fury of gambling, so common in England, is
undoubtedly a daughter of this speculative genius. The _Greeks_ of Great
Britain are, however, much inferior to those of France in cunning
and industry. A certain Frenchman who assumed in London the title and
manners of a baron, has been known to surpass all the most dexterous
rogues of the three kingdoms in the art of robbing. His aide-de-camp was
a kind of German captain, or rather _chevalier d'industrie_, a person
who had acted the double character of a French spy and an English
officer at the same time. Their tactics being at length discovered, the
baron was obliged to quit the country; and he is said to have afterwards
entered the monastery of La Trappe,' where doubtless, in the severe and
gloomy religious practices of that terrible penitentiary, he atoned for
his past enormities.

(68) 'Refexions sur l'Homme.'

'Till near the commencement of the present century the favourite game
was Faro, and as it was a decided advantage to hold the Bank, masters
and mistresses, less scrupulous than Wilberforce, frequently volunteered
to fleece and amuse the company. But scandal having made busy with the
names of some of them, it became usual to hire a professed gamester at
five or ten guineas a night, to set up a table for the evening, just as
any operatic professional might now-a-days be hired for a concert, or a
band-master for a ball.

'Faro gradually dropped out of fashion; Macao took its place; Hazard was
never wanting; and Whist began to be played for stakes which would have
satisfied Fox himself, who, though it was calculated that he might have
netted four or five thousand a year by games of skill, complained that
they afforded no excitement.

'Wattier's Club, in Piccadilly, was the resort of the Macao players. It
was kept by an old _maitre d'hotel_ of George IV., a character in
his way, who took a just pride in the cookery and wines of his
establishment.

'All the brilliant stars of fashion (and fashion was power then)
frequented Wattier's, with Beau Brummell for their sun. 'Poor Brummell,
dead, in misery and idiotcy, at Caen! and I remember him in all his
glory, cutting his jokes after the opera, at White's, in a black velvet
great-coat, and a cocked hat on his well-powdered head.

'Nearly the same turn of reflection is suggested as we run over the
names of his associates. Almost all of them were ruined--three out
of four irretrievably. Indeed, it was the forced exp