. The view from the window of Brummell's narrow little dormitory was not a very cheering one ; through 184 THE LIFE OF the bars and to the Left, was the courtyard of the female prisoners, who were generally to be seen plying their distaffs ; but there was little attractive in their countenances, and still less in their conversa- tion ; in front was the yard and diminutive garden of the Pistole, and farther to the right, that called la Paillr, from the material on which the prisoners sleep, in contradistinction to the wool-bed of the former. Beyond this was the exterior wall of the prison, the roofs of the houses in the Quartier St. Martin, and the tops of a few lime-trees in that part of the town. The sight of a little verdure, and more genial air than that in the rooms below, and above all, the power of being at his pleasure completely isolated from the other prisoners, did not quite com- pensate Brummell for being obliged to ascend and descend some forty stone steps ; and, from the first day he inhabited it, to that on which he found that he could not be allowed permission to take up his abode at the hospital, he was always complaining of his quarters. The room of his fellow-prisoner, Monsieur Godc- froi, which was larger, and on the first story, was gained by the same staircase as that which led to Brummcll's, the approach to it being by a dark narrow corridor, closed by three doors. Though this apartment had the same aspect as that which 1 have just described, it was considered the best room in the prison : from it the prisoners condemned to the galleys were to be seen promenading, and the fol- BEAU BRUMMELL. 185 lowing inscriptions, engraved on the walls, were not calculated to cheer those whom they encircled : " O quam metuendus est locus iste ! " — " Plut&t mourir que de vivre ici " — " Cave tibi : hie muri aures habent, et audiunt " — and others in a similar strain. The latter was particularly applicable to this apart- ment, for it was next to the ward in which the greatest criminals were confined, (those who had been condemned to the bagne, or were awaiting a sentence scarcely more horrible, — that of death ;) and the large blocks of freestone of which the party-wall was built, acting as a conductor to the various sounds in the adjacent apartment, much of what passed in it could be distinguished. Accordingly, when evening had closed in, and Brummell and his companion were locked up and left to their meditations, they could distinctly hear the im- precations of the prisoners, the clanking of their fetters, their uproarious mirth, and obscene songs. Many a time the political prisoner, who was confined here for three years, was startled from his slumbers by the yells of his lawless and riotous neighbours ; and Brum- mell, during his short imprisonment of three months, when taking his after-dinner nap by the fire, was sometimes suddenly roused by their execrations and oaths. It may appear singular that he should have had a fire in the summer months of June and Jul}', which were this year oppressively hot — so much so, that the springs were dried up, and the Orne was fordable at 1 86 THE I IFE OF several points ; but Brummell delighted in heat, and Monsieur Godefroi remarked that he invariably drew as near to the fire as possible after dinner, and remained a long time before it, employed in rubbing his legs with his hands : which was, in his opinion, the most efficacious method of alleviating his rheumatic pains. It would be quite unpardonable, if, in this attempt at biography, I did not make an opportunity for extracting a passage from Pel ham, and the following allusion to Brummell's extreme love of caloric is the best I can select, being, as it is, the only point on which he admitted that the character of Russelton, the " grossest of caricatures " (as he used to term it), at all resembled him — his heart was never softened by the apologetic note in the second edition. " It was," says Pelham, who pays him a visit on his way through Calais, "a very small room in which I found him ; he was stretched in an easy chair before the fire-place, gazing complacently at his feet, and ap- parently occupied in anything but listening to Sir Willoughby Townshcnd, who was talking with great vehemence about politics and the corn-laws. Not- withstanding the heat of the weather, there was a small fire on the hearth, which, aided by the earnest- ness to convince his host, put poor Sir Willoughby into a mo-t intense perspiration. Russelton, however, seemed enviably cool, and hung over the burning wood, like a cucumber on a hotbed. 1 Sir Willoughby 1 Surely cucumbers do not /ia>i,t,', either on hot-beds or in them. — Printer's /V BEAU BRUM M ELL. 187 came to a full stop by the window, and (gasping lor breath) attempted to throw it open. " ' What are you doing ? for heaven's sake, what are you doing?' cried Russelton, starting up ; 'do you mean to kill me ? ' " ' Kill you ! ' said Sir Willoughby, quite aghast. '"Yes, kill me ! is it not quite cold enough already, in this d — d seafaring place, without making my only retreat, humble as it is, a theatre for thorough drafts? Have I not had the rheumatism in my left shoulder, and the ague in my little finger, these last six months ? and must you now terminate my miserable existence at one blow, by opening that abominable lattice ? Do you think, because your great frame, fresh from the Yorkshire wolds, and compacted of such materials, that one would think, in eating your beeves, you had digested their hides into skin — do you think, because your limbs might be cut up into planks for a seventy- eight, and warranted water-proof without pitch, be- cause of the density of their pores — do you think, because you are as imperious as an araphorostic shoe, that I, John Russelton, am equally impenetrable, and that you are to let easterly winds play about my room like children, begetting rheums and asthmas, and all manner of catarrhs ? I do beg, Sir Willoughby Townshend, that you will allow me to die a more natural and civilised death ; ' and so saying, Russelton sank down into his chair, apparently in the last stage of exhaustion." For the first fortnight after Brummell was com- iSS THE LIFE OF mitted to prison, he had some hope that his detention would be only temporary, and that he would eventually be removed to the General and Military Hospital, at the Abbaye aux Dames, in the church of which is the tomb of its foundress, Matilda, wife of our first William. There, though under equally strict surveil- lance, he would have had every comfort. A passage in the following letter shows how anxiously he dwelt upon the hope of his application being successful ; it was written about a week after his arrest. "In Prison, May 1 1. "The kindness of every human being within the sphere of ray acquaintance in this town has by degrees restored me to equanimity. How shall I be able to repay you for this benevolence? Devoutly I thank you for the Student ; it will be an early resource to me. I am, I believe, this evening to be transferred from my present den of thieves to the towers of Matilda, and to the sainted arms of Ics sceurs de Charitd. There I shall again breathe fresh air, and be com- paratively in peace. I cannot describe to you what I have suffered here. "II . . . , in the frequent moments I have seen him since his return, has felt and acted towards me with the affection of a brother. I cannot to-day trust myself further in writing to you ; remembrances of you and those who belong to you will crowd upon my thoughts, and I might relapse into my recent imbecilities by the endeavour. Adieu ! Persevere in BEAU BRUMMELL. '189 all your excelling goodness towards me. It may please Providence to guide the hearts of those who once better knew me to imitate your kindness. — Ever sincerely yours, G. B. " P.S. You will perceive the extremities to which I am reduced — I am about to seal to you with a wafer ! Do not even whisper this indecorum, for perhaps I may again frequent the world. " A Madame , Rue ." " Que je m'en aille, ou, que je m'en vais, IS 'est pas encore de"cide7' were, I think, the dying words of the pedant and inveterate grammarian — the Beau, in the very depths of his misery and despair (for there had been no time to ascertain what assistance he was likely to receive from England), also exhibited in this postscript the ruling passion in full force — "I may again frequent the world." Poor man ! it was a world that would have never perceived the delinquency, and one that he must have felt he was soon to leave for ever. This passion was indeed paramount amidst all his distress ; and the reader will scarcely be surprised when I inform him that the first thing he asked for, after his grief had somewhat subsided, was a looking- glass. The young Frenchman indicated by the initial in the previous letter, gave him the means of purchas- ing one, for he had no money ; and the kindness of iqo HIE LIFE OF his friend continued uninterrupted till he was liberated. The following letter will show how great his anxieties were on these trifling matters, and that, to add to his other misfortunes, he was in a fair way of being starved. " /;/ Prison, Saturday. " Dear Armstrong, — Henri de St. Marie told me yesterday you had sent me a bottle of Esprit de Savon. — / have never received it. " If it has been left to Bassy, the chemist, to send, of course I shall never see it ; should it have been re- mitted for conveyance to the hotel, equal negligence will attend its destiny. In spite of all my friends have said to them in expostulation of the shameful pitifulness of the morsel they send to me by way of dinner, they get daily mere meagre and miserable, and it is really not sufficient for the poor cat that keeps me company, neither does it arrive before half- past six, nialgre your orders to them. I cannot help telling you what was the banquet yesterday dispatched to me. " One solitary chop, about the size of an e'en, en- veloped in a quire of greasy paper, and the skeleton of a pigeon, a bird I could never fancy. 1 1 must not omit to mention the accompaniment of half a dozen potatoes. Such was my meal of yesterday evening, after a fast of t\v< Ive h'>urs. It is not, I am certain, the fault of the son, but tin- ladrerie of the pin et 1 Most likely he was haunted by the ghosts of the two he put to death at Cheveley. Chap. \i. V6L I. BEAU BRUMMELL. 191 mire, with which I have been so long acquainted. If they transmit me nothing more solid and bountiful this evening, I shall be reduced to borrow a tranche of the bonilli from which the sonpc maigre of my neighbours the brigands is extracted. 1 have not seen a soul to-day. I have no news, and I am in the very slough of despondency. — Yours, G. B. " A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." Though Brummell had lived for so many years in France, it will scarcely be thought extraordinary, that he should have been ignorant of the component parts of sonpc maigre; it was a dish too ordinary for him to have known otherwise than by name ; had his conversion to Romanism at Calais been sincere — and it was as sincere as his intention to subscribe to the erection of the Protestant Church there — he would have learnt, and to his sorrow, that this foreign luxury is not made of meat. The expostulations of his homme d'affaires appears, by another letter to that person, to have had, at least for a few days, some effect ; but even his remon- strances failed to produce a cutlet sufficiently good to remind him of his Sevres portrait of La Maintenon. " hi Prison, Monday. " My dear Armstrong, — Many thanks for your unremitting kindness in improving the quality of my humble repast. To your good offices, I had yester- 192 THE LIFE OF day the satisfaction of being indebted for a sufficient, though homely dinner. " I have sent to you two serviettes, which I had neglected, belonging to the Hotel d'Anglctcrre ; they arc the last remaining in my possession from that quarter. You will much oblige me, by sending to me to-day, three towels for my toilette ; and the same number every six days, for I cannot procure even a clout to rub myself down in this nauseous place. You will not, I am sure, forget either, that every three days it is incumbent on me to pay for the necessities of breakfast, eau-de-vie, candles, &c, — while you arc here or during your absence. '• I will beg you carefully to take charge of every- thing 1 left behind me at the hotel, particularly two boxes ; the one mahogany with brass ribs, and G. B. on a plate at the top — the other with a glass on the top, covering worked birds drinking out of a vase; it was the labour and gift of the late Duchess of York, and I have a reverence for it — the latter has a leather case, which is either in the cupboard of the armoire out of the sitting-room, or in the other recess where you will find my trunks, &c, &c. Pray send me what re- mains in the drawers of the bed-room — there are some waistcoats, drawers, pantaloons, &c, and in the upper tiroir, sundry trifling things which I forgot, but which I may have occasion for. The clock, vases, brown candlesticks, and in short everything in the room, an- my own, not omitting the old green velvet arm- chair. There is one insignificant article which I also BEAU BRUMMELL. 193 wish you would transmit to me ; it is under the small commode in the sitting-room, with a white marble-slab on the top (which also belongs to me), and of which I am every evening in want, a boot-Jack that shuts up. Let the large basin and water-jug be taken great care of. " This is all that I can recollect — perhaps there may be other trifles in the armoire, adjoining the sitting- room, which at the instant escape my memory ; let them be preserved. "Enclosed, I deliver to you a list of every debt which I owe in this country of France ; you will have the goodness to add your own just and excellent claims upon me, and those due to the hotel — those in the list to whose names I have attached a cross. I am ignorant of the precise amount of their remaining claims upon me ; you can easily ascertain them. Be- yond these, so help me Heaven, I have not an existing debt, either in my handwriting, or by oral promise, in this country. Young B is waiting below to carry my letter ; therefore, I can only add, my dear Armstrong, how very sincerely I am yours, "G. B. " A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." VOL. II. N 194 THE LIFE OF CHAPTER XVII. Toilette Anxieties — .1/. GoJefrois Description of the Details — The Drummer Ufitu becomes his Valet — Milk Baths — The Tambour Regrets — Attentions of his Friend, — Letter to one of them — Fire near the Prison — BrummeWs Midnight Adventure — "Le Tays de la Potence" — Letters to Mrs. B n — Loses all Hope of bein^ sent to the Hospital — Amiable Purvey Though BrummeH's position was truly distressing, from the blow given to his pride, and from the want of good accommodation and viands ; and though the countenances of the felons under his window were not pleasant objects for daily contemplation, and many disagreeables that he experienced in the early part of his imprisonment were far less annoying to his feelin than the absence of his "jug and basin," his dentist's mirror, his tweezers, and his silver shaving and expec- torating dish, the loss of these articles of his toilette, his soaps, pomuuvh •-, and eau de Cologne, affected him deeply; and, until these "comestibles," as he termed them, were restored to him, he had some difficulty in tranquillising himself. The preceding notes show that his dinner also always remained a subject of grief: it was composed, said M. Godefroi, of " trois ou quatre petits plats BEAU BRUMMELL. 195 varies, et un lcger dessert. II etait presque toujours mecontent de la quantite et de la qualite des mets ; il accusait l'imperitie ou la memoire infidele du chef de cuisine ; a qui il avait toujours soin de se faire recom- mander ! ' Le bourreau,' disait-il, ' veut-il done m'empoisonner ou me faire mourir de faim ? '" A handsome black cat, however, belonging to his com- panion in misfortune, grew fat upon Brummell's leavings; to this Mine tie, one of the thousand, of the same name in the town of Caen, he would sometimes throw a whole cutlet, forgetting how many persons there were under the same roof with him, who would have been glad to receive it ; a little brandy-and-water at his dinner, and coffee and cJiassc afterwards, closed the repast. But, as I have before said, he regretted his good and liberal dinners at the table d'hote of the Hotel d'Angleterre, far less than any article of dress or toilette, which was necessary to his rigid ideas of cleanliness, or that tended in any way to render per- fect his outward appearance. " II consacrait," said Godefroi, " trois heures a sa toilette, dont tous les details etaient soignes avec une attention extreme." " Mais, monsieur, he actually washed and shaved every day," was the Editor's expression ; as if these two actions were unnecessary as a daily practice ; but I will give the astonished Frenchman's own words on this subject : — " II se rasait chaque jour ; chaque jour il faisait une ablution complete de toutes les parties de son corps, a l'aide de la vaste cuvette d'un antique lavabo qui l'avait suivi en 196 THE LIFE OF prison, aussi line cassette (dressing-case) rempli dc phioles d'essences et do eosmetiques. Pour cette operation de proprete, inouie dans les fastes de la prison, douze a quinze litres d'eau et deux litres de lait lui etaient regulierement apportes, 1 par son valet de chambre, son Lafkur; e'est ainsi qu'il nommait plaisamment l'ancien tambour de ligne, Paul Lcpine, qui, en ce moment prisonnicr civil, etait a son service et a sa solde. Cc brave, qui venait de finir son service sous le soleil brulant d'Afrique, devait pour quclques exploits commis dans im cabaret de sa patrie, passer trois mois a rombrc. " Leste et fort, le tambour Li pine ne regrettait pas l'eau neccssaire a Monsieur Brummell ; l'eau insipide, l'eau qui ne coute rien, mais il n'ctait pas de mOmc du blanc et doux liquidc ; il n'en avait jamais vu faire un pareil usage, et le prix de ces deux litres de lait cut £te si avantageusement converti en un bon verre d'eau-de-vie ! Cctte pcrte est encore," continued M. Godcfroi, " sur le cceur du tambour Lepinc, qui n'en 1 I had at first some hesitation in believing this; but M. Godefroi assured nic the statement was perfectly true. In this absurd caprice Ilrummell imitated the last Duke of Queensberry, who i- also said t<> have bathed his impure person in milk ! Some have considered the story fabulous ; still there arc many persons living who remember the great prejudice against drinking milk which once prevailed in the metropolis, in consequence of its being supposed, that this necessary of life might have bet n ret iled from the daily lavations of that noble- man. Bat the l'eau- prodigal misuse of two quarts of milk/Yr ditm bears no comparison to the Kmpress Poppsea'fl more refined habit of immersing herself in ass's milk. Five hundred of these animals are said to have been milked daily, to minister to her luxurious vanity : and when banished to Rome fifty asses attended her. BEAU BRUM M ELL. [97 a pas moins verse une larine sur le bon M. Brummell en apprenant sa triste fin." The want of punctuality in the arrival of his dinner, which the Beau complains of in his letters to Mr. Armstrong, was rectified by the kind attention of a friend, who allowed his servant to carry it to the prison every day at the appointed hour. The follow- ing note was written in acknowledgment of this and other little services : — " In Prison, Tuesday. " Most earnestly I thank you for your amiable billet. Seldom I forget kindnesses ; but my grateful remem- brance of yours will survive to the end of my destined days. D . . . should have answered my last note ; it would have been a consolation to me in these hours of wretchedness. "Your valet has quite won me by ses petits soins in administering to my lingering vegetation at half- past five. The good-humoured luckless brigand, who acts as my Frontin, and who receives my diurnal portion through la grille, is proud of his connaissancc, and flatters him by saying, ' C'est un bon diable que ce Figaro la ! ' Godefroi is my host ; that is, I partagc his more humanized cell, excepting during my sleeping hours. Heaven help them. " I try to slumber upon the hope of removal to a more salubrious atmosphere and humanized intercourse on Monday, a l'Hopital. Last night my dreams were violently disturbed by the abrupt entrance of the corps de garde of the prison, who were on the alert in con- THE LIFE OF of a rapid fire that was blazing without the walls, but within thirty yards of my cell, and wen obliged to pass through it, in order to be ready for the approach of the flames, or the attempted escape of the detenus. I threw on my cloak and followed them. It was dreadful, being upon a timber-merchant's premises, but magnificent. 