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A Walker ſculp

Richard Nash Esqr.
F [...]om an Original painted by Mr. Hoare, and presented to the Corporation of the City of Bath.
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THE LIFE OF RICHARD NASH, Of BATH, Eſq Extracted principally from His ORIGINAL PAPERS.

—Non ego paucis
Offendar Maculis.—
HOR.

LONDON: Printed for J. NEWBERY, in St. Paul's Church-yard; and W. FREDERICK, at Bath.

MDCCLXII.

PREFACE.

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THE following memoir is neither calculated to enflame the reader's paſſions with deſcriptions of gallantry, nor to gratify his malevolence with details of ſcandal. The amours of coxcombs, and the purſuits of debauchees, are as deſtitute of novelty to attract us as they are of variety to entertain, they ſtill preſent us but the ſame picture, a picture we have ſeen a thouſand times repeated. The life of Mr. Naſh is incapable of ſupplying any entertainment of this nature to a prurient curioſity. Tho' it was paſt in the very midſt of debauchery, he practiſed but few of thoſe vices he was often obliged to [ii] aſſent to. Tho' he lived where gallantry was the capital purſuit, he was never known to favour it by his example, and what authority he had was ſet to oppoſe it. Inſtead therefore of a romantic hiſtory filled with warm pictures and fanciful adventures, the reader of the following account muſt reſt ſatisfied with a genuine and candid recital compiled from the papers he left behind, and others equally authentic; a recital neither written with a ſpirit of ſatire nor panegyric, and with ſcarce any other art, than that of arranging the materials in their natural order.

But tho' little art has been uſed, it is hoped that ſome entertainment may be collected from the life of a perſon ſo much talked of, and yet ſo little [iii] known as Mr. Naſh. The hiſtory of a man, who for more than fifty years preſided over the pleaſures of a polite kingdom, and whoſe life, tho' without any thing to ſurpriſe, was ever marked with ſingularity, deſerves the attention of the preſent age; the pains he took in purſuing pleaſure, and the ſolemnity he aſſumed in adjuſting trifles, may one day claim the ſmile of poſterity. At leaſt ſuch an hiſtory is well enough calculated to ſupply a vacant hour with innocent amuſement, however it may fail to open the heart, or improve the underſtanding.

Yet his life, how trifling ſoever it may appear to the inattentive, was not without its real advantages to the public. He was the firſt who diffuſed a deſire of ſociety, and an eaſineſs [iv] of addreſs among a whole people who were formerly cenſured by foreigners for a reſervedneſs of behaviour, and an aukward timidity in their firſt approaches. He firſt taught a familiar intercourſe among ſtrangers at Bath and Tunbridge, which ſtill ſubſiſts among them. That eaſe and open accceſs firſt acquired there, our gentry brought back to the metropolis, and thus the whole kingdom by degrees became more refined by leſſons originally derived from him.

Had it been my deſign to have made this hiſtory more pleaſing at the expence of truth, it had been eaſily performed, but I choſe to deſcribe the man as he was, not ſuch as imagination could have helped [v] in compleating his picture; he will be found to be a weak man, governing weaker ſubjects, and may be conſidered as reſembling a monarch of Cappadocia, whom Cicero ſomewhere calls, the little king of a little people.

But while I have been careful in deſcribing the monarch, his dominions have claimed no ſmall ſhare of my attention; I have given an exact account of the riſe, regulation, and nature of the amuſements of the city of Bath, how far Mr. Naſh contributed to eſtabliſh and refine them, and what pleaſure a ſtranger may expect there upon his arrival. Such anecdotes as are at once true and worth preſerving are produced in their order, and ſome ſtories are added, [vi] which, tho' commonly known, more neceſſarily belong to this hiſtory, than to the places from whence they have been extracted. But it is needleſs to point out the pains that have been taken, or the entertainment that may be expected from the peruſal of this performance. It is but an indifferent way to gain the reader's eſteem, to be my own panegyriſt, nor is this preface ſo much deſigned to lead him to beauties, as to demand pardon for defects.

THE LIFE OF RICHARD NASH, Eſq

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HISTORY owes its excellence more to the writer's manner than the materials of which it is compoſed. The intrigues of courts, or the devaſtation of armies are regarded by the remote ſpectator with as little attention as the ſquabbles of a village, or the fate of a malefactor, that fall under his own obſervation. The great and the little, as they have the ſame ſenſes, and [2] the ſame affections, generally preſent the ſame picture to the hand of the draughtſman; and whether the heroe or the clown be the ſubject of the memoir, it is only man that appears with all his native minuteneſs about him, for nothing very great was ever yet formed from the little materials of humanity.

Thus none can properly be ſaid to write hiſtory, but he who underſtands the human heart, and its whole train of affections and follies. Thoſe affections and follies are properly the materials he has to work upon. The relations of great events may ſurprize indeed; they may be calculated to inſtruct thoſe very few, who govern the million beneath, but the generality of mankind find the moſt real improvement from relations which are levelled to the general ſurface of life; which tell, not how men learned to conquer, but how they endeavoured to live; not how they gained the ſhout of the admiring croud, but how they acquired [3] the eſteem of their friends and acquaintance.

Every man's own life would perhaps furniſh the moſt pleaſing materials for hiſtory, if he only had candour enough to be ſincere, and ſkill enough to ſelect ſuch parts as once making him more prudent, might ſerve to render his readers more cautious. There are few who do not prefer a page of Montaigne or Colley Cibber, who candidly tells us what they thought of the world, and the world thought of them, to the more ſtately memoirs and tranſactions of Europe, where we ſee Kings pretending to immortality, that are now almoſt forgotten, and ſtateſmen planning frivolous negociations, that ſcarce outlive the ſigning.

It were to be wiſhed that miniſters and Kings were left to write their own hiſtories; they are truly uſeful to few but themſelves; but for men who are contented with more humble ſtations, I fancy ſuch truths only are ſerviceable as may conduct [4] them ſafely through life. That knowledge which we can turn to our real benefit ſhould be moſt eagerly purſued. Treaſures which we cannot uſe but little encreaſe the happineſs or even the pride of the poſſeſſor.

I profeſs to write the hiſtory of a man placed in the middle ranks of life; of one, whoſe vices and virtues were open to the eye of the moſt undiſcerning ſpectator, who was placed in public view without power to repreſs cenſure, or command adulation, who had too much merit not to become remarkable, yet too much folly to arrive at greatneſs. I attempt the character of one, who was juſt ſuch a man as probably you or I may be, but with this difference, that he never performed an action which the world did not know, or ever formed a wiſh which he did not take pains to divulge. In ſhort I have choſen to write the life of the noted Mr. Naſh, as it will be the delineation of a mind without diſguiſe, of a man ever aſſiduous without induſtry, and pleaſing [5] to his ſuperiors without any ſuperiority of genius or underſtanding.

Yet if there be any who think the ſubject of too little importance to command attention, and had rather gaze at the actions of the great, than be directed in guiding their own, I have one undeniable claim to their attention. Mr. Naſh was himſelf a King. In this particular, perhaps no Biographer has been ſo happy as I. They who are for a delineation of men and manners may find ſome ſatisfaction that way, and thoſe who delight in adventures of Kings and Queens, may perhaps find their hopes ſatisfied in another.

It is a matter of very little importance who were the parents, or what was the education of a man who owed ſo little of his advancement to either. He ſeldom boaſted of family or learning, and his father's name and circumſtances were ſo little known, that Doctor Cheyne uſed frequently to affirm that Naſh had no father. The [6] Dutcheſs of Marlborough one day rallying him in public company upon the obſcurity of his birth, compared him to Gil-Blas, who was aſhamed of his father: No, Madam, replied Naſh, I ſeldom mention my father in company, not becauſe I have any reaſon to be aſhamed of him; but becauſe he has ſome reaſon to be aſhamed of me.

However, though ſuch anecdotes be immaterial, to go on in the uſual courſe of hiſtory, it may be proper to obſerve that Richard Naſh Eſq; the ſubject of this memoir, was born in the town of Swan-ſea, in Glamorganſhire, on the 18th of October, in the year 1674. His father was a gentleman, whoſe principal income aroſe from a partnerſhip in a glaſs-houſe; his mother was niece to Colonel Poyer, who was killed by Oliver Cromwell, for defending Pembroke caſtle againſt the rebels. He was educated under Mr. Maddocks at Carmarthan ſchool, and from thence ſent to Jeſus college, in Oxford, in order to prepare him for the ſtudy [7] of the law. His father had ſtrained his little income to give his ſon ſuch an education, but from the boy's natural vivacity, he hoped a recompence from his future preferment. In college, however, he ſoon ſhewed that though much might be expected from his genius, nothing could be hoped from his induſtry. A mind ſtrongly turned to pleaſure, always is firſt ſeen at the univerſity, there the youth firſt finds himſelf freed from the reſtraint of tutors, and being treated by his friends in ſome meaſure as a man, aſſumes the paſſions and deſires of riper age, and diſcovers in the boy, what are likely to be the affections of his maturity.

The firſt method Mr. Naſh took to diſtinguiſh himſelf at college was not by application to ſtudy, but by his aſſiduity in intrigue. In the neighbourhood of every univerſity there are girls who with ſome beauty, ſome coquettry, and little fortune, lie upon the watch for every raw amorous youth, more inclined to make love than [8] to ſtudy. Our Heroe was quickly caught, and went through all the mazes and adventures of a college intrigue, before he was ſeventeen; he offered marriage, the offer was accepted, but the whole affair coming to the knowledge of his tutors, his happineſs, or perhaps his future miſery, was prevented, and he was ſent home from college, with neceſſary advice to him, and proper inſtructions to his father.

When a man knows his power over the fair ſex, he generally commences their admirer for the reſt of life. That triumph which he obtains over one, only makes him the ſlave of another, and thus he proceeds conquering and conquered, to the cloſing of the ſcene. The army ſeemed the moſt likely profeſſion in which to diſplay this inclination for gallantry; he therefore purchaſed a pair of colours, commenced a profeſſed admirer of the ſex, and dreſſed to the very edge of his finances. But the life of a ſoldier is more pleaſing to the ſpectator at a diſtance than to the perſon who makes the experiment. [9] Mr. Naſh ſoon found that a red coat alone would never ſucceed, that the company of the fair ſex is not to be procured without expence, and that his ſcanty commiſſion could never procure him the proper reimburſements. He found too that the profeſſion of arms required attendance and duty, and often encroached upon thoſe hours he could have wiſhed to dedicate to ſofter purpoſes. In ſhort, he ſoon became diſguſted with the life of a ſoldier, quitted the army, entered his name as a ſtudent in the temple books, and here went to the very ſummit of ſecond-rate luxury. Though very poor he was very fine; he ſpread the little gold he had, in the moſt oſtentatious manner, and though the gilding was but thin, he laid it on as far as it would go. They who know the town, cannot be unacquainted with ſuch a character as I deſcribe; one, who though he may have dined in private upon a banquet ſerved cold from a cook's ſhop, ſhall dreſs at ſix for the ſide box; one of thoſe, whoſe wants are only known to their laundreſs, and tradeſmen, and their fine [10] cloaths to half the nobility; who ſpend more in chair hire, than houſekeeping; and prefer a bow from a Lord, to a dinner from a Commoner.

In this manner Mr. Naſh ſpent ſome years about town, till at laſt his genteel appearance, his conſtant civility, and ſtill more, his aſſiduity, gained him the acquaintance of ſeveral perſons qualified to lead the faſhion both by birth and fortune. To gain the friendſhip of the young nobility little more is requiſite than much ſubmiſſion and very fine cloaths; dreſs has a mechanical influence upon the mind, and we naturally are awed into reſpect and eſteem at the elegance of thoſe, whom even our reaſon would teach us to contemn. He ſeemed early ſenſible of human weakneſs in this reſpect, he brought a perſon genteely dreſſed to every aſſembly, he always made one of thoſe who are called very good company, and aſſurance gave him an air of elegance and eaſe.

[11]When King William was upon the throne, Mr. Naſh was a member of the Middle Temple. It had been long cuſtomary for the Inns of court to entertain our Monarchs upon their acceſſion to the crown, or ſome ſuch remarkable occaſion, with a revel and pageant. In the earlier periods of our hiſtory, Poets were the conductors of theſe entertainments; plays were exhibited, and complimentary verſes were then written; but by degrees the pageant alone was continued, Sir John Davis being the laſt poet that wrote verſes upon ſuch an occaſion in the reign of James I.

This ceremony which has been at length totally diſcontinued, was laſt exhibited in honour of King William, and Mr. Naſh was choſen to conduct the whole with proper decorum. He was then but a very young man, but we ſee at how early an age he was thought proper to guide the amuſements of his country, and be the Arbiter Elegantiarum of his time; we ſee how early he gave proofs of that ſpirit of regularity, for which he afterwards became [12] famous, and ſhewed an attention to thoſe little circumſtances, of which tho' the obſervance be trifling, the neglect has often interrupted men of the greateſt abilities in the progreſs of their fortunes.

In conducting this entertainment, Naſh had an opportunity of exhibiting all his abilities, and King William was ſo well ſatisfied with his performance, that he made him an offer of knighthood. This, however, he thought proper to refuſe, which in a perſon of his diſpoſition ſeems ſtrange. Pleaſe your Majeſty, replied he, when the offer was made him, if you intend to make me a Knight, I wiſh it may be one of your poor Knights of Windſor, and then I ſhall have a fortune, at leaſt able to ſupport my title. Yet we do not find, that the King took the hint of encreaſing his fortune, perhaps he could not, he had at that time numbers to oblige, and he never cared to give money without important ſervices.

[13]But though Naſh acquired no riches by his late office, yet he gained many friends, or what is more eaſily obtained, many acquaintance, who often anſwer the end as well. In the populous city where he reſided, to be known was almoſt ſynonimous with being in the road to fortune. How many little Things do we ſee, without merit, or without friends, puſh themſelves forward into public notice, and by ſelf-advertizing, attract the attention of the day. The wiſe deſpiſe them, but the public are not all wiſe. Thus they ſucceed, riſe upon the wing of folly, or of faſhion, and by their ſucceſs give a new ſanction to effrontery.

But beſide his aſſurance, Mr. Naſh had in reality ſome merit and ſome virtues. He was, if not a brilliant, at leaſt an eaſy companion. He never forgot good manners, even in the higheſt warmth of familiarity, and as I hinted before, never went in a dirty ſhirt to diſgrace the table of his patron or his friend. Theſe qualifications might make the furniture of his [14] head; but for his heart, that ſeemed an aſſemblage of the virtues which diſplay an honeſt benevolent mind; with the vices which ſpring from too much good nature. He had pity for every creature's diſtreſs, but wanted prudence in the application of his benefits. He had generoſity for the wretched in the higheſt degree, at a time when his creditors complained of his juſtice. He often ſpoke falſhoods, but never had any of his harmleſs tales tinctured with malice.

An inſtance of his humanity is told us in the Spectator, though his name is not mentioned. When he was to give in his accompts to the maſters of the temple, among other articles, he charged For making one man happy 10l. Being queſtioned about the meaning of ſo ſtrange an item, he frankly declared, that happening to over-hear a poor man declare to his wife and a large family of children, that 10l. would make him happy, he could not avoid trying the experiment. He added, that if they did not chuſe to [15] acquieſce in his charge, he was ready to refund the money. The maſters ſtruck with ſuch an uncommon inſtance of good nature, publicly thanked him for his benevolence, and deſired that the ſum might be doubled as a proof of their ſatisfaction.

Another inſtance of his unaccountable generoſity, and I ſhall proceed. In ſome tranſactions with one of his friends, Mr. Naſh was brought in debtor twenty pounds. His friend frequently aſked for the money, and was as often denied. He found at laſt, that aſſiduity was likely to have no effect, and therefore contrived an honourable method of getting back his money without diſſolving the friendſhip that ſubſiſted between them. One day, returning from Naſh's chamber with the uſual aſſurance of being paid to morrow, he went to one of their mutual acquaintance, and related the frequent diſappointments he had received, and the little hopes he had of being ever paid. ‘"My deſign, continues he, is that you ſhould go, and try to borrow twenty pounds from Naſh, [16] and bring me the money. I am apt to think, he will lend to you, tho' he will not pay me. Perhaps we may extort from his generoſity, what I have failed to receive from his juſtice."’ His friend obeys, and going to Mr. Naſh, aſſured him, that, unleſs relieved by his friendſhip, he ſhould certainly be undone; he wanted to borrow twenty pounds; and had tried all his acquaintance without ſucceſs. Mr. Naſh, who had but ſome minutes before, refuſed to pay a juſt debt, was in raptures at thus giving an inſtance of his friendſhip, and inſtantly lent what was required. Immediately upon the receipt, the pretended borrower goes to the real creditor, and gives him the money, who met Mr. Naſh the day after: our heroe upon ſeeing him, immediately began his uſual excuſes, that the billiard room had ſtript him, that he was never ſo damnably out of caſh, but that in a few days—My dear Sir, be under no uneaſineſs, replied the other, I would not interrupt your tranquillity for the world, you lent twenty pounds yeſterday to our friend of the back ſtairs, and [17] he lent it to me, give him your receipt, and you ſhall have mine. ‘"perdition ſeize [...]e, cried Naſh, thou haſt been too many for me. You demanded a debt, he aſked a favour; to pay thee, would not encreaſe our friendſhip, but to lend him, was procuring a new friend, by conferring a new obligation.’

Whether men at the time I am now talking of, had more wit than at preſent, I will not take upon me to determine; but certain it is, they took more pains to ſhew what they had. In that age, a fellow of high humour would drink no wine, but what was ſtrained through his miſtreſſes ſmock. He would eat a pair of her ſhoes toſſed up in a fricaſee. He would ſwallow tallow-candles inſtead of toaſted cheeſe, and even run naked about town, as it was then ſaid, to divert the ladies. In ſhort, that was the age of ſuch kind of wit as is the moſt diſtant of all others from wiſdom.

[18]Mr. Naſh, as he ſometimes played tricks with others, upon certain occaſions, received very ſevere retaliations. Being at York, and having loſt all his money; ſome of his companions agreed to equip him with fifty guineas, upon this proviſo, that he would ſtand at the great door of the Minſter, in a blanket, as the people were coming out of church. To this propoſal he readily agreed, but the Dean paſſing by unfortunately knew him. What, cried the Divine, Mr. Naſh in maſquerade? Only a Yorkſhire penance, Mr. Dean, for keeping bad company, ſays Naſh, pointing to his companions.

Some time after this, he won a wager of ſtill greater conſequence, by riding naked through a village upon a cow. This was then thought an harmleſs frolic, at preſent it would be looked upon with deteſtation.

He was once invited by ſome gentlemen of the navy, on board a man of war, that had ſailing orders for the mediterranean. [19] This was ſoon after the affair of the revels, and being ignorant of any deſign againſt him, he took his bottle with freedom. But he ſoon found, to uſe the expreſſion then in faſhion, that he was abſolutely bitten. The ſhip ſailed away before he was aware of his ſituation, and he was obliged to make the voyage in the company where he had ſpent the night.

Many lives are often paſſed without a ſingle adventure, and I do not know of any in the life of our hero, that can be called ſuch, except what we are now relating. During this voyage, he was in an engagement, in which his particular friend was killed by his ſide, and he himſelf wounded in the leg. For the anecdote of his being wounded, we are ſolely to truſt to his own veracity; but moſt of his acquaintance were not much inclined to believe him, when he boaſted on thoſe occaſions. Telling one day of the wound he had received for his country, in one of the public rooms at Bath, (Wiltſhire's [20] if I don't forget) a lady of diſtinction, that ſat by, ſaid it was all falſe. I proteſt, Madam, replied he, it is true, and if I cannot be believed, your Ladyſhip may, if you pleaſe, receive farther information and feel the ball in my leg.

Mr. Naſh was now fairly for life entered into a new courſe of gaiety and diſſipation, and ſteady in nothing but in purſuit of variety. He was thirty years old, without fortune, or uſeful talents to acquire one. He had hitherto only led a life of expedients, he thanked chance alone for his ſupport, and having been long precariouſly ſupported, he became, at length, totally a ſtranger to prudence, or precaution. Not to diſguiſe any part of his character, he was now, by profeſſion, a gameſter, and went on from day to day, feeling the viciſſitudes of rapture and anguiſh, in proportion to the fluctuations of fortune.

