f more various, more constant, or more
distracting excitement than that in which the Duke of St. James was now
engaged. His life was an ocean of enjoyment, and each hour, like each
wave, threw up its pearl. How dull was the ball in which he did not
bound! How dim the banquet in which he did not glitter! His presence in
the Gardens compensated for the want of flowers; his vision in the Park
for the want of sun. In public breakfasts he was more indispensable
than pine-apples; in private concerts more noticed than an absent
prima donna. How fair was the dame on whom he smiled! How dark was the
tradesman on whom he frowned! Think only of prime ministers and princes,
to say nothing of princesses; nay! think only of managers of operas
and French actors, to say nothing of French actresses; think only of
jewellers, milliners, artists, horse-dealers, all the shoals who hurried
for his sanction; think only of the two or three thousand civilised
beings for whom all this population breathed, and who each of them had
claims upon our hero's notice! Think of the statesmen, who had so much
to ask and so much to give; the dandies to feed with and to be fed; the
dangerous dowagers and the desperate mothers; the widows, wild as early
partridges; the budding virgins, mild as a summer cloud and soft as an
opera hat! Think of the drony bores, with their dull hum; think of
the chivalric guardsmen, with their horses to sell and their bills to
discount; think of Willis, think of Crockford, think of White's, think
of Brooks', and you may form a faint idea how the young Duke had to
talk, and eat, and flirt, and cut, and pet, and patronise!

You think it impossible for one man to do all this. There is yet much
behind. You may add to the catalogue Melton and Newmarket; and if to
hunt without an appetite and to bet without an object will not sicken
you, why, build a yacht!

The Duke of St. James gave his first grand entertainment for the season.
It was like the assembly of the immortals at the first levee of Jove.
All hurried to pay their devoirs to the young king of fashion; and each
who succeeded in becoming a member of the Court felt as proud as a
peer with a new title, or a baronet with an old one. An air of
regal splendour, an almost imperial assumption, was observed in the
arrangements of the fete. A troop of servants in rich liveries filled
the hall; grooms lined the staircase; Spiridion, the Greek page, lounged
on an ottoman in an ante-cham