1 remained at a loop-hole gazing on the destruction till past two, when it sub- sided. This spectacle caused me a severe rheu- matism ; and I wish I had slept on, forgetful of my own malheurs, instead of witnessing those of others. "Thank you for Zohrab ; I prefer it to Ayesha, but neither of them equal Hadji Baba. 1 How can I requite all your commiseration and kindness towards me? If it may be any trifling retribution I never cease to think of it. — Most sincerely yours, G. B. "A Madame , Rue ." The fire to which Brummell here alludes was so very close to the prison, that the sparks and large pieces of the chain d and burning wood fell in great Hakes upon the roof. The women's ward being the nearest to the flaming timber, the greatest dangi r was apprehended on that side, and the cries of its inmates were heard by Brummell in his room. When, therefore, the jailer and his turnkeys passed through it he followed them up to the garr< ts, and remained 1 " Zobrab the Hostage " and " The Adventures of Hadji Baba " are novels written by James Moricr. BEAU BR U MM ELL. 199 at one of the windows watching the progress of the flames. In returning, however, to his cell, which he did alone, the officials being too much occupied to attend to him, he got embarrassed by the folds of his dress- ing-gown, and, in the darkness which prevailed in the garret, managed to entangle himself in the wash- ing-lines that were extended across it. The more he endeavoured to liberate himself, the more he became involved, until, finding that his efforts to escape were vain, he was at length obliged to call lustily for assist- ance ; but the turnkeys were too busy to hear his cries above the din without, and he lay in this predicament some considerable time before he was unravelled. The next morning, when speaking of the adventure of the previous night, he said laugh- ingly to Monsieur Godefroi, " Monsieur, hier Georges Brummell a manque de finir en Basse Normandie corame un vrai Normand, ou comme un vizir Turc." " Comme un vrai Normand." Brummell here alludes to the facile and ready manner in which the ends of justice, or injustice, were carried out in Normandy during the middle ages, and which gained for this province the appellation of " le pays de la potence." Roland established a rural police, and hung the bous Normands with little discrimination. At one of the towns in Lower Normandy, and in the department of the Orne, they used to say, " A Domfront, ville de malheur, Arrive a midi — pendu a une heure ! -oo THE I IFE OF The refrain also of one of the anti-legitimist songs .it the Restoration was, " Bons Normands, vous serez pendus, comme on pendaient vos peres." The next letter is written in a most mournful tone, and the lady to whom it was addressed was one of those by whose hospitality he says, in his letter to Mr. Marshall, he " profited abundantly." " /;/ Prison, Sunday. " You must believe me when 1 tell you that my senses have not been in an adequate state of com- posure to attempt manuscript : I should probably have written stark-staring bombast, in the essay to express my thanks for all your persevering kind- ness ; and, even at this instant of comparative sanity of mind, I will only trust myself to assure you, that, with every worthy feeling that remains to me, I do thank you from my heart. " On the evening of this sacred day it was un- authorized custom to sit around your fire, and en- deavour to requite my welcome by making you laugh at my nonsense. Most heartily 1 pray that those happy periods may come again, though 1 scarce ly dare look into future destiny. " I try to dissipate the sinister troop of blue devils that haunt me, witli the hope that I may be allowed to be transmigrated, the early part of the week, from this den of thi< ves to the pure atmosphere de l'Hopital, and to the more delightful intercourse of the soeurs d r Chavitr, instead of the contamination and BEAU BRUMMELL. 201 blasphemy of the felons that surround me. I am wretched here — I cannot describe the nausea of my sensations when I descend in the morning from my cell, and from the grate of the window see miserable outcasts dancing in chains, with every apparent gaiety of spirit. " What, in the name of all my faults or in common justice from the remembrance of those many friends with whom my better years were passed, have I ever done to deserve this purgatory ? " Of all those I have recently known in this part of the world, I can only speak with unqualified praise ; — their attention and good feeling towards me sur- passes almost any example in my recollection. Still I am lingering in this enfer stir terre, and Providence, I believe, can only tell whether I shall ever again transgress its walls alive. — Very sincerely yours, "G. B. " A Madame , Rue ." The hope of being removed to the General Hospital, which had hitherto tended to keep up poor Brummell's spirits, was entirely frustrated ; for, shortly after this letter was written, he learned that he was not to be transferred to the tender sympathies of the Sisters of Charity, though a requisition to that effect had been presented to the authorities. This application was signed by two medical men ; but the request was either refused, or the idea relinquished ; probably the latter, for the officers of the Tribunal de Justice were 202 THE LIFE OF desirous of assisting him in every possible way, and Mr. Leveux's lawyer acceded to the plan immediately it was proposed. This disappointment was alleviated by the repeated calls, and continued attentions of his friends ; for he- had crowds of morning visitors, and habit at length partially reconciled him to his fate. Many ladies, also, who could not enliven his room by their pre- sence, were, nevertheless, as women always are, more thoughtful in matters essential to his comfort than his own sex, and frequently sent him supplies of wine, punch, jellies, pates, and various other delicacies : these were truly valuable to one on whom sickness, anxiety, and premature old age, pressed heavily, and who, in spite of their charitable interference, must have endured many discomforts and privations. The following is a letter of acknowledgment to one of his guardian angels : — " In Prison, Wednesday. "You aii' always good and amiable, but you will be the best of beings, if you will have the kindness to renew your benefaction en forme de gdteau, I can assure you, ii is my principal nourishment, for the mesquin repast they usually send me from the hotel would not be adequate to sustain even a demoiselle lost in love. 1 may represent an additional claim upon your bounty at this moment : my companion M incite, in chatte noire, who is in the straw at my feet, having produced three hungry kittens — her delicate- state disdains the unleavened bread of the prison. BEAU BRUMMELL. 203 I have another favourite belonging to my more private apartment : it is a spider about the size of a bee, which I have so far aftfirivoise'e, that it comes regularly to me from its web every morning at seven o'clock to demand his dcjcune. You must forgive then my anxiety for the sustenance of these familiar friends, as well as my own ; they are, perhaps, the only ones that will soon remain to me. I am sadly out of sorts with the world and with myself; no propitious tidings come to me ! Nothing cheers me but the occasional sunbeam that looks in upon me from heaven ; when that retires, all is darkness and despondency. It seems to me a century since I have been in this intolerable bondage ; every week that lingers away is a year in the calendar of my life ! — Yours, very sincerely yours, George Brummell. "A Madame , Rue ." His friends also provided against the dreariness of his evenings, by catering food for his mind ; and, in the basket which carried these presents, were gene- rally placed a few volumes of light reading : they were always thankfully received, and the receipt of them duly acknowledged by a note. " In Prison, Wednesday. " If the Student had not belonged to you, I should not have been able to wade through ten of its pages : it is equally barren of incident, definition, or plain 204 THE LIFE OF language, and I can only wonder that the author of Eugene Aram, and Pompeii, should have buried his brains in such a production — at least have published it. When you have again something more worthy of cheating miserable hours, I know it is unnecessary for me to refer to your amiable recollection of my present desolation, and you will send it to me. I am still sustained with hopes of (.mancipation from these disgusting regions, and, though it is consoling to me to remember the kindness of others, I wish to heaven I could forget myself. I cannot tell you how much it gratifies me to know that your domestique brings my daily bread from the hotel : these trifling circumstances do me worlds of good at the moment. Good-bye for the evening. My friend Godefroi, the editor, from whose table I address you, is looking with anxiety at the ink, to continue paragraphs that will probably prolong his detention here ten years longer. He is really a good-hearted man, and does every thing a me distraire. Say everything that is gracious for me to . . . . — Ever sincerely your.-, G. B. ■• A' Madame , Kue ." BEAU BRUM MEL I.. 205 CHAPTER XVIII. Liberty of the Press in France — Not much Fonvarded by the Rrjolution of July — BrummeWs Admiration of Gilbert Gurney — His Opinion of Pompeii and Lodore — Contemplations from his Window — The Beau's Anxieties about his Affairs — The ours Mazoyer — The Scene in the Passage of the Prison — Personal Discomforts — Their Effect upon Brummell. Poor Godefroi, who, throughout Brummell's imprison- ment, was a kind and useful friend, was not exactly the editor, but rather the editor's editor ; and was hired to do duty as a prisoner whenever the demands of justice, or the administrators of it, required that a victim should be offered up to the tender mercies of the Government. It is amusing to observe such happy results emanating from the liberty obtained by the Trois beaux jours ; more especially when it is remembered that one of the principal causes which led to that revolution, was the seizure of the printing- presses of the National, for having dared to differ in opinion from the Government of the day. — Godefroi's master had only differed from the Government of July ! But with the queer ideas of liberty entertained by the French nation, the social policy of their Govern- 206 run LIFE OF ment is likely enough to be tyrannical in such matters for some time to come ; and probably centuries will elapse before they will either understand, or appreciate, free institutions, or can be driven safely without a curb. One day, when I was discussing this subject with a Frenchman, and expatiating upon the great extent of individual liberty that we enjoy in England, I could not refrain from calling his attention to General Foy's speeches upon the arbitrary nature of passports, when he retorted very seriously by saying, " Oui, Monsieur, mais rappelez-vous que vous avez des Uirnpaiqucs." Neither can they comprehend how we manage to maintain an army without a conscription : — " Bonjour notre armec s'il n'y avait pas de tirage," said a con- script to me, who had just been drawn ; he was a grocer's boy, and appeared much fonder of his master's figs than the law which made him an unwilling hero, a glory-boy, a recipient of black bread and one sou a-day. 1 believe this lad spoke the real sentiments of his class ; although such, 1 dare say, is not the opinion generally entertained in England. Brummell's criticism on the Student is rather severe, and looks as if he had Sneer's to Sir Fretful, in his mind. It was no easy task, one would imagine, to " cheat miserable hours " like his, at any period of his imprisonment, but particularly at the commencement ; and though there are few authors who can hope to escape the natural consequences of publicly exposing their intellects, or th< ii want of them, it would be very BEAU BRUMMELL. 207 extraordinary to find the exception to the rule in one whose pen travels with such Great Western rapidity. But Brummell could praise heartily, and in a most singular and unequivocal manner. A young English- man of his acquaintance, at Caen, found him one morning lying full-length on his hearth-rug, as he fancied, in a fit of hysterics ; on stooping down, however, to assist him, he saw that it was a paroxysm of laughter, and Brummell, unable to explain the cause of his mirth in words, could only hiccup, while pointing to a book on the table, " Gilbert Gur-ur-ny, — oh ! — oh ! Gilbert Gurney." l The work of Sir L. Bulwer upon which the Beau bestowed his especial approbation, was, The Last Days of Pompeii : I have heard him speak of this in raptures, particularly Glaucus's letter, which he thought perfection. When these borrowed volumes were returned to their owner, they were generally accom- panied by a short review, and the critique of the next that fell under his perusal, and his lash, was more favourable. " In Prison, Saturday. " If you knew the many hours that were relieved by reading Lodore, 2 you would not be displeased at my retaining it so long. The story is, perhaps, rather unconnected, but the language is always good, exempt from the usual pseudo sentiment of modern romances, 1 "Gilbert Gurney," a novel written by Theodore Hook, saw the light in 1835. 2 " Lodore," a novel by Mrs. Shelley, the author of " Frankenstein," was published in 1835. 2o.s THE LIFE 01 and there is a natural pathos pervading the whole, which perfectly corresponded with my melancholy thoughts. Should you have anything else dozing upon your table, and unoccupied by brighter eyes, transfer it to me with your never-failing charity forthwith. " During the principal part of this morning, I have been reduced to the forbidding study of the human face, not divine but demoniac, which infests the cour beneath my window. Groups of these wretches, con- demned of Heaven and of earth, attracted by the sun, have been sauntering in their chains within ten paces of me ; and, for want of more palatable resource, I sat contemplating their hideous physiognomies, till I was recalled from my visions of the fabled Rinaldo Rinaldini ] and his bandits, by one of them exclaim- ing, ' Qu'est-ce qu'il regarde done, ce scelerat de milord ? ' This I soon perceived was addressed to my innocent self; and I retired from my reflections, and ' ma loge grillee,' amply convinced that all I had read or heard of the atrocities of this trempe of male- factors was realized to my view. " I have nothing auspicious, in respect to my un- fortunate interests, to impart. A month to-morrow, 1 have been lure, in tribulation, in suspense, and, at length, nearly in broken-heartedness ; no news has, as yet, arrived to me from England — friends indeed 1 In the year 179S appeared in Germany the "Story of Rinaldo Rinaldini, Chief of the Brigands," which was extensively read, and \vn published in English in 1831. BEAU BRUM M ELL. 209 may not be found, though they must be already ac- quainted with my position. I speak only of those who, during my more prosperous days, were zeal- ously served and assisted by me — to those it was as much, I considered, a duty as a necessity to appeal, at such an annihilating crisis. I had a right to promise myself instant emancipation, from their mutual aid ; from the delay, this confidence seems to have been deceived, and I cannot bear up against, nor long survive, the prolonged disappointment. " My first presentiment upon this infamous farce, this insulting calamity, coming abruptly upon me, was, that I should never leave these abhorred walls alive ; the despondent prestige now gains influence upon me, and I shudder even to think of it. God bless you for all your kindness. Remember me to . . . . — Most sincerely yours, G. B. "X Madame , Rue ." Brummell's usual avocation in the morning, when not engaged at his toilette, was writing the notes I have laid before the reader. Sometimes he would throw off a few Latin verses, which he composed with great facility ; he generally showed these elegant trifles to the political prisoner, his companion ; who informed me that they always contained " une sentence, une pensee, une reflexion philosophique, elegamment et fortement exprimee." Sometimes he would take up the first book, or brochure, that lay near him, and skim its pages. vol. 11. o 2io THE LIFT. OF One day it happened to be a French translation of Byron's Life, and, on perceiving this, he turned the pages over with rapidity — reading aloud, and with an air of great satisfaction and apparent pride, a passage in which he was favourably mentioned : " Oui," said he to Monsieur Godefroi, " cc pocte, cc grand hommc, fut mon ami." This was the only occasion on which his companion ever heard him allude to the position he once occupied ; but, when his own country was the subject of conversation, he always expressed for it a high and honourable predilection — for though he had now been twenty years on the Continent, he had not lost any of the national spirit which almost every Englishman, under the happiest or most adverse cir- cumstances, jealously preserves. When he had nothing to indite, and was tired of his book, he would approach the bars of the window nearest to the Coitr de la Paillr, and contemplate, as he observes in the preceding letter, the hideous phy- siognomies of the felons who were there confined. It was a disgusting sight, for the majority were often to be seen rolling about on the ground like so many animals, or lying lazily in the sun, occupied in pur- suing the vermin which covered them. Brummcll had not only many opportunities of studying the counte- nances and occupations of these bandit lazzaroni, but he sometimes came in contact with them, in his way to the debtors' yard ; to gain which, he was obliged to cross the passage communicating with the principal entrance to the prison. BEAU BRUMMELL. 