At this time, London was the only theatre in England, for pleaſure, or intrigue. [21] A ſpirit of gaming, had been introduced in the licentious age of Charles II. and had by this time thriven ſurprizingly. Yet all its devaſtations were confined to London alone. To this great mart of every folly, ſharpers from every country daily arrived, for the winter, but were obliged to leave the kingdom at the approach of ſummer, in order to open a new campaign at Aix, Spaw, or the Hague. Bath, Tunbridge, Scarborough, and other places of the ſame kind here, were then frequented only by ſuch as really went for relief; the pleaſures they afforded were merely rural, the company ſplenetic, ruſtic, and vulgar. In this ſituation of things, people of faſhion had no agreeable ſummer retreat from the town, and uſually ſpent that ſeaſon amidſt a ſolitude of country ſquires, parſons wives, and viſiting tenants, or farmers; they wanted ſome place where they might have each others company, and win each others money, as they had done during the winter in town.

[22]To a perſon, who does not thus calmly trace things to their ſource, nothing will appear more ſtrange, than how the healthy could ever conſent to follow the ſick to thoſe places of ſpleen, and live with thoſe, whoſe diſorders are ever apt to excite a gloom in the ſpectator. The truth is, the gaming table was properly the ſalutary font, to which ſuch numbers flocked. Gaming will ever be the pleaſure of the rich, while men continue to be men, while they fancy more happineſs in being poſſeſſed of what they want, than they experience pleaſure in the fruition of what they have. The wealthy only ſtake thoſe riches, which give no real content, for an expectation of riches, in which they hope for ſatisfaction. By this calculation, they cannot loſe happineſs, as they begin with none; and they hope to gain it, by being poſſeſſed of ſomething they have not had already.

Probably upon this principle; and by the arrival of Queen Anne there for her health, About the year 1703, the city of [23] Bath became in ſome meaſure frequented by people of diſtinction. The company was numerous enough to form a country dance upon the bowling green; they were amuſed with a fiddle and hautboy, and diverted with the romantic walks round the city. They uſually ſauntered in fine weather in the grove, between two rows of ſycamore trees. Several learned Phyſicians, Doctor Jordan, and others had even then praiſed the ſalubrity of the wells, and the amuſements were put under the direction of a maſter of the ceremonies.

Captain Webſter was the predeceſſor of Mr. Naſh: This I take to be the ſame gentleman, whom Mr. Lucas deſcribes in his hiſtory of the lives of the gameſters, by which it appears, that Bath, even before the arrival of Mr. Naſh, was found a proper retreat for men of that profeſſion. This gentleman, in the year 1704, carried the balls to the town hall, each man paying half a guinea each ball.

[24]Still however, the amuſements of this place were neither elegant, nor conducted with delicacy. General ſociety among people of rank or fortune was by no means eſtabliſhed. The nobility ſtill preſerved a tincture of Gothic haughtineſs, and refuſed to keep company with the gentry at any of the public entertainments of the place. Smoaking in the rooms was permitted; gentlemen and ladies appeared in a diſreſpectful manner at public entertainments in aprons and boots. With an eagerneſs common to thoſe, whoſe pleaſures come but ſeldom, they generally continued them too long, and thus they were rendered diſguſting by too free an enjoyment. If the company liked each other they danced till morning, if any perſon loſt at cards, he inſiſted on continuing the game till luck ſhould turn. The lodgings for viſitants were paltry, though expenſive, the dining rooms and other chambers were floored with boards coloured brown with foot and ſmall beer, to hide the dirt; the walls were covered with unpainted wainſcot, the furniture [25] correſponded with the meanneſs of the architecture; a few oak chairs, a ſmall looking glaſs, with a fender and tongs, compoſed the magnificence of theſe temporary habitations. The city was in itſelf mean and contemptible, no elegant buildings, no open ſtreets, nor uniform ſquares. The Pump-houſe was without any director; the chairmen permitted no gentlemen or ladies to walk home by night without inſulting them; and to add to all this, one of the greateſt Phyſicians of his age conceived a deſign of ruining the city, by writing againſt the efficacy of the waters. It was from a reſentment of ſome affronts he had received there, that he took this reſolution; and accordingly publiſhed a pamphlet, by which he ſaid, he would caſt a toad into the ſpring.

In this ſituation of things it was, that Mr. Naſh firſt came into that city, and hearing the threat of this Phyſician, he humorouſly aſſured the people that if they would give him leave, he would [26] charm away the poiſon of the Doctor's toad, as they uſually charmed the venom of the Tarantula, by muſic. He therefore was immediately empowered to ſet up the force of a band of muſic, againſt the poiſon of the Doctor's reptile; the company very ſenſibly encreaſed, Naſh triumphed, and the ſovereignty of the city was decreed to him by every rank of people.

We are now to behold this gentleman as arrived at a new dignity for which nature ſeemed to have formed him; we are to ſee him directing pleaſures, which none had better learned to ſhare; placed over rebellious and refractory ſubjects that were to be ruled only by the force of his addreſs, and governing ſuch as had been long accuſtomed to govern others. We ſee a kingdom begining with him, and ſending off Tunbridge as one of its colonies.

But to talk more ſimply, when we talk at beſt of trifles. None could poſſibly conceive a perſon more fit to fill this employment than Naſh: He had ſome wit, [27] as I have ſaid once or twice before; but it was of that ſort which is rather happy than permanent. Once a week he might ſay a good thing, this the little ones about him took care to divulge; or if they happened to forget the joke, he uſually remembered to repeat it himſelf: In a long intercourſe with the world he had acquired an impenetrable aſſurance; and the freedom with which he was received by the Great, furniſhed him with vicacity which could be commanded at any time, and which ſome miſtook for wit. His former intercourſe among people of faſhion in town, had let him into moſt of the characters of the nobility; and he was acquainted with many of their private intrigues. He underſtood rank and precedence, with the utmoſt exactneſs, was fond of ſhew and finery himſelf, and generally ſet a pattern of it to others. Theſe were his favourite talents, and he was the favourite of ſuch as had no other.

But to balance theſe which ſome may conſider as foibles, he was charitable himſelf, [28] and generally ſhamed his betters into a ſimilitude of ſentiment, if they were not naturally ſo before. He was fond of adviſing thoſe young men, who, by youth and too much money, are taught to look upon extravagance as a virtue. He was an enemy to rudeneſs in others, though in the latter part of his life he did not much ſeem to encourage a diſlike of it by his own example. None talked with more humanity of the foibles of others, when abſent, than he, nor kept thoſe ſecrets with which he was entruſted more inviolably. But above all (if moraliſts will allow it among the number of his virtues) tho' he gamed high, he always played very fairly. Theſe were his qualifications. Some of the nobility regarded him as an inoffenſive, uſeful companion, the ſize of whoſe underſtanding was, in general, level with their own; but their little imitators admired him as a perſon of fine ſenſe, and great good breeding. Thus people became fond of ranking him in the number of their acquaintance, told over his jeſts, and Beau [29] Naſh at length became the faſhionable companion.

His firſt care when made maſter of the ceremonies, or king of Bath, as it is called, was to promote a muſic ſubſcription, of one guinea each, for a band which was to conſiſt of ſix performers, who were to receive a guinea a week each for their trouble. He allowed alſo two guineas a week for lighting and ſweeping the rooms, for which he accounted to the ſubſcribers by receipt.

The Pump-houſe was immediately put under the care of an officer, by the name of the Pumper; for which he paid the corporation an annual rent. A row of new houſes was begun on the ſouth ſide of the gravel walks, before which a handſome pavement was then made for the company to walk on. Not leſs than ſeventeen or eighteen hundred pounds was raiſed this year, and in the beginning of 1706, by ſubſcription, and laid out in repairing the roads near the city. The [30] ſtreets began to be better paved, cleaned and lighted, the licenſes of the Chairmen were repreſſed, and by an act of parliament procured on this occaſion, the invalids, who came to drink or bathe, were exempted from all manner of toll, as often as they ſhould go out of the city for recreation.

The houſes and ſtreets now began to improve, and ornaments were laviſhed upon them even to profuſion. But in the midſt of this ſplendor the company ſtill were obliged to aſſemble in a booth to drink tea and chocolate, or to game. Mr. Naſh undertook to remedy this inconvenience. By his direction, one Thomas Harriſon erected a handſome Aſſembly-houſe for theſe purpoſes. A better band of muſic was alſo procured, and the former ſubſcription of one guinea, was raiſed to two. Harriſon had three guineas a week for the room and candles, and the muſic two guineas a man. The money Mr. Naſh received and accounted for with the utmoſt exactneſs and punctuality. [31] To this houſe were alſo added gardens for people of rank and faſhion to walk in; and the beauty of the ſuburbs continued to encreaſe, notwithſtanding the oppoſition that was made by the corporation, who at that time, looked upon every uſeful improvement particularly without the walls, as dangerous to the inhabitants within.

His dominion was now extenſive and ſecure, and he determined to ſupport it with the ſtricteſt attention. But in order to proceed in every thing like a king, he was reſolved to give his ſubjects a law, and the following rules were accordingly put up in the Pump-room.

RULES to be obſerv'd at BATH.
  • 1. THAT a viſit of ceremony at firſt coming and another at going away, are all that are expected or deſired, by ladies of quality and faſhion,—except impertinents.
  • [32]2. That ladies coming to the ball appoint a time for their footmen coming to wait on them home, to prevent diſturbance and inconveniencies to themſelves and others.
  • 3. That gentlemen of faſhion never appearing in a morning before the ladies in gowns and caps, ſhew breeding and reſpect.
  • 4. That no perſon take it ill that any one goes to another's play, or breakfaſt, and not theirs;—except captious by nature.
  • 5. That no gentleman give his ticket for the balls, to any but gentlewomen.—N.B. Unleſs he has none of his acquaintance.
  • 6. That gentlemen crowding before the ladies at the ball, ſhew ill manners; and that none do ſo for the future,—except ſuch as reſpect nobody but themſelves.
  • [33]7. That no gentleman or lady takes it ill that another dances before them;—except ſuch as have no pretence to dance at all.
  • 8. That the elder ladies and children be content with a ſecond bench at the ball, as being paſt or not come to perfection.
  • 9. That the younger ladies take notice how many eyes obſerve them.
  • N. B. This does not extend to the Have-at-alls.
  • 10. That all whiſperers of lies and ſcandal, be taken for their authors.
  • 11. That all repeaters of ſuch lies, and ſcandal be ſhun'd by all company;—except ſuch as have been guilty of the ſame crime.

N. B. Several men of no character, old women and young ones, of queſtion'd reputation, are great authors of lies in theſe places, being of the ſect of levellers.

Theſe laws were written by Mr. Naſh himſelf, and by the manner in which they are drawn up, he undoubtedly deſigned them for wit. The reader, however, [34] it is feared, will think them dull. Poor Naſh was not born a writer; for whatever humour he might have in converſation, he uſed to call a pen his torpedo, whenever he graſped it, it numbed all his faculties.

But were we to give laws to a nurſery, we ſhould make them childiſh laws; his ſtatutes, tho' ſtupid, were addreſſed to fine gentlemen and ladies, and were probably received with ſympathetic approbation. It is certain, they were in general religiouſly obſerved by his ſubjects, and executed by him with impartiality, neither rank nor fortune ſhielded the refractory from his reſentment.

The balls by his directions were to begin at ſix, and to end at eleven. Nor would he ſuffer them to continue a moment longer, leſt invalids might commit irregularities, to counteract the benefit of the waters. Every thing was to be performed in proper order. Each ball was to open with a minuet, danced by two perſons [35] of the higheſt diſtinction preſent. When the minuet concluded, the lady was to return to her ſeat, and Mr. Naſh was to bring the gentleman a new partner. This ceremony was to be obſerved by every ſucceeding couple, every gentleman being obliged to dance with two ladies till the minuets were over, which generally continued two hours. At eight the country dances were to begin, ladies of quality, according to their rank, ſtanding up firſt. About nine o' clock a ſhort interval was allowed for reſt, and for the gentlemen to help their partners to tea. That over, the company were to purſue their amuſements till the clock ſtruck eleven. Then the maſter of the ceremonies entering the ball-room, ordered the muſic to deſiſt by lifting up his finger. The dances diſcontinued, and ſome time allowed for becoming cool, the ladies were handed to their chairs.

Even the royal family themſelves had not influence enough to make him deviate from any of theſe rules. The princeſs [36] Amelia once applying to him for one dance more, after he had given the ſignal to withdraw, he aſſured her royal highneſs, that the eſtabliſhed rules of Bath reſembled the laws of Lycurgus, which would admit of no alteration, without an utter ſubverſion of all his authority.

He was not leſs ſtrict with regard to the dreſſes, in which ladies and gentlemen were to appear. He had the ſtrongeſt averſion to a white apron, and abſolutely excluded all who ventured to appear at the aſſembly dreſſed in that manner. I have known him on a ball night ſtrip even the dutcheſs of Q—, and throw her apron at one of the hinder benches among the ladies women; obſerving, that none but Abigails appeared in white aprons. This from another would be inſult, in him it was conſidered as a juſt reprimand; and the good-natured dutcheſs acquieſced in his cenſure.

But he found more difficulty in attacking the gentlemens irregularities; and for [37] ſome time ſtrove, but in vain, to prohibit the uſe of ſwords. Diſputes ariſing from love or play, were ſometimes attended with fatal effects. To uſe his own expreſſion, he was reſolved to hinder people from doing, what they had no mind to, but for ſome time without effect. However, there happened about that time, a duel between two gameſters, whoſe names were Taylor and Clarke, which helped to promote his peaceable intentions. They fought by torch-light in the grove; Taylor was run through the body, but lived ſeven years after, at which time his wound breaking out afreſh, it cauſed his death. Clarke from that time pretended to be a Quaker, but the orthodox brethren never cordially received him among their number; and he died at London, about eighteen years after, in poverty and contrition. From that time it was thought neceſſary to forbid the wearing of ſwords at Bath, as they often tore the ladies cloaths, and frighted them, by ſometimes appearing upon trifling occaſions. Whenever therefore Naſh heard of a challenge given, or accepted, he [38] inſtantly had both parties arreſted. The gentlemen's boots alſo made a very deſperate ſtand againſt him, the country 'ſquires were by no means ſubmiſſive to his uſurpations; and probably his authority alone would never have carried him thro', had he not reinforced it with ridicule. He wrote a ſong upon the occaſion, which, for the honour of his poetical talents, the world ſhall ſee.

FRONTINELLA's invitation to the Aſſembly.
Come, one and all, to Hoyden Hall,
For there's the aſſembly this night;
None but prude fools,
Mind manners and rules;
We Hoydens do decency ſlight.
Come Trollops and Slatterns,
Cockt hats and white aprons,
This beſt our modeſty ſuits;
For why ſhould not we,
In dreſs be as free,
As Hogs-Norton 'ſquires in boots.

The keenneſs, ſeverity and particularly the good rhymes of this little morçeau, [39] which was at that time highly reliſhed by many of the nobility at Bath, gained him a temporary triumph. But to puſh his victories, he got up a puppet ſhew, in which punch came in booted and ſpurred, in the character of a country 'ſquire. He was introduced as courting his miſtreſs, and having obtained her conſent to comply with his wiſhes, upon going to bed, he is deſired to pull off his boots. My boots, replies punch, why, madam, you may as well bid me pull off my legs. I never go without boots, I never ride, I never dance without them; and this piece of politeneſs is quite the thing at Bath. We always dance at our town in boots, and the ladies often move minuets in riding-hoods. Thus he goes on, till his miſtreſs, grown impatient, kicks him off the ſtage.

From that time few ventured to appear at the aſſemblies in Bath in a riding-dreſs; and whenever any gentleman, thro' ignorance, or haſte, appeared in the rooms in boots, Naſh would make up to him, and [40] bowing in an arch manner, would tell him, that he had forgot his horſe. Thus he was at laſt completely victorious.

Doliſ (que) ccacti
Quos neque Tydides nec Lariſſaeus Achilles
Non anni domuere decem.

He began therefore to reign without a rival, and like other kings had his miſtreſſes, flatterers, enemies and calumniators; the amuſements of the place however wore a very different aſpect from what they did formerly. Regularity repreſſed pride, and that leſſened, people of fortune became fit for ſociety. Let the moroſe and grave cenſure an attention to forms and ceremonies, and rail at thoſe, whoſe only buſineſs it is to regulate them; but tho' ceremony is very different from politeneſs, no country was ever yet polite, that was not firſt ceremonious. The natural gradation of breeding begins in ſavage diſguſt, proceeds to indifference, improves into attention, by degrees refines into ceremonious obſervance, and the trouble of being ceremonious at length produces politeneſs, [41] elegance and eaſe. There is therefore ſome merit in mending ſociety, even in one of the inferior ſteps of this gradation; and no man was more happy in this reſpect than Mr. Naſh. In every nation there are enough who have no other buſineſs or care but that of buying pleaſure; and he taught them, who bid at ſuch an auction, the art of procuring what they ſought without diminiſhing the pleaſure of others.

The city of Bath, by ſuch aſſiduity, ſoon became the theatre of ſummer amuſements for all people of faſhion; and the manner of ſpending the day there muſt amuſe any, but ſuch as diſeaſe or ſpleen had made uneaſy to themſelves. The following is a faint picture of the pleaſures that ſcene affords. Upon a ſtranger's arrival at Bath he is welcomed by a peal of the Abbey bells, and in the next place, by the voice and muſic of the city waits. For theſe civilities the ringers have generally a preſent made them of half a guinea, and the waits of half a crown, or more, in proportion to the perſon's fortune, generoſity [42] or oſtentation. Theſe cuſtoms, tho' diſagreeable, are however genarally liked, or they would not continue. The greateſt incommodity attending them is the diſturbance the bells muſt give the ſick. But the pleaſure of knowing the name of every family that comes to town recompences the inconvenience. Invalids are fond of news, and upon the firſt ſound of the bells, every body ſends out to enquire for whom they ring.

After the family is thus welcomed to Bath, it is the cuſtom for the maſter of it to go to the public places, and ſubſcribe two guineas at the aſſembly-houſes towards the balls and muſic in the pump-houſe, for which he is entitled to three tickets every ball night. His next ſubſcription is a crown, half a guinea, or a guinea, according to his rank and quality, for the liberty of walking in the private walks belonging to Simpſon's aſſembly-houſe; a crown or half a guinea is alſo given to the bookſellers, for which the gentleman is to have what books he pleaſes to read at his [43] lodgings. And at the coffee-houſe another ſubſcription is taken for pen, ink and paper, for ſuch letters as the ſubſcriber ſhall write at it during his ſtay. The ladies too may ſubſcribe to the bookſellers, and to an houſe by the pump-room, for the advantage of reading the news, and for enjoying each other's converſation.

Things being thus adjuſted, the amuſements of the day are generally begun by bathing, which is no unpleaſing method of paſſing away an hour, or ſo.

The baths are five in number. On the ſouth-weſt ſide of the abbey church is the King's Bath; which is an oblong ſquare, the walls are full of niches, and at every corner are ſteps to deſcend into it: this bath is ſaid to contain 427 tons and 50 gallons of water; and on its riſing out of the ground over the ſprings, it is ſometimes too hot to be endured by thoſe who bathe therein. Adjoining to the King's Bath there is another, called the Queen's Bath; this is of more temperate warmth, as borrowing its water from the other.

[44]In the ſouth-weſt part of the city are three other baths, viz. The Hot Bath, which is not much inferior in heat to the King's Bath, and contains 53 tons 2 hogſheads, and 11 gallons of water. The Croſs Bath, which contains 52 tons 3 hogſheads, and 11 gallons; and the Leper's Bath, which is not ſo much frequented as the reſt.

The King's Bath (according to the beſt obſervations) will fill in about nine hours and a half; the Hot Bath in about eleven hours and a half; and the Croſs Bath in about the ſame time.

The hours for bathing are commonly between ſix and nine in the morning; and the Baths are every morning ſupplied with freſh water; for when the people have done bathing, the ſluices in each Bath are pulled up, and the water is carried off by drains into the river Avon.

In the morning the lady is brought in a cloſe chair, dreſſed in her bathing cloaths, to the Bath; and, being in the water, [45] the woman who attends, preſents her with a little floating diſh like a baſon; into which the lady puts an handkerchief, a ſnuff-box, and a noſegay. She then traverſes the Bath; if a novice with a guide, if otherwiſe by herſelf; and having amuſed herſelf thus while ſhe thinks proper, calls for her chair, and returns to her lodgings.

The amuſement of bathing is immediately ſucceeded by a general aſſembly of people at the pump-houſe, ſome for pleaſure, and ſome to drink the hot waters. Three glaſſes, at three different times, is the uſual portion for every drinker; and the intervals between every glaſs are enlivened by the harmony of a ſmall band of muſic, as well as by the converſation of the gay, the witty, or the forward.

