'Brummel was addicted to practical jokes, one of which may be
related.
'The victim was an old French emigrant, whom he had met on a visit
to Woburn or Chatsworth, and into whose hair-pouch he managed to
introduce some finely-powdered sugar.
'Next morning the poor Marquis, quite unconscious of his head being
so well-sweetened, joined the breakfast-table as usual; but scarcely
had he made his bow and plunged his knife into the Perigord pie
before him, than the flies began to desert the walls and windows to
settle upon his head.
'The weather was exceedingly hot; the flies of course numerous, and
even the honeycomb and marmalade upon the table seemed to have lost
all attraction for them. The Marquis relinquished his knife and fork
to drive off the enemy with his handkerchief. But scarcely had he
attempted to renew his acquaintance with the Perigord pie, than back
the whole swarm came, more teazingly than ever. Not a wing was
missing. More of the company who were not in the secret, could not
help wondering at this phenomenon, as the buzzing grew louder and
louder every moment.
'Matters grew still worse when the sugar, melting, poured down the
Frenchman's brow and face in thick streams; for his tormentors then
changed their ground of action, and having thus found a more
vulnerable part, nearly drove him mad with their stings.
'Unable to bear it any longer, he clasped his head with both hands,
and rushed out of the room in a cloud of powder, followed by his
persevering tormentors, and the laughter of the company.'