211 One morning, when en route to see a visitor, for he always received his friends in this yard, he was jostled with great violence by a prisoner of the name of Mazoyer, who at the moment was returning from the court-house, where he had been tried for an attempt to murder one of the turnkeys of Beaulieu, 1 for which offence he had most unexpectedly got off with a condemnation to the galleys a perpetuite. Mazoyer was short and high-shouldered, and of Her- culean strength, his enormous head being ornamented with small dark piercing eyes, sunk deep in a low forehead ; a large flat nose, and a capacious mouth, which, when open, displayed a set of grinders like a crocodile's, gave additional fierceness to his coun- tenance. When this monster pushed against Brummell, he started back in amazement at such a complication of ugliness and ferocity. Mazoyer perceiving this, stopped, and eyeing the Beau from head to foot, said, in a strong southern accent, and with a hideous smile, " N'ayez pas peur, monziou ; je suis bien content, car je viens de gagner ma tete." " Quel est cet animal, cette espece d'ours, dont l'epaule est venue me froisser le bras ? " demanded Brummell when he had passed ; " quand il a ouvert la gueule j'ai cru qu'il allait me devorer : " and after this he said he frequently dreamed of the " ours Mazoyer." 1 Beaulieu, the central house of correction near Caen. All persons condemned to more than one year's imprisonment were confined there. There were generally from one thousand to twelve hundred prisoners. 2i2 THE LIFE OF But the greatest humiliation to which he was obliged to submit when in prison, and which not only distressed him greatly, but I verily believe contributed in a considerable degree to injure both his intellects and his health, was a circumstance that painfully interfered, and that day by clay, with those confirmed habits and feelings of delicacy common to every class of Englishmen. The cloaca of the prison, situated on one side of the debtors' court, was a dessein sans cloture, tout a fait ouvert; as this court was the only place of exercise for the debtors, the turnkeys, and those who had purchased the entree to the " Pistole," it was very seldom without promenaders, and several hours would sometimes elapse before a favourable opportunity could be secured of retiring there unob- served. Our neighbours (I speak of the mass) are not very susceptible on these points, the observance of which is such a prominent feature in our social habits, and which proves without a doubt, if nothing else does, our superior civilisation. BrummeH's com- panions did not, by leaving the court, make this horrible penance less disgusting to him ; on the contrary, "Ton setonnait d'une retcnue si singuliere, qu'on attribuait a un motif dc pudeur." Such were their remarks ; and the reader may judge by this what Brummcll must have suffered under such cir- cumstances. BEAU DRUMMELL. 213 CHAPTER XIX. Mary Chaworth — BrumvielPs Unpoeiical Description of her — Washing- ton Irving's — A Substantial Supper — He Changes his Purveyor — Letter to Mr. Armstrong — The Beau's Application to him — The Debtors' Court — The Rendez-vous there — The Garden and the Debtors — Their Civility to Brummell — The Dream. I have said that Brummell spoke of Lord Byron to Monsieur Godefroi : it was perhaps on the same day that he wrote the following note : — " In Prison, Tuesday. " Rcmcrcimcns reite're's for Washington Irving very delightful in both stories. I can answer for the truth of his account of poor Byron's never-dying attachment to Mary Chaworth ; for I have frequently heard him romanticise for hours about her. I remem- ber being with her at her house, Colwick, near Nottingham, during a week, a few months subsequent to her marriage. She appeared to me to be always vigilant for admiration, coarse in her manners, and far from resembling what I should have conceived the beau ideal of Byron. 1 I could have added a page 1 The glowing description Mr. Irving gives of Miss Chaworth, in Newstead Abbey, does not agree with that of the Beau. The latter, 2U THE LIFE OF or two to their history, for the last time he was in England ........ Musters, the man, left her abruptly and went to Paris. I saw him at Calais on his route, and he told me he ...... I believe she is dead. " It is the first time I ever heard mention of the sequel dc la petite dame blanche. These descriptions recall to me a treasure in my possession — several letters upon most interesting subjects to him, written to me in our familiar days. Moore, when he was arranging his biography, which turned out to be unworthy of his memory, requested me to assist him with the letters in question, and I refused to entrust them to him. No eyes but my own, and those of one other person, who is now no more, have ever seen them. " If you have anything arrived or remaining, that will distract or set me to sleep, waft it to me with my evening's nutrition ; it is that of the fabulous little good mouse, ' three pears and a bit of brown bread ; ' but she was afterwards transformed into a princess, and fed upon pearls ; will such ever be my fate and recompense ? "The sun is now looking in upon me with a smile; it is the only flirtation left to me; when he descends however, was an eye, not an ear, witness. Lord Byron says that his passion for his bright morning star of Anncslcy was the romance of the most romantic period of his life. m *\SA J Miss Cqawortk- BEAU DRUMMELL. 215 to his watery couch, I cannot help relapsing into the very slough of despondency. Happier hours and fairer prospects wait upon you and yours. Such is the constant wish of — Yours most truly, G. B. " X Madame , Rue ." The correspondence that Brummell maintained with his more intimate friends during his imprisonment, was one source of amusement to him, and gives a better idea of his feelings under such a visitation, than any description of mine could do. Considering the paucity of incident in a prisoner's life, he showed more than ordinary ingenuity in keeping it up with so much spirit ; and, though his letters are sometimes mournful enough, they are much more lively than might have been expected. " Three pears and a bit of brown bread," was a very indifferent supper for a man whose appetite was somewhat larger than those of the mischief-making elves of Oberon ; and without the pies, punch, and jellies of his friends, he appears at times to have stood a good chance of being reduced. Having complained again and again that his dinner from the hotel became daily more meagre, an arrangement was made with a restaurateur near the prison to supply him with his meals. But the following remonstrance looks as if he had got out of the frying-pan into the fire ; and was as badly off for linen as for food : — 216 THE LIFE OF " /// Prison, June. " My dear Armstrong, — You would not, I am sensible, like to be imposed upon yourself, nor that I should be famished with hunger in a prison. " I am ignorant both of the name and of the residence of the traitcur, or rather traitor, whom you have employed to purvey my daily meal ; he has indeed but one merit, and that is his punctuality at five o'clock. You shall judge yourself of his liberality, and I will neither exaggerate nor extenuate in my report. Yesterday's portion was the following : — half of the skeleton of a pigeon, which I firmly believe was the moitie of a crow, buried in rancid butter, and the solitary wing of an unfed poalct, without even the consolatory addenda of its cuissc — half-a-dozen potatoes, and, by way of excuse for dessert, half-a-score of unripe cherries, accompanied with one pitiful biscuit, that looked like a bad halfpenny — this is the positive total of my dinner's calendar. " Twice I have bcsccched you to send me th towels, and to repeat that number ever}' six days. I have been reduced, for the last eight-and-forty hours, to rub myself down with my dirty shirts, and that resource is now at an end, for they arc gone to the washerwoman. " Will you have the kindness to speak in a peremp- tory manner to those about you, if it is owing to their negligence I am to suffer these privations ? 1 only ask for wholesome sustenance for my body, and salu- BEAU DRUMMELL. 217 tary cleanliness for its outside. It is impossible to find these necessaries within this hell upon earth ; and with all my dejection, I should be loath to give up the ghost from famine or filthiness. Amend these indispensable wants before you leave the town this evening. I am also in want of some old waistcoats and pantaloons, which were in the drawers of the bureau in my bed-room, at the Hotel d'Angleterre. There was also a pair of patched boots in the closet of the sitting-room ; and in the armoire a small glass bottle of Macouba snuff — will you have the goodness to transmit them to me ? " Pray tell my friends that I am very fond of strawberries, when they are in full season, and that they always do me good. In the schedule of my debts in Caen, which I wrote to you, I omitted to make the observation, that I was utterly in rags, and without the means of procuring better raiment. — Good-bye ; I would give half the remainder of my days to go down to the sea-side with you this evening. — Most truly yours, G. B. " A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." Brummell had now been six weeks in prison, with- out a hope of release, and the time wore very heavily away ; the greater part of each morning was consumed in making his toilette, in which he was roughly assisted by the tambour, Paul Lepine : the drummer, however, under his master's supervision, soon acquired great 2i8 THE LIFE OF proficiency in the art of cleaning boots and brushing clothes ; and at two o'clock Brummell descended into the debtor's court with his neckcloth as white and well tied, his hat smooth to a hair, and his whole exterior as perfect, as if he had been going to pay Mrs. B a morning visit. This court-yard was separated from that of the thieves and other criminals by a partition, but it was so slight, that what they said could be dis- tinctly heard through it ; the crimes and adventures of these gentlemen formed a prolific tropic of con- versation for Brummell's visitors, and occasionally furnished a subject upon which he expatiated in his weekly billets to his friends. It was here, between the hours of two and four in the afternoon, that he received his numerous visitors, and as they were, both French and English, generally confirmed idlers, his levees used to be very well attended. This portion of the day passed merrily enough, and the loud laughter that might often be heard, would have led any one to suppose that the inmates of this part of the prison were not very deeply affected by their unfortunate position. If, however, any one' offered to condole with Brummell upon the tardiness of the preparations for his release, his gaiety soon evaporated, and a flood of tears was sure to follow any well-intentioned obser- vation of the kind. In the centre of this apology for a place of exercise, there was a very diminutive plot of gardening, intended to be ornamental, but the miserable flowers that grew in it were of the most ordinary description. When BEAU BRUMMELL. 219 the Beau's visitors were gone to their different homes, and he was left to his solitary walk here in the long summer evenings, the rank-smelling marigold must have appeared unfeelingly gay and gaudy, and the heart's-ease sadly misplaced. The debtors who paced the narrow pathway that surrounded them, and who were nearly as ragged and drooping as the flowers them- selves, were all of the middling and lower class, and nothing could exceed their civility to Brummell during his stay amongst them : this arose probably from a feeling that his change of fortune, from affluence to destitution, was greater than theirs ; they had no doubt heard that he was at one time the companion of his sovereign, and knew nothing of the intermediate stages of distress that he had passed through since that period. Brummell was too well bred to reject their advances, and though, under other circumstances, he certainly would not have chosen them for associates, their attentions were received with pleasure ; a bow to one, or some amusing remark to another, was always ready, and long before he left his " stone-jug," he suc- ceeded in making himself extremely popular with them. With one of the debtors, a Monsieur Bassy, he was on more intimate terms : this individual, who had originally been a butler in some family of distinction, previously to the great Revolution, was remarkable for his agreeable manners and entertaining conversation, qualifications that induced Brummell to select him for a companion. The next two letters are written in a mournful strain. 220 I III: LIFE OF " In rrisotty Fridciy. " Dear , — I am sinking fast into the delusions of presentiment, and the credulous faith of dreams ; but, during my last night's slumber, I fancied you had received a note for me from England, and yet sent it not. When my Cerberus unbarred my cell at seven this morning, I scrutinized anxiously his iron hand, expect- ing the cheering sight of a scrap of paper, and even / asked him impatiently if no letter had been left at the wicket for me. He shook his gory locks at me in the forbidding sense of negative, clanked his bouquet of keys in my awakened face, and left me in disap- pointment. " Was my nightly vision merely the effect of a distempered brain in darkness, or have you really received a word, which bids me look forward to liberty and relief? I am dreadfully abattu with all my thoughts of the past as well as of the future. I have this instant received a visit from Monsicur Target. 1 He said he did not know I was here, and hoped I was a mou aise I ! / Oh the Saracen ! What reptiles arc those who administer to the justice and dynasty of this country ! They cannot be so in our country, though I begin even to suspect than. " The bearer of this is one of my confidential keepers, I will not boast of my new acquaintance ; but I believe there is not one of them whose heart I have not 1 The l'rcict, already mentioned in this volume. BEAU BRUMMELL. 221 gained, and who would not open my prison door to me on my parole. — Ever yours sincerely, G. B. " A. Monsieur , Rue ." " Monday morning. " The night is as weary as the day. I dream con- tinually. If there should exist any reciprocity of pre- science between us, do pray endeavour to dream that you have once more seen me a flatter in the Rue St. Jean, or upon the Cours, with my hat on one side, and in gaiety and persiflage of heart a rire at the absurdities of our compatriotes, who I hear are fast replenishing the town, when all its better indigen- ous inhabitants are regaling themselves with roses and strawberries a kurs chateaux. It may identify reality. " Do pray recount my nocturnal vision to ... . when you next write, if you have a ' poets' corner ' left in your dispatch : it may amuse her to know that her note haunted my recollection even in the shadows of somnolency. Tell her too, that I will write to her, as my spirits and faculties may be ameliorated by the never-failing intensity of my prayers to Him to whose mercy and clemency she recommends their address. My anxiety to see those friends who have been so kind to me surpasses every other wish, should the blessing of liberty be regained by me. I feel, though I began my note to you in comparative calmness, that I shall lose it if I dwell upon its concluding subject. — Ever sincerely yours, G. B. "\ Madame , Rue ." . aaa THE LIFE OF CHAPTER XX. Brummtll in Improved Spirits— Letters to his Friends— His Criticism on their Sea-side Amusements— Explanation of them— Subscrip- tions made by the English at Caen— Lord Granville assists— Mr. Armstrong Despatched to England— A Rainy Morning Inspires the Beau with Poetical Feelings— Lines to Eughiic— Letter Accom- panying them— A Sketch of this Young Lady. The improved spirits in which he wrote the succeed- ing letter most likely arose partly, from the hope that Mr. Armstrong, in his approaching journey to London, which had now been determined upon, to consult with and prevail upon his friends to assist him again, might effect his release ; and partly to an encouraging note Ik- had received from the friend to whom it was addressed. " In J'rison, July . " Your last note has had the mystic charm of the words of the talisman of Oromanes : it has revived hope, given me sufficient rest for two successive nights, and I have this morning looked up to the sun as I would congratulate the smiling face of an old friend. " Armstrong says he shall depart for London on Tuesday next : on the result of this mission will BEAU BRUMMELL. 223 depend my destiny, the delight of seeing you and all my friends again, or the death warrant of my inter- ment here. " I am ashamed of myself for having so long in- carcerated Simeon. 1 He has amused me, though he does not communicate any description or observation very new ; but when I can meet with anything that cheats the monotony of desolate hours, I am selfishly unwilling to release it. I was much pleased with Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey ; but it makes one sorry to find that so delightful an author can only afford one scanty volume at a time. " Have you Fanny Kemble's journey in America? 2 Should it be out of sight and still in hand, pray confer the favour of its loan to me ; if not, any other recent production that may be dormant upon your table. That familiar representative of the dead as well as the living, Caspar Hauser, told me the other day that Mademoiselle .... lives an am- phibious life during this fine weather, half aquatic, half pastoral ; flirts with Highland butterflies in a gondola, and then dines upon a haycock ; imbibes porter, and familiarizes with earwigs and wasps. May I request you to whisper to her that I am dis- tracting myself with a few innocent stanzas in honour 1 What book Brummell means when speaking of " Simeon" is now almost impossible to find out. It is not likely he " incarcerated " the Reverend Charles Simeon's " Horae Homeliticse," published in 21 vols. 1 832-1 833. 