From the pump-houſe the ladies, from time to time, withdraw to a female coffee-houſe, and from thence return to their lodgings to breakfaſt. The gentlemen withdraw to their coffee-houſes, [46] to read the papers, or converſe on the news of the day, with a freedom and eaſe not to be found in the metropolis.

People of faſhion make public breakfaſts at the aſſembly-houſes, to which they invite their acquaintances, and they ſometimes order private concerts; or when ſo diſpoſed, attend lectures upon the arts and ſciences, which are frequently taught there in a pretty ſuperficial manner, ſo as not to teize the underſtanding, while they afford the imagination ſome amuſement. The private concerts are performed in the ball-rooms, the tickets a crown each.

Concert breakfaſts at the aſſembly-houſe, ſometimes make alſo a part of the morning's amuſement here, the expences of which are defrayed by a ſubſcription among the men. Perſons of rank and fortune who can perform are admitted into the orcheſtra, and find a pleaſure in joining with the performers.

[47]Thus we have the tedious morning fairly over. When noon approaches, and church (if any pleaſe to go there) is done, ſome of the company appear upon the parade, and other public walks, where they continue to chat and amuſe each other, 'till they have formed parties for the play, cards, or dancing for the evening. Another part of the company divert themſelves with reading in the bookſellers ſhops, or are generally ſeen taking the air and exerciſe, ſome on horſeback, ſome in coaches. Some walk in the meadows round the town, winding along the ſide of the river Avon, and the neighbouring canal; while others are ſeen ſcaling ſome of thoſe romantic precipices that over-hang the city.

When the hour of dinner draws nigh, and the company is returned from their different recreations, the proviſions are generally ſerved with the utmoſt elegance and plenty. Their mutton, butter, fiſh, and fowl, are all allowed to be excellent, and their cookery ſtill exceeds their meat.

[48]After dinner is over, and evening prayers ended, the company meet a ſecond time at the pump-houſe. From this they retire to the walks, and from thence go to drink tea at the aſſembly-houſes, and the reſt of the evenings are concluded either with balls, plays or viſits. A theatre was erected in the year 1705 by ſubſcription, by people of the higheſt rank, who permitted their arms to be engraven on the inſide of the houſe, as a public teſtimony of their liberality towards it. Every tueſday and friday evening is concluded with a public ball, the contributions to which are ſo numerous, that the price of each ticket is trifling. Thus Bath yields a continued rotation of diverſions, and people of all ways of thinking, even from the libertine to the methodiſt, have it in their power to complete the day with employments ſuited to their inclinations.

In this manner every amuſement ſoon improved under Mr. Naſh's adminiſtration. [49] The magiſtrates of the city found, that he was neceſſary and uſeful, and took every opportunity of paying the ſame reſpect to his fictitious royalty, that is generally extorted by real power. The ſame ſatisfaction a young lady finds upon being ſingled out at her firſt appearance; or an applauded poet, on the ſucceſs of his firſt tragedy, influenced him. All admired him as an extraordinary character; and ſome who knew no better, as a very fine gentleman; he was perfectly happy in their little applauſe, and affected at length ſomething particular in his dreſs, behaviour and converſation.

His equipage was ſumptuous, and he uſually travelled to Tunbridge, in a poſt chariot and ſix greys, with out-riders, footmen, French horns, and every other appendage of expenſive parade. He always wore a white hat, and, to apologize for this ſingularity, ſaid, he did it purely to ſecure it from being ſtolen; his dreſs was tawdry, tho' not perfectly genteel; he might be conſidered as a beau of ſeveral generations, [50] and in his appearance he, in ſome meaſure, mixed the faſhions of the laſt age with thoſe of the preſent. He perfectly underſtood elegant expence, and generally paſſed his time in the very beſt company, if perſons of the firſt diſtinction deſerve that title.

But I hear the reader now demand, what finances were to ſupport all this finery, or where the treaſures, that gave him ſuch frequent opportunities of diſplaying his benevolence, or his vanity? To anſwer this, we muſt now enter upon another part of his character, his talents as a gameſter; for by gaming alone at that period, of which I ſpeak, he kept up ſo very genteel an appearance. When he firſt figured at Bath, there were few laws againſt this deſtructive amuſement. The gaming-table was the conſtant reſource of deſpair and indigence, and the frequent ruin of opulent fortunes. Wherever people of faſhion came, needy adventurers were generally found in waiting. With ſuch Bath ſwarmed, and among this claſs Mr. Naſh [51] was certainly to be numbered in the beginning, only with this difference, that he wanted the corrupt heart, too commonly attending a life of expedients; for he was generous, humane and honourable, even tho' by profeſſion a gameſter.

A thouſand inſtances might be given of his integrity, even in this infamous profeſſion; where his generoſity often impelled him to act in contradiction to his intereſt. Wherever he found a novice in the hands of a ſharper, he generally forewarned him of the danger; whenever he found any inclined to play, yet ignorant of the game, he would offer his ſervices, and play for them. I remember an inſtance to this effect, tho' too nearly concerned in the affair to publiſh the gentleman's name of whom it is related. In the year 1725, there came to Bath a giddy youth, who had juſt reſigned his fellowſhip at Oxford. He brought his whole fortune with him there, it was but a trifle, however he was reſolved to venture it all. Good fortune ſeemed kinder [52] than could be expected. Without the ſmalleſt ſkill in play, he won a ſum ſufficient to make any unambitious man happy. His deſire of gain encreaſing with his gains, in the October following he was at all, and added four thouſand pounds to his former capital. Mr. Naſh one night, after loſing a conſiderable ſum to this undeſerving ſon of fortune, invited him to ſupper. Sir, cried this honeſt, tho' veteran gameſter, perhaps you may imagine I have invited you, in order to have my revenge at home; but, ſir! I ſcorn ſo inhoſpitable an action. I deſired the favour of your company to give you ſome advice, which you will pardon me, Sir, you ſeem to ſtand in need of. You are now high in ſpirits, and drawn away by a torrent of ſucceſs. But there will come a time, when you will repent having left the calm of a college life for the turbulent profeſſion of a gameſter. Ill runs, will come, as ſure as day and night ſucceed each other. Be therefore adviſed, remain content with your preſent gains; for be perſuaded, that had you the bank of England, with [53] your preſent ignorance of gaming, it would vaniſh like a fairy dream. You are a ſtranger to me, but to convince you of the part I take in your welfare, I'll give you fifty guineas, to forfeit twenty, every time you loſe two hundred at one ſitting. The young gentleman refuſed his offer, and was at laſt undone!

The late duke of B. being chagrined at loſing a conſiderable ſum, preſſed Mr. Naſh to tie him up for the future from playing deep. Accordingly, the beau gave his grace an hundred guineas to forfeit ten thouſand, whenever he loſt a ſum to the ſame amount at play, in one ſitting. The duke loved play to diſtraction, and ſoon after at hazard loſt eight thouſand guineas, and was going to throw for three thouſand more; when Naſh, catching hold of the dicebox, entreated his Grace to reflect upon the penalty if he loſt; the Duke for that time deſiſted; but ſo ſtrong was the furor of play upon him, that ſoon after, loſing a conſiderable ſum at New-market, he was contented to pay the penalty.

[54]When the late earl of T—d was a youth, he was paſſionately fond of play, and never better pleaſed than with having Mr. Naſh for his antagoniſt. Naſh ſaw with concern his lordſhip's foible, and undertook to cure him, tho' by a very diſagreeable remedy. Conſcious of his own ſuperior ſkill, he determined to engage him in ſingle play for a very conſiderable ſum. His lordſhip, in proportion as he loſt his game, loſt his temper too; and as he approached the gulph, ſeemed ſtill more eager for ruin. He loſt his eſtate; ſome writings were put into the winner's poſſeſſion; his very equipage was depoſited as a laſt ſtake, and he loſt that alſo. But, when our generous gameſter had found his lordſhip ſufficiently puniſhed for his temerity, he returned all; only ſtipulating, that he ſhould be paid five thouſand pound whenever he ſhould think proper to make the demand. However, he never made any ſuch demand during his lordſhip's life; but ſome time after his deceaſe, Mr. Naſh's affairs, being in the [55] wane, he demanded the money of his lordſhip's heirs, who honourably paid it without any heſitation.

But whatever ſkill Naſh might have acquired by long practice in play, he was never formed by nature for a ſucceſsful gameſter. He was conſtitutionally paſſionate and generous. To acquire a perfection in that art, a man muſt be naturally phlegmatic, reſerved and cool; every paſſion muſt learn to obey controul; but he frequently was unable to reſtrain the violence of his, and was often betrayed by this means into unbecoming rudeneſs, or childiſh impertinence; was ſometimes a minion of fortune, and as often depreſt by adverſity. While others made conſiderable fortunes at the gaming-table, he was ever in the power of chance; nor did even the intimacy with which he was received by the great, place him in a ſtate of independance.

The conſiderable inconveniencies that were found to reſult from a permiſſion of [56] gaming, at length attracted the attention of the legiſlature, and in the twelfth year of his late majeſty, the moſt prevalent games at that time were declared fraudulent and unlawful. Every age has had its peculiar modes of gaming. The games of Gleek, Primero, In and In, and ſeveral others now exploded, employed our ſharping anceſtors; to theſe ſucceeded the Ace of hearts, Pharaoh, Baſſet, and Hazard, all games of chance like the former. But tho' in theſe the chances ſeemed equal to the novice; in general thoſe who kept the bank were conſiderable winners. The act therefore, paſſed upon this occaſion, declared all ſuch games and lotteries illicit, and directed, that all who ſhould ſet up ſuch games, ſhould forfeit two hundred pounds, to be levied by diſtreſs on the offender's goods; one third to go to the informer, the reſidue to the poor.

The act further declared, that every perſon who played in any place, except in the royal palace where his majeſty [57] reſided, ſhould forfeit fifty pounds, and ſhould be condemned to pay treble coſts in caſe of an appeal.

This law was ſcarcely made, before it was eluded by the invention of divers fraudulent and deceitful games; and a particular game, called Paſſage, was daily practiſed, and contributed to the ruin of thouſands. To prevent this, the enſuing year it was enacted, that this and every other game invented, or to be invented with one die, or more, or any other inſtrument of the ſame nature, with numbers thereon, ſhould be ſubject to a ſimilar penalty; and at the ſame time, the perſons playing with ſuch inſtruments ſhould be puniſhed as above.

This amendment of the law ſoon gave birth to new evaſions; the game of Rolly Polly, Marlborough's Battles, but particularly the E O, were ſet up; and ſtrange to obſerve! ſeveral of thoſe very noblemen, who had given their voices to ſuppreſs gaming, were the moſt ready to encourage [58] it. This game was at firſt ſet up at Tunbridge. It was invented by one C—k, and carried on between him and one Mr. A—e, proprietor of the aſſembly-room at that place; and was reckoned extremely profitable to the bank, as it gained two and an half per cent. on all that was loſt or won.

As all gaming was ſuppreſſed but this, Mr. Naſh was now utterly deſtitute of any reſource that he could expect from his ſuperior ſkill, and long experience in the art. The money to be gained in private gaming is at beſt but trifling, and the opportunity precarious. The minds of the generality of mankind ſhrink with their circumſtances; and Naſh, upon the immediate proſpect of poverty, was now mean enough (I will call it no worſe) to enter into a baſe confederacy with thoſe low creatures to evade the law, and to ſhare the plunder. The occaſion was as follows. The profits of the table were, as I obſerved, divided between C—k the inventor, and A—e the room-keeper. [59] The firſt year's profits were extraordinary, and A—e the room-keeper now began to wiſh himſelf ſole proprietor. The combinations of the worthleſs are ever of ſhort duration. The next year therefore A—e turned C—k out of his room, and ſet up the game for himſelf. The gentlemen and ladies who frequented the wells, unmindful of the immenſe profit gained by theſe reptiles, ſtill continued to game as before; and A—e was triumphing in the ſucceſs of his politics, when he was informed, that C—k and his friends hired the crier to cry the game down. The conſequences of this would have been fatal to A—e's intereſt, for by this means frauds might have been diſcovered, which would deter even the moſt ardent lovers of play. Immediately, therefore, while the crier was yet upon the walks, he applied to Mr. Naſh to ſtop theſe proceedings, and at the ſame time offered him a fourth ſhare of the bank, which Mr. Naſh was mean enough to accept. This is the greateſt blot in his life, and this it is hoped will find pardon.

[60]The day after, the inventor offered an half of the bank; but this Mr. Naſh thought proper to refuſe, being pre-engaded to A—e. Upon which, being diſappointed, he applied to one Mr. J—e, and under his protection another table was ſet up, and the company ſeemed to be divided equally between them. I cannot reflect, without ſurprize, at the wiſdom of the gentlemen and ladies, to ſuffer themſelves to be thus parcelled out between a pack of ſharpers, and permit themſelves to be defrauded, without even the ſhew of oppoſition. The company thus divided, Mr. Naſh once more availed himſelf of their parties, and prevailed upon them to unite their banks, and to divide the gains into three ſhares, of which he reſerved one to himſelf.

Naſh had hitherto enjoyed a fluctuating fortune; and had he taken the advantage of the preſent opportunity, he might have been for the future not only above want, but even in circumſtances of opulence. Had he cautiouſly employed himſelf in [61] computing the benefits of the table, and exacting his ſtipulated ſhare, he might have ſoon grown rich; but he entirely left the management of it to the people of the rooms; he took them (as he ſays in one of his memorials upon this occaſion) to be honeſt, and never enquired what was won or loſt; and, it is probable, they were ſeldom aſſiduous in informing him. I find a ſecret pleaſure in thus diſplaying the inſecurity of friendſhips among the baſe. They pretended to pay him regularly at firſt, but he ſoon diſcovered, as he ſays, that at Tunbridge he had ſuffered to the amount of two thouſand guineas.

In the mean time, as the E O table thus ſucceeded at Tunbridge, Mr. Naſh was reſolved to introduce it at Bath, and previouſly aſked the opinion of ſeveral lawyers, who declared it no way illegal. In conſequence of this, he wrote to Mrs. A—, who kept one of the great rooms at Bath, acquainting her with the profits attending ſuch a ſcheme, and propoſing to have a fourth ſhare with her, and Mr. W—, the proprietor of the other room, for his authority, [62] and protection. To this Mr. W— and ſhe returned him for anſwer, that they would grant him a fifth ſhare; which he conſented to accept. Accordingly he made a journey to London, and beſpoke two tables, one for each room, at the rate of fifteen pounds each table.

The tables were no ſooner ſet up at Bath, than they were frequented with a greater concourſe of gameſters than thoſe at Tunbridge. Men of that infamous profeſſion, from every part of the kingdom, and even other parts of Europe, flocked here to feed on the ruins of each other's fortune. This afforded another opportunity for Mr. Naſh to become rich; but, as at Tunbridge, he thought the people here alſo would take care of him, and therefore he employed none to look after his intereſt. The firſt year they paid him what he thought juſt; the next, the woman of the room dying, her ſon paid him, and ſhewed his books. Sometime after the people of the rooms offered him one hundred pounds a year each for his ſhare; which he refuſed; [63] every ſucceeding year they continued to pay him leſs and leſs; 'till at length he found, as he pretends, that he had thus loſt not leſs than twenty thouſand pounds.

Thus they proceeded, deceiving the public and each other, 'till the legiſlature thought proper to ſuppreſs theſe ſeminaries of vice. It was enacted, that after the 24th of June, 1745, none ſhould be permitted to keep an houſe, room or place, for playing, upon pain of ſuch forfeitures, as were declared in former acts inſtituted for that purpoſe.

The legiſlature likewiſe amended a law, made in the reign of queen Anne, for recovering money loſt at play, on the oath of the winner. By this act no perſon was rendered incapable of being a witneſs; and every perſon preſent at a gaming-table might be ſummoned by the magiſtrate, who took cognizance of the affair. No privilege of parliament was allowed, to thoſe convicted of having gaming-tables in their [64] houſes. Thoſe who loſt ten pounds at one time, were liable to be indicted within ſix months after the offence was committed; and being convicted, were to be fined five times the value of the ſum won or loſt, for the uſe of the poor. Any offender before conviction, diſcovering another, ſo as to be convicted, was to be diſcharged from the penalties incurred by his own offences.

By this wiſe and juſt act, all Naſh's future hopes of ſucceeding by the tables were blown up. He had now only the juſtice and generoſity of his confederates to truſt to; but that he ſoon found to be a vain expectation; for, if we can depend on his own memorials, what at one time they confeſſed, they would at another deny; and tho' upon ſome occaſions they ſeemed at variance with each other, yet when they were to oppoſe him, whom they conſidered as a common enemy, they generally united with confidence and ſucceſs. He now therefore had nothing but a law-ſuit to confide in for redreſs; and this is ever the laſt expedient to retrieve a [65] deſperate fortune, He accordingly threw his ſuit into Chancery, and by this means the public became acquainted with what he had long endeavoured to conceal. They now found that he was himſelf concerned in the gaming-tables, of which he only ſeemed the conductor; and that he had ſhared part of the ſpoil, tho' he complained of having been defrauded of a juſt ſhare.

The ſucceſs of his ſuit was what might have been naturally expected; he had but at beſt a bad cauſe, and as the oaths of the defendants were alone ſufficient to caſt him in Chancery, it was not ſurprizing that he was nonſuited. But the conſequence of this affair was much more fatal than he had imagined, it leſſened him in the eſteem of the public, it drew ſeveral enemies againſt him, and in ſome meaſure diminiſhed the authority of any defence he could make. From that time (about the year 1745) I find this poor, good-natured, but miſguided man involved in continual diſputes, every day calumniated with ſome [66] new ſlander, and continually endeavouring to obviate its effects.

Upon theſe occaſions his uſual method was, by printed bills handed about among his acquaintance, to inform the public of his moſt private tranſactions with ſome of thoſe creatures, with whom he had formerly aſſociated; but theſe apologies ſerved rather to blacken his antagoniſts, than to vindicate him. They were in general extremely ill written, confuſed, obſcure, and ſometimes unintelligible. By theſe however it appeard, that W— was originally obliged to him for the reſort of company to his room; that lady H—, who had all the company before W—'s room was built, offered Mr. Naſh an hundred pound for his protection; which he refuſed, having previouſly promiſed to ſupport Mrs. W—. It appears by theſe apologies, that the perſons concerned in the rooms made large fortunes, while he ſtill continued in priſtine indigence; and that his nephew, for whom he had at firſt [67] ſecured one of the rooms, was left in as great diſtreſs as he.

His enemies were not upon this occaſion contented with aſperſing him, as a confederate with ſharpers, they even aſſerted, that he ſpent, and embezzled the ſubſcriptions of gentlemen and ladies, which were given for uſeful or charitable purpoſes. But to ſuch aſperſions he anſwered, by declaring, to uſe his own expreſſion, before God and man, that he never diverted one ſhilling of the ſaid ſubſcriptions to his own uſe; nor was he ever thought to have done it, till new enemies ſtarted up againſt him. Perhaps the reader may be curious to ſee one of theſe memorials, written by himſelf; and I will indulge his curioſity, merely to ſhew a ſpecimen of the ſtile and manner of a man, whoſe whole life was paſt in a round of gaiety and converſation, whoſe jeſts were a thouſand times repeated, and whoſe company was courted by every ſon and daughter of faſhion. The following is particularly levelled againſt thoſe, who, in the latter [68] part of his life, took every opportunity to traduce his character.

A MONITOR.

For the Lord hateth lying and deceitful lips. PSAL.

"THE curſe denounced in my motto, is ſufficient to intimidate any perſon, who is not quite abandoned in their evil ways, and who have any fear of God before their eyes; everlaſting burnings are a terrible reward for their miſdoings; and nothing but the moſt hardened ſinners will oppoſe the judgments of heaven, being without end. This reflection muſt be ſhocking to ſuch, as are conſcious to themſelves, of having erred from the ſacred dictates of the Pſalmiſt, and who following the blind impulſe of paſſion, daily forging lies and deceit, to annoy their neighbour. But there are joys in heaven which they can never arrive at, whoſe whole ſtudy is to deſtroy the peace [69] and harmony, and good order of ſociety, in this place."

This carries little the air of a bagatelle, it rather ſeems a ſermon in miniature, ſo different are ſome men in the cloſet, and in converſation. The following I have taken at random from an heap of other memorials, all tending to ſet his combination with the afore-mentioned partners in a proper light.

EO was firſt ſet up in A—e room, the profits divided between one C—k (the inventor of the game) and A—e.

The next year, A—e finding the game ſo advantageous, turned C—k out of his room, and ſet the game up himſelf; but C—k and his friends hired the crier to cry the game down; upon which A—e came running to me to ſtop it, after he had cried it once, which I immediately did, and turned the crier off the walks.

