THE BELVOIR CIRCLE 



For Brummell the fates had, as we know, a dire ending in 

 store, and in poverty and squalor he closed a career which had 

 been almost without a redeeming feature. George Brummell 

 was a man who had considerable influence, and invariably 

 used it badly. He never had a friend he did not betray or 

 deceive. A consummate actor, he played the part of walking 

 gentleman on the stage of life, but it was only an assumed 

 character, and he did not redeem the humbleness of his 

 origin by any of the instincts or virtues of gentlehood. He 

 had neither heart, courage, nor honour, and his career was 

 foreshadowed in that early incident of his life when, as a 

 child, he shed bitter tears because he could eat no more 

 damson tart. His own stomach was the only thing on earth 

 the sorrows of which could move him to tears. I have placed 

 Brummell first in the role of names because he was the 

 ruling spirit of his time. Another character who lent dis- 

 tinction to the Belvoir winter gatherings was the Prince of 

 Wales, " the first gentleman in Europe " as he loved to be 

 called, and who by his bad early training and continual self- 

 indulgence had obscured whatever good impulses — and we 

 have the Duke of Wellington's authority that there were 

 some — originally existed in his character. As a sportsman^ 

 however, he stood higher than Brummell, inasmuch as he 

 undoubtedly really loved hunting, though he was too lapped 

 in self-indulgence to undergo the fatigues and hardships of 

 the chase. Moreover, like Brummell, he was doubtless a 

 pleasant and gracious guest to those who looked at him per- 

 force only from the point of view of contemporaries. It is 

 important, when considering any character of the past, that 

 while we cannot help being conscious of the judgment of 

 posterity, we should not read this into the minds of those 

 who were living in such different social surroundings. Death 

 strips not only the body of its beauty, but the soul of its dis- 

 guises, and reputations, vigorous in their own time, crumble 

 into dust with the bones of the men and women who bore 

 them. At Belvoir the Prince was a sportsman and a con- 

 vivial companion. His name, indeed, does not remain in the 

 truthful records of the hunt surrounded by the same glory 



113 I 