2 " Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey," by Washington Irving, was published in 1835; the same year was also published, "Journal of a Residence in America," the right title of Fanny Kemble's book, 224 THE LIFE OF of her and her truant sisters ? They may be infected with the local gloom of everything that surrounds me, yet they shall not be unworthy of their amiable subject. " Sparc me now and then a desultory moment and write. I will allow you every marine latitude in your social entretiens with the innocent Nereids, but I know not a Triton upon your shore worthy of your com- munity. Would to Heaven I was liberated from my unjust bondage within these inexorable walls ! — Very sincerely yours, G. B. "A. Madame , Luc-sur-Mcr." The ambiguity of BrummeH's style has already been adverted to, and a portion of this letter is a forcible example of it. In alluding to the young lady who is thus rudely tossed upon a haycock, and accused of drinking porter with earwigs and wasps, one could scarcely suppose that he is speaking of a pic-nic, and a boating party, in which a Scotch gentleman was one of the cavaliers. To turn, however, from the amusements of his friends to the consideration of his affairs : shortly after he was arrested, his countrymen immediately stepped forward to assist him, but though these sub- scriptions amounted to a considerable sum, and to them was added that of Lord Granville, our ambas- sador at Paris, for five hundred francs — the largest donation made by any individual in France — the relief BEAU BRUMMELL. 225 thus afforded him, valuable as it was in procuring the means of softening the rigours of his confinement, was wholly inadequate to liquidate Mr. Leveux's claim ; the subscription which had been raised by the French gentlemen of his acquaintance was declined, with many expressions of gratitude for their spirited and liberal conduct. The feeling which dictated this honourable refusal, was a creditable pride on the part of his countrymen, who thought that Brummell in returning to French society would be more indepen- dent if free from obligations of this nature. The only chance, therefore, that he had of obtaining his liberty, was through his friends in England, and to them Mr. Armstrong was at length despatched ; during the tantalizing period of his absence, Brummell continued his gossiping correspondence with one or two of his friends in the town. " In Prison, July. " Since Sunday last, I have been really so much occupied with the departure of the Sieur Armstrong for England, that I have really been unequal to attend to my first of duties, that of writing to you. " You are always commemorated as the coryphee par excellence of those ' ministering angels/ who best attend to my exigencies ; my thanks to you are almost as much worn out as my patience, not to mention ma capote. I am indebted to your bonte for Fanny Kemble : our acquaintance has just commenced. I like her upon our earlier flirtation, and therefore, our intimacy will be soon at an end. vol. 11. p 226 THE LIFE OF " With all my usual abstractions, or rather dis- tractions, I find, I must inadvertently have dropped something yesterday about having indited a few effu- sions in the metrical line, in which the consecrated name of EugCnie was recorded ; believe me, it was not profaned, it was written on a rainy day when I was, from depression of spirits, more fit for what is called the camisole in Bedlam, than even a cradle at the foot of Parnassus. I am now ashamed of them ; we all have our little vanities, and upon looking them over this morning, I find so many faults and disabilities in the abrupt attempt to do justice to their difficult theme, that they must be corrected, curtailed, and amended, before they are prostrated before your mutual eyes. You tell me she has been scraviutig to see them : pray assure her from me, that she must not interrupt your evening siesta with these impatient ejaculations ; that they are perhaps unworthy of her attention ; but, as she desires a survey, I can refuse her nothing — they shall be transmitted the instant they are rationally revised. Good night, good night. — Yours very sincerely, G. B. " X Madame , Luc-sur-Mcr." The lines were accordingly " corrected, curtailed, and amended," and sent a few evenings after with the following note. "/// Prison, July. " My favourite pet brute, Cerberus, is going to BEAU BRUMMELL. 227 take a stroll by moonlight, and I cannot neglect the opportunity of tying a note to his iron collar, a votre adresse — it is in pursuance of my promise, I send you enclosed, what I had the indiscretion to tell you I had written on a desolate rainy morning, it is non- sense to endeavour ameliorating such namby pamby, and I submit it to your mercy and that of Made- moiselle Eugenie, in the barbarous state in which it dropped primitively from my disordered brains. I have only omitted a few stanzas, which, as I could not understand myself when I afterwards looked them over, it would be too unjust, and hard upon you both to record. Good night : the dog is waiting with impatience, playing with his keys as if they belonged to your watch, and they make my head ache. — Ever yours, G. B. "A Madame , Luc-sur-Mer." I must beg the reader's kind excuses, if I inflict another letter upon him, before putting him in posses- sion of these " curtailed, corrected, and amended stanzas." Night brought with it reflection, and the imprisoned poet determined that further revision was necessary. They were afterwards inclosed, and sent with the next letter. " In Prison, July. " Not a word yet from England ; but I hear, not however officially, that things are at length going on favourably. This reminds me of your consolatory 228 THE LIFE 01 prediction, two months ago ; and I shall never be able to express my gratitude to you for its most amiable and friendly augury. " The shadow of my poetic spirit haunts me still, and will not suffer me to rest, till I have exorcised it with further castigation ; the doggrcl I sent you the other evening was transcribed at dusk, and that dim period is darkness lure, which induces me to fear that my autography may have been as flagrantly en dipt- rissement as my minstrelsy ; — let my retiring vanities be peacefully appeased in their adieux, by the ultimate effort at correction, now that meridian beams are shining in upon me, and my senses are bett< r rigUs — particularly that of sight. In her second shroud, I submit to your forgiving inspection, the remains of a deceased muse, that I have already intimated to you were interred on a rainy morning ; they are the only particles I could preserve from their confirmed decay ; the rest were in a deplorable state of decomposition, and utterly unworthy of being embalmed by your lecture; — have the charitable grace to bestow an A Maria over them. " I am almost enjoying this partial sunshine that is glancing in at my grille, though it may revive other thoughts of other days ; would to heaven I was once more delivered from the noxious vapours of this ( arthly Phlegethon ! The most adverse destiny shall never entrap me again ! On Wednesday I will send you the history of an oatrr brigand, who I saw the day before yesterday attempt to escape, even with his BEAU BRUMMELL. 229 load of chains, over the wall of our garden; he is a remarkably good-looking animal, mild, too, in his manners, and has frequently moved my humanity, even to assisting him in my humble way. " I shall remember, to my last hour, his cries and struggles to avoid the additional irons that were forced upon his arms and throat, even to the arrival of six des militaires, when he was quieted to insensibility, and conducted to his eternal subterranean cell. And yet I exist in close adjacency to these outcasts ! " Cerberus le porte-clef told me, when he left my last letter at your gate of Paradise, that you were still gathering sea-breezes, shells, and dust, on the shores of Luc. Your friend D. . . . annihilates me with petits soins; he sent me word the other day, that he regretted his visit to the country, because his absence would deprive him of seeing me. " I hear Mademoiselle Eugenie is advancing in the knowledge of pure Celtic, which they say is always best taught and learned by the eyes ! Pray remember me devotedly to her. — Yours, very sincerely, " G. B. " X Madame , Luc-sur-Mer." It will be proper to observe, by way of explanatory remark, that Eugenie, to whom these lines were addressed, and who was so rapidly advancing in the knowledge of " pure Celtic," the power of teaching which the Beau so drolly and wickedly ascribes to the eyes, was only fifteen, and with her " truant sisters " 230 THE LIFE OF then on a visit in England, formed a constellation which he always specially admired. They were of gentle blood, in Brummell's eyes almost an indispens- able qualification. Eugenic, the youngest of the three, and who replaced his absent favourite, was as simple and unaffected as the snowdrop ; and though as yet merely an opening flower, the outline of her fairy form gave promise of future elegance and beauty ; and no doubt revived the memory of some of the graceful beings who formed the brilliant " coiyp/nrs " to which he alludes in several of his letters. TO EUGENIE. Lines written in Prison on a Rainy Morning. O'ercast in gloom arose the day, No genial ray From heaven, to cheer the fettcr'd or the free; Mute was the slumbering scene around, And hush'd each sound, Save the soft plaintive orison of Eugdnie. On fancied roses she had slept, Jiut waking wept To find so soon the charm'd illusion flee ; That dreamt of absent sisters dear, Approaching n To hail the morning's dawn with smiles to Eugenie. 'Twas breathed in accents low, As southern zephyrs blow O'er banks of violets, or the faint aerial lullaby Of music's distant notes, That in the si! ning floats In cadence dying on the car, the plaint of Eugenic. BEAU DRUMMELL. 231 " Alas ! " she murm'ring said, " The world to me seems almost dead ; No social echo of our home's forsaken gaiety, No thoughts reciprocal express'd, Affection's fairest test, To vibrate on the heart, or sympathize with Eugdnie. " Fast-falling showers, In shadows dim the ling'ring hours, As if they sought to mourn with kindred memory and me, Weep o'er the dreary space, And the bright promise of the vision chase, That flatter'd with delight the fairy dream of Eugdnie. " Still one revered remains, Who when the tremulous voice complains, Pleading the grief of those away with fond humility, Will not the suppliant advocate disdain, Nor long refrain To mingle mutual feeling with the hopes of Eugenie. " Ah ! mother justly dear, Dispel each latent adverse fear That clouds the happy compact of our filial trinity ; Towards thee in undivided love, Our supplicated union prove, Let them return ; it is the prostrate prayer of Eugenie." This brief soliloquy address'd, Was from a neighbouring nest O'erheard, a redbreast listen'd on its shelt'ring tree ; With friendship's votive wings To me the tender tale he brings ; Some natural tears he shed, and sigh'd the name of Eugenie. Trembling the poor bird fled again, He heard a chain ! Raised his light pinions in the pride of cherish'd liberty, And left me lone and sorrow'd With the pensive strain he borrow'd, And doubly fetter'd with the downcast cares of Eugenie, 23: THE LIFE OF Eugenic shone later as a star in the East ; and such was the effect of her beauty in maturity, that it is said the very surf at Madras was lulled in admira- tion and astonishment when she first made her appear- ance on that angry shore : as for the catamarans, they crossed their arms as well as their legs, and sat staring in amazement as she landed (was ever such a thing heard of before ?) in the ship's gig. BEAU BRUMMELL. 233 CHAPTER XXI. 7Vie Outre Brigand — His Attempt to Change his Quarters — Fanny Kemble's Journey in America — The Beau's Letters to his Friends — Monsieur le Baron de Bresmenil — His Dinner to Brummell in Prison — The Abstraction of the Brandy Bottle — Brummeirs Pathetic Appeal to the Turnkey Brillant — The Felons' Departure — Mr. Armstrongs Mission successful— The Triple Murder. The " outre brigand " mentioned by Brummell in the letter which accompanied these verses, was a rogue of the name of Auvray, condemned to the galleys for twenty years for stealing, when confined at the Beaulieu for a previous offence, some trifling article from one of his fellow-prisoners. On the morning referred to by Brummell, this light-fingered and light- heeled young gentleman, instigated by the tender passion, or a love of fun, scaled the wall which separated him from the women's court-yard, a feat worthy of being recorded, for the wall was twelve feet in height, and the fetters attached to his left leg- weighed fifteen French pounds. Once on the top, which he gained by a jump and a scramble, he dropped himself down on the other side, and ran up to the women's apartment, from which (the inmates being at their toilet) screams of surprise were heard. 234 THE LIFE OF The next moment he was in the hands of the turn- keys, having scarcely had sufficient time to throw a glance at the houris whom he had so unceremoniously honoured with a visit. Auvray made no resistance until his captors endeavoured to adorn his right leg with another bracelet of fifteen pounds, to prevent such itinerant practices in future ; he then made a most desperate resistance, and submitted only when his blood flowed freely from a blow given him by one of the jailers with his bunch of keys. Brummell, who witnessed this scene, was very angry at such a piece of brutal cowardice, and said to his companion Godefroi, " Cet hommc est brave, dans un siege il cut < !<• un heros ! je le plains." In the next letter, which is the last but one of those written from prison, his gossip opens with a pungent critique upon the work of a lady whose maiden name, and the associa- tions connected with it, should have protected her from such censure ; but the concluding paragraph of the succeeding one implies that he had relented a little from his severity. " In Prison^ July. "Mrs remerdtnens to you, 1 have oft< n repeat* d, are infinite, but almost exhausted. I restore Mrs. Butlei to your protection ; that name is more convenable to her language than Fanny Kcmblc. I began to be fatigued with her postichc sensibility, and, as she wishes one to believe, her natural refinement: per- haps more rccommcndable qualities will be elucidated BEAU BRUMMELL. 235 under your discerning supervision. Have you any- thing else arrived to relieve the absolute vacancy of my studies ? " You will say that I am puffed up with my own solitary consequence, which is usually generated by living almost constantly tete-a-tete with oneself; and that I vainly imagine people are voluntarily to impart their thoughts and even their whereabouts to me, because I am in local durance. It is not, however, so with me ; there are but few of whom I think my- self — fewer, I am sensible, who ever think of me : you, and yours, are exceptions, that it is not only a con- solation, but a pride to me, to remember almost every hour ; for you have invariably extended to me every kindness : forgive this egotism, it is as barefaced as Fanny Kemble and her me's; but I cannot reconcile to my sequestered vanity why .... disguised her intention of precipitately leaving Caen. If it was only the abrupt vagary of the moment, excited by meridian beams to court the cooler atmosphere of the sea-shore (where, by the bye, there is no friendly umbrage saving that of the parasol), I will give her the desertion, and implore her absolution of my transient worldly vanities ; but it is impossible for amiable beings, like her, to be lost in sight even for a day. " I have been lately infested with a good-natured friend, who has favoured me with the cancanncries of the graceless reptiles that adorn this town ; those who are amusing themselves in chains at saut de grcnouille under my window, are saints in comparison. 236 THE LIFE OF " If Mademoiselle Eugenic has any narcotic, or other composing nostrum, that will speedily propitiate obli- vion, pray tell her to let me have some, I can find none here — in exchange, I will send her back all my 1 1 collections ; if she has any vanity in her composition she would jump at the proffered compact ; they an replete with admiration and praise of her, and as they are reflected from her living self, they form a most enchanting biography of two months, in the shape of a romance : if she refuses them, they will be consigned to the Styx, which I shall soon pass over. "If you have a vacant instant from the Nereids (I beseech you to avoid the Tritons), do let me learn dc vos iiotivcllcs. — Ever sincerely yours, G. B. "A Madame , Luc-sur-Mer." Much of the cheerfulness and occasional gaiety that Brummell displayed during tin- period of his imprison- ment was forced ; his companion told me that he frequently found him in tears : once only did he throw off the load of anguish, which, indifferently concealed, In must always have felt in t< r or less degree. "On that dav," said Monsieur Godefroi, "he seemed t>> recover tin- elasticity of spirits Ik- must hav< possessed in his youth, and the originality of his character came forth in such bright relief that I could easily comprehend why he had been so celebrated, and society so much sought after by the gnat and talent d <>f his countrymen." The reason that led to this BEAU BRUMMELL 237 unbending, this change from his usual apathy of demeanour, to an almost juvenile exhibition of his entertaining powers, was a good dinner — at all times a great softener of his heart ; but, when starving upon " the skeletons of pigeons, mutton chops not larger than half-a-crown, and biscuits like a bad halfpenny," it must have been particularly acceptable ; it was not marvellous, therefore, that his blood should circulate more rapidly at such a prospect, especially as the banquet was gratuitous. The gentleman who gave him this/6% was Monsieur le Baron de Bresmenil, a nobleman of large fortune, living in the environs, who, in a fit of the spleen, or of fun, had been guilty of high treason on the high-road — that is, he had saluted from his cabriolet de voyage some zealous supporter of Louis-Philippe with cries of Vive Henri Cinq; which, being in defiance of the one-thousand-nine-hundred- and-ninety-ninth article of " la Charte," chapter two- hundred - and - sixty - three, page six - hundred - and - seventy-four, he was sentenced to lose his liberty for five days — and, fortunately for Brummell, they were passed in the prison of Caen. Gaily were these five days of political martyrdom spent, and, before leaving his less fortunate companions, the Baron, with a very laudable spirit of hospitality, obtained the Governor's permission to give this dinner, and to invite a few friends with whom Brummell was also acquainted. It was a princely repast : Monsieur Longuet, who has been already mentioned, received carte blanche, and, from an amiable feeling of courtesy on the part THE LIFE OF of Monsieur de Brcsmenil, Brummell was desired to choose his favourite plats, and that gentleman ordered such others as were most likely t<> please him. When then fore the dinner was served, and the covers had been removed, a look of extreme satisfaction lighted up the Beau's features, and, as the bee wings his flight from flower to flower, sipping sweets from each, so did Brummell wander from entree to liors d\ruvre, from mushroom to truffle, and from the homard to the fruits glaces; Chambertin and Laflitte replaced his daily brandy-and-watcr of the previous weeks, and the iced draughts of the sparkling A'i, rolling gently down his throat, put the crowning stroke to his happiness. He rose above his misfortunes, and great was his good humour, he related much — he related well ; anecdote after anecdote of his early life followed in quick succession, and, while wrapt in all the im- perturbable sirieux of a good narrator, he threw his companions into fits of laughter. But, as in a pal; 1 ' so in a prison, there is no happiness without alloy. The dinner over, coffee was brought in, and Monsieur le Comtc de Ronchcrollcs, a very kind friend of BrummeH's, announced for the chasse a bottle of his old eau-de-vie d\-hidave, which his celebrated acquaint- ance had many times, and under more agreeable cir- cumstances, acknowledged to be perfect. Brummell was in raptures — " Fetch the bottle," he cried to one of the three young thieves who waited, "fetch tin- bottle: my dear de Iv>nchcrolles, no cognac that I ever tasted can be compared to yours of Andaye." BEAU BRUMMELL. 