[70]Then A—e aſked me to go a fourth with him in the bank, which I conſented to; C—k next day took me into his room which he had hired, and proffered me to go half with him, which I refuſed, being engaged before to A—e.

J—e then ſet up the ſame game, and complained that he had not half play at his room; upon which I made them agree to join their banks, and divide equally the gain and loſs, and I to go the like ſhare in the bank.

I taking them to be honeſt, never enquired what was won or loſt; and thought they paid me honeſtly, 'till it was diſcovered, that they had defrauded me of 2000 guineas.

I then arreſted A—e, who told me I muſt go into Chancery, and that I ſhould begin with the people of Bath, who had cheated me of ten times as much; and told my attorney, that J—e had cheated [71] me of 500, and wrote me word that I had not under his hand, which never was uſed in play.

Upon my arreſting A—e, I received a letter not to proſecute J—e, for he would be a very good witneſs: I writ a diſcharge to J—e for 125l. in full, though he never paid me a farthing, upon his telling me, if his debts were paid he was not worth a ſhilling.

Every article of this I can prove from A—e's own mouth, as a reaſon that he allowed the bank keepers but 10 per cent. becauſe I went 20; and his ſuborning * * * to alter his informations.

RICHARD NASH.

This gentleman's ſimplicity, in truſting perſons whom he had no previous reaſons to place confidence in, ſeems to be one of thoſe lights into his character, which, while they impeach his underſtanding, do honour to his benevolence. The low and timid are ever ſuſpicious; but a heart impreſſed [72] with honourable ſentiments, expects from others ſympathetic ſincerity.

But now that we have viewed his conduct as a gameſter, and ſeen him on that ſide of his character, which is by far the moſt unfavourable, ſeen him declining from his former favour and eſteem, the juſt conſequence of his quitting, tho' but ever ſo little, the paths of honour; let me turn to thoſe brighter parts of his life and character, which gained the affection of his friends, the eſteem of the corporation which he aſſiſted, and may poſſibly attract the attention of poſterity. By his ſucceſſes we ſhall find, that figuring in life, proceeds leſs from the poſſeſſion of great talents, than from the proper application of moderate ones. Some great minds are only fitted to put forth their powers in the ſtorm; and the occaſion is often wanting during a whole life for a great exertion: but trifling opportunities of ſhining, are almoſt every hour offered to the little ſedulous mind; and a perſon thus employed, is not only more [73] pleaſing, but more uſeful in a ſtate of tranquil ſociety.

Tho' gaming firſt introduced him into polite company, this alone could hardly have carried him forward, without the aſſiſtance of a genteel addreſs, much vivacity, ſome humour, and ſome wit. But once admitted into the circle of the Beau Monde, he then laid claim to all the privileges by which it is diſtinguiſhed. Among others, in the early part of his life, he entered himſelf profeſſedly into the ſervice of the fair ſex; he ſet up for a man of gallantry and intrigue; and if we can credit the boaſts of his old age, he often ſucceeded. In fact, the buſineſs of love ſomewhat reſembles the buſineſs of phyſic; no matter for qualifications, he that makes vigorous pretenſions to either is ſureſt of ſucceſs. Nature had by no means formed Mr. Naſh for a Beau Garçon; his perſon was clumſey, too large and aukward, and his features harſh, ſtrong, and peculiarly irregular; yet even, with thoſe diſadvantages, he made love, became an univerſal [74] admirer of the ſex, and was univerſally admired. He was poſſeſſed, at leaſt, of ſome requiſites of a lover. He had aſſiduity, flattery, fine cloaths, and as much wit as the ladies he addreſſed. Wit, flattery, and fine cloaths, he uſed to ſay, were enough to debauch a nunnery. But my fair readers of the preſent day are exempt from this ſcandal; and it is no matter now, what he ſaid of their grandmothers.

As Neſtor was a man of three ages, ſo Naſh ſometimes humorouſly called himſelf a beau of three generations. He had ſeen flaxen bobs ſucceeded by majors, which in their turn gave way to negligents, which were at laſt totally routed by bags and ramilees. The manner in which gentlemen managed their amours, in theſe different ages of faſhion, were not more different than their perriwigs. The lover in the reign of king Charles was ſolemn, majeſtic and formal. He viſited his miſtreſs in ſtate. Languiſhed for the favour, kneeled when he toaſted his [75] goddeſs, walked with ſolemnity, performed the moſt trifling things with decorum, and even took ſnuff with a flouriſh. The beau of the latter part of queen Ann's reign was diſguſted with ſo much formality, he was pert, ſmart and lively; his billet-doux were written in a quite different ſtile from that of his antiquated predeceſſor; he was ever laughing at his own ridiculous ſituation; till at laſt, he perſuaded the lady to become as ridiculous as himſelf. The beau of the third age, in which Mr. Naſh died, was ſtill more extraordinary than either; his whole ſecret in intrigue conſiſted in perfect indifference. The only way to make love now, I have heard Mr. Naſh ſay, was to take no manner of notice of the lady, which method was found the ſureſt way to ſecure her affections.

However theſe things be, this gentleman's ſucceſſes in amour were in reality very much confined in the ſecond and third age of intrigue; his character was too public for a lady to conſign her reputation [76] to his keeping. But in the beginning of life it is ſaid, he knew the ſecret hiſtory of the times, and contributed himſelf to ſwell the page of ſcandal. Were I upon the preſent occaſion to hold the pen of a noveliſt, I could recount ſome amours, in which he was ſucceſsful. I could fill a volume with little anecdotes, which contain neither pleaſure nor inſtruction; with hiſtories of profeſſing lovers, and poor believing girls deceived by ſuch profeſſions. But ſuch adventures are eaſily written, and as eaſily atchieved. The plan even of fictitious novel is quite exhauſted; but truth, which I have followed here, and ever deſign to follow, preſents in the affair of love ſcarce any variety. The manner in which one reputation is loſt, exactly reſembles that by which another is taken away. The gentleman begins at timid diſtance, grows more bold, becomes rude, till the lady is married or undone; ſuch is the ſubſtance of every modern novel; nor will I gratify the pruriency of folly, [77] at the expence of every other pleaſure my narration may afford.

Mr. Naſh did not long continue an univerſal gallant; but in the earlier years of his reign, entirely gave up his endeavours to deceive the ſex, in order to become the honeſt protector of their innocence, the guardian of their reputation, and a friend to their virtue.

This was a character he bore for many years, and ſupported it with integrity, aſſiduity and ſucceſs. It was his conſtant practice to do every thing in his power to prevent the fatal conſequences of raſh and inconſiderate love; and there are many perſons now alive, who owe their preſent happineſs to his having interrupted the progreſs of an amour, that threatened to become unhappy, or even criminal, by privately making their guardians or parents acquainted with what he could diſcover

[78]I ſhall beg leave to give ſome inſtances of Mr. Naſh's good-nature on theſe occaſions, as I have had the accounts from himſelf. At the concluſion of the treaty of peace at Utrecht, colonel M— was one of the thoughtleſs, agreeable, gay creatures, that drew the attention of the company at Bath. He danced and talked with great vivacity; and when he gamed among the ladies, he ſhewed, that his attention was employed rather upon their hearts than their fortunes. His own fortune however was a trifle, when compared to the elegance of his expence; and his imprudence at laſt was ſo great, that it obliged him to ſell an annuity, ariſing from his commiſſion, to keep up his ſplendor a little longer.

However thoughtleſs he might be, he had the happineſs of gaining the affections of Miſs L—, whoſe father deſigned her a very large fortune. This lady was courted by a nobleman of diſtinction, but ſhe refuſed his addreſſes, reſolved upon [79] gratifying rather her inclinations than her avarice. The intrigue went on ſucceſsfully between her and the colonel, and they both would certainly have been married, and been undone, had not Mr. Naſh apprized her father of their intentions. The old gentleman recalled his daughter from Bath, and offered Mr. Naſh a very conſiderable preſent, for the care he had taken, which he refuſed.

In the mean time colonel M— had an intimation how his intrigue came to be diſcovered; and by taxing Mr. Naſh, ſound that his ſuſpicions were not without foundation. A challenge was the immediate conſequence, which the king of Bath, conſcious of having only done his duty, thought proper to decline. As none are permitted to wear ſwords at Bath, the colonel found no opportunity of gratifying his reſentment, and waited with impatience to find Mr. Naſh in town, to require proper ſatisfaction.

[80]During this interval, however, he found his creditors become too importunate for him to remain longer at Bath; and his finances and credit being quite exhauſted, he took the deſperate reſolution of going over to the Dutch army in Flanders, where he enliſted himſelf a volunteer. Here he underwent all the fatigues of a private centinel, with the additional miſery of receiving no pay, and his friends in England gave out, that he was ſhot at the battle of —

In the mean time the nobleman preſſed his paſſion with ardour, but during the progreſs of his amour, the young lady's father died, and left her heireſs to a fortune of fifteen hundred a year. She thought herſelf now diſengaged from her former paſſion. An abſence of two years had in ſome meaſure abated her love for the colonel; and the aſſiduity, the merit, and real regard of the gentleman who ſtill continued to ſolicit her, were almoſt too powerful for her conſtancy. Mr. Naſh, [81] in the mean time, took every opportunity of enquiring after colonel M—, and found, that he had for ſome time been returned to England, but changed his name, in order to avoid the fury of his creditors; and that he was entered into a company of ſtrolling players, who were at that time exhibiting at Peterborough.

He now therefore thought he owed the colonel, in juſtice, an opportunity of promoting his fortune, as he had once deprived him of an occaſion of ſatisfying his love. Our Beau therefore invited the lady to be of a party to Peterborough, and offered his own equipage, which was then one of the moſt elegant in England, to conduct her there. The propoſal being accepted, the lady, the nobleman, and Mr. Naſh, arrived in town juſt as the players were going to begin.

Colonel M—, who uſed every means of remaining incognito, and who was too proud to make his diſtreſſes known to any of his former acquaintance, was now degraded [82] into the character of Tom in the Conſcious Lovers. Miſs L— was placed in the foremoſt row of the ſpectators, her lord on one ſide, and the impatient Naſh on the other; when the unhappy youth appeared in that deſpicable ſituation upon the ſtage. The moment he came on, his former miſtreſs ſtruck his view, but his amazement was encreaſed, when he ſaw her fainting away in the arms of thoſe who ſate behind her. He was incapable of proceeding, and ſcarce knowing what he did, he flew and caught her in his arms.

Colonel, cried Naſh, when they were in ſome meaſure recovered, you once thought me your enemy, becauſe I endeavoured to prevent you both from ruining each other, you were then wrong, and you have long had my forgiveneſs. If you love well enough now for matrimony, you fairly have my conſent, and d—n him, ſay I, that attempts to part you. Their nuptials were ſolemnized ſoon after, and affluence added a zeſt to all their future enjoyments. Mr. Naſh had the [83] thanks of each, and he afterwards ſpent ſeveral agreeable days in that ſociety, which he had contributed to render happy.

I ſhall beg the reader's patience, while I give another inſtance, in which he ineffectually offered his aſſiſtance and advice. This ſtory is not from himſelf; but told us partly by Mr. Wood, the architect of Bath, as it fell particularly within his own knowledge; and partly from another memoir, to which he refers.

Miſs Sylvia S— was deſcended from one of the beſt families in the kingdom, and was left a large fortune upon her Siſter's deceaſe. She had early in life been introduced into the beſt company, and contracted a paſſion for elegance and expence. It is uſual to make the heroine of a ſtory very witty, and very beautiful, and ſuch circumſtances are ſo ſurely expected, that they are ſcarce attended to. But whatever the fineſt poet could conceive of wit, or the moſt celebrated painter imagine of beauty, were excelled in the perfections [84] of this young lady. Her ſuperiority in both was allowed by all, who either heard, or had ſeen her. She was naturally gay, generous to a fault, good-natured to the higheſt degree, affable in converſation, and ſome of her letters, and other writings, as well in verſe as proſe, would have ſhone amongſt thoſe of the moſt celebrated wits of this, or any other age, had they been publiſhed.

But theſe great qualifications were marked by another, which leſſened the value of them all. She was imprudent! But let it not be imagined, that her reputation or honour ſuffered by her imprudence; I only mean, ſhe had no knowledge of the uſe of money, ſhe relieved diſtreſs, by putting herſelf into the circumſtances of the object whoſe wants ſhe ſupplied.

She was arrived at the age of nineteen, when the croud of her lovers, and the continual repetition of new flattery, had taught her to think ſhe could never be forſaken, and never poor. Young ladies [85] are apt to expect a certainty of ſucceſs, from a number of lovers; and yet I have ſeldom ſeen a girl courted by an hundred lovers, that found an huſband in any. Before the choice is fixed, ſhe has either loſt her reputation, or her good ſenſe; and the loſs of either is ſufficient to conſign her to perpetual virginity.

Among the number of this young lady's lovers was the celebrated S—, who, at that time, went by the name of the good-natured man. This gentleman, with talents that might have done honour to humanity, ſuffered himſelf to fall at length into the loweſt ſtate of debaſement. He followed the dictates of every neweſt paſſion, his love, his pity, his generoſity, and even his friendſhips were all in exceſs; he was unable to make head againſt any of his ſenſations or deſires, but they were in general worthy wiſhes and deſires; for he was conſtitutionally virtuous. This gentleman, who at laſt died in a goal, was at that time this lady's envied favourite.

[86]It is probable that he, thoughtleſs creature, had no other proſpect from this amour, but that of paſſing the preſent moments agreeably. He only courted diſſipation, but the lady's thoughts were fixed on happineſs. At length, however, his debts amounting to a conſiderable ſum, he was arreſted, and thrown into priſon. He endeavoured at firſt to conceal his ſituation from his beautiful miſtreſs; but ſhe ſoon came to a knowledge of his diſtreſs, and took a fatal reſolution of freeing him from confinement by diſcharging all the demands of his creditors.

Mr. Naſh was at that time in London, and repreſented to the thoughtleſs young lady, that ſuch a meaſure would effectually ruin both; that ſo warm a concern for the intereſts of Mr. S—, would in the firſt place quite impair her fortune, in the eyes of our ſex; and what was worſe, leſſen her reputation in thoſe of her own. He added, that thus bringing Mr. S— from priſon, would be only a temporary [87] relief; that a mind ſo generous as his, would become bankrupt under the load of gratitude; and inſtead of improving in friendſhip or affection, he would only ſtudy to avoid a creditor he could never repay; that tho' ſmall favours produce good-will, great ones deſtroy friendſhip. Theſe admonitions however were diſregarded, and ſhe too late found the prudence and truth of her adviſer. In ſhort, her fortune was by this means exhauſted, and, with all her attractions, ſhe found her acquaintance began to diſeſteem her, in proportion as ſhe became poor.

In this ſituation ſhe accepted Mr. Naſh's invitation of returning to Bath; he promiſed to introduce her to the beſt company there, and he was aſſured that her merit would do the reſt; upon her very firſt appearance, ladies of the higheſt diſtinction courted her friendſhip and eſteem; but a ſettled melancholy had taken poſſeſſion of her mind, and no amuſements that they could propoſe were ſufficient to divert it. Yet ſtill, as if from habit, ſhe followed the [88] crowd in its levities, and frequented thoſe places, where all perſons endeavour to forget themſelves in the buſtle of ceremony and ſhew.

Her beauty, her ſimplicity, and her unguarded ſituation, ſoon drew the attention of a deſigning wretch, who at that time kept one of the rooms at Bath, and who thought, that this lady's merit, properly managed, might turn to good account. This woman's name was dame Lindſey, a creature who, though vicious, was in appearance ſanctified; and though deſigning, had ſome wit and humour. She began by the humbleſt aſſiduity to ingratiate herſelf with miſs S—; ſhewed, that ſhe could be amuſing as a companion, and by frequent offers of money, proved, that ſhe could be uſeful as a friend. Thus by degrees ſhe gained an entire aſcendant over this poor, thoughtleſs, deſerted girl; and in leſs than one year, namely about 1727, Miſs S, without ever tranſgreſſing the laws of virtue, had entirely loſt her reputation. Whenever a perſon was wanting to make up a [89] party for play at dame Lindſey's, Sylvia, as ſhe was then familiarly called, was ſent for, and was obliged to ſuffer all thoſe ſlights, which the rich but too often let fall upon their inferiors in point of fortune.

In moſt, even the greateſt minds, the heart at laſt becomes level with the meanneſs of its condition; but in this charming girl, it ſtruggled hard with adverſity, and yielded to every encroachment of contempt with ſullen reluctance.

But tho' in the courſe of three years ſhe was in the very eye of public inſpection, yet, Mr. Wood the architect, avers, that he could never, by the ſtricteſt obſervations, perceive her to be tainted with any other vice, than that of ſuffering herſelf to be decoyed to the gaming-table, and at her own hazard, playing for the amuſement and advantage of others. Her friend Mr. Naſh, therefore, thought proper to induce her to break off all connections with dame Lindſey, and to rent part of Mr. [90] Wood's houſe, in Queen ſquare, where ſhe behaved with the utmoſt complaiſance, regularity and virtue.

In this ſituation her deteſtation of life ſtill continued; ſhe found, that time would infallibly deprive her of part of her attractions, and that continual ſolicitude would impair the reſt. With theſe reflections ſhe would frequently entertain herſelf, and an old faithful maid in the vales of Bath, when ever the weather would permit them to walk out. She would even ſometimes ſtart queſtions in company, with ſeeming unconcern, in order to know what act of ſuicide was eaſieſt, and which was attended with the ſmalleſt pain. When tired with exerciſe, ſhe generally retired to meditation, and ſhe became habituated to early hours of ſleep and reſt. But when the weather prevented her uſual exerciſe, and her ſleep was thus more difficult, ſhe made it a rule to riſe from her bed, and walk about her chamber, till ſhe began to find an inclination for repoſe.

[91]This cuſtom made it neceſſary for her to order a burning candle to be kept all night in her room. And the maid uſually, when ſhe withdrew, locked the chamber door, and puſhing the key under it beyond reach, her miſtreſs by that conſtant method lay undiſturbed till ſeven o' clock in the morning, then ſhe aroſe, unlocked the door, and rang the bell, as a ſignal for the maid to return.

This ſtate of ſeeming piety, regularity, and prudence continued for ſome time, till the gay, celebrated toaſted miſs Silvia was ſunk into an houſekeeper to the gentleman at whoſe houſe ſhe lived. She was unable to keep company for want of the elegancies of dreſs, that are the uſual paſſport among the polite, and ſhe was too haughty to ſeem to want them. The faſhionable, the amuſing, and the polite in ſociety now ſeldom viſited her, and from being once the object of every eye, ſhe was now deſerted by all, and preyed upon by the bitter reflections of her own imprudence.

[92]Mr. Wood, and part of his family, were gone to London. Miſs Silvia was left with the reſt as a governeſs at Bath. She ſometimes ſaw Mr. Naſh, and acknowledged the friendſhip of his admonitions, tho' ſhe refuſed to accept any other marks of his generoſity than that of advice. Upon the cloſe of the day, in which Mr. Wood was expected to return from London, ſhe expreſſed ſome uneaſineſs at the diſappointment of not ſeeing him; took particular care to ſettle the affairs of his family, and then as uſual ſate down to meditation. She now caſt a retroſpect over her paſt miſconduct, and her approaching miſery; ſhe ſaw, that even affluence gave her no real happineſs, and from indigence ſhe thought nothing could be hoped but lingering calamity. She at length conceived the fatal reſolution of leaving a life, in which ſhe could ſee no corner for comfort, and terminating a ſcene of imprudence in ſuicide.

Thus reſolved, ſhe ſate down at her dining-room window, and with cool intrepidity, [93] wrote the following elegant lines on one of the panes of the window.

O death; thou pleaſing end of human woe!
Thou cure for life! Thou greateſt good below!
Still may'ſt thou fly the coward, and the ſlave,
And thy ſoft ſlumbers only bleſs the brave.

She then went into company with the moſt chearful ſerenity; talked of indifferent ſubjects till ſupper, which ſhe ordered to be got ready in a little library belonging to the family. There ſhe ſpent the remaining hours, preceding bed-time, in dandling two of Mr. Wood's children on her knees. In retiring from thence to her chamber ſhe went into the nurſery, to take her leave of another child, as it lay ſleeping in the cradle. Struck with the innocence of the little babe's looks, and the conſciouſneſs of her meditated guilt, ſhe could not avoid burſting into tears, and hugging it in her arms; ſhe then bid her old ſervant a good night, for the firſt [94] time ſhe had ever done ſo, and went to bed as uſual.

