Perhaps he was too much of a woman to care much for women. He was
certainly egregiously effeminate. About the only creatures he could love
were poodles. When one of his dogs, from over-feeding, was taken ill, he
sent for two dog-doctors, and consulted very gravely with them on the
remedies to be applied. The canine physicians came to the conclusion
that she must be bled. 'Bled!' said Brummell, in horror; 'I shall leave
the room: inform me when the operation is over.' When the dog died, he
shed tears--probably the only ones he had shed since childhood: and
though at that time receiving money from many an old friend in England,
complained, with touching melancholy, 'that he had lost the only friend
he had!' His grief lasted three whole days, during which he shut himself
up, and would see no one; but we are not told that he ever thus mourned
over any human being.

His effeminacy was also shown in his dislike to field-sports. His
shooting exploits were confined to the murder of a pair of pet pigeons
perched on a roof, while he confessed, as regards hunting, that it was a
bore to get up so early in the morning only to have one's boots and
leathers splashed by galloping farmers. However, hunting was a fashion,
and Brummell must needs appear to hunt. He therefore kept a stud of
hunters in his better days, near Belvoir, the Duke of Rutland's, where
he was a frequent visitor, and if there was a near meet, would ride out
in pink and tops to see the hounds break cover, follow through a few
gates, and return to the more congenial atmosphere of the drawing-room.
He, however, condescended to bring his taste to bear on the
hunting-dress; and, it is said, introduced white tops instead of the
ancient mahoganies. That he _could_ ride there seems reason to believe,
but it is equally probable that he was afraid to do so. His valour was
certainly composed almost entirely of its 'better part,' and indeed had