239 One of the petty larcenists immediately left the room for the brandy, but did not return ; another was sent to hasten him, and the third, but neither they nor the brandy made its appearance : the revellers, at length, became impatient at the delay, and shouted for their attendants, who arrived with the pleasing intelligence, that the brandy of Monsieur le Comte had disappeared ! This declaration was received with a burst of indignation ; and the Baron, tall, and made like a Farnese Hercules, threatened to throw the three footmen out of the window — forgetting, in the height of his anger, that it was well furnished with bars to prevent his own exit. At this juncture, and in the midst of the fray, Brummell, disappointed and trem- bling with passion, rose hastily from his chair, and, spreading out his arms towards the supposed delin- quents, with the gesture of a person who commands and yet entreats, shrieked out, " Malheureux : avez- vous a vous plaindre ? on ne vous a que trop bien traite. Scelerats, rendez-moi mon ponsse-cqfe." This energetic and pathetic address actually drew tears from his own eyes, and a chorus of execrations from the guests ; the more so as one of the party, who returned at the moment from making a search, informed them of what the attendants feared to relate — that the turnkey, honest Brillant, to whose especial care the cognac had been confided, had drained it to the last drop, and was lying insensible and snoring in a corner. The empty bottle was lying by his side ; the sheep had been confided to the care of the wolf! Thus 240 THE LIFE OF ended the Baron's dinner, which offered a striking example of the chances and changes of life — at the same table were assembled a famous courtier, once the companion of a King ; a Count, a Baron, a news- paper editor, and an old butler, for Monsieur Bassy was of the part}-. Melancholy to say, three of these individuals were subsequently afflicted by aberration of intellect, and two of them, Brummell and Bassy, died in the establishment of the Bon Sauvcur. The last episode of Brummcll's prison life was, witnessing the departure of those criminals who had been condemned to the galleys at the previous assize. Amongst the more celebrated was Ansieu, who, in an affray with the turnkeys, had part of his nose taken off by a sabre-cut ; Coursierc, one of the most clev< 1 of the Paris thieves ; Auvray, and the ours Mazoyer. At day-break these formats, and their companions, v. -i re marched into the turnkey's room, where fetters, of fifteen pounds weight, were riveted to their legs ; to the loud knocks and ring of the hammers which adjusted their irons, was added a chorus of their own composition in the thieves' language, the burden of each couplet being adieus to their comrades who remained. These were accompanied by maledictions in honour of the judges, the turnkeys, and the rural guards, who were to accompany them to their desti- nation. Coursierc was the poet of the partyion this occasion, and to him were confided the solo parts, which he gave in a stentorian voice, to the well-known air of "C'est l'amour, l'amour, l'amour," &C, to which BEAU BRUMMELL. 241 the chorus vociferated by the whole band was, " C'est au bagne, au bagne, au bagnc, amis, nous y allons." The first burst of this discordant singing roused Brummell from his slumbers, and on descending to his breakfast he said to his fellow-prisoner, " Mais, Monsieur Godefroije me suis cru cc matin aux forges de Vulcain : quelle musique infernale ! mes oreilles en sont encore dechirees ! " When these felons left, Brummell presented a man of the name of Juel with two francs, I believe principally because his manners were much more distinguished than those of his companions. Towards the middle of July, the unfortunate prisoner's prospects began to assume a brighter aspect. His friends in England, though anxious to assist him, were averse to going round from door to door, a difficulty which was overcome on Mr. Arm- strong's arrival ; for, being unembarrassed by any feelings of delicacy, he undertook the collection of the several donations entirely as a man of business ; and carried it through with the more energy and activity, as he was himself again a creditor for upwards of two hundred pounds. But Brummell calculated upon the generosity of his former acquaintance with greater confidence than he was justified in doing; for, having already assisted him, they were not likely to be impressed with very strong feelings of compassion : and even from those friends who had on former occasions so generously relieved him, no great exertions could fairly be vol. 11. Q 242 THE LIFE OF expected; for his embarrassments had been so often represented to them, and sometimes with more colour- ing than the case required, that several of them looked on with apathy. The generous feelings, however, of the more humane were roused. The Beau's sheet-anchors, whenever distress visited him, were the Duke of Beaufort and Lord Alvanley ; and the influence of these noblemen, particularly the latter, induced several persons to subscribe to the fund for his release, who probably would not have done so without such in- terest had been made in his favour. The subscrip- tions of the noblemen and gentlemen who now came to his rescue, were accompanied by a generous dona- tion of a hundred pounds from his late Majesty, who knew, I believe, very little of Brummell ; but his deplorable condition was brought under his notice by General Upton, through Sir Herbert Taylor. This charitable action is one of many like it, which that kind-hearted king performed in private. A pony each was also given by the Duke of Devonshire, Lord Sefton, General Upton, General Grosvcnor, Colonel G. Howard, Colonel D. Darner, Mr. Grcville, Mr. Chester, and Mr. Standish. To these sums were added two hundred pounds of the public money, by Lord Palmcrston, in consideration of the loss Brum- mell had sustained by the abolition of the consulate. The liberality of these gentlemen enabled Mr. Arm- strong to compromise, not only the debt to Mr. Leveux, but also those owing in the town of Caen ; Duke of Beaufort. BEAU BRUMMELL. 243 and the 'annual donations then promised by the Duke of Beaufort, Lords Sefton and Alvanley, and Mr. C. Greville, gave assurance of his having something to prevent a recurrence of similar difficulties. This well- timed assistance saved the Beau and his family from the mortification which was nearly brought upon them, by a most injudicious proposition, that a statement of his case should be sent to the clubs, more particularly to Brookes's and White's, the scene of his triumphs and of his ruin. Fortunately a different course was adopted, and the world of fashion was saved the dis- grace of seeing their former idol a mendicant, where he had reigned more absolute than, happily for the national comfort, his friend, who lived in the ugly red building at the bottom of the street, in which these hotbeds of politics and the great legal hell are situated. During the short period that was required to give effect to the arrangements with his principal creditor, he regained much of his usual spirits ; and the follow- ing note is the last that he wrote from his cell : — " In Prison, July. " You will soon be as well acquainted with our ' Newgate Calendar ' here as myself. I send you ' l'Ami de la Verite,' because it contains the account of a triple murder of the most horrible description, committed by a wretch who has just been surrendered by the gens d'annes to this last receptacle of his living days. He is rather a decent-looking reprobate, and I could not discriminate, by his countenance or manner, 244 THE LIFE OF the least trace of compunction or shame. He seems so quiet and insouciant of his enormous delinquency, that I .shall seek an early occasion to make him con- fess the whole detail of the circumstances attending his crime ; for I understand he is very accessible upon the subject, and is even proud of relating them. God of heaven, what creatures bearing human faces and forms surround me! This instance, however, is the most atrocious within my immediate cognisance ; and I have already made up my mind to hear his dreadful tale, the first time 1 find him alone at the grille which separates our departments. The various histories of others, almost equally nefarious, they have unreser- vedly related to me viva voce ; for, when once their existence is condemned, they appear perfectly uncon- cerned who may know the worst — a few sons always obtain their explicit confidence. I have made con- stant memorandums of many entretiens with them win n I was released from their proximity. "Adieu; as Fanny Kimble says, 'do not foi little me.' The poor spoiled girl is a sad egotist ; but if you could sec her face, you would forgive her. — Yours, very sincerely, G. B. " A Madame Roc The triple murder to which I'rummi II n f< rs was committed by Pierre Riviere, of the commune of Aunayc : he was the murderer of his mother, at tin time enceinte, his younger brother, and a sister, a on el Upton. BEAU DRUMMELL. 245 mere child. The jury brought in a verdict of insanity, and he was subsequently confined in the Bon Sauveur, and died there before, or a short time after, Brummell was placed in that establishment. When Riviere was searched, a crucifix and a small sum of money were found in his pocket ; the latter he immediately placed in the hands of the head turnkey, fortunately not Monsieur Brillant, saying to him with much good sense, and but little appearance of aberration of mind, " Qu'il n'etait pas prudent d'avoir sur lui dans la compagnie ou il allait se trouver ce peu d'argent, qui pouvait lui etre si necessaire dans sa position ! " His features were regular, and his countenance altogether was one of much benignity and softness. The cure of Aunaye, who came to see him soon after his committal, was astounded at the crime, for he had always known him to be an industrious and well-conducted lad, kind in his disposition, and attentive to his religious duties. Previously to his trial, he employed himself in preparing a statement in explanation of his conduct in this horrible tragedy. As his labours advanced he showed them to the jngc d 1 instruction, before whom he often desired to be brought : he also studied mathematics, but with his fellow-prisoners he never conversed. Brummell, like his friend George Hanger, liked to hear the felons recite their adventures, listening eagerly to their ac- counts of the most atrocious crimes, but this curiosity did not lead him further ; he was no Selwyn. 246 THE LIFE OF CHAPTER XX II. The Beau is Restored to Liberty — Presents himself at the General's the same Evening — /hum null and his Friend the Judge — The He: tary Toothpick — Lines to the Guillotine — Letter to Mr. Godefroi, with a Present of some Game — The Table d'L/Ste at [the LL'tel d'Augleterre — The T-wo Gourmets — The Beau's Letters to his 1 'oung Friend in England. O.n the morning of the 2ist of July, Mons. Youf, an attorney, came to the prison, and notified to Brummcll that his debt to Mr. Lcveux had been paid, and that he was at liberty to leave when he pleased. To the astonishment of every one, how- ever, he received the information without manifesting the slightest surprise or joy, or inched any emotion whatever ; and, at live o'clock in the afternoon, after an imprisonment of two months and seventeen days, hope and fear alternately predominating, and having experienced with apparent calmness many humilia- tions, he left his dungeon with the same forced i)isoitciancc } and returned to the Hotel d'Angleterre, where he once more settled himself in the same rooms he had occupied previously to his arrest. On the evening of tin's v< ry day he presented himself at a large soirte at the General's. Nothing BEAU BRUMMELL. 247 could exceed the astonishment of the company when he made his appearance, for they had not heard of his release ; but as he advanced towards the centre of the room, every one rose simultaneously and congratulated him on his good fortune. Brummell, with much complacency and an air of nonchalance, bowed his thanks, and said, " Messieurs, je suis bien oblige pour votre bonte, et charme de me trouver encore une fois parmi vous ; je puis vous assurer que c'est aujourd'hui le plus heureux jour de ma vie, car je suis sorti de prison," here he paused, and then gravely added, " et fat mange dn saiimon." But the gaiety that he displayed after his imprisonment was all assumed : it was put on to hide his real feelings, which must have been most painful and distressing. " I regret," said Madame de T , " having lost several letters, and some poetry, that he sent to me at this period ; elles etaient empreintes d'une tristesse qu'il ressentait dans la solitude, et qui lui permettait de reflechir au passe si brillant, au pre- sent si triste, et a l'avenir si effrayant pour lui ; tristesse qu'il affectait de rejeter loin de lui, des qu'il etait dans le monde, ayant l'air de braver la fortune, et de rire de ses coups." The description given by this lady of Brummell's feelings when satire, and a worldly pride hitherto inflexible, had bent under the stern and unerring influence of conscience, is no doubt correct. Many circumstances confirm this supposition ; but perhaps the strongest testimony that can be adduced to 248 THE LIFE OF prove that the poor Beau had moments, nay hours, of regret and despondency, and that he brooded over what might have been his position, and what it then was, is the circumstance of his having in- serted the following lines in his common-place book. The page on which they were inscribed was fretted by frequent reference to them, and the asterisks placed against the first line in the margin plainly indicate that he often applied portions of them to his own feelings. " Doom'd as I am in solitude to waste The present moments and regret the past, Deprived of every joy I valued most, My friend torn from me, and my mistress lost — Call not this gloom I wear, this anxious mien, The dull effect of humour or of spleen. Still, still I mourn, with each returning day. Him snatch 'd by fate in early youth away ; And her, through tedious years of doubt and pain, Fix'd in her choice, and faithful — but in vain. Oh ! prone to pity, generous and sincere, Whose eye ne'er yet refused the wretch a tear ; Whose heart the real claims of friendship kn< Nor think a lover's arc but fancied woes — Sec me, ere yet my destined course half done, Cast forth a wanderer on a world unknown ; See me neglected on the world's rude coast, Each dear companion of my voyage lost ; Nor ask why clouds of sorrow shade my brow, And ready tears wait only leave to flow — Why all that soothes a heart from anguish free, All that delights the nappy palls on me !" It would naturally be supposed that, on being released from jail, Brummell would be all attention to BEAU BRUMMELL. 249 those who had been useful to him during his impri- sonment, and to a few of his intimates, French and English, he expressed his thanks for their kindness ; but others he neglected altogether, and in general he appeared to think that by assuming an air of flippant indifference, he could throw a veil over the events of the last three months which had so much humiliated his vanity. One of his tabic d'hote acquaintance had, in his legal and official capacity, been of great service to him, and yet he was particularly neglectful to this individual, who was not without a fair share of repartee and professional acquirements ; but the Judge was weak enough to pique himself excessively on his horseman- ship and dress instead, both of which were execrably bad — no tailor ever rode worse, and no tailor's block ever exhibited such a white macintosh ; it was so stiff, that when in the saddle he rattled like an arma- dillo out of repair. These were weighty objections to cultivating his society ; but Brummell had a stronger and far more legitimate motive for disliking him : Monsieur B. actually kept a toothpick, a per- manent pinchbeck toothpick ! which, from its antique appearance, was evidently an heirloom, and had pro- bably belonged to his great-grandfather, and must therefore have been used to pick the ivories of four generations — disgusting idea. Such a habit any one would think atrocious, but the offence was venial to what follows : daily, after dinner, had the Beau seen the " scoundrel," as he 250 THE LIFE OF called him, premeditatedly — not in a fit of absence, pick his nails and his aural organs with the same instrument ! Corpo ifi Bacco, this was indeed a most horrible practice ; and no wonder that the remem- brance of these enormities entirely prevented the development of Brummell's gratitude : not only did he never call upon him after his troubles were over, but he never even sent him his card. About a fort- night, however, after he had regained his liberty, he met his learned acquaintance in the street, and, though he had not cared to take the trouble of calling upon him, he had no objection to /aire Us f rats by a speech ; he therefore appeared delighted to sec him, and said, " Ah, mon cher Areopagitc, je suis desole de ne pas vous avoir fait ma petite visite ; mais le fait est, que mes cartes de visite, qui se font toujours a Lon- drcs, ne sont pas encore arrivees." " V raiment ! " replied the angry and neglected gentleman, with as graceful a bow as a very stiff neckcloth, and the white macintosh, would permit him to make : " Ne vous derangez pas, Monsieur Brummell ; si vous m'aviez fait cet honncur, je n'aurais pas pu vous le rendre ; car pour le moment je suis aussi sans cartes, ct les miennes sc font en Chine." I am afraid lh< is good reason to suppose that Brummell was not particularly grateful to those who assisted him ; or, if he was, he did not certainly show it in his conversa- tion. " Shortly after his imprisonment," says one of his Caen acquaintances, " I asked him if he had been as intimate with the Duke of Cambridge as he was with H R.H.Tfye Duke of Clarence BEAU BRUMMELL. 