aim of their existence. Yet it is doubtful whether posterity remembers
them less faithfully. Side by side with the great names of their century
there has come down to us the record of these apparently impudent
pretenders to fame, and it is questionable whether a Nash, a Brummell, or
a D'Orsay are less familiar to the present generation than those whose
claim to the recognition of posterity was not so ephemeral.

Thus, while the circle of acquaintance with which the lives of Stanhope
and his family at this date mingled serves to throw into sharper relief
his own divergence of character from that of many of his contemporaries--
those men who to great abilities, and sometimes to great achievement,
joined the pettiness of a fop and the follies of a mountebank--still more
did the typical man-about-town, with his whims and his foibles, his
shallow aims and his lost opportunities, compare strangely with the larger
souls of his generation. For the moment was one which called forth the
greatness or the littleness of those who met it, and which heightened that
contrast of contemporary lives.

With the coming of the nineteenth century the political outlook for
England had waxed grave. The air was full of wars and rumours of wars.
Napoleon, the mighty scourge of the civilised world, was minded to
accomplish the downfall of the one Power which still defied his strength.
"The channel is but a ditch," he boasted, "and anyone can cross it who has
but the courage to try." Boats were in readiness at Boulogne and at most
of the French ports, fitted up for the attempt, while the Conqueror of
Europe dallied only for the psychological moment to put his project into
execution. With bated breath Europe awaited the possible demolition of the
sole barrier which yet lay between the Tyrant and universal monarchy,
while upon the other side of the "ditch" the little Island expected his
arrival in a condition of prolonged tension and stubborn courage. At any