It is probable ſhe ſoon quitted her bed, and was ſeized with an alternation of paſſions, before ſhe yielded to the impulſe of deſpair. She dreſſed herſelf in clean linnen, and white garments of every kind, like a bride-maid. Her gown was pinned over her breaſt, juſt as a nurſe pins the ſwaddling cloaths of an infant. A pink ſilk girdle was the inſtrument with which ſhe reſolved to terminate her miſery, and this was lengthened by another made of gold thread. The end of the former was tied with a nooſe, and the latter with three knots, at a ſmall diſtance from one another.

Thus prepared, ſhe ſate down again, and read; for ſhe left the book open at that place, in the ſtory of Olympia, in the Orlando Furioſo of Arioſto, where, by the perfidy and ingratitude of her boſom friend, ſhe was ruined, and left to the mercy of an unpitying world. This tragical event [95] gave her freſh ſpirits to go through her fatal purpoſe; ſo ſtanding upon a ſtool, and flinging the girdle, which was tied round her neck, over a cloſet-door that opened into her chamber, ſhe remained ſuſpended. Her weight however broke the girdle, and the poor deſpairer fell upon the floor with ſuch violence, that her fall awakened a workman that lay in the houſe about half an hour after two o'clock.

Recovering herſelf, ſhe began to walk about the room, as her uſual cuſtom was when ſhe wanted ſleep; and the workman imagining it to be only ſome ordinary accident, again went to ſleep. She once more, therefore, had recourſe to a ſtronger girdle made of ſilver thread, and this kept her ſuſpended till ſhe died.

Her old maid continued in the morning to wait as uſual for the ringing of the bell, and protracted her patience, hour after hour, till two o' clock in the afternoon; when the workmen at length entering [96] the room through the window, found their unfortunate miſtreſs ſtill hanging, and quite cold. The coroner's jury being impanelled, brought in their verdict lunacy; and her corpſe was next night decently buried in her father's grave, at the charge of a female companion, with whom ſhe had for many years an inſeparable intimacy.

Thus ended a female wit, a toaſt, and a gameſter; loved, admired, and forſaken. Formed for the delight of ſociety, fallen by imprudence into an object of pity. Hundreds in high life lamented her fate, and wiſhed, when too late, to redreſs her injuries. They who once had helped to impair her fortune, now regretted that they had aſſiſted in ſo mean a purſuit. The little effects ſhe had left behind were bought up with the greateſt avidity, by thoſe who deſired to preſerve ſome token of a companion, that once had given them ſuch delight. The remembrance of every virtue ſhe was poſſeſſed of was now improved by pity. Her former follies were few, [97] but the laſt ſwelled them to a large amount. And ſhe remains the ſtrongeſt inſtance to poſterity, that want of prudence alone, almoſt cancels every other virtue.

In all this unfortunate lady's affairs Mr. Naſh took a peculiar concern, he directed her when they played, adviſed her when ſhe deviated from the rules of caution, and performed the laſt offices of friendſhip after her deceaſe, by raiſing the auction of her little effects.

But he was not only the aſſiſtant and the friend of the fair ſex, but alſo their defender. He ſecured their perſons from inſult, and their reputations from ſcandal. Nothing offended him more, than a young fellow's pretending to receive favours from ladies he probably never ſaw; nothing pleaſed him ſo much, as ſeeing ſuch a piece of deliberate miſchief puniſhed. Mr. Naſh and one of his friends, being newly arrived at Tunbridge from Bath, were one day on the walks, and ſeeing a young fellow of fortune, with whom they had ſome [98] ſlight acquaintance, joined him. After the uſual chat and news of the day was over, Mr. Naſh aſked him, how long he had been at the wells, and what company was there? The other replied, he had been at Tunbridge a month; but as for company, he could find as good at a Tyburn ball. Not a ſoul was to be ſeen, except a parcel of gameſters and whores, who would grant the laſt favour, for a ſingle ſtake at the Pharaoh bank. ‘"Look you there, continued he, that Goddeſs of midnight, ſo fine, at t'other end of the walks, by Jove, ſhe was mine this morning for half a guinea. And ſhe there, who brings up the rear with powdered hair and dirty ruffles, ſhe's pretty enough, but cheap, perfectly cheap; why, my boys, to my own knowledge, you may have her for a crown, and a diſh of chocolate into the bargain. Laſt Wedneſday night we were happy."’ Hold there, ſir, cried the gentleman; as for your having the firſt lady, it is poſſible it may be true, and I intend to aſk her about it, for ſhe is my ſiſter; but as to your lying with the other laſt [99] Wedneſday, I am ſure you are a lying raſcal—ſhe is my wife, and we came here but laſt night. The Buck vainly aſked pardon; the gentleman was going to give him proper chaſtiſement; when Mr. Naſh interpoſed in his behalf, and obtained his pardon, upon condition that he quitted Tunbridge immediately.

But Mr. Naſh not only took care, during his adminiſtration, to protect the ladies from the inſults of our ſex, but to guard them from the ſlanders of each other. He, in the firſt place, prevented any animoſities that might ariſe from place and precedence, by being previouſly acquainted with the rank and quality of almoſt every family in the Britiſh dominions. He endeavoured to render ſcandal odious, by marking it as the reſult of envy and folly united. Not even Solon could have enacted a wiſer law in ſuch a ſociety as Bath. The gay, the heedleſs, and the idle, which moſtly compoſe the groupe of water-drinkers, ſeldom are at the pains of talking upon univerſal topics, which require comprehenſive [100] thought, or abſtract reaſoning. The adventures of the little circle of their own acquaintance, or of ſome names of quality and faſhion, make up their whole converſation. But it is too likely, that when we mention thoſe, we wiſh to depreſs them, in order to render ourſelves more conſpicuous; ſcandal muſt therefore have fixed her throne at Bath, preferable to any other part of the kingdom. However, tho' theſe endeavours could not totally ſuppreſs this cuſtom among the fair, yet they gained him the friendſhip of ſeveral ladies of diſtinction, who had ſmarted pretty ſeverely under the laſh of cenſure. Among this number was the old ducheſs of Marlborough, who conceived a particular friendſhip for him, and which continued during her life. She frequently conſulted him in ſeveral concerns of a private nature. Her letting leaſes, building bridges, or forming canals, were often carried on under his guidance; but ſhe adviſed with him particularly in purchaſing liveries for the footmen; a buſineſs to which ſhe thought his genius beſt adapted. [101] As any thing relative to her may pleaſe the curioſity of ſuch as delight in the anecdotes and letters of the great, however dull and inſipid, I ſhall beg leave to preſent them with one or two of her letters, collected at a venture from ſeveral others to the ſame purpoſe.

To Mr. Naſh, at the Bath.

MR. Jennens will give you an account how little time I have in my power, and that will make my excuſe for not thanking you ſooner for the favour of your letter, and for the trouble you have given yourſelf in beſpeaking the cloth, which I am ſure will be good, ſince you have undertaken to order it. Pray aſk Mrs. Jennens concerning the caſcade, which will ſatisfy all your doubts in that matter; ſhe ſaw it play, which it will do in great beauty, for at leaſt ſix hours together, and it runs enough to cover all the ſtones conſtantly, and is a hundred feet broad, which I am told is a much greater breadth than any caſcade is in England; and this will [102] be yet better than it is, when it is quite finiſhed; this water is a great addition to this place, and the lake being thirty acres, out of which the caſcade comes and falls into the canal that goes through the bridge, it makes that look as if it was neceſſary, which before ſeemed ſo otherwiſe.

I am Your moſt humble Servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

To Mr. Naſh, at the Bath.

SIR,

I have received the favour of yours of the tenth of May, with that from Mr. Harvey. And by laſt poſt I received a letter from Mr. Overton, a ſort of a bailiff and a ſurveyor, whom I have employed a great while upon the eſtates in Wiltſhire. He is a very active and very uſeful man of his ſort. He writes to me, that Mr. Harvey has been with him, and brought him [103] a paper, which I ſent you. He ſays, that finding he was a man that was deſirous to ſerve me, he had aſſiſted him all he could, by informations which he has given; and that he ſhould continue to aſſiſt him. I have writ to him that he did mighty well. There is likewiſe a conſiderable tenant of my lord Bruce's, his name is Cannons, who has promiſed me his aſſiſtance towards recommending tenants for theſe farms. And if Mr. Harvey happens to know ſuch a man, he may put him in mind of it. I am ſure you will do me all the good you can. And I hope you are ſure that I ſhall always be ſenſible of the obligations I have to you, and ever be

Your moſt thankful and obliged humble Servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

Mr. Harvey may conclude to take any prices that were given you in the paper. But as I know that we have been ſcandalouſly cheated, if he finds that any thing can be let better than it has been let, I do not doubt but he will do it.

[104]The ducheſs of Marlborough ſeems to not a much better writer than Mr. Naſh; but ſhe was worth many hundred thouſands pounds, and that might conſole her. It may give ſplenetic philoſophy, however, ſome ſcope for meditation, when it conſiders, what a parcel of ſtupid trifles the world is ready to admire.

Whatever might have been Mr. Naſh's other excellencies, there was one in which few exceeded him; I mean his extenſive humanity. None felt pity more ſtrongly, and none made greater efforts to relieve diſtreſs. If I were to name any reigning and faſhionable virtue in the preſent age, I th [...] [...] ſhould be charity. The numberleſs benefactions privately given, the various public ſolicitations for charity, and the ſucceſs they meet with, ſerve to prove, that tho' we may fall ſhort of our anceſtors in other reſpects, yet in this inſtance we greatly excel them. I know not whether it may not be ſpreading the influence of Mr. Naſh too widely to ſay, that he was [105] one of the principal cauſes of introducing this noble emulation among the rich; but certain it is, no private man ever relieved the diſtreſſes of ſo many as he.

Before gaming was ſuppreſſed, and in the meridian of his life and fortune, his benefactions were generally found to equal his other expences. The money he got without pain, he gave away without reluctance; and whenever unable to relieve a wretch, who ſued for aſſiſtance, he has been often ſeen to ſhed tears. A gentleman of broken fortune, one day ſtanding behind his chair, as he was playing a game of picquet for two hundred pounds, and obſerving with what indifference he won the money, could not avoid whiſpering theſe words to another who ſtood by; ‘"heavens! how happy would all that money make me!"’ Naſh, overhearing him, clapp'd the money into his hand; and cried, go and be happy.

[106]About ſix and thirty years ago, a clergyman brought his family to Bath for the benefit of the waters. His wife laboured under a lingering diſorder, which it was thought nothing but the Hot Wells could remove. The expences of living there ſoon leſſened the poor man's finances; his cloaths were ſold, piece by piece, to provide a temporary relief for his little family; and his appearance was at laſt ſo ſhabby, that, from the number of holes in his coat and ſtockings, Naſh gave him the name of doctor Cullender. Our beau, it ſeems, was rude enough to make a jeſt of poverty, tho' he had ſenſibility enough to relieve it. The poor clergyman combated his diſtreſſes with fortitude; and, inſtead of attempting to ſolicit relief, endeavoured to conceal them. Upon a living of thirty pounds a year he endeavoured to maintain his wife and ſix children; but all his reſources at laſt failed him, and nothing but famine was ſeen in the wretched family. The poor man's circumſtances were at laſt communicated to [107] Naſh; who, with his uſual chearfulneſs, undertook to relieve him. On a ſunday evening, at a public tea-drinking at Harriſon's, he went about to collect a ſubſcription, and began it himſelf, by giving five guineas. By this means two hundred guineas were collected in leſs than two hours, and the poor family raiſed from the loweſt deſpondence into affluence and felicity. A bounty ſo unexpected, had a better influence even upon the woman's conſtitution, than all that either the phyſicians or the waters of Bath could produce, and ſhe recovered. But his good offices did not reſt here. He prevailed upon a nobleman of his acquaintance, to preſent the Doctor with a living of an hundred and ſixty pounds a year, which made that happineſs, he had before produced, in ſome meaſure permanent.

In the ſevere winter, which happened in the year 1739 his charity was great, uſeful, and extenſive. He frequently, at that ſeaſon of calamity, entered the houſes of the poor, whom he thought too proud to beg, and generouſly relieved [108] them. The colliers were at this time peculiarly diſtreſſed; and in order to excite compaſſion, a number of them yoaked themſelves to a waggon loaded with coals, and drew it into Bath, and preſented it to Mr. Naſh. Their ſcheme had the proper effect. Mr. Naſh procured them a ſubſcription, and gave ten guineas towards it himſelf. The weavers alſo ſhared his bounty at that ſeaſon. They came begging in a body into Bath, and he provided a plentiful dinner for their entertainment, and gave each a week's ſubſiſtence at going away.

There are few public charities to which he was not a ſubſcriber, and many he principally contributed to ſupport. Among others, Mr. Anneſly, that ſtrange example of the mutability of fortune, and the inefficacy of our Laws, ſhared his intereſt and bounty. I have now before me a well written letter, addreſſed to Mr. Naſh, in order to obtain his intereſt for that unhappy gentleman; it comes from Mr. [...] a quaker, who was Mr. Anneſly's [109] father's agent. This gentleman warmly eſpouſed the young adventurer's intereſt, and, I am told, fell with him.

My Good Friend,

WHEN I had the honour of converſing with thee at Tunbridge, in September laſt, concerning that moſt ſingular ſtriking caſe of Mr. Anneſley, whom I have known ſince he was about ſix years old, I being then employed by the late Lord Baron of Altham, his father, as his agent. From what I know of the affairs of that family, I am well aſſured, that Mr. Anneſley is the legitimate ſon of the late Lord Baron of Altham, and in conſequence thereof, is intitled to the honours and eſtates of Angleſey. Were I not well aſſured of his right to thoſe honours and eſtates, I would not give countenance to his claim.—I well remember, that thou then madeſt me a promiſe to aſſiſt him in ſoliciting a ſubſcription, that was then begun at Tunbridge; but as that place was not within the limits of thy province, thou [110] couldeſt not promiſe to do much there. But thou ſaidſt, that in caſe he would go to Bath in the ſeaſon, thou wouldeſt then and there ſhew how much thou wouldeſt be his friend.

And now, my good friend, as the ſeaſon is come on, and Mr. Anneſley now at Bath, I beg leave to remind thee of that promiſe; and that thou wilt keep in full view the honour, the everlaſting honour, that will naturally redound to thee from thy benevolence, and crown all the good actions of thy life.—I ſay, now in the vale of life, to relieve a diſtreſſed young nobleman, to extricate ſo immenſe an eſtate, from the hands of oppreſſion; to do this, will fix ſuch a ray of glory on thy memory, as will ſpeak forth thy praiſe to future ages.—This with great reſpect is the needful,

from thy aſſured Friend, WILLIAM HENDERSON.

Be pleaſed to give my reſpects to Mr. Anneſley and his ſpouſe.

[111]Mr. Naſh punctually kept his word with this gentleman; he began the ſubſcription himſelf with the utmoſt liberality, and procured ſuch a liſt of encouragers, as at once did honour to Mr. Anneſly's cauſe, and their own generoſity. What a pity it was, that this money, which was given for the relief of indigence only, went to feed a ſet of reptiles, who batten upon our weakneſs, miſeries and vice.

It may not be known to the generality of my readers, that the laſt act of the comedy, called Eſop, which was added to the French plot of Bourſault, by Mr. Vanburgh, was taken from a ſtory told of Mr. Naſh upon a ſimilar occaſion. He had in the early part of life made propoſals of marriage to miſs V—, of D—; his affluence at that time, and the favour which he was in with the nobility, readily induced the young lady's father to favour his addreſſes. However, upon opening the affair to herſelf, ſhe candidly told him, her affections were placed upon another, [112] and that ſhe could not poſſibly comply. Tho' this anſwer ſatisfied Mr. Naſh, it was by no means ſufficient to appeaſe the father; and he peremptorily inſiſted upon her obedience. Things were carried to the laſt extremity; when Mr. Naſh undertook to ſettle the affair; and deſiring his favoured rival to be ſent for, with his own hand preſented his miſtreſs to him, together with a fortune equal to what her father intended to give her. Such an uncommon inſtance of generoſity had an inſtant effect upon the ſevere parent; he conſidered ſuch diſintereſtedneſs as a juſt reproach to his own mercenary diſpoſition, and took his daughter once more into favour. I wiſh, for the dignity of hiſtory, that the ſequel could be concealed, but the young lady ran away with her footman, before half a year was expired; and her huſband died of grief.

In general, the benefactions of a generous man are but ill beſtowed. His heart ſeldom gives him leave to examine the real diſtreſs of the object which ſues for pity; [113] his good-nature takes the alarm too ſoon, and he beſtows his fortune on only apparent wretchedneſs. The man naturally frugal, on the other hand, ſeldom relieves, but when he does, his reaſon, and not his ſenſations, generally find out the object. Every inſtance of his bounty is therefore permanent, and bears witneſs to his benevolence.

Of all the immenſe ſums which Naſh laviſhed upon real or apparent wretchedneſs, the effects, after a few years, ſeemed to diſappear. His money was generally given to ſupport immediate want, or to relieve improvident indolence, and therefore it vaniſhed in an hour. Perhaps towards the cloſe of life, were he to look round on the thouſands he had relieved, he would find but few made happy, or fixed by his bounty in a ſtate of thriving induſtry; it was enough for him, that he gave to thoſe that wanted; he never conſidered, that charity to ſome might impoveriſh himſelf without relieving them; he ſeldom conſidered the merit or the induſtry [114] of the petitioner; or he rather fancied, that miſery was an excuſe for indolence and guilt. It was an uſual ſaying of his, when he went to beg for any perſon in diſtreſs, that they who could ſtoop to the meanneſs of ſolicitation, muſt certainly want the favour for which they petitioned.

In this manner therefore he gave away immenſe ſums of his own, and ſtill greater, which he procured from others. His way was, when any perſon was propoſed to him as an object of charity, to go round with his hat firſt among the nobility, according to their rank, and ſo on, till he left ſcarce a ſingle perſon unſolicited. They who go thus about to beg for others, generally find a pleaſure in the taſk. They conſider, in ſome meaſure, every benefaction they procure, as given by themſelves, and have at once the pleaſure of being liberal, without the ſelf reproach of being profuſe.

But of all the inſtances of Mr. Naſh's bounty, none does him more real honour, [115] than the pains he took in eſtabliſhing an hoſpital at Bath, in which benefaction, however, Doctor Oliver had a great ſhare. This was one of thoſe well guided charities, dictated by reaſon, and ſupported by prudence. By this inſtitution the diſeaſed poor might recover health, when incapable of receiving it in any other part of the kingdom. As the diſorders of the poor, who could expect to find relief at Bath, were moſtly chronical, the expence of maintaining them there was found more than their pariſhes thought proper to afford. They therefore choſe to ſupport them in a continual ſtate of infirmity, by a ſmall allowance at home, rather than be at the charge of an expenſive cure. An hoſpital therefore at Bath it was thought would be an aſſylum, and a place of relief to thoſe diſabled creatures, and would, at the ſame time, give the phyſician more thorough inſight into the efficacy of the waters, from the regularity, with which ſuch patients would be obliged to take them. Theſe inducements therefore influenced Doctor Oliver, and Mr. Naſh, to promote a ſubſcription [116] towards ſuch a benefaction. The deſign was ſet on foot ſo early as the year 1711, but not completed till the year 1742. This delay, which ſeems ſurprizing, was in fact owing to the want of a proper fund for carrying the work into execution. What I ſaid above, of charity being the characteriſtic virtue of the preſent age, will be more fully evinced, by comparing the old and new ſubſcriptions for this hoſpital. Theſe will ſhew the difference between ancient and modern benevolence. When I run my eye over the liſt of thoſe who ſubſcribed in the year 1723, I find the ſubſcription in general ſeldom riſe above a guinea each perſon; ſo that, at that time, with all their efforts, they were unable to raiſe four hundred pounds; but in about twenty years after, each particular ſubſcription was greatly encreaſed, ten, twenty, thirty pounds, being the moſt ordinary ſums then ſubſcribed, and they ſoon raiſed above two thouſand pounds for the purpoſe.

[117]Thus chiefly by the means of Doctor Oliver and Mr. Naſh, but not without the aſſiſtance of the good Mr. Allen, who gave them the ſtone for building and other benefactions, this hoſpital was erected, and it is at preſent fitted up for the reception of one hundred and ten patients, the caſes moſtly paralytic or leprous. The following conditions are obſerved previous to admittance.