251 his other brothers ; " when he replied, " The man did very well to wear a cocked hat, and walk about the quarter-deck crying ' Luff ! ' but he was so rough and uncivilized that I was obliged to cut him. You may believe this when I tell you that he used to recount the amorous exploits in which he was engaged at Portsmouth, to the bishops and the ladies of the court at his father's table, and this to the inexpressible delight of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York." The reader will bear in mind, that this in- credible story was told after the late King had sub- scribed one hundred pounds towards effecting his release from prison, and it shows how little amiability was left in the mind of him who had been a recipient of his bounty ; but the Beau was a man of the world, and also a wit. Though Brummell was overmatched by the Judge, his criticisms were, generally speaking, quite as cut- ting, and his spirits apparently as good, as they had been before he was placed in durance. The letters which he wrote in the latter part of 1835, and early in 1836, do not betray any great falling off in liveliness or piquancy : the following was sent with a present of game to a lady who had been kind to him during his imprisonment : — " Hotel cPAngleterre, Friday. " Une petite couvee de perdreaux, vivant ce matin a l'aube du jour, font vol sans haleine a votre cuisine. lri :>- THE I ill 01 " When 1 had last the pleasure to sec D. . . . , a uvi k since, I was anxious to thank him for all his past kindness to me ; but the past still lingers upon my memory, and nothing but time, and other suns, and other scenes and occupations, ever can do me any effectual good. " During the early period of my purgatory in the other world, there was, as you may have heard, a destructive incendie in a magazine of wood beneath my iron window. All the administering demons of these nether regions were upon the qui vwe at this congenial fite, and awaking from deceitful dreams of former Paradise, I rose from my straw, and attended their passage, which was through my cell, to the outward summit of the prison. Amidst the disheartening tumult that was raging, I distinctly heard a hoarse bewailing voice, in fear and tribulation frequently ejaculate, " Ah ! mon pauvre bijou ! Ma chere guil- lotine ! La leste coquine, elle va me quitter ! " I requested one of the fallen angels at my elbow to tell me whence came that extraordinary lament? He replied, laughing, " C'cst l'amen de ce vieux gueux I ph," who was, and had been, during twenty years, ' bourreau en chef,' that he numbered upon his sanguinary fingers twenty-three human heads, and that he was more fondly attached 'a la machine chuic ' than to his two sons, who were ' aux galeres a pcrpetuite,' — that it was his only hope and means of nee. Such is the theme ami pn text for tin four lines paraphrast d from ' t< . yeux bleus : ' — BEAU BRUMMELL. 253 C'EST LE BOURREAU QUI PARLE. Rien n'est plus touchant que tes baisers ravissans, Chore Guillotine, par tes caresses de fer ! Ah ! puissent ces feux n'enflamment, ni le cruel sort condamne, Comme toutes tes victimes, tes beaux jours aux Enfers ! 1 " I fear it is beyond expectation to encourage the thought of prevailing upon you to look in at the General's caserne ce soir for a charitable hour. In the meridian of sunshiny liberty, — Still your fidele prisonnier, G. B. "A. Madame , Rue ." As the reader may wish to know what are the lines that Brummell refers to, I have transcribed them here, but from memory, and therefore they are probably incorrect ; they have been ascribed to Voltaire : — " Rien n'est plus beau que tes yeux bleus, Enfant ! l'azur des cieux sourit sous ta paupiere : Ah ! puissent tes yeux bleus ne voir que la lumiere De jours purs, de jours doux comme eux." The next letter is to Monsieur Godefroi ; it was accompanied by some partridges that Brummell sent to him, as a little acknowledgment of the various civilities he had received from him in prison. " Hotel cPAngleterre, Lundi. " Grondez, mon cher Monsieur Godefroi, le perfide chef de cuisine et non pas ma fidele memoire, d'avoir 1 These four French lines are ungrammatical and nonsense.^ 254 THE LIFE OF taut retarde l'offre d'unc petite couv£e de perdreaux, couchee dans leur muraille dc croute. Le faquin m'a dit qu'ils etaicnt encore trop enfantins pour < tre etouffes dans un pat< '-, et peu digne de meriter l'attention d'un appctit recherche. Faitcs-y indul- gence. " Ayez la bonte d'adrcsser mes amities au preux perc Bass}', et faites-lui en partagcr au moins utte atissc ; cc lui sera peut-etre le seul attrait feminin qu'il puisse caresser dans sa retraite actuclle. " J'avais, je vous assure, la louable intention de passer chez vous ces jours dernicrs — mais un arret tout inattendu de mon ci-devant creancicr, le rhu- matisme, m'a empeche de faire les pas en avant vers votre hotel. " Je vous prie de me prostcrner, moi et mes tendres souvenirs, aux pattes veloutees de Mademoiselle Minette, elle est parmi mes hautcs connaissances dans ce Pandemonium terrestrc. Ayez aussi 1'indulgence de faire passer ma consideration distingue'e au re- spectable Adolphe Lavignc, et a son jumeau Bap- tiste ; n'oublicz non plus le Nestor Fremont, ni cet enfant gate" d'imbibition spiritucusc, Brillant. " Vous serez content d'entendre dire qu'on a dernidrement vu p> ur la diligence, faisant route a Honfleur, notrc ci-devant Lafleur, le Marechal Paul I. pine, gai commc la voiture qui le transportait, l'llirondcllc! environnant dc son bras d'Achille la belle taille d'une Princcssc de sa trempe et de sa capture, doilt la tftte auguste - tnit couronne'e de trois BEAU BRUMMELL. 255 plumes, rouges comme l'enfer et comme la ddfiance de ses joues eclatantes ; ainsi montent progressivement de la fange les heros de votre patrie ! " Est-ce que le cannibal qui immola sa mere, sceur, et frere, a ete encore juge ? Si vous avez le proces, faites-moi le plaisir de me le preter. — Toujours sincerement a vous, George Brummell. " A Monsieur Godefroi, VAmi de la Viriti." Brummell's imprisonment did not decrease his noto- riety, and the summer tourists, in search of churches and the tapestry at Bayeux, invariably passed a day at the Hotel d'Angleterre, and dined at the table d'hote. " Put me opposite to Mr. Brummell," was the con- stant request of these travellers ; he was really a very good decoy, for he frequently joined in conver- sation with them, and told some of his old anecdotes with pleasant good-nature. The landlord, if he saw that his guests were ignorant that he had such a dis- tinguished character in his house, never failed to make them aware of the fact : they were, however, decoyed to a capital dinner, for the hotel was, and is, the best in the town, the cookery unexceptionable, and at least twenty dishes, including fish of two or three kinds, often made the circuit of the table. Brummell's love of eating and drinking was not diminished, and, as he had not the means, or credit, to indulge the latter at his own expense, he was far from averse to doing so at that of others'. He, who 256 THE LIFE OF had once been so exclusive, and a model of gentl< - manly reserve, would now accept wine at the table dlwtc from perfect strangers ; Champagne was his favourite beverage, and, enlivened by its influence, he was still able to repay his entertainer with a few excellent stories. A man with a gaudy waistcoat, a cravat of embroidered satin, and a handful of pearls in his pin, with whom, in former days, it would have been his death to dine, he was now very glad to sec sit opposite to him, for he was pretty sure of sharing his bottle. About this time, Mr. M. . . ., afterwards Lord F. . . ., made the hotel his residence; and as he was quite as great a gourmand as the Beau, the guests used to be not a little amused by the " war to the knife " which took place between them. Many were the stratagems brought into play by the two gourmr/.>, in the endeavours of each to possess him- self of the most delicate morsels. The wings of the fricasseed chickens were always in gnat request, and as his Lord.-hip's son, a very good fellow, but now no more, followed in his father's footsteps, Brummell, with two to one against him, was often left with the neck, or a drumstick : when this happened, his dis- gust was great, and giving a stern look, first at his youthful adversary, and then at the bones, he would send the dish indignantly away. His next letter was a perfect specimen of that ac- complishment, generally supposed to be peculiarly characteristic of the epistolary intercourse of ladies BEAU BRUMMELL. 257 — the art of writing a letter about nothing. It was addressed to the elder of his young friends, who was still absent in England. " Thursday. " You are, I am told, in serious dudgeon with me, for having neglected one of my most flattering avoca- tions, that of writing to you. If I was conscious of meriting this reprehension, I would solicit forgiveness on my prostrate knees, though it might be an idle position with this distance between us. May it please your more indulgent consideration to learn, that dur- ing many a lingering week, I have not possessed a stray sentence of interest to impart to you, from these desolate regions of ennui; and, that if I had vainly attempted to divert your attention with my local fades jeremiades, you would have found them as dreary and insipid, as the monotonous sorrows of your old friend and pagan idolater, Werther. You are too amiable, and too merciful in your judgments, to attri- bute the neglect of my accused silence to the imputa- tion of forgetfulness of you ; believe me, and I speak with simple truth, the deep interest that I have always felt for you has never deviated from my remembrance ; and if you could suppose that your lamented absence from this place has for an hour escaped my best thoughts, you do me an injustice. " I had for months cherished the hope that you would, ere this, have returned. That expectation is still, I find, to be procrastinated during another VOL. II. R 258 THE urn OF month : you will thru really revisit us ; and none will welcome your restored presence with more honest cordiality and implicit faith in your kindly feelings towards me, than your very sincere friend, "G. B. " To Miss , Park, Sussex." BEAU DRUMMELL. 259 CHAPTER XXIII. BrummclTs Young Favourite Returns to Caen — Letters to Her — The Beau Recommences his Drazuings for her — The Late Duchess of Rutland — French Poetry — Lady Warwick — The Picnic at A T orwood — The Fortune- Teller — The Two Friends — Lady B « — Brum- melTs Criticisms — The Broken Bow — Parting Letter to his Friends — They leave Caen. In the autumn, the young lady, to whom the preceding letter was addressed, returned to Caen, and he lost no time in showing the pleasure he felt in again seeing her, by recommencing his occupation of drawing for her album. " Saturday. " You are, I dare say, anxious for your album, and I am mutilating its pages in attempting to draw and write upon them. I know not how it is, but I cannot design upon leaves that are bound. " Yesterday, I sketched three figures — you, and . . . ., and .... I then got out of temper with my labours, and tore out the leaf: do not be angry with me for this piece of delinquency ; I will make it up tenfold to you upon more propitious paper. I am wishing to portray you and .... together, but though my memory is accurate in regard to yourself, 2 6o THE LIFE OF I have not .... sufficiently impressed upon it to achieve anything that would gratify you. Let me but still have health, and you shall, sans vanitS, be con- tented with me. I have no drawings left in my possession — they have all been given away, perhaps to thankless persons — except a few miniatures encadris, perfectly uninteresting to myself as well as to you. The only one left is a half-finished crayon, which I began some years ago, as a model for another, which I accomplished afterwards in colours ; it is the late poor Duchess of Rutland ; we were great friends in those days, you must know, and so, indeed, we remained till her death, t ars since. Pray have a respect for her, and protect her, now she is no more — at least, in naming her, do not let her be approached by sacrilegious eyes and hands : of course I do not mean .... and . . . ., for I have every confidence in them ; but there arc others who sometimes sur- round you, and, I can assure you, when the original was living, she was never profaned by the familiar contact of gens rfc cctlr troupe. " 1 would rather have written the two copies of verses addressed to you, than all the rest of the con- tents of your album ; they are pure, natural, and beautiful poetry; and 1 am quite in love with .... for having so delightfully done you justice. As to tin rest of the productions, they are generally of that ephemeral embroidery, of that postichc pseudo-class of dissembled French sentiment which has nothing to recommend it but the crowquill ; and has neither heart, Tfye Duchess of Rut J ana. BEAU BRUMMELL. 261 nor soul, nor genuine meaning, nor, above all, delicacy in it. — Ever yours most sincerely, G. B. " A Mademoiselle , Rue ." This is a severe critique upon the French poetry in an album, but there are many persons who will not think it too much so. Even the stanzas of their great poet, M. de Lamartine, are rather somniferes ; beauti- ful, indeed, when read line by line, but as good as an opiate when taken en masse. The Beau cuts up the matter as keenly as Lord Byron did the sound of their rhymes, when, in alluding to this subject, or, rather, to their poetry in general, he called it " that whetstone of the teeth — monotony in wire ! " — one tone, and that tone a wire one ! Alas ! Another drawing accompanied the next letter. icr. " Wednesday evening " Daigncz agreer Fqffrandc d'une csquisse pour voire album. I have been the better part of a month about it, early as the lark, and industrious as the bee : my anxieties, however, as usual, have turned out adversely. I am discontented with it; it is too deeply shaded, and that fault has been unavoidable from the maadit papier qui buvait, as they say, whenever my contending crayon came in contact (pretty alliteration) with its spongy surface. Receive it as it is ; the only merit to which it may pretend is, its being original; as you said of some of my other productions, I never copied 262 THE LIFE OF anything or anybody. I am going on with two others in all the colours of the rainbow, and with happier sunshine in their countenances, which will be p/us digue of your acceptance. " Do not consider me impertinent or irregular, but you are the only person existing for whom I would give myself this trouble, and you deserve it ; at least I think so, which will do as well. Deny me not your thanks for the drawing ; and if you are the same amiable creature that you used to be in our earlier acquaintance, tell me, that I may still cherish the faith of existing sempre in your continued friend- ship. " You were, 1 trust, amused yesterday evening, an cirque; you must, no doubt, have been so, by the refuted society around you. I will simply, yet humbly ask you, Were you, during your absence in England, exposed to the intercourse of any compeers resembling it ? You will, I am confident, answer, with a for- giving smile — Nev< r ! " I have just received your charming note. I shall not attempt to answer it till I have taken my laudanum, and surpassed the prolonged doze of the Seven Sleepers; to go without it would be suicide, from neglecting the high fever excited by your flattery. Pray have the kindness to whisper to Madame (ami if .she has forgotten the circumstance I shall be equally contented,), that ce j'uif eflson made me pay him for Pantalconc's billets; A\> might consider me also an I raelite, if 1 mentioned tin subject personally to BEAU DRUMMELL. 263 her. The best of nights to you. — Very sincerely yours, « G. B. "A Mademoiselle , Rue ." In 1835, the same soirdes and the same whist parties were held as in preceding winters, his own habits were also the same ; he got up, and spent two hours in his tub, and two hours before his glass ; he drew, or wrote notes to his lady acquaintances, dined, " took tea " with a friend, and went to bed. Thus it happens that there is nothing for me to record. I have only the said notes to lay before my reader. The first was despatched to a lady, whom he has denominated elsewhere the " Mother of Pearls." It was accompanied by some relics that had been pre- sented to him by two of his titled and fashionable friends of " langsyne," and which, though transferred from his own keeping, he evidently still valued ; for he also valued those on whom he bestowed them. " Thursday. " During the morning of yesterday I called, chez voas, without being admitted. I must, therefore, transmit the scraps you desired by the unhallowed hands of my Frontin. I have not yet waded through the heap of manuscripts in my possession ; it is an unpleasant occupation, to disturb the dormant remem- brance of days that are gone by ; but as I proceed, you shall have more of these documents, if you wish it. 264 THE LIFE OF Upon ransacking other debris of former times, I cannot find any note-keepers, in better preservation than the two wrecks you now receive. Their only recommendation may be, that the green one was worked by Lady Sarah Saville, subsequently Lady Monson, ensuite Lady Warwick; ] the other, of the dove tint, like her eyes, was the travail of Lady Foley ; 2 both of them, at that halcyon period, blooming in surpassing beauty ! now, perhaps, faded, like their cadeaux ! My only excuse, in offering to you and Mademoiselle .... these recollective relics is, that they may prove cclian/illons for any you might provide, through the gentle travail of those in your family, whose fair hands are as blanches and competent as those of the prototypes I recall. " The General's dull as a funeral last night. The doduc compatriote looking as faded as the flowers in her hand, drawling through the mazy dance, like a pied raven, her throat white, and her body black : — malgri the melancholy of her weeds, I observed, that whenever she had to dcploycr lc pas en face de son antic — she most indecorously burst into laughter. You are, I trust, both again in pristine well-being. I understand .... had no loss from her absence last night ; that harbinger of favourable reports and conciliatory truth, T. . . , told me, that it was dread- 1 The late Lady Warwick, daughter of the second Karl of Mcx- boroogh. - The Dowager I.ady Foley, daughter of the second Duke of Lcinstcr, died in 1S63. BEAU BRUMMELL. 