lost his figure and had to
flee the country, even to that distant day when he died, a broken exile,
in the arms of two religieuses. At Eton, no boy was so successful as
he in avoiding that strict alternative of study and athletics which
we force upon our youth. He once terrified a master, named Parker,
by asserting that he thought cricket 'foolish.' Another time, after
listening to a reprimand from the headmaster, he twitted that learned
man with the asymmetry of his neckcloth. Even in Oriel he could see
little charm, and was glad to leave it, at the end of his first year,
for a commission in the Tenth Hussars. Crack though the regiment
was--indeed, all the commissions were granted by the Regent
himself--young Mr. Brummell could not bear to see all his
brother-officers in clothes exactly like his own; was quite as deeply
annoyed as would be some god, suddenly entering a restaurant of many
mirrors. One day, he rode upon parade in a pale blue tunic, with
silver epaulettes. The Colonel, apologising for the narrow system which
compelled him to so painful a duty, asked him to leave the parade. The
Beau saluted, trotted back to quarters and, that afternoon, sent in his
papers. Henceforth he lived freely as a fop, in his maturity, should.

His debut in the town was brilliant and delightful. Tales of his
elegance had won for him there a precedent fame. He was reputed rich.
It was known that the Regent desired his acquaintance. And thus, Fortune
speeding the wheels of his cabriolet and Fashion running to meet him
with smiles and roses in St. James's, he might well, had he been worldly
or a weakling, have yielded his soul to the polite follies. But he
passed them by. Once he was settled in his suite, he never really
strayed from his toilet-table, save for a few brief hours. Thrice every
day of the year did he dress, and three hours were the average of his
every toilet, and other hours were spent in council with the cutter of
his coats or with the custodian of his wardrobe. A single, devoted life!
To Whites, to routs, to races, he went, it is true, not reluctantly. He
was known to have played battledore and shuttlecock in a moonlit garden
with Mr. Previte and some other gentlemen. His elopement with a young
Countess from a ball at Lady Jersey's was quite notorious. It was even
whispered that he once, in the company of some friends, made as though
he would wrench the knocker off the door of some shop. But these things
he did, not,