Sir Lumley Skeffington, of Skeffington Hall, Leicestershire, was a celebrated votary of fashion. Descended from "Awly O'Farrell, King of Conereene," and from innumerable Kings and Princes of Ireland, his ancient lineage, as well as his pronounced dandyism, gave him a claim upon the attentions of society, which was further augmented by his literary pretensions. Nevertheless, he subsequently experienced a reverse of fortune, typical of the days in which he lived; and of his rise and fall John Stanhope gives a brief account. "Poor Skeffington," he relates, "was the Dandy of the day, _par excellence_. Remarkable for his ugliness, his dress was so exaggerated as to render his lack of beauty the more marked. He was a very good-natured man, and had nothing of the impertinence of manner of the fops who succeeded him. Moreover, he was a _bel-esprit_, writing epilogues and prologues, and was at one time the observed of all observers. I have seen him at an assembly literally surrounded by a group of admiring ladies." Skeffington, in short, in 1805, wrote a play entitled "The Sleeping Beauty," which, produced at great expense at Drury Lane, gained for him much fame among his contemporaries and caused him for a time to be looked upon as a lion in the fashionable world. Enjoying to the full his reputation as a literary celebrity, he elected to ape certain mannerisms and eccentricities which he considered in keeping with this character. "He," Gronow mentions, "used to paint his face like a French toy. He dressed _à la Robespierre_ and practised other follies, although the consummate old fop was a man of literary attainments, remarkable for his politeness and courtly manners, in fact, he was invited everywhere. You always knew of his approach by an _avant courier_ (sic) of sweet smells, and as he advanced a little nearer, you might suppose yourself in the atmosphere of a barber's shop." Skeffington, after the publication of his play, was known by the nickname of "The Sleeping Beauty," and a representation of him in that role John Stanhope describes as "the best caricature I ever saw." Tall, thin, and a complete slave to his toilet, Sir Lumley not only indulged in an abnormal use of perfumes and cosmetics, but was incessantly to be seen combing his scented tresses by the aid of a hand mirror, till it was suggested that one of his Royal ancestors must have formed a _mésalliance_ with the mermaid who most appropriately figured in his armorial bearings, similarly employed. The extreme slimness of his figure was accentuated by a coat which he made as famous as Lord Petersham did the garment called after his name; and Byron added to the fame of the beau by mentioning him in the satire "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers":--