265 fully dull, and that Madame G. . . . was flagrantly oatree. Dr. K 's punch was a salutary antidote for his poisonous drugs ; and I find myself to-day en premiere jeunesse. Why do you patronise that Dr. ? If you have any favourable 'Canter- bury Tales ' to dpanchcr, pray let me into the secret. — Yours devoutly, G. B. "A Madame , Rue ." Brummell affected to have had a great admiration and friendship for Lady Warwick, and this was pro- bably the reason why he remembered the following anecdote, with so much precision, as nearly half a century after, he detailed it to me. We were talking of the various coincidences that sometimes take place in the fulfilment of gipsy predictions, when he said that the most extraordinary instance of the kind he had ever heard of, he himself witnessed ; and that Lady Sarah Saville was the heroine of the story fore- told. It appears that her Ladyship and a large party, of which the Beau formed a conspicuous item, pro- ceeded, one summer's afternoon, on a picnic to Norwood. In those days, that rural spot, now covered with bricks and mortar, was a great rendez-vous of the daughters of prophecy, who were always lurking under the greenwood tree, and in its sequestered glades, equally ready to cross the hand of the high- born dame, or of the humble spider-brusher. After THE I II! 01 their repast al fresco, the " familiariscrs with wasps and tar-wigs" rambled about, and, as usual, one of the swarthy Egyptians came towards the party, and offered her services. Lady Sarah accepted them, and the gipsy, taking her hand, and examining the lines, told her, with an accuracy of detail quite sur- prising, that she would many a nobleman, the descrip- tion of whose person corresponded exactly with that of Lord Monson ; she also predicted his death, and her Ladyship's second marriage, stating the time that would elapse between the two events, every circumstance of which came to pass in the manner which she had prophesied. 1 I have heard BrummeU tell this story more than once ; it seemed to have made a deep impression upon him : indeed 1 feel almost certain that he was rather superstitious on the point. The remaining letters in this chapter were addressed to the same lady as the preceding one. •• Monday. "Du Pille has just left me; he will be chartni to be with you to-morrow evening, and I will bring him at half-past eight. Monsieur de Valmont told me he was dying with anxiety to be pric to your He aid he had in the morning met a Mon- sieur O'Gradig, (he pronounced the name as you do Zadig,) who promised to intercede with you for his admission. He requested me t<> add my endea- vours to O'Gradig's solicitation. You may, perhaps, 1 Sec page 264. BEAU BRUMMELL. 267 have seen this chevalier at Luc during the last or the previous summer. I can only say of him that he is a Norman gentleman, well known to all the French residents here. He is also young and gay, though his personal recommendations are rather dilapi- dated, and there is no fear of his making any serious impressions on your fair daughters. " Ten days since, I sent to Paris for Bulwer's last production, which I saw advertised — not yet arrived : also I desired the ' Prairie/ by Wash- ington Irving, 1 announced, but I do not believe published. " The ' Two Friends ' dreadfully tedious. I wish you well through their acquaintance. Lady Blessing- ton, 2 in the wane of her days, like all reformed saints of her class, is getting too severely penitent, and suffocates one with assumed morality. If you have still a book unread by me, illuminate me by the loan of it. " Lcfrerc lai, Mr. W . . . . , on his way to matins, told me you were favourably convalescent this morn- ing : he went so far as to say, that an hour's airing on the Cours, in the civicre de IHopital, would by no means be detrimental to you. " Send back my missive to seal in the morning, for I dine out to-day, and pass my midnight with Madame de Temps ; and I shall be trop ipnisd to 1 Washington Irving's "Tour on the Prairies" was published in 1S35. 2 Lady Blessington's novel, "Two Friends," appeared in 1S34. 268 nil LIFE OF crawl out of my shell in time to call c/icz vous with the summons of chanticleer. — Always yours, G. B. "A Madame , Rue ." " Thursday. " You cannot, in reference to , mean to de- signate me as your treacherous Guy Faux, when you date your note the morning of the Gunpowder Plot. I can assure you I am too faithful a Protes- tant in my professions. " Our blanchisseuse tells me this morning, with tears of turpentine trickling down her checks of .1, that ' Madame . . . . va bicntot partir jamais a revenir parmi nous.' It is deplorable how this class of persons enjoy the propensity to remind one of disagreeable subjects. The man in the street tells me you purpose taking up your future quarters at B towards Christmas : if this is authentic, with- out whispering it in Galh, I shall be there before you. — Always your shade, G. B. " A Madame , Rue ." " Tuesday. " I hear that you have been indisposed ; if that is tin- case, do not go and throw yourself away on Cautez's fiddle this evening. "Yesterday I was reposing in amicable tcte-a- with 'Japhet,' 1 when I heard the Venetian ballad of ' La Biondina ' humming upon the stairs ; in 1 Marryal's "Japhet in Search of a rather" was published in 1S36. 6ro/< foayj Bow BEAU BRUMMELL. 269 walked Alfred de Launay with the Quotidienne in his hand, to show me a paragraph in which I was named. I send it to you for your amusement a ddjeuner. It is the most preposterous fabrication that ever was transcribed ; no truth, no humour, no accuracy of date in the period. Return the paper to me when you have read it, as he is anxious to repossess it. " Whenever from inadvertency, for I am incapable of the intention, I have been guilty of any impro- priety or unbecoming bad taste, I am vexed till it is acknowledged by myself, and, if possible, expiated. " I had forgotten that the contemptible jeu de mots, ' Broken Beau,' was extant an pied de Fesquisse, which I had taken the liberty to offer for your album, till D . . . . asked me yesterday what the meaning was in French; of course I answered simply, 'Tare casse.' These ridiculous words were written in a moment of haste, and with no other idea than being laughed at by you as a mauvaise p/aisanterie, not to be seen by others. I entreat you instantly to erase the words in question, or throw the sketch into the fire. I will make you a hundred others in lieu of it. " If you are out to-morrow when I call, send me the book in the evening. To-day I am too much subdued by the' shadows of Vallombrosa, at Madame de Seran's last night, to hold up my head if I saw you. I shall take to rouge if this goes on. — Most sincerely yours, G. B. " A Mademoiselle , Rue ." 270 THE LIFT. OF The sketch to which Brummcll refers in the pre- ceding letter, he might, with more propriety, have de- nominated an elaborate drawing, for it was in hand several months; and when tin- reader is reminded that it was done when he was nearly sixty years of age, and in spectacles, he must, I think, admit that it is an admirable performance — the finish of it is nearly equal to one of Gerard Dow's birch brooms. Though Brummell says that lie never copied any one, or any- thing, this effort of his pencil was, I believe, taken from some miserable French print. If the hands were original, it is difficult to say why he made the fingers so much resemble claws ; unless he meant to insinuate that poor Cupid, in the depth of his affliction, was actually lacerating his own flesh. The anxiety he displayed to repossess this drawing, arose, perhaps, from the disinclination he felt to have his pun seen by the lady's friends. In Granby, Lister assures us, that win n the pragmatical Mr. Benn< tt let one off, Trebcck rewarded him with a look that ought to have annihilated him, for that, in his estimation, such a species of wit was tin extreme pitch of had manners; and, in truth, Brummell did not often indulge in puns. He showed, however, great want of judgment in requesting that the drawing might be returned, and his entreaty was of course negative] ; for the lady whom he thus favoured was young, very young, and naturally refused to part with a Cupid whose bow was broken. Since that period, however, the weapon has been repaired, the t< ars dried, and tin BEAU BRUMMBLL. 271 fair possessor has fallen a happy victim to the young urchin's malice ; while the csquisse still remains in her album, a striking allegorical memento of the poor old man who drew thus playfully, but, alas ! truthfully, a picture of himself and his broken fortunes. The anecdote of which he speaks, as appearing in the Quotidienne, was that of, " George, ring the bell." "January 1st, 1836. " The infidels have frustrated my expectations ; they have sent me but one annual from Paris, and they prevaricate by saying, no other has been imprime. " Q ue fain ? You are sensible that la Signora .... is my nearer friend, I will not say, favourite ; for that would be comparative and familiar. De plus, she may be more immediately deficient in the disposi- tion and the means a chasser de sa souvenancc t ombre et V ennui qui la de'sole. The moon emaciates just now, sympathising only in profile ; and they say, novelty is the earliest heaven of melancholy — it will be but an inconsiderable time I shall languish in disappointment at being the debtor to Mademoiselle " There is a gentleman starting for Albion on Friday or Saturday ; he swears he is the soul of probity, and I do not think his physiognomy would hang him. He will take charge of the paquet, and salute the book at the douane that they are for his nearest relations, and that the japon en sole has experienced twenty gallo- pades. You must address them in your own autograph, 272 THE r.rrn of for I would not denote my ways of confidence to the walls of Babylon. " My nervous compatriotc has just come in ; he has lived so long at Madrid, that he dreads the Inquisition even at Southampton. He consents to take over the annual, and a note enclosed in it. His courage declines about the jitpon, though 1 have sworn there is no lace, heresy, or treason, concealed in its folds. Send, then, back the book, that I may entrust it to the provident traveller. " The author of the pretended tour is a Russian prince, Mouska Pouska, 1 the greatest impostor that ever existed; no dentist, that was always supposed to excel in fabrication, could possibly equal his misre- presentations about English society. "Mine was the ' Rake's Progress' last night, and I have but this instant escaped from sepulture, while the sexton was asleep : 1 am still in my shroud, and incapacitated of writing to the living in this twilight. — Yours very sincerely, G. B. "A Madame , Roe ." The following note is the last that Brummell wrote to one of the most intimate and kind friends he had at Caen, and, with the exception of a few letters to Mr. Armstrong, it closes his correspondence. " Saturday. " It disappointed me much not to shake hands with 1 The Beau means Prince Pucklcr Muskau, for whom sec chapter ii. p. 15- BEAU DRUMMELL. 273 you en adicax yesterday : it was, perhaps, the last occasion I shall find in this world, to express my devoted gratitude to you and yours, for all your kind- ness towards me : may we meet as good friends in the next ! Pray remember me, with all humility, to . . ., and while you enact the chaperon, with all com- mendable discretion, do not forget the spirit of indul- gence for youthful feeling that pervades the lines in my old album, " Oh ! let the young enthusiast stray : " tell her also, for it is the simple, unassuming truth, that wherever I may hereafter sojourn, far away, she will never for an hour be forgotten by me. Adieu ! and may you all be happy ! God bless you. — Ever sincerely yours, George Brummell. "A Madame , Rue ." The following are the stanzas to which Brummell here alludes ; they are inserted anonymously in his album : — Oh, let the young enthusiast stray Through fancy's rainbow-tinted way ; Let her light footsteps gaily rove The fairy paths of joy and love ; Let her the world delighted view, And think the flattering vision true, Think every heart she e'er has known, As pure, as artless as her own ! Why dim the lustre of her eye ? Why draw the unnecessary sigh ? To her, young life seems full of charms, She dreams secure in pleasure's arms ; VOL. II. s 274 THE LIFE OF Fancy and hop: their gifts dispense, Angelic guards of innocence ; Awhile life's hateful truths for Nor wake her to a world of woe ! But, when maturcr age appears With cautious step, and crown'd with car* . When first the long-worn path she tries, Where sorrow like a serpent lies, Lurking beneath some fond delight, And rears her withering form to light ; When, shuddering at the direful view, She turns her tearful eye on you : — When, doubting, with her hopes at strife, She trembling asks, if such be life ? Then clasp thy daughter to thy breast, Then soothe thy mourner into rest ; In gentkr terms the truth unfold, Th' unwilling truth, that must be told. The fated ills life must endure, And comfort, when you cannot cure ! BEAU DRUMMELL. 275 CHAPTER XXIV. Melancholy Prospects — The State of BrummelV s Affairs — Letters to Mr. Armstrong — " Le Vernis de Guiton" — A Revolution — The Black Cravat — BrummeWs Description of his Position at this Period — His New Dressing-Gown — " Le Commencement de la Fin " — The Memory fails — The Dinner at Mrs. G 's — BrummelPs Appearance at the Table d'Hote. With the departure of this family, the correspondence which had so much contributed to enliven many of Brummell's lonely evenings ceased entirely, for that which he had hitherto kept up with other friends became, by degrees, much less frequent, probably in consequence of his growing infirmities. The remainder of my task is to relate an uninterrupted narrative of misfortunes rapidly succeeding each other, and in- creasing in severity — an accumulation of distresses, in purse, of body and of mind. The allowance remitted to Mr. Armstrong by his relations and friends, for his maintenance, was one hundred and twenty pounds per annum, and half of this sum was paid to the landlord of the Hotel d'Angleterre, for board and lodging ; only sixty pounds therefore remained, for wine, firing, washing and clothes, besides the incidental expenses of sickness, and various others, which his peculiar habits involved. 276 THE LIFE OF This income would certainly hav< been sufficient for many a single man in France, but it required to be managed with strict economy, and would nut pro- vide the multitude of rl ceteros necessary to the Beau's comfort. On Leaving his prison, he immediately fell into his old habits on almost all point.-* ; he had, it is true, brought himself down to one complete change of linen daily ; but he could not find in his heart to renounce his primrose gloves, can dc Cologne, oil for his wigs, and patent blacking. Various and repeated were the remonstrances that were made to him, but with little effect ; bills for those articles were run up without a thought, and it was not till their amount threatened a repetition of the events of the summer of 1835, that he paid any attention to them. The follow- ing notes are specimens of his repentance on such occasions. 4 "Novemder, i\ "My dear Armstrong, — Mulct, the boot-maker, has this instant been with me, in an insolent manner, and says that as you have refused positively to pay his account, or the principal part of it, for verm's, he shall proceed against me for the amount of this debt, without it is settled the present day. Send me the money on my own account, and let me instantly settle it. I have, so help me I haven, not four francs in my possession, and it will utterly destroy me to see a bailiff enter my room, or assault me in the street. " I will enter into any promise with you upon the BEAU BRUMMELL. 277 subject of this d — d polish, that you may demand, if you will instantly enable me to pay this scoundrel. — Most truly yours, G. B. "A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." This verms de Guiton, which was five francs a bottle, he used to have ordered for him expressly from Paris. "December, 1836. " Dear Armstrong, — Do not any more be out of temper with me. I do not deserve it from you ; I have never trespassed upon the rules of economy which you dictated to me, excepting in one instance, and that has been that d — d execrable blacking. I have now relinquished it for ever ! " You are of too good a natural disposition to be displeased with any part of my conduct in this place, during our more intimate acquaintance in this last year. So help me Heaven, I have never trespassed from the economy you dictated to me, and when I have solicited assistance from the utter want of necessaries, the request has never been solicited by my applications but from positive need. Let our good friendship remain between us as it has ever yet done, and you will never have reason to repent it. " You must not be again exasperated with me, when I make solicitations for your most friendly assistance, for you shall not have reason for it ; and at this moment, I am not ashamed to tell you can- 278 THE LIFE OF didly, that I have not two sous remaining of the twenty francs you had the goodness to send me. — Most sincerely yours, G. B. " A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." The last of these letters relates to his specula- tions in the lottery, a species of gambling, in which he frequently indulged both at Calais and Caen, and at the former place with considerable success. " Dear Armstrong, — You have hurt me more than I can express by your note to me this morning. I put down this infernal debt to the lottery-office, be- cause I would conceal nothing from you — it amounted to its present amount, from my inability to pay three original tnises, and I desisted from continuing to add to the insane obligation at the close of the last year. I am, believe me, sensibly ashamed of myself for this act of past folly ; and if you overlook it, and still promise me your services, both here and in England, I give you my sacred word of honour, I will never again commit such an extravagant and senseless error. " I will endeavour to write the instant I am re- stored to calmness, to the Duke of Devonshire, and, with your permission, 1 will send you the letter for conveyance to England. " It would afflict me to suppose that my immediate unfortunate affairs interfered with your better interests BEAU BRUMMELL. 279 in other quarters ; 1 but do not allow the precipitate anger of the moment, in regard to the past insanity of speculating in the lottery, to damp and destroy your friendly efforts to save me. Write to — Yours, " G. B. "A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." Such were the solemn assurances the Beau gave of future retrenchment ; bills for luxuries and super- fluities were, however, continually presented to Mr. Armstrong for payment ; and he was at length obliged to check this expenditure, by giving out in the town, that no such accounts would be settled by him, but such as he thought reasonable, on being submitted to his supervision. He also obliged the Beau to reduce his washing, which was an expensive item ; such cleanliness as a shirt and neckcloth every day being, in his eyes, great extravagance, when to Brummell they were indispensable. Not long after this a great change took place in his personal appearance. A lady told him, in a jocular manner, that his looks would be improved by a black cravat : he went im- mediately to his purveyor, and, having obtained his permission to purchase one, to the amazement of his friends — he had now no enemies — he appeared the next morning in the Rue St. Jean, in what had all his life been his particular aversion — a black silk handkerchief ! 