The daily morning journal and courier., 1899-06-02
COUNT D'oRsAY.
The Viclssitudes of Famous Dandy of
 the Fortes.

Iell them as sheep without ShephGfd
 They had even cried out against the in.
 escrutable decree of fashion and cur
 tailed the height of their stocks. And
 10! here, ambling down the Mall witt
 tasselled cane, laughing in the window
 at Whites, or in Pops Alley posturing
 here with the devil in his eyes and al
 the graces at his elbow was d Orsay, tht
 prince paramount, who should domi.
 nate London and should guard life from
 monotony by the daring of his whims.
 First at Seamore Place, then at Gore
 House-once the residence of William
 Wilberforce of pious memory-Lady
 Blessington and her friend electrified
 society. Jekyl describes their dwelling
 as "a bijou, or, as Sir w. Curtis lady
 said. a perfect bouge" Thither hast
 ened the elite of England. In the recep-
 tion-rooms, with their frescoed ceilings
 their chandeliers of crystal and silver,
 their Oriental embroideries, their price
 less pictures, Wings for a while forgot | their hatred of Tories, men of letters
 rubbed shoulders with the clubites and
 the bucks. Lord Chesterfield was there,
 who passed his life in imitation of Count | dOrsay. Every day the circle
 
 common meeting ground for all who
 were distinguished, talented or witty. Side by side were to be seen a German highness a Russian prince, a French marquis, an Italian duke And, ob-
 served of all observers, on an ottoman
 in a studied attitude of negligence, the
 central figure of brilliant throng, with
 a nod and mot for every one who passed
 lounged the hero of the moment. Alfred
 dOrsay, "very splendid, but undefnable. He seemed showily dressed till you | looked to particulars, and then it seemed
 only a simple thing fitted to very mag l nifcent person."
 One afternoon he strolled into the stu dio of a brother painter-Haydon; white | great coat, blue satin cravat, hair oiled | and curling, daintly curved hat, gloves | primsose in tint, skinlike in tightness, | smelling fragrantly of eau de jasmin. | With gracious condescension in this pride of dandysm he caught up a mas ty dirty hogtool' and immortalized a portrait of the great dukes charger, Go penhagen, by deftly altering the sky. "A complete young Adonis," Haydon calls him, mot made up at all. He bounced into his cab and drove off like a young Apollo with fiery Pegasus.' This was in 1S39 Ten years later ce jeune cupidon was fleeing from the country in the dead of night, taking with him one valet and but one portmanteau Gore House was occupied by bailiffs, Jews and brokers: its entrance was as the entrance to fair Phillips. the auc- toneer. sat in the drawing room; deal CTS and sightseers thronged the mag nifcent apartments.
 The tragedy of the finale was inevita- ble. An income of two thousand pounds year aided by the sums which d'Orsay contrived to borrow upon the security of the estates in Dubln-all this was but a single raindrop in the sea of debt which soon encompassed them. Many and various were the expedients to which the beau and his fair friend re- sorted in the attempt to keep their cred itors at bay. By writing and by painting they deferred the end. To Lady Blessington are due those erst while famous novels of high life: "The | Follies of Fashion; or, the Beau Monde 1 of London" "The Victims of Society" "The Belle of the Season" and "Grace l Cassidy" From her originating spirit sprang the well-known Books of Beau ! ty, charming of their kind, which for | many years remained in vogue On this side q Orsay early turned his talents to account, and his studio became the fashionable lounge His portraits, one hundred and twenty-five in number, | were published by Mitchell of Bond | street and include almost every one of | note; Carlyle, Disraeli, Countess Gucci- oli, Landor, Dickens, Theodore Hook, Napoleon III, Monckton Mines, Land seer, Marryat and Eugene Sue. "At | last" exclaimed the Iron Duke, 'I have | been painted like gentleman I'll nev- CT sit to any one else"
 There still exists a curious series of letters which throws some light upon Count d'Orsay's methods at this time. . For a long time the tradesmen with whom he dealt rsfrained from send | ing him their bills, lest he might with draw his patronage and lose them other custom. In this connection it is said that his tailors, before delivering his clothes, were accustomed to slip roll of bank-note into the pockets. Once for some reason this pleasant practice was omitted. D'Orsay returned the gar UltlllS lp llle InHheTS WllIl d pbllltiy worded note: "The lining has been for gotten. Please to rectify the error.' By such strange makeshifts did the beau succeed In keeping his head above water.
 Yet his popularity never for one mo- ment waned. Albany F'onblanque has left on record that "he could be wittier with kindness than the rest of the world with malice' and his generosity was proverbial Were a friend in distress he would scrape together fifty pounds, stake the whole with unruffled ease upon a single coup at Crockford's. and, as Disrael puts it, Mon ami, best joke in the world I broke Crooks bank three times. Of course, told you so. Direct ly am awake I will send you the three and I will lend you the rest until your marriage" This was the of the man; he could never be but popular. The leader of the they copied the cut of his coat the style of his cravats, the fashion of his canes, while bootmakers, tailors and glovers dubbed their wares with his name and insured ready sale. The scandal of his connection with the noble hostess of Gore House gave him "a cer- tain piquant interest" and the ladies, who would have perished rather than be seen with Lady Blessingto ton, almost fought with one another in the desire to secure his company. we send back our