  • "I. The caſe of the patient muſt be deſcribed by ſome phyſician, or perſon of ſkill, in the neighbourhood of the place where the patient has reſided for ſome time; and this deſcription, together with a certificate of the poverty of the patient, atteſted by ſome perſons of credit, muſt be ſent in a letter poſt-paid, directed to the regiſter of the General Hoſpital at Bath.
  • II. After the patient's caſe has been thus deſcribed, and ſent, he muſt remain in his uſual place or reſidence 'till he has notice of a vacancy, ſignified by a letter from the regiſter.
  • [118]III. Upon the receipt of ſuch a letter, the patient muſt ſet forward for Bath, bringing with him this letter, the pariſh certificate duly executed, and allowed by two juſtices, and three pounds caution-money, if from any part of England or Wales; but if the patient comes from Scotland or Ireland, then the caution-money, to be depoſited before admiſſion, is the ſum of five pounds.
  • IV. Soldiers may, inſtead of pariſh certificates, bring a certificate from their commanding officers, ſignifying to what corps they belong, and that they ſhall be received into the ſame corps, when diſcharged from the Hoſpital, in whatever condition they are. But it is neceſſary, that their caſes be deſcribed, and ſent previouſly, and that they bring with them three pounds caution-money.

Note, The intention of the caution-money is to defray the expences of returning the patients after they are diſcharged from [119] the Hoſpital, or of their burial in caſe they die there. The remainder of the caution-money, after theſe expences are defrayed, will be returned to the perſon who made the depoſit."

I am unwilling to leave this ſubject of his benevolence, becauſe it is a virtue in his character, which muſt ſtand almoſt ſingle againſt an hundred follies; and it deſerves the more to be inſiſted on, becauſe it was large enough to outweigh them all. A man may be an hypocrite ſafely in every other inſtance, but in charity; there are few who will buy the character of benevolence at the rate for which it muſt be acquired. In ſhort, the ſums he gave away were immenſe; and in old age, when at laſt grown too poor to give relief, he gave, as the poet has it, all he had, a tear; when incapable of relieving the agonies of the wretched, he attempted to relieve his own by a flood of ſorrow.

From the hoſpital erected for the benefit of the poor, it is an eaſy tranſition to the [120] monuments erected by him in honour of the great. Upon the recovery of the Prince of Orange, by drinking the Bath waters, Mr. Naſh cauſed a ſmall obeliſk, thirty feet high, to be erected in a grove near the Abbey church, ſince called Orange Grove. This Prince's arms adorn the weſt ſide of the body of the pedeſtal. The inſcription is on the oppoſite ſide, in the following words:

In memoriam
Sanitatis
Principi Auriaco
Aquarum th [...]malium potu.
Favente Deo,
Ovante Britannia,
Feliciter reſtitutae,

M.DCC.XXXIV.

In Engliſh thus.

In memory
Of the happy reſtoration
Of the health of the
Prince of Orange,
Through the favour of God,
And to the great joy of Britain,
By drinking the Bath waters.
1734.

[121]I find it a general cuſtom, at all Baths and Spaws, to erect monuments of this kind to the memory of every Prince, who has received benefit from the waters. Aix, Spau, and Piſa, abound with inſcriptions of this nature, apparently doing honour to the Prince, but in reality celebrating the efficacy of their ſprings. It is wrong, therefore, to call ſuch monuments inſtances of gratitude, tho' they may wear that appearance.

In the year 1738, the Prince of Wales came to Bath, who preſented Mr. Naſh with a large gold enamelled ſnuff-box; and upon his departure, Naſh, as king of Bath, erected an obeliſk in honour of this Prince, as he had before done for the Prince of Orange. This handſome memorial in honour of that good-natured Prince is erected in Queen ſquare. It is encloſed with a ſtone baluſtrade, and in the middle of every ſide there are large iron gates. In the center is the obeliſk, ſeventy feet high, and terminating in a point. The expences of this were eighty pounds; and Mr. Naſh [122] was determined, that the inſcription ſhould anſwer the magnificence of the pile. With this view he wrote to Mr. Pope, at London, requeſting an inſcription. I ſhould have been glad to have given Mr. Naſh's letter upon this occaſion; the reader, however, muſt be ſatisfied with Pope's reply; which is as follows.

SIR,

I have received yours, and thank your partiality in my favour. You ſay words cannot expreſs the gratitude you feel for the favour of his R. H. and yet you would have me expreſs what you feel, and in a few words. I own myſelf unequal to the taſk; for even, granting it poſſible to expreſs an inexpreſſible idea, I am the worſt perſon you could have pitched upon for this purpoſe, who have received ſo few favours from the great myſelf, that I am utterly unacquainted with what kind of thanks they like beſt. Whether the P— moſt loves poetry or proſe, I proteſt I do not know; but this I dare venture [123] to affirm, that you can give him as much ſatisfaction in either as I can.

I am, SIR, Your affectionate Servant, A. POPE.

What Mr. Naſh's anſwer to this billet was, I cannot take upon me to aſcertain, but it was probably a perſeverance in his former requeſt. The following is the copy of Mr. Pope's reply to his ſecond letter.

SIR,

I had ſooner anſwered yours, but in the hope of procuring a properer hand than mine; and then in conſulting with ſome, whoſe office about the P— might make them the beſt judges, what ſort of inſcription to ſet up? Nothing can be plainer than the incloſed; it is nearly the common ſenſe of the thing, and I do not know how to flouriſh upon it. But this [124] you would do as well, or better yourſelf, and I dare ſay may mend the expreſſion. I am truly,

Dear SIR,
Your affectionate Servant, A. POPE.

I think I need not tell you my name ſhould not be mentioned.

Such a letter as this was what might naturally be expected from Mr. Pope. Notwithſtanding the ſeeming modeſty towards the concluſion, the vanity of an applauded writer burſts through every line of it. The difficulty of concealing his hand from the clerks at the Poſt-office, and the ſolicitude to have his name concealed, were marks of the conſciouſneſs of his own importance. It is probable, his hand was not ſo very well known, nor his letters ſo eagerly opened by the clerks of the Office, as he ſeems always to think. But in all [125] his letters, as well as thoſe of Swift, there runs a ſtrain of pride, as if the world talked of nothing but themſeves. Alaſs, ſays he, in one of them, the day after I am dead, the ſun will ſhine as bright as the day before, and the world will be as merry as uſual! Very ſtrange, that neither an eclipſe nor an earthquake ſhould follow the loſs of a Poet!

The inſcription referred to in this letter, was the ſame which was afterwards engraved on the obeliſk; and is as follows.

In memory of honours beſtow'd,
And in gratitude for benefits conferred in this city,
By his Royal Highneſs
Frederick, Prince of Wales,
And his Royal Conſort,
In the Year 1738,
This obeliſk is erected by
Richard Naſh, Eſq

I dare venture to ſay, there was ſcarce a common-council-man in the corporation of [126] Bath, but could have done this as well. Nothing can be more frigid; though the ſubject was worthy of the utmoſt exertions of Genius.

About this period every ſeaſon brought ſome new acceſſion of honour to Mr. Naſh; and the corporation now univerſally found, that he was abſolutely neceſſary for promoting the welfare of the city; ſo that this year ſeems to have been the meridian of his glory. About this time he arrived at ſuch a pitch of authority, that I really believe Alexander was not greater at Perſepolis. The countenance he received from the Prince of Orange, the favour he was in with the Prince of Wales, and the careſſes of the nobility, all conſpired to lift him to the utmoſt pitch of vanity. The exultation of a little mind, upon being admitted to the familiarity of the Great is inexpreſſible. The Prince of Orange had made him a a preſent of a very fine ſnuff-box. Upon this ſome of the nobility thought it would be proper to give ſnuff-boxes too; [127] they were quickly imitated by the middling gentry, and it ſoon became the faſhion to give Mr. Naſh ſnuff-boxes.

To add to his honours, the corporation of Bath placed a full length ſtatue of him, in the pump-room, between the buſts of Newton and Pope. It was upon this occaſion that the Earl of Cheſterfield wrote that ſevere, but witty epigram; the laſt lines, of which were ſo deſervedly admired, and ran thus;

The ſtatue placed, the buſts between,
Adds to the ſatire ſtrength;
Wiſdom and Wit are little ſeen,
But Folly at full length.

The example of the corporation was followed by all his acquaintance, of inferior rank: He was treated in every reſpect like a great man; he had his levee, his flatterers, his buffoons, his good-natured creatures, and even his dedicators. A trifling ill ſupported vanity was his foible, and while he received the homage of the [128] vulgar, and enjoyed the familiarity of the great, he felt no pain for the unpromiſing view of poverty that lay before him; he enjoyed the world as it went, and drew upon content for the deficiencies of fortune. If a cringing wretch called him his Honour, he was pleaſed; internally conſcious, that he had the juſteſt pretenſions to the title. If a beggar called him my Lord, he was happy, and generally ſent the flatterer off happy too. I have known him, in London, wait a whole day at a window in the Smyrna coffee-houſe, in order to receive a bow from the Prince, or the Dutcheſs of Marlborough, as they paſſed by where he was ſtanding; and he would then look round upon the company for admiration and reſpect.

But perhaps the reader deſires to know, who could be low enough to flatter a man, who himſelf lived in ſome meaſure by dependance. Hundreds are ready upon thoſe occaſions. The very needy are almoſt ever flatterers. A man in wretched circumſtances forgets his own value, and feels no [129] pain in giving up ſuperiority to every claimant. The very vain are ever flatterers; as they find it neceſſary to make uſe of all their arts, to keep company with ſuch as are ſuperior to themſelves. But particularly the prodigal are prone to adulation, in order to open new ſupplies for their extravagance. The poor, the vain, and the extravagant, are chiefly addicted to this vice; and ſuch hung upon his good nature. When theſe three characters are found united in one perſon, the compoſition generally becomes a great man's favourite. It was not difficult to collect ſuch a groupe in a city, that was the center of pleaſure. Naſh had them of all ſizes, from the half pay captain in laced cloaths, to the humble boot-catcher at the Bear.

I have before me a bundle of letters, all addreſſed from a pack of flattering reptiles, to his Honour; and even ſome printed dedications, in the ſame ſervile ſtrain. In theſe his Honour is complimented as the great encourager of the polite arts, as a gentleman of the moſt accompliſhed [130] taſte, of the moſt extenſive learning, and in ſhort of every thing in the world. But perhaps it will be thought wrong in me, to unveil the bluſhing muſe, to brand learning with the meanneſs of its profeſſors, or to expoſe ſcholars in a ſtate of contempt.—For the honour of letters, the dedications to Mr. Naſh are not written by ſcholars or poets, but by people of a different ſtamp.

Among this number was the highwayman, who was taken after attempting to rob and murder Doctor Handcock. He was called Poulter, alias Baxter, and publiſhed a book, expoſing the tricks of gamblers, thieves and pick-pockets. This he intended to have dedicated to Mr. Naſh, but the generous patron, tho' no man loved praiſe more, was too modeſt to have it printed. However, he took care to preſerve the manuſcript, among the reſt of his papers. The book was entitled, The diſcoveries of John Poulter, alias Baxter, who was apprehended for robbing Doctor Handcock, of Saliſbury, on Clarken Down near Bath; and [131] who has ſince been admitted king's evidence, and diſcovered a moſt numerous gang of villains. Being a full account of all the robberies he committed, and the ſurprizing tricks and frauds he has practiſed for the ſpace of five years laſt paſt, in different parts of England, particularly in the Weſt. Written wholly by himſelf. The dedication intended to be prefixed is as follows, and will give a ſpecimen of the ſtile of an highwayman and a gambler.

To the Honourable Richard Naſh, Eſq

May it pleaſe your Honour,

WITH humbleſt ſubmiſſion, I make bold to preſent the following ſheets to your Honour's conſideration, and well known humanity. As I am induſtriouſly careful, in reſpect to his Majeſty, and good ſubjects, to put an end to the unfortunate miſconducts of all I know, by bringing them to the gallows. To be ſure ſome may cenſure, as if from ſelf-preſervation I made this ample diſcovery; but I communicate this to your Honour and gentry, whether the life of one perſon [132] being taken away, would anſwer the end, as to let eſcape ſuch a number of villains, who has been the ruining of many a poor family, for whom my ſoul is now much concerned. If my inclinations was ever ſo roguiſh enclined, what is it to ſo great a number of villains, when they conſult together. As your Honour's wiſdom, humanity and intereſt are the friend of the virtuous, I make bold to lay, at your Honour's feet, the following lines, which will put every honeſt man upon his defence againſt the ſnares of the miſchievous; and am, with greateſt gratitude, honoured Sir,

Your Honour's Moſt truly devoted and obedient Servant, John Poulter, alias Baxter.

Flattery from ſuch a wretch as this, one would think but little pleaſing; however, certain it is, that Naſh was pleaſed [133] with it, he loved to be called your Honour, and Honourable; and the highwayman more than once experienced his generoſity.

But ſince I have mentioned this fellow's book, I cannot repreſs an impulſe to give an extract from it, however foreign from my ſubject. I take the following picture to be a perfectly humorous deſcription of artful knavery affecting ignorance on one hand, and ruſtic ſimplicity pretending to great wiſdom and ſagacity on the other. It is an account of the manner in which countrymen are deceived by gamblers, at a game called Pricking in the Belt, or the Old Nob. This is a leathern ſtrop, folded up double, and then laid upon a table; if the perſon who plays with a bodkin pricks into the loop of the belt he wins; if otherwiſe, he loſes. However, by ſlipping one end of the ſtrop, the ſharper can win at pleaſure.

‘"THERE are generally four perſons concerned in this fraud, one to perſonate a Sailor, called a Legg Cull, another [134] called the Capper, who always keeps with the Sailor; and two pickers up, or Money-Droppers, to bring in Flats or Bubbles. The firſt thing they do at a fair, is to look for a room clear of company, which the Sailor and Capper immediately take, while the Money-Droppers go out to look for a Flat. If they ſee a countryman, whoſe looks they like, one drops a ſhilling, or half a crown, juſt before him, and picking it up again, looks the man in the face, and ſays, I have found a piece of money, friend, did you ſee me pick it up? The man ſays, yes: Then ſays the ſharper, if you had found it, I would have had half, ſo I will do as I would be done unto; come honeſt friend, we will not part with dry lips. Then taking him into the room where the other two are, he cries, By your leave gentlemen, I hope we don't diſturb the company. No, cries the Sailor; no brothers; Will you drink a glaſs of brandy, I don't like your weak liquors; and then begins a diſcourſe, by aſking the Capper how far it is to London; who replies, I dont know; perhaps the gentleman [135] there can tell you, directing his diſcourſe to the Flat; perhaps the Flat will anſwer, a hundred miles; the Sailor cries, I can ride that in a day, ay, in four or five hours; for, ſays he, my horſe will run twenty nots an hour for twenty-four hours together: Capper, or the Sailor's ſuppoſed companion, ſays, I believe Farmer you have not got ſuch a horſe as the Sailor has; the Farmer cries No, and laughs; and then the Sailor ſays, I muſt go and get half a pint of brandy, for I am griped, and ſo leaves them. The Capper, affecting a look of wiſdom in his abſence obſerves, that it is an old ſaying, and a true one, that Sailors get their money like horſes, and ſpend it like aſſes; as for that there Sailor I never ſaw him till now, buying a horſe of my man; he tells me he has been at Sea, and has got about four hundred pounds prize-money, but I belive he will ſquander it all away, for he was gaming juſt now with a ſharping fellow, and loſt forty ſhillings, at a ſtrange game of pricking in a ſtring. Did either of you ever ſee it, gentlemen? continued the Capper; if you [136] two are willing, I will aſk him to ſhew it, for we may as well win ſome of his money as any body elſe: The Flat and the Dropper cry, Do. Then in comes the Sailor, ſtaggering as if drunk, and cries, What cheer, brothers? I have juſt ſeen a pretty girl in the fair, and went in to drink with her, we made a bargain, and I gave her a ſix and thirty ſhilling piece, but an old b—h her mother came and called her away, but I hope ſhe will come back to me preſently; then the Capper laughs, and ſays, Have you got your money of her again? The Sailor ſays, No; but ſhe will come to me I'm ſure; then they all laugh. This is done to deceive the Flat: then ſays the Capper, What have you done with the ſtick and the ſtring, Sailor? he anſwers, What, that which I bought of the boys; I have got it here, but will not ſell it, and then he pulls out the Old Nobb, ſaying, What do you think I gave for it? I gave but ſix-pence, and as much brandy as the two boys could drink; it is made out of a monkey's hide, as the boys told me, and they told me, there is a game to be [137] played at it, which no body can do twice together; I will go down aboard ſhip, and play with my Captain, and I do not fear but I ſhall win his ſhip and cargo: then they all laugh, and the Sailor makes up the Old Nobb, and the Capper lays a ſhilling, and pricks himſelf and wins; the Sailor cries, You are a dab, I will not lay with you, but if you will call a ſtranger, I will lay again; why if you think me a dab, as you call it, I will get this ſtrange gentleman, or this (pointing to the Flat) Done, cries the Sailor, but you ſhall not tell him; then he makes up the Nob, and Capper lays a ſhilling, Flat pricks, being permitted to go ſix-pence; to which he agreeing, wins; and Capper ſays to the Flat, Can you change me half a crown? This is done to find the depth of his pocket; if they ſee a good deal of gold, Flat muſt win three or four times; if no gold, but twice. Sometimes, if the Flat has no money, the Sailor cries, I have more money than any man in the fair, and pulls out his purſe of gold, and ſaith, Not one of you can beg, borrow or ſteal half this [138] ſum in an hour for a guinea. Capper cries, I have laid out all mine; Farmer, Can you? I'll go your halves, if you think you can do it. The Sailor ſaith, you muſt not bring any body with you; then the Dropper goes with the Flat, and ſaith, you muſt not tell your friend it is for a wager; if you do, he will not lend it you. Flat goes and borrows it, and brings it to the Sailor, ſhews it him, and wins the wager; then the Sailor pinches the Nob again, and the Capper whiſpers to the Flat, to prick out purpoſely this time, ſaying, it will make the Sailor more eager to lay on; we may as well win his money as not, for he will ſpend it upon whores: Flat, with all the wiſdom in the world, loſes on purpoſe; upon which the Sailor ſwears, pulls out all his money, throws it about the room, and cries, I know no man can win for ever, and then lays a guinea, but wi [...]l not let him prick, but throws down five guineas; and the Capper urging the Flat, and going his halves, the Sailor ſaith, my cabbin, boy will lay as much as that, I'll lay no leſs than twenty guineas; [139] the Capper cries, lay Farmer and take up forty; which, being certain of winning, he inſtantly complies with, and loſes the whole. When he has loſt, in order to adviſe him, the Dropper takes him by the arm, and hauls him out of doors; and the reckoning being in the mean time paid within, the Capper and Sailor follow after, and run another way. When they are out of ſight, the Dropper faith to the Flat, go you back, and play with the Sailor for a ſhilling, whilſt I go and borrow money; but when the Flat goes to the houſe, he finds them gone, and then he knows that he is bit, but not till he has dearly paid for it."’

By this fellow's diſcoveries Mr. Naſh was enabled to ſerve many of the nobility and gentry of his acquaintance; he received a liſt of all thoſe houſes of ill fame which harboured or aſſiſted rogues, and took care to furniſh travellers with proper precautions to avoid them. It was odd enough to ſee a gameſter thus employed, in detecting the frauds of gamblers.

[140]Among the Dedications, there is one from a Profeſſor of Cookery, which is more adulatory than the preceding. It is prefixed to a work, entituled, The complete preſerver, or a new method of preſerving fruits, flowers, and other vegetables, either with or without ſugar, vinegar or ſpirits, &c,

To the very Honourable Richard Naſh, Eſq

Honoured SIR,

AS much as the oak exceeds the bramble, ſo much do you exceed the reſt of mankind, in benevolence, charity, and every other virtue that adorns, enobles, and refines the human ſpecies. I have therefore made bold to prefix your name, tho' without permiſſion, to the following work, which ſtands in need of ſuch a patron, to excuſe its errors, with a candour, only known to ſuch an heart as your own; the obligations I have received at your hands, it is impoſſible for me ever to repay, except by my endeavours, as in the preſent caſe, to make known the many excellent virtues which you poſſeſs. But [141] what can my wit do to recommend ſuch a genius as yours, a ſingle word, a ſmile from yourſelf, outweighs all that I, or perhaps the beſt of our poets could expreſs in writing in the compaſs of a year. It would ill become my ſex, to declare what power you have over us, but your generoſity is, even in this inſtance, greater than your deſire to oblige. The following ſheets were drawn up at my hours of leiſure, and may be ſerviceable to ſuch of my ſex, as are more willing to employ their time in laudable occupations, and domeſtic oeconomy, than in dreſs and diſſipation. What reception they may receive from your honour, I am incapable of telling; However, from your known candour and humanity, I expect the moſt favourable.