1 Brummell here alludes to the Vice Consulship, which Mr. Arm- strong obtained through his interest. =8o THE LIFE OF The lady's advice, though carelessly given, was good ; for his white neckcloths, at this period, were always soiled, and covered with snuff; and it was perhaps the consciousness of the change in the appearance of his linen, that induced him to fall in with it so easily. His tie, the one, the only one, that he had clung to with affection all his life, was now dissolved ; and Brummell may be figuratively said to have expired that day — starch and cambric had become to him matter of history. I am very sorry it is not in my power to give those of his admirers who arc curious in chronology the exact date on which this startling incident took place. The decayed and diminished state of his wardrobe, that he had now no prospect of replenishing, was probably an additional reason for such a dereliction of former principles ; for, judging by the next and last note that 1 was able to collect of the unfortunate Beau's, it is very likely that his superfine cambric cravats, those that were possibly the gift of his friend King Allen, had now become mere visions of the past. " Dear Armstrong, — It is, I can assure you, with the greatest reluctance I am compelled to solicit occasional assistance from you ; but I told you the truth yesterday, when 1 n presented the abject condi- tion of my linen to you. I have not a single shirt that will hang to my back, nor are my socks and drawers in a bctt< r state. "After what you have most kindly done for me, 1 BEAU DRUMMELL. 281 cannot attribute my almost total want of the means to purchase any necessary, however trifling, to a disin- clination on your part to serve me. I would rather be d — d, than ask for anything that was not readily accorded ; and therefore I can assure you, that it is with pain I have latterly been obliged to make requests to you. After the experience I have met with in this place, I have a horror of contracting new debts ; and yet, during the last two months, I have not possessed five francs for the most indispensable purposes. I am in ignorance as to those who, through your mediation, have befriended me on the other side of the water, nor do 1 know precisely the amount of their contribu- tions ; therefore I am unable to write to them my thanks for what they have done, or to make them acquainted with my continued destitute situation ; — the belly, indeed, is filled, but the hand is empty, and the back and limbs unprovided for. " I have not heard from any one of them, excepting, as you know, from my sister ; and I could almost suppose she was laughing at me, when she says she hopes that I ' have everything comfortable about me.' Surely, my dear Armstrong, I had better immediately write to her, to Alvanley, and to others : they may imagine I am living comparatively in comfort, if not at ease, and the positive reverse is the case ; and I see it cannot last long with me. — Yours, G. B. " A Monsieur Armstrong, Rue St. Jean." 282 THE LIFE OF Brummell's necessities were partially attended to ; but his caterer's taste in habiliments docs not appear to have met with his approbation ; instead of a shawl dressing-gown, that he had applied for, suitable for winter wear, a cotton one was sent to him, of an ordinary description : — this he had no sooner unfolded, than he rushed angrily to the window, and threw it out ; and in its gyrations and fluttcrings on its way from the third story to the pavement, it as seriously alarmed the passengers and horses of the Bayeux diligence, as it had disgusted its owner up-stairs. Alter reading the preceding note, no one can suppose that Brummcll was comfortable ; certainly not accord- ing to the construction that he would put upon the word ; but his sensitiveness on such subjects was not destined to be of much longer duration. Though he could, in the winter of 1836, collect his ideas sufficiently to write a letter, or speak with point on any subject that struck him forcibly, those who knew him intimately observed that his imprisonment had shaken his intellect to an extent hitherto quite unsuspected. In speaking of that unfortunate episode in his life, he would point to his head and say that he had received a blow there from which he should never recover; and it was now evident that his mind was becoming gradually but seriously impaired. I lis memory was the first faculty that failed him ; and, in the early part of the following year, his good and mediocre stori( told over and over again to the same person : in the words of his own letter to r Beau Brummell BEAU DRUMMELL. 283 his young protegee, he became " drawling from pro- lixity." This is doubtless one of the usual infirmities of age, but of old age ; whereas Brummell was at this period only entering his sixtieth year, though he had the appearance of a man of seventy-five. His fits of absence became daily more frequent, and the remarks he would sometimes make, when in this half-conscious state, were truly ludicrous, if the term may be used under such distressing circumstances ; but it was almost impossible to suppress an occasional smile. One evening, absorbed in the contemplation of a blazing fire at the house of a friend, and sitting next to two ladies, who were carrying on a desultory con- versation near him, he heard the lady of the mansion gently chide her companion for having left her daughter by the sea-side alone, upon which he broke silence by audibly observing to himself, " there is no necessity for being alarmed ; she is too plain for anybody to dream of running off with her." As his mind became weaker, he frequently forgot to whom he was speaking. In an English family, the members of which were extremely hospitable and kind to him (not only from a humane feeling, but from his having been known to his friend when the latter was in the Guards many years before), he wandered to a degree that gave rise to a most awkward scene. One day this gentleman gave a large dinner-party, to which Brummell was invited ; and his wife, who was proud, and justly so, of her talent in storing her larder with good things, had been indefatigable in her endeavours 2S4 THE LIFE OF to make this particular entertainment pass off well. She had superintended and organised the fete ; she had, like many ladies in France, gone to market her- self and chosen her own turkey ; and lastly, she had solemnly charged her cook not to put the fish on till the company had arrived. Every wish of her guests, and every contretemps had been anticipated with truly English good-nature, and as the dinner was announced she very naturally tlattered herself that every one would find every thing more than complete ; and therefore, when she entered the dining-room, in all the confidence of presumed success, she threw a complacent and approving smile across her well-provided table. Brummcll, who led her to the scene of her triumph, sat next to her ; but he had scarcely taken his place when he commenced criticising every dish that steamed before him. " What is that ? " he inquired, pointing to one near him. " Filet saute aux champignons" replied his opposite neighbour : he tasted it, and immediately sent his plate away, murmuring " how tough ! " Another dish he condemned as cold, and a third as execrable; and looking at the bottom of the table remarked, in a loud aside, " What a half-starved turkey ! " The host looked indignant, the guests surprised, and, gentk- reader, the lady — the lady wept ! At length Brum- tnell's peevishness and grumbling subsided, and he ate — ay, he ate voraciously. The fact was the poor fellow had been all this time under L 1 1 * ■ delusion that he was at the table ahute, BEAU BRUMMELL. 285 where he never failed to find fault with everything, though, as I have before said, the fare was excellent, and where, malgre his complaints, he consumed enor- mous quantities of food. His vagaries frequently attracted the attention of every person at the public table, and brought all eyes upon him. Sometimes he would transfix a portion of fricandeau before him with his fork, and elevating the larded morsel in the air, stare wisely at it, shake his head, and exclaim, "Bah!" but in the next minute the condemned slice of calf had disappeared. It may easily be imagined that these exhibitions, though they might for a moment divert the lookers-on, were never pleasing to the landlord, who, according to the French custom, was always present to do the honours. 286 777/: LIFE OF CHAPTER XXV. Brummetts Indifference to his Personal Appearance — The State of his Wardrobe at this Period — His Whims — Method of Gratifying them — The Gibes of his Acquaintance — Lines Written on him by OH English Schoolboy — A Mystery — Brummclfs Reply to Colonel G . . . — Increasing Infirmities — His Singular Evening Parties — A Woman Hired to Attend him — Replaced by one of the Waiters of the Hotel. Brummell also became totally indifferent to his per- sonal appearance : not only were his clothes shabby and out of repair, but he was dirty. Mis tailor told me that, towards the close of his career, he had some- times observed him in the street with his coat in holes under the arms, and his trousers torn. "J'avi honte," said Monsieur . . . ., assuming a dignified air, " dc voir un hommc si eelebre ct si distingue, ct qui s'etait cree unc place dans l'histoirc, dans un ctat si malhcurcux ; and though I could not afford to give him clothes, I frequently requested him to send me his things, and mended them for nothing." On such occasions poor Brummell was under the necessity of remaining in bed till his trousers were sent home to him by the friendly tailor, for he had only one pair. The waiter who usually brushed his clothes, said that BEAU BRUMMELL. 287 he was without a second pair during the last two years and a half that he remained at the hotel, and that he had observed Brummell occupied in mending them at least a year before he became imbecile. The landlady of the hotel likewise informed me, that his linen was "en lambcanx" his boots percees. He had, indeed, passed the point at which he had been the personification of a broken-down gentleman ; his manners were, it is true, the same as ever, but he who had been the perfection of neatness and clean- liness, was now the very reverse — he was a complete sloven : in the winter, however, his old cloak, which he constantly wore, covered all his rags, and then his appearance was not so wretched. Though he had long given up his darling verm's dc Guiton, nothing could induce him to forego can de Cologne, oil for his wig, and biscuits de Rheims, for his luncheon ; and as he could not obtain credit for these coveted articles, for Mr. Armstrong declined paying for them, he used occasionally to beg them at the shops where he had formerly dealt. As long as he could get out he went to a confectioner's in front of the hotel every day at two o'clock, to eat two of his favourite biscuits, which were always flavoured with a glass of curacoa, or maraschino : for some time, they were paid for with a bow, but this polite remunera- tion did not long satisfy Monsieur Magdelaine, and Brummell, to satisfy his penchant, now a passion, was obliged to sell or pawn the few valuables he had left. 288 THE LIFE OF For this purpose, and also to procure perfumery, he disposed of a handsome gold repeater to a cer- tain English tulle manufacturer of the town ; it had originally cost eight}- guineas, and was now sold for a very small sum : who negotiated the sale, or how Brummell became acquainted with this manufacturer, no one appears to have known : he was not likely to have come personally in contact with him. Some porcelain vases, another watch, seals, and a chain, and other articles of jewellery, were parted with in like manner, and even his last silver snuff-box was pledged to Monsieur Magdelaine, to indulge his puerile passion for biscuits de Rheitns. The box was redeemed after his death by Mr. Armstrong, and is, I believe, still in his possession. It was singular, that he never would dispose of these articles of bijouterie to his equals — friends that he was daily in the habit of seeing. A gentleman once offered him a handsome sum for his ormolu greyhound, but he refused it, saying, " If you arc interested about it, pray accept it ; but I don't sell it." A few years before, he was not so scrupulous, and at a still later period he did not object to receive, nay to beg for money from his friends : one young Frenchman, of my intimatr acquaintance, assisted him with many a five-franc piece. The decay of his intellect, when it really began to fail, was rapid, and at the close of 1 837, the period to which the foregoing remarks particularly apply, poor Brummell had quite ceased to be a wit — he was only half-witted. Many of those who had previously BEAU BRUMMELL. 289 sought his society with eagerness, now studiously avoided him ; for he was, in the idiom of our language, a great bore, and the sarcasm that he once unmerci- fully dealt to others, was now levelled at himself — in utter disregard of his mental helplessness. A ci- devant French associate, who was sitting next to him at a Philharmonic concert one evening, alluding to the perpetual movement of his lower jaw, which had become habitual since the loss of his teeth, addressed him thus, " Mon cher Brummell, s'il faut absolument que vous machiez, du moins machez en mesure." At the soire"es which he occasionally attended, previously to his disappearing from society entirely, some of his acquaintance would ask him in a satirical tone, " how he got invited ? " and he was doomed to see himself the sport of an English schoolboy's pencil, whose carica- ture of him was lithographed, and distributed about the town ; the same youth also wrote the following doggerel verses, which were circulated with it : — " Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold ; My pins are weak, and I am growing old ; Around my shoulders this worn cloak I spread, With an umbrella to protect my head, Which once had wit enough to astound the world, But now, possesses nought but wig well curl'd. Alas ! alas ! while wind and rain do beat, That great Beau Brummell thus should walk the street ! " These gibes were all so many nails in his coffin, for he had still the consciousness to feel, though not the power to reply to them ; and latterly, as he crept, VOL. II. T 29° THE LIFE OF in the i V( ningSj with tottering and feeble steps, along the side of the street, supporting himself by the wall, on his way to the house of Mr. B n, the very children mocked and jeered him, so odd and deplorably forlorn was his appearance. This gentleman's door was open to him to the last, as it had been ever since Brummcll arrived in Caen ; and his absence, of an evening, though dirty, and anything but entertaining, would have made a blank in their domestic circle. " How can you admit such a driveller?" said an ill- conditioned cur to the kind-hearted lady of this hos- pitable mansion. " He is never in our way, sir," she- replied ; " and though it is true he is no longer the amusing character he used to be, I like to see him take his seat before my fire." On these occasions poor Brummcll slept soundly, and he was never disturbed till the refreshing gunpowder was poured out. An event occurred during this winter which proved that there was still, in some distant quarter, one who either took an interest in his condition, or had an unaccountable curiosity to sec the ruin before it fell. This was a lady, who arrived one cold and gloomy morning, without equipage, servant, or luggage, at the Hotel d'Anglctcrrc. The stranger was of a certain age, and plainly dressed, but her air and manners indicated that she had moved in the highest circles. Seeing this elegant apparition pass the window of his bureau, the watchful landlord went out into the yard to her rencontre, when Bhe requested BEAU BRUMMELL. 291 that he would show her to a private room. He did so, and was about to retire ; but she desired him to remain, and asked to know if Mr. Brummell was still living in his hotel. " I am most anxious to see him, sir," said the lady ; " can you put me in the way of doing so, without the chance of his seeing me ? " " Nothing can be more easy, madam," replied the landlord, somewhat surprised at such a demand : " at five o'clock Mr. Brummell invariably descends from his room to the table d'hote ; his apartment is on this very staircase, and he must pass yours ; I will, therefore, with your permission, rejoin you at that hour, and, when I hear him coming down, I will go out and meet him ; if you then station yourself at your own door, you will see him distinctly, for he always has a light in his hand." True to his appoint- ment, Monsieur Fichet met Brummell, and held him in conversation for a few minutes, on the stairs, in a convenient position for being scrutinized ; on return- ing to the incognita's room, he found her in tears and much affected, and it was some time before she could thank him for his civility — this over, she paid her reckoning, and left the same evening for Paris, by the diligence ! Who was this mysterious being ? Perhaps one of the passe'e leaders of fashion, some inexorable ci- devant Lady Patroness of Almack's, who had imposed upon herself a pilgrimage, not indeed to the shrine, but to the remnant, of that finished character who had contributed so much to the tclat of these exclu- 292 THE LIFE OF sive rdiuuons. Perhaps it was Lady Jersey, or Madame de Bagration, or perhaps a " chattc melaniorphosce en femme ; " one was as likely as the other, for the affair is involved in mystery. Two or three months after this occurrence, the shabbincss of his dress, and the otherwise neglected state of his person, daily grew worse : it was perhaps this that made him cease to pass his evenings at houses where, from humane feel- ings, he would still have been made welcome. They were now spent at some obscure cafe, near the Place Royale, where his yet taking manners enabled him to obtain, on credit, what had always been a great luxury to him, a cup of coffee — that is, a second cup : this he could not get at the Hotel, one being the allowance that was contracted for in the agreement for his board. Sometimes the old woman who kept this cafe would request him to pay his account, when Brummcll, looking out of the window, and at the sky, used to reply, " Oui, madame, a la plcine lunc, a la plcinc lune ; " and this, with one of his distinguished bows, (for the machinery was the same, though the mind was gone,) always satisfied her : — her bill, which was paid at his death, amounted to sixty francs. A few months after this, his memory was so defective that he