The Beau's Persiflage

209

him in a room of which one side was lined with canisters of tea, Congou, Pekoe, Souchong, Bohea, Gunpowder, Russian, and many others; while on the other side of the room were beautiful jars, painted with names in gilt, all filled with snuff, there being so much of it that on the Earl's death it took three days to sell it by auction, when it realised £3,000.

Brummell one day complained wistfully that his blacking ruined him, as it was made of the finest champagne, a jest which many have taken seriously and exclaimed upon in horror. There is a story that a friend having died, Brummell, thinking of his highly polished boots, hurried to the valet, hoping to secure him. But when the man gave the information that: "The Colonel paid me £150 a year, and I should now require £200," the Beau made him a bow saying, "Well, if you will make it two hundred guineas I shall be happy to attend upon you!"

Brummell's elder brother William was a very handsome man, and one morning a clubman approaching Brummell, said: "Do you know your brother is in town? isn't he coming here?"

"Yes, in a day or two," replied Brummell softly; "but I thought he had better walk the back streets till his new clothes came home."

When we remember that the Prince spent many thousands a year in dress, it is difficult to say what his friend's idea of fitness might be in this matter; but it could only have been raillery which made the Beau reply to a question of dress expense, asked him by an anxious mother who was just launching her son into the world, "Well, I think, that with a moderate degree of prudence and economy, it might be managed for £800 a year!

""

Brummell's affectation of superiority is amusingly shown by his criticism upon an action during war. When

the British Army retreated from Burgos Colonel Freemantle was sent forward to find quarters for Lord Wellington and his staff. After many miles of desolate country had been passed, only a hut could be discovered, so in this a good fire was lit and preparations made. Freemantle went back to communicate with his lordship, and on his return found an officer of the line had made himself comfortable before the fire. Being asked to retire as the hut was for the service of the Commander of the Forces, the officer retorted that he would give it up neither to Lord Wellington nor to Old Nick himself. "Then I must send for the provost-marshall, whose prisoner you will be until court-martialled for disobedience," was the reply. Whereupon the officer retired. Freemantle, meeting Brummell at White's, told of this incident, and the Beau exclaimed: "If I had been in your place, Freemantle, I should have rung the bell, and desired the servants to kick the fellow downstairs."

CHAPTER XIII

"Do you see that gentleman near the door?" said an experienced chaperon to her daughter, whom she had brought for the first time into the arena of Almack's; "he is now speaking to Lord "

"Yes, I see him,” replied the light-hearted and as yet unsophisticated girl; "who is he?"

"A person, my dear, who will probably come and speak to us; and if he enters into conversation, be careful to give him a favourable impression of you, for," and she sunk her voice to a whisper, "he is the celebrated Mr. Brummell." JESSE: Life of Brummell.

IN

entrance.

N 1811, during some structural alterations at White's, the famous Bow Window was built out over the No sooner was the last workman out of the place than Brummell took possession of the window; there he and his set constituted themselves the high priests of fashion, and the "Bow Window" became an institution in fashionable life. Only those who formed the inner circle of the club ever sat there, and an ordinary frequenter of White's would as soon have reposed on the throne in the House of Lords as have taken a place in the Bow Window. Every one in it was very apparent to passers-by, and it became a serious question whether salutations should or should not pass. After grave discussion it was decided that no greeting should be given from any window in the club to those in the street. A rule not always strictly adhered to, for we are told that on the arrival of the Queen in London on June 7th, 1820, as she drove down St. James's past White's, she bowed and smiled to the men who were in the window.

In the Bow Window many a scandal had its origin, and much criticism was levelled at the fashion of London. Luttrell, in his "Advice to Julia," published in 1820, describing town in August, shows something of what went on there usually.

"Shot from yon heavenly bow at White's,
No critic arrow now alights

On some unconscious passer-by
Whose cape's an inch too low or high,
Whose doctrines are unsound in hat,
In boots or trousers or cravat;

On him who braves the shame and guilt
Of gig or Tilbury ill-built,

Sports a barouche with panels darker
Than the last shade turned out by Barker,
Or canters with an awkward seat
And badly mounted up the street.
No laugh confounds the luckless girl
Whose stubborn hair disdains to curl,
Who, large in foot, or long in waist,
Shows want of blood as well as taste.
Silenced awhile that dreadful battery,
Whence never issued sound of flattery;
That whole artillery of jokes,

Levelled point-blank at humdrum folks,
Who now, no longer kept in awe,

By Fashion's judges or her law,

Close by the window, at their ease,

Strut with what looks or clothes they please."

A certain Colonel of the Guards named Sebright, who was extremely conservative in dress, and to the day of his death wore the old corduroy knee-breeches and top-boots, had an angry contempt for the Dandies. From the windows of the Guards' Club he would watch White's, which was opposite, and abuse them, especially Brummell and Alvanley, saying: "Damn those fellows; they are upstarts, and fit only for the society of tailors."

The Bow Window at White's

213

Once he dined with Colonel Archibald Macdonald when Brummell, Alvanley, and Pierrepoint were also of the party. Though the three knew how much the Colonel disliked them they each asked him to take wine with him. And to each invitation he replied gruffly: "Thank you; I have already had enough of this horrid stuff and cannot drink more.'

William, second Lord Alvanley, who joined the club in 1805, was one of Brummell's greatest friends. He was the son of a most irascible barrister named William Pepper Arden. A Frenchman, who heard Arden pleading, was told that his name was "le Chevalier Poivre Ardent."

"Parbleu, il est bien nommé," he replied.

Alvanley succeeded Brummell in the Prince's favour, and was thought by Gronow to be the greatest wit of the early part of the century. Gunter, the noted confectioner who first made ice-cream in England, and who of course amassed enough money to live as well as any of his aristocratic customers, was once riding a very restive horse which showed signs of bolting. "He is so hot, my lord, I can't hold him," he said to Alvanley.

"I-ice him, Gunter, i-ice him!" lisped Alvanley, who had a slight fault in his speech.

Another habitué of the bow-window was Viscount Allen, named from his elegance and important manner "King Allen," to whom is attributed the remark that "the English could make nothing well but a kitchen poker."

Lord Yarmouth, the original of Disrael's Lord Monmouth in "Coningsby," was another occupant of the Bow Window. He has generally been said to have been pictured as the Marquess of Steyne by Thackeray; if so, Thackeray must have drawn the man as he was in