I am, Honoured SIR, Your moſt obedient, and obliged humble Servant, H. W.

[142]A muſician in his dedication ſtill exceeds the other two in adulation. However, tho' the matter may be ſome impeachment on his ſincerity, the manner in which it is written reflects no diſgrace upon his underſtanding.

To Richard Naſh, Eſq

SIR,

THE kind partiality of my friends, prevailed with me to preſent to the world theſe my firſt attempts in muſical compoſition; and the generous protection you have been pleaſed to afford me, makes it my indiſpenſable duty to lay them at your feet. Indeed, to whom could I preſume to offer them, but to the great encourager of all polite arts; for your generoſity knows no bounds; nor are you more famed for that dignity of mind, which enobles and gives a grace to every part of your conduct, than for that humanity and beneficence, which makes you the friend and benefactor of all mankind. To you, the poor and the rich, the diſeaſed and the [143] healthy, the aged and the young, owe every comfort, every conveniency, and every innocent amuſement, that the beſt heart, the moſt ſkilful management, and the moſt accompliſhed taſte can furniſh. Even this age, ſo deeply practiſed in all the ſubtleties of refined pleaſure, gives you this Teſtimony: even this age, ſo ardently engaged in all the ways of the moſt unbounded charity, gives you this praiſe. Pardon me then, if, amidſt the croud of votaries, I make my humble offering, if I ſeize this firſt opportunity of publickly expreſſing the grateful ſentiments of my own heart and profound reſpect, with which.

I am, SIR, Your moſt obliged, moſt devoted, and moſt obedient Servant, J. G.

I fancy I have almoſt fatigued the reader, and I am almoſt fatigued myſelf, with the efforts of thoſe elegant panegyriſts; however, I can't finiſh this run of quotation, [144] without giving a ſpecimen of poetry, addreſſed to him upon a certain occaſion; and all I ſhall ſay in its defence is, that thoſe, who are pleaſed with the proſe dedications, will not diſlike the preſent attempt in poetry.

To Richard Naſh, EſqOn his ſickneſs at Tunbridge.
SAY, muſt the friend of human kind,
Of moſt refin'd—of moſt diffuſive mind;
Muſt Naſh himſelf beneath theſe ailments grieve?
He felt for all—He felt—but to relieve,
To heal the ſick—the wounded to reſtore,
And bid deſponding nature mourn no more.
Thy quickning warmth, O let thy patron feel,
Improve thy ſprings with double power to heal:
Quick, hither all inſpiring health, repair,
And ſave the gay—and wretched from deſpair;
Thou only Eſra's drooping ſons can'ſt chear,
And ſtop the ſoft-ey'd virgin's trickling tear;
In murmurs who their monarch's pains deplore;
While ſickneſs faints—and pleaſure is no more;
O let not death, with haſty ſtrides advance,
Thou, mildeſt charity, avert the lance;
[145]His threatning power, coeleſtial maid! defeat;
Nor take him with thee, to thy well known ſeat;
Leave him on earth ſome longer date behind,
To bleſs,—to poliſh,—and relieve mankind:
Come then kind health, O quickly come away,
Bid Naſh revive—and all the world be gay.

Such addreſſes as theſe were daily offered to our titular King. When in the meridian of power, ſcarce a morning paſſed, that did not encreaſe the number of his humble admirers, and enlarge the ſphere of his vanity.

The man who is conſtantly ſerved up with adulation, muſt be a firſt-rate philoſopher, if he can liſten without contracting new affectations. The opinion we form of ourſelves, is generally meaſured by what we hear from others; and when they conſpire to deceive, we too readily concur in the deluſion. Among the number of much applauded men in the circle of our own friends, we can recollect but few that have heads quite ſtrong enough to bear a loud acclamation of public praiſe in their favour; [146] among the whole liſt, we ſhall ſcarce find one, that has not thus been made, on ſome ſide of his character, a coxcomb.

When the beſt head turns and grows giddy with praiſe, is it to be wondered that poor Naſh, ſhould be driven by it almoſt into a phrenzy of affectation? Towards the cloſe of life he became affected. He chiefly laboured to be thought a ſayer of good things; and by frequent attempts was now and then ſucceſsful, for he ever lay upon the lurch.

There never perhaps was a more ſilly paſſion, than this deſire of having a man's jeſts recorded. For this purpoſe, it is neceſſary to keep ignorant or ill-bred company, who are only fond of repeating ſuch ſtories; in the next place, a perſon muſt tell his own jokes, in order to make them more univerſal; but what is worſt of all, ſcarce a joke of this kind ſucceeds, but at the expence of a man's good nature; and he who exchanges the character of being thought agreeable, for that of being [147] thought witty, makes but a very bad bargain.

The ſucceſs Naſh ſometimes met with led him on, when late in life, to miſtake his true character. He was really agreeable, but he choſe to be thought a wit. He therefore indulged his inclination, and never mattered how rude he was, provided he was thought comical. He thus got the applauſe he ſought for, but too often found enemies, where he leaſt expected to find them. Of all the jeſts recorded of him, I ſcarce find one that is not marked with petulance; he ſaid whatever came uppermoſt, and in the number of his remarks it might naturally be expected that ſome were worth repeating; he threw often, and ſometimes had a lucky caſt.

In a life of almoſt ninety years, ſpent in the very point of public view, it is not ſtrange, that five or ſix ſprightly things of his have been collected, particularly as he took every opportunity of repeating them himſelf. His uſual way, when he thought [148] he ſaid any thing clever, was to ſtrengthen it with an oath, and to make up its want of ſentiment by aſſeveration and grimace. For many years he thus entertained the company at the coffee-houſe with old ſtories, in which he always made himſelf the principal character. Strangers liked this well enough; but they who were uſed to his converſation found it inſupportable. One ſtory brought on another, and each came in the ſame order that it had the day preceding. But this cuſtom may be rather aſcribed to the peculiarity of age, than a peculiarity of character; it ſeldom happens, that old men allure, at leaſt by novelty; age that ſhrivels the body contracts the underſtanding; inſtead of exploring new regions, they reſt ſatisfied in the old, and walk round the circle of their former diſcoveries. His manner of telling a ſtory, however, was not diſpleaſing, but few of thoſe he told are worth tranſcribing. Indeed it is the manner, which places the the whole difference between the wit of the vulgar, and of thoſe who aſſume the name of the polite; one, has in general as much [149] good ſenſe as the other; a ſtory tranſcribed from the one, will be as entertaining as that copied from the other; but in converſation, the manner will give charms even to ſtupidity. The following is the ſtory which he moſt frequently told, and pretty much in theſe words. Suppoſe the company to be talking of a German war, or Elizabeth Canning, he would begin thus. ‘"I'll tell you ſomething to that purpoſe, that I fancy will make you laugh. A covetous old parſon, as rich as the Devil, ſcraped a freſh acquaintance with me ſeveral years ago at Bath. I knew him when he and I were ſtudents at Oxford, where we both ſtudied damnationly hard, but that's neither here nor there. Well. Very well. I entertained him at my houſe in John's Court. (No, my houſe in John's Court was not built then) but I entertained him with all that the city could afford; the rooms, the muſic, and every thing in the world. Upon his leaving Bath, he preſſed me very hard to return the viſit; and deſired me to let him [150] have the pleaſure of ſeeing me at his houſe in Devonſhire. About ſix months after, I happened to be in that neighbourhood, and was reſolved to ſee my old friend, from whom I expected a very warm reception. Well: I knocks at his door, when an old queer creature of a maid, came to the door, and denied him. I ſuſpected, however, that he was at home; and going into the parlour, what ſhould I ſee, but the Parſon's legs up the chimney, where he had thruſt himſelf to avoid entertaining me. This was very well. My dear, ſays I to the maid, it is very cold, extreme cold indeed, and I am afraid I have got a touch of my ague, light me the fire, if you pleaſe. La, ſir, ſays the maid, who was a modeſt creature to be ſure, the chimney ſmokes monſtrouſly; you could not bear the room for three minutes together. By the greateſt good luck there was a bundle of ſtraw in the hearth, and I called for a candle. The candle came. Well, [151] good woman, ſays I, ſince you won't light me a fire, I'll light one for myſelf, and in a moment the ſtraw was all in a blaze. This quickly unkennelled the old fox; there he ſtood in an old ruſty night gown, bleſſing himſelf, and looking like—a—hem—egad."’

He uſed to tell ſurprizing ſtories of his activity when young. ‘"Here I ſtand, gentlemen, that could once leap forty two feet upon level ground, at three ſtanding jumps, backward or forward. One, two, three, dart like an arrow out of a bow. But I am old now. I remember I once leaped for three hundred guineas with Count Klopſtock, the great leaper, leaping-maſter to the Prince of Paſſau; you muſt all have heard of him. Firſt he began with the running jump, and a moſt damnable bounce it was, that's certain: Every body concluded that he had the match hollow; when only taking off my hat, ſtripping off neither coat, ſhoes, [152] nor ſtockings, mind me, I fetches a run, and went beyond him one foot, three inches and three quarters meaſured, upon my ſoul, by Captain Pately's own ſtandard."’

But in this torrent of inſipidity, there ſometimes were found very ſevere ſatire, ſtrokes of true wit, and lines of humour, cum fluerent lutulentus, &c. He rallied very ſucceſsfully, for he never felt another's joke; and drove home his own without pity. With his ſuperiors he was familiar and blunt, the inferiority of his ſtation ſecured him from their reſentment; but the ſame bluntneſs which they laughed at, was by his equals regarded as inſolence. Something like a familiar boot-catcher at an inn, a gentleman would bear that joke from him, for which a brother boot-catcher would knock him down.

Among other ſtories of Naſh's telling, I remember one, which I the more chearfully repeat, as it tends to correct a piece of impertinence that reigns in almoſt [153] every country aſſembly. The principal inhabitants of a market-town, at a great diſtance from the capital, in order to encourage that harmony which ought to ſubſiſt in ſociety, and to promote a mutual intercourſe between the ſexes, ſo deſirable to both, and ſo neceſſary for all, had eſtabliſhed a monthly aſſembly in the Town Hall, which was conducted with ſuch decency, decorum and politeneſs, that it drew the attention of the gentlemen and ladies in the neighbourhood; and a nobleman and his family continually honoured them with their preſence. This naturally drew others, and in time the room was crouded with, what the world calls, good company, and the aſſembly proſpered, till ſome of the new admitted ladies took it into their heads, that the tradeſmens daughters were unworthy of their notice, and therefore refus'd to join hands with them in the dance. This was complained of by the town ladies, and that complaint was reſented by the country gentlemen, who, more pert than wiſe, publickly advertiſed, that they would not [154] dance with tradeſmens daughters. This the moſt eminent tradeſmen conſidered as an inſult on themſelves, and being men of worth, and able to live independently, they in return advertiſed that they would give no credit out of their town, and deſired all others to diſcharge their accounts. A general uneaſineſs enſued; ſome writs were actually iſſued out, and much diſtreſs would have happened, had not my Lord, who ſided with no party, kindly interfered and compoſed the difference. The aſſembly however was ruined, and the families I am told are not friends yet, tho' this affair happened thirty years ago.

Nothing debaſes human nature ſo much as pride.—This Naſh knew, and endeavoured to ſtifle every emotion of it at Bath. When he obſerved any ladies ſo extremely delicate and proud of a pedigree, as to only touch the back of an inferior's hand in the dance, he always called to order, and deſired them to leave the room, or behave with common decency; and when any Ladies and Gentlemen drew off, after [155] they had gone down a dance, without ſtanding up till the dance was finiſhed, he made up to them, and after aſking whether they had done dancing, told them, they ſhould dance no more unleſs they ſtood up for the reſt; and on theſe occaſions he always was as good as his word.

Naſh, tho' no great wit, had the art of ſometimes ſaying rude things with decency, and rendering them pleaſing by an uncommon turn.—But moſt of the good things attributed to him, which have found their way into the jeſt books, are no better than puns; the ſmarteſt things I have ſeen are againſt him. One day in the grove, he joined ſome ladies, and aſking one of them, who was crooked, whence ſhe came? She replied, ſtrait from London. Confound me, madam, ſaid he, then you muſt have been damnably warpt by the way.

She ſoon, however, had ample revenge. Sitting the following evening in one of the rooms, he once more joined her company, [156] and with a ſneer and a bow, aſked her, if ſhe knew her Catechiſm, and could tell the name of Tobit's dog? His name, Sir, was Naſh, replied the lady, and an impudent dog be was. This ſtory is told in a celebrated romance; I only repeat it here to have an opportunity of obſerving, that it actually happened.

Queen Anne once aſked him, why he would not accept of knighthood? To which he replied, leſt Sir William Read, the mountebank, who had been juſt knighted, ſhould call him brother.

An houſe in Bath was ſaid to be haunted by the Devil, and a great noiſe was made about it, when Naſh going to the Miniſter of St. Michael's, intreated him to drive the Devil out of Bath for ever, if it were only to oblige the ladies.

Naſh uſed ſometimes to viſit the great Doctor Clarke. The Doctor was one day converſing with Locke, and two or three more of his learned and intimate companions, [157] with that freedom, gaiety and chearfulneſs, which is ever the reſult of innocence. In the midſt of their mirth and laughter, the Doctor, looking from the window, ſaw Naſh's chariot ſtop at the door. Boys, boys, cried the philoſopher, to his friends, let us now be wiſe, for here is a fool coming.

Naſh was one day complaining in the following manner to the Earl of Cheſterfield of his bad luck at play. Would you think it, my Lord, that damned bitch fortune, no later than laſt night, tricked me out of 500. Is it not ſurprizing, continued he, that my luck ſhould never turn, that I ſhould thus eternally be mauled? I don't wonder at your loſing money Naſh, ſays his lordſhip, but all the world is ſurprized where you get it to loſe.

Doctor Cheney once, when Naſh was ill, drew up a preſcription for him, which was ſent in accordingly. The next day the Doctor coming to ſee his patient, found him up and well; upon which he aſked, [158] if he had followed his preſcription? Followed your preſcription, cried Naſh, No.—Egad, if I had, I ſhould have broke my neck, for I flung it out of the two pair of ſtairs window.

It would have been well, had he confined himſelf to ſuch ſallies; but as he grew old he grew inſolent, and ſeemed, in ſome meaſure, inſenſible of the pain his attempts to be a wit gave others. Upon aſking a lady to dance a minuet; if ſhe refuſed, he would often demand, if ſhe had got bandy legs. He would attempt to ridicule natural defects; he forgot the deference due to birth and quality, and miſtook the manner of ſettling rank and precedence upon many occaſions. He now ſeemed no longer faſhionable among the preſent race of gentry, he grew peeviſh and fretful, and they who only ſaw the remnant of a man, ſeverely returned that laughter upon him, which he had once laviſhed upon others.

[159]Poor Naſh was no longer the gay, thoughtleſs, idly induſtrious creature he once was; he now forgot how to ſupply new modes of entertainment, and became too rigid, to wind with eaſe through the viciſſitudes of faſhion. The evening of his life began to grow cloudy. His fortune was gone, and nothing but poverty lay in proſpect. To embitter his hopes, he found himſelf abandoned by the great, whom he had long endeavoured to ſerve; and was obliged to fly to thoſe of humbler ſtations for protection, whom he once affected to deſpiſe. He now began to want that charity, which he had never refuſed to any; and to find, that a life of diſſipation and gaiety, is ever terminated by miſery and regret.

Even his place of maſter of the ceremonies (if I can truſt the papers he has left behind him) was ſought after. I would willingly be tender of any living reputation; but theſe papers accuſe Mr. Quin of endeavouring to ſupplant him. He has [160] even left us a letter, which he ſuppoſed was written by that gentleman, ſoliciting a Lord for his intereſt upon the occaſion. As I chuſe to give Mr. Quin an opportunity of diſproving this, I will inſert the letter, and, to ſhew the improbability of its being his, with all its faults, both of ſtyle and ſpelling. I am the leſs apt to believe it written by Mr. Quin, as a gentleman, who has mended Shakeſpear's plays ſo often, would ſurely be capable of ſomething more correct than the following. It was ſent, as it ſhould ſeem, from Mr. Quin to a nobleman, but left open for the peruſal of an intermediate friend. It was this friend who ſent a copy of it to Mr. Naſh, who cauſed it to be inſtantly printed, and left among his other papers.

[161]

The letter from the intermediate friend to Naſh, is as follows.

Dear Naſh,

TWO poſts ago I received a letter from Quin, the old player, covering one to my Lord, which he left open for my peruſal, which after reading he deſired I might ſeal up and deliver. The requeſt he makes is ſo extraordinary, that it has induced me to ſend you the copy of his letter to my Lord, which is as follows.

My dear Lord,

OLD beaux Knaſh has mead himſelfe ſo diſſagreeable to all the companey that comes here to Bath that the corperatian of this city have it now under thier conſideration to remove him from beeing maſter of the cereymoines, ſhould he be continuead the inhabitants of thiſs city will be rueind, as the beſt companey declines to come to Bath on his acct.

[162]Give me leave to ſhow to your Lords'hip how he beheaved at the firs't ball he had here thiſs' ſeaſon which was Tus'day las't. A younge Lady was as'ked to dance a minueat ſhe begg the gentm would be pleaſed to exquiſe here, as' ſhe did not chuſe to dance; upon thiſs' old Naſh called out ſo as to be head by all the companey in the room G— dam yo Madam what buiſneſs have yo here if yo do not dance, upon which the Lady was ſo afrighted, ſhe roſe and danced, the reſs'et of the companey was ſo much offended at the rudneſs of Naſh that not one Lady more, would dance a minueat that night. In the country dances' no perſon of note danced except two boys' Lords S— and T—, the res't of the companey that danced waire only the families of all the habberdas'hers' machinukes and inkeepers in the three kingdoms' bruſhed up and colexted togither.

I have known upon ſuch an occaiſon as' thiſs' ſeventeen Dutcheſs' and Contiſs' to [163] be at the opening of the ball at Bath now not one. This man by his' pride and extravigancis has out lived his' reaſein it would be happy for thiſs' city that he was ded; and is, now only fitt to reed Shirlock upon death by which he may ſeave his ſoul and gaine more than all the proffits he can make, by his white hatt, ſuppoſe it was to be died red;

The favr I have now to reques't by what I now have wrote yo; is' that your Lordſhip will be ſo kind as to ſpeke to Mr. Pitt, for to recommend me to the corperatian of this city to ſuccede this old ſinner as maſter of the cerremonies and yo will much oblige,

My Lord
your Lords and Hue Obt Sert.

N. B. There were ſome other private matters and offers in Quin's letter to my Lord, which do not relate to you.

[164]Here Naſh, if I may be permitted the uſe of a polite and faſhionable phraſe, was humm'd; but he experienced ſuch rubs as theſe, and a thouſand other mortifications every day. He found poverty now denied him the indulgence not only of his favourite follies, but of his favourite virtues. The poor now ſolicited him in vain; he was himſelf a more pitiable object than they. The child of the public ſeldom has a friend, and he who once exerciſed his wit at the expence of others, muſt naturally have enemies. Exaſperated at laſt to the higheſt degree, an unaccountable whim ſtruck him; poor Naſh was reſolved to become an author; he, who in the vigour of manhood, was incapable of the taſk, now at the impotent age of eighty-ſix, was determined to write his own hiſtory! from the many ſpecimens already given of his ſtyle, the reader will not much regret that the hiſtorian was interrupted in his deſign. Yet as Montaigne obſerves, as the adventures [165] of an infant, if an infant could inform us of them, would be pleaſing; ſo the life of a Beau, if a beau could write, would certainly ſerve to regale curioſity.

Whether he really intended to put this deſign in execution, or did it only to alarm the nobility, I will not take upon me to determine; but certain it is, that his friends went about collecting ſubſcriptions for the work, and he received ſeveral encouragements from ſuch as were willing to be politely charitable. It was thought by many, that this hiſtory would reveal the intrigues of a whole age; that he had numberleſs ſecrets to diſcloſe; but they never conſidered, that perſons of public character, like him, were the moſt unlikely in the world to be made partakers of thoſe ſecrets which people deſired the public ſhould not know. In fact, he had few ſecrets to diſcover, and thoſe he had, are now buried with him in the grave.

[166]He was now paſt the power of giving or receiving pleaſure, for he was poor, old and peeviſh; yet ſtill he was incapable of turning from his former manner of life to purſue happineſs. The old man endeavoured to practiſe the follies of the boy, he ſpurred on his jaded paſſions after every trifle of the day; tottering with age he would be ever an unwelcome gueſt in the aſſemblies of the youthful and gay; and he ſeemed willing to find loſt appetite among thoſe ſcenes where he was once young.

An old man thus ſtriving after pleaſure is indeed an object of pity; but a man at once old and poor, running on in this purſuit, might excite aſtoniſhment. To ſee a Being both by fortune and conſtitution rendered incapable of enjoyment, ſtill haunting thoſe pleaſures he was no longer to ſhare in; to ſee one of almoſt ninety ſettling the faſhion of a lady's cap, or aſſigning her place in a country dance; to ſee him unmindful of his own reverend [167] figure, or the reſpect he ſhould have for himſelf, toaſting demireps, or attempting to entertain the lewd and idle; a ſight like this might well ſerve as a ſatire on humanity; might ſhew that man is the only prepoſterous creature alive, who purſues the ſhadow of pleaſure without temptation.

But he was not permitted to run on thus without ſevere and repeated reproof. The clergy ſent him frequent calls to reformation; but the aſperity of their advice in general abated its intended effects; they threatened him with fire and brimſtone, for what he had long been taught to conſider as foibles, and not vices; ſo like a deſperated debtor, he did not care to ſettle an account, that, upon the firſt inſpection, he found himſelf utterly unable to pay. Thus begins one of his monitors.

"THIS admonition comes from your friend, and one that has your intereſt deeply at heart: It comes on a deſign altogether important, and of no leſs conſequence [168] than your everlaſting happineſs: ſo that it may juſtly challenge your careful regard. It is not to upbraid or reproach, much leſs to triumph and inſult over your miſconduct or miſery; no, 'tis pure benevolence, it is diſintereſted goodwill prompts me to write; I hope therefore I ſhall not raiſe your reſentment. Yet be the conſequence what it will, I cannot bear to ſee you walk in the paths that lead to death, without warning you of the danger, without ſounding in your ear the lawful admonition, ‘"Return and live! Why do you ſuch things? I hear of your evil dealings by all this people?"’ I have long obſerved and pitied you; and muſt tell you plainly, Sir, that your preſent behaviour is not the way to reconcile yourſelf to God. You are ſo far from making atonement to offended juſtice, that each moment you are aggravating the future account, and heaping up an increaſe of his anger. As long as you roll on in a continued circle of ſenſual delights and vain entertainments, you are dead to all the purpoſes of piety and virtue. You are as odious to [169] God as a corrupt carcaſe that lies putrefying in the church-yard. You are as far from doing your duty, or endeavouring after ſalvation, or reſtoring yourſelf to the divine favour, as a heap of dry bones nailed up in a coffin is from vigour and activity.—Think, Sir, I conjure you, think upon this, if you have any inclination to eſcape the fire that will never be quenched. Would you be reſcued from the fury and fierce anger of God? Would you be delivered from weeping and wailing, and inceſſant gnaſhing of teeth? ſure you would! But be certain, that this will never be done by amuſements, which at beſt are trifling and impertinent; and for that, if for no other reaſon, fooliſh and ſinful. 'Tis by ſeriouſneſs; 'tis by retirement and mourning, you muſt accompliſh this great and deſirable deliverance. You muſt not appear at the head of every ſilly diverſion, you muſt enter into your cloſet, and ſhut the door; commune with your own heart, and ſearch out its defects. The pride of life, and all its ſuperfluity of follies muſt be put away. You muſt make haſte, and delay not to [170] keep every injunction of heaven. You muſt always remember, that mighty ſinners muſt be mightily penitent; or elſe mightily tormented. Your example, and your projects have been extremely prejudicial; I wiſh I could not ſay, fatal and deſtructive to many: For this there is no amends but an alteration of your conduct, as ſignal and remarkable as your perſon and name."

"If you do not by this method remedy in ſome degree the evils that you have ſent abroad, and prevent the miſchievous conſequences that may enſue—wretched will you be, wretched above all men, to eternity. The blood of ſouls will be laid to your charge; God's jealouſy, like a conſuming flame, will ſmoke againſt you; as you yourſelf will ſee in that day, when the mountains ſhall quake, and the hills melt, and the earth be burnt up at his preſence."

"Once more then I exhort you as a friend; I beſeech you as a brother; I charge you as a meſſenger from God, in his own moſt ſolemn words; ‘"Caſt away from you your [171] tranſgreſſions; make you a new heart, and a new ſpirit; ſo iniquity ſhall not be your ruin."’

"Perhaps you may be diſpoſed to contemn this, and its ſerious purport; or to recommend it to your companions as a ſubject for raillery—Yet let me tell you before-hand, that for this, as well as for other things, God will bring you to judgment. He ſees me now I write: He will obſerve you while you read. He notes down my words; he will alſo note down your conſequent procedure. Not then upon me, not upon me; but upon your own ſoul, will the neglecting or deſpiſing my ſayings turn. ‘"If thou be wiſe, thou ſhalt be wiſe for thyſelf; if thou ſcorneſt, thou alone ſhalt bear it."’

Such repeated admonitions as theſe ſerved to ſting, without reforming him; they made him moroſe, but not pious. The doſe was too ſtrong for the patient to bear. He ſhould have been met with ſmiles, and allured into reformation, if indeed he was [172] criminal. But in the name of piety, what was there criminal in his conduct; he had long been taught to conſider his trifling profeſſion as a very ſerious and important buſineſs. He went through his office with great gravity, ſolemnity, and care; why then denounce peculiar torments againſt a poor harmleſs creature, who did a thouſand good things, and whoſe greateſt vice was vanity. He deſerved ridicule, indeed, and he found it, but ſcarce a ſingle action of his life, except one, deſerves the aſperity of reproach.

Thus we ſee a variety of cauſes concurred to embitter his departing life. The weakneſs and infirmities of exhauſted nature, the admonitions of the grave, who aggravated his follies into vices; the ingratitude of his dependants, who formerly flattered his fortunes; but particularly the contempt of the great, who quite forgot him in his wants; all theſe hung upon his ſpirits and ſoured his temper, and the poor man of pleaſure might have terminated his life very tragically, had not the corporation of [173] Bath charitably reſolved to grant him ten guineas the firſt Monday of every month. This bounty ſerved to keep him from actual neceſſity, tho' far too trifling, to enable him to ſupport the character of a gentleman. Habit, and not nature, makes almoſt all our wants; and he who had been accuſtomed in the early parts of life to affluence and prodigality, when reduced to an hundred and twenty-ſix pounds a year, muſt pine in actual indigence.

In this variety of uneaſineſs his health began to fail. He had received from nature a robuſt and happy conſtitution, that was ſcarce even to be impaired by intemperance. He even pretended, among his friends, that he never followed a ſingle preſcription in his life; however, in this he was one day detected on the parade; for boaſting there of his contempt and utter difuſe of medicine, unluckily the water of two bliſters, which Dr. Oliver had preſcribed, and which he then had upon each leg, ouzed through his ſtockings, and betrayed him. His averſion to phyſic, however, [174] was frequently a topic of raillery between him and Doctor Cheney, who was a man of ſome wit and breeding. When Cheney recommended his vegetable diet, Naſh would ſwear, that his deſign was to ſend half the world grazing like Nebuchadnezzar. Ay, Cheney would reply, Nebuchadnezzar was never ſuch an infidel as thou art. It was but laſt week, gentlemen, that I attended this fellow in a fit of ſickneſs; there I found him rolling up his eyes to heaven, and crying for mercy; he would then ſwallow my drugs like breaſt-milk, yet you now hear him, how the old dog blaſphemes the faculty. What Cheney ſaid in jeſt was true, he feared the approaches of death more than the generality of mankind, and was generally very devout while it threatened him. Tho' he was ſomewhat the libertine in action, none believed or trembled more than he; for a mind neither ſchooled by philoſophy, nor encouraged by conſcious innocence, is ever timid at the appearance of danger.

[175]For ſome time before his deceaſe nature gave warning of his approaching diſſolution. The worn machine had run itſelf down to an utter impoſſibility of repair; he ſaw, that he muſt die, and ſhuddered at the thought. His virtues were not of the great, but the amiable kind; ſo that fortitude was not among the number. Anxious, timid, his thoughts ſtill hanging on a receding world, he deſired to enjoy a little longer that life, the miſeries of which he had experienced ſo long. The poor unſucceſsful gameſter huſbanded the waſting moments, with an encreaſed deſire to-continue the game, and to the laſt eagerly wiſhed for one yet more happy throw. He died at his houſe in St. John's court, Bath, on the 3d of February, 1761, aged eighty-ſeven years, three months, and ſome days*

[176]His death was ſincerely regretted by the city, to which he had been ſo long, and ſo great a benefactor. The day after he died, the Mayor of Bath called the corporation together, where they granted fifty pounds towards burying their Sovereign with proper reſpect. After the corpſe had lain four days, it was conveyed to the abbey church in that city, with a ſolemnity ſomewhat peculiar to his character. About five the proceſſion moved from his houſe; the charity girls two and two preceded, next the boys of the charity ſchool ſinging a ſolemn occaſional hymn*. Next marched the city [177] muſic, and his own band ſounding at proper intervals a dirge. Three clergymen immediately preceded the coffin, which was adorned with ſable plumes, and the pall ſupported by the ſix ſenior Aldermen. The maſters of the aſſembly-rooms followed as chief mourners; the beadles of that hoſpital, which he had contributed ſo largely to endow, went next, and laſt of all, the poor patients themſelves, [178] the lame, the emaciated, and the feeble, followed their old benefactor to his grave, ſhedding unfeigned tears, and lamenting themſelves in him.

The crowd was ſo great, that not only the ſtreets were filled, but, as one of the journals in a Rant expreſſes it, ‘"even the tops of the houſes were covered with ſpectators, each thought the occaſion affected themſelves moſt; as when a real King dies, they aſked each other, where ſhall we find ſuch another; ſorrow ſate upon every face, and even children liſped that their Sovereign was no more. The awfulneſs of the ſolemnity made the deepeſt impreſſion on the minds of the diſtreſſed inhabitants. The peaſant diſcontinued his toil, the ox reſted from the plough, all nature ſeemed to ſympathize with their loſs, and the muffled bells rung a peal of Bob Major."’

Our deepeſt ſolemnities have ſomething truly ridiculous in them: there is ſomewhat ludicrous in the folly of hiſtorians, who thus declaim upon the death of [179] Kings and Princes, as if there was any thing diſmal, or any thing unuſual in it. ‘"For my part, ſays Poggi the Florentine, I can no more grieve for another's death than I could for my own. I have ever regarded death as a very trifling affair; nor can black ſtaves, long cloaks, or mourning coaches, in the leaſt influence my ſpirits. Let us live here as long, and as merrily as we can, and when we muſt die, why let us die merrily too, but die ſo as to be happy."’

The few things he was poſſeſſed of were left to his relations. A ſmall library of well choſen books, ſome trinkets and pictures, were his only inheritance. Among the latter were a gold box, given by the late Counteſs of Burlington, with Lady Euſton's picture in the lid. An agate etui, with a diamond on the top, by the Princeſs Dowager of Wales, and ſome other things of no great value. The rings, watches, and pictures, which he formerly received from others, would have come to a conſiderable amount; but theſe his neceſſities had obliged him to diſpoſe of: Some [180] family pictures, however, remained, which were ſold by advertiſement, for five guineas each, after Mr. Naſh's deceaſe.

It was natural to expect, that the death of a perſon ſo long in the eye of the public, muſt have produced a deſire in ſeveral to delineate his character, or deplore his loſs. He was ſcarce dead, when the public papers were filled with elegies, groans and characters; and before he was buried, there were epitaphs ready made to inſcribe on his ſtone. I remember one of thoſe character writers, and a very grave one too, after obſerving, alaſs! that Richard Naſh, Eſq was no more, went on to aſſure us, that he was ſagacious, debonair, and comode; and concluded with gravely declaring, that impotent poſterity would in vain fumble to produce his fellow. Another, equally ſorrowful, gave us to know, that he was indeed a man; an aſſertion, which I fancy none will be ſo hardy as to contradict. But the merrieſt of all the lamentations made upon this occaſion was, that where he is called, A conſtellation of the heavenly ſphere.

[181]One thing, however, is common almoſt with each of them, and that is, that Venus, Cupid, and the Graces, are commanded to weep; and that Bath ſhall never find ſuch another.

But tho' he was ſatirized with the praiſes of thoſe, yet there were ſome of real abilities, who undertook to do juſtice to his character, to praiſe him for his virtues, and acknowledge his faults. I need ſcarcely mention, that Doctor Oliver, and Doctor King are of this number. They had honoured him with their friendſhip while living, and undertook to honour his memory when dead. As the reader may chuſe to compare their efforts upon the ſame ſubject, I have ſubjoined them, and perhaps many will find in either enough, upon ſo unimportant a ſubject as Mr. Naſh's life, to ſatisfy curioſity. The firſt publiſhed. was that by Doctor Oliver, written with much good ſenſe, and ſtill more good nature. But the reader will conſider that he, has aſſumed in his motto the character of [182] a panegyriſt, and ſpares his friend's faults, tho' he was too candid entirely to paſs them over in ſilence.

A faint Sketch of the Life, Character, and Manners, of the late Mr. NASH.

Imperium in Imperio.—
De mortuis nil niſi bonum.

This morning died
RICHARD NASH, Eſq
Aged eighty-eight.
He was by birth a gentleman, an ancient Briton;
By education, a ſtudent of Jeſus College in Oxford;
By profeſſion — — —
His natural genius was too volatile for any.
He tried the army and the law;
But ſoon found his mind ſuperior to both—
He was born to govern,
Nor was his dominion, like that of other legiſlators.
Over the Servility of the vulgar,
But over the pride of the noble, and the Opulent.
His public character was great,
As it was ſelf-built, and ſelf-maintained:
His private amiable,
As it was grateful, beneficent, and generous.
By the force of genius
[183]He erected the city of Bath into a province of pleaſure,
And became, by univerſal conſent,
Its Legiſlator, and ruler.
He plan'd, improv'd, and regulated all the amuſements of the place;
His fundamental law was, that of good breeding;
Hold ſacred decency, and decorum,
His conſtant maxim:
Nobody, howſoever exalted
By beauty, blood, titles, or riches,
Could be guilty of a breach of it, unpuniſhed —
The penalty, his diſapprobation, and public ſhame.
To maintain the ſovereignty he had eſtabliſhed,
He publiſhed rules of behaviour,
Which from their propriety, acquired the Force of laws;
And which the higheſt never infring'd, without immediately undergoing the public cenſure.
He kept the men in order; moſt wiſely,
By prohibiting the wearing ſwords in his dominions;
By which means
He prevented ſudden paſſion from cauſing
The bitterneſs of unavailing repentance, —
In all quarrels he was choſen the Umpire —
And ſo juſt were his deciſions,
That peace generally triumphed,
Crowned with the mutual thanks of both parties.
He kept the ladies in good-humour; moſt effectually
By a nice obſervance of the rules of place and precedence;
By ordaining ſcandal to be the infallible mark
Of a fooliſh head, and a malicious heart,
[184]Always rendering more ſuſpicious
The reputation of her who propagated it,
Than that of the perſon abuſed.
Of the young, the gay, the heedleſs fair,
Juſt launching into the dangerous ſea of pleaſure,
He was ever, unſolicited (ſometimes unregarded)
The kind protector:
Humanely correcting even their miſtakes in dreſs,
As well as improprieties in conduct:
Nay, often warning them,
Though at the hazard of his life,
Againſt the artful ſnares of deſigning men,
Or an improper acquaintance with women, of doubtful characters.
Thus did he eſtabliſh his government on pillars
Of honour and politeneſs,
Which could never be ſhaken:
And maintained it, for full half a century,
With reputation, honour, and undiſputed authority,
Beloved, reſpected, and revered.
Of his private character, be it the firſt praiſe,
That, while by his conduct, the higheſt ranks became his ſubjects,
He himſelf became
The ſervant of the poor, and the diſtreſſed:
Whoſe cauſe he ever pleaded amongſt the rich,
And enforced with all the eloquence of a good example:
They were aſhamed not to relieve thoſe wants,
To which they ſaw him adminiſter with
So noble an heart, and ſo liberal an hand.
Nor was his munificence confined to particulars,
[185]He being, to all the publick charities of this city,
A liberal benefactor;
Not only by his own moſt generous ſubſcriptions,
But, by always aſſuming, in their behalf, the character of
A ſturdy beggar;
Which he performed with ſuch an authoritative addreſs
To all ranks, without diſtinction,
That few of the worſt hearts had courage to refuſe,
What their own inclinations would not have prompted them to beſtow.
Of a noble public ſpirit
And
A warm grateful heart,
The obeliſk in the grove,
And
The beautiful needle in the ſquare,
Are magnificent teſtimonies.
The One
Erected to preſerve the memory of a
Moſt intereſting event to his country,
The reſtitution of health, by the healing waters of this place,
To the illuſtrious prince of Orange,
Who came hither in a moſt languiſhing condition:
The Other,
A noble offering of thanks
To the late Prince of WALES, and his royal Conſort,
For favours beſtowed,
And honours by them conferred, on this city.

His long and peaceful reign, of
Abſolute power,
[186]Was ſo tempered by his
Exceſſive good-nature,
That no inſtance can be given either of his own cruelty,
Or of his ſuffering that of others, to eſcape
Its proper reward.
Example unprecedented amongſt abſolute monarchs.

READER.
This monarch was a man,
And had his foibles, and his faults;
Which we would wiſh covered with the veil of good-nature,
Made of the ſame piece with his own:
But, truth forceth us unwillingly to confeſs,
His paſſions were ſtrong;
Which, as they fired him to act ſtrenuouſly in good,
Hurried him to ſome exceſſes of evil.
His fire, not uſed to be kept under by an early reſtraint,
Burſt out too often into flaming acts,
Without waiting for the cool approbation of his judgment.
His generoſity was ſo great,
That prudence often whiſpered him, in vain,
That ſhe feared it would enter the neighbouring confines of profuſion:
His charity ſo unbounded,
That the ſevere might ſuſpect it ſometimes to be
The offspring of folly, or oſtentation.

With all theſe,
Be they foibles, follies, faults, or frailties,
It will be difficult to point out,
Amongſt his cotemporary Kings of the whole earth,
More than ONE
[187]Who hath fewer, or leſs pernicious to mankind.
His exiſtence
(For life it ſcarcely might be called)
Was ſpun out to ſo great an age, that
The man
Was ſunk, like many former heroes in
The weakneſs and infirmities of exhauſted nature;
The unwilling tax all animals muſt pay
For multiplicity of days.
Over his cloſing-ſcene,
Charity long ſpread her all-covering mantle,
And dropped the curtain,
Before the poor actor, though he had played his part,
Was permitted to quit the ſtage.
Now may ſhe protect his memory!
Every friend of Bath,
Every lover of decency, decorum, and good breeding,
Muſt ſincerely deplore
The loſs of ſo excellent a governor;
And join in the moſt fervent wiſhes (would I could ſay hopes)
That there may ſoon be found a man
Able and worthy,
To ſucceed him.

The reader ſees in what alluring colours Mr. Naſh's character is drawn; but he muſt conſider, that an intimate friend held the pencil; the Doctor profeſſes to ſay nothing of the dead, but what was good; and ſuch a maxim, tho' it ſerves his departed [188] friend, is but badly calculated to improve the living. Dr. King in his Epitaph, however, is ſtill more indulgent, he produces him as an example to kings, and prefers his laws, even to thoſe of Solon, or Lycurgus.

EPITAPHIUM Richardi Naſh, Armigeri.

H. S. E.
RICHARDUS NASH
Obſcuro loco natus,
Et nullis ortus majoribus:
Cui tamen
(O rem miram, et incredibilem!)
Regnum opulentiſſimum florentiſſimumque
Plebs, proceres, principes,
Liberis ſuis ſuffragiis
Ultrò detulerunt,
Quod et ipſe ſummâ cum dignitate tenuit,
Annos plus quinquaginta,
Univerſo populo conſentiente, approbante, plaudente.
Ura voce praeterea, unoque omnium ordinum conſenſu,
Ad imperium ſuum adjuncta eſt
[189]Magni nominis * Provincia:
Quam admirabili conſilio et ratione
Per ſe, non unquam per legatos, adminiſtravit;
Eam quotannis inviſere dignatus,
Et apud provinciales, quoad neceſſe fuit,
Solitus manere.

In tantâ fortunâ
Neque faſtu turgidus Rex inceſſu patuit,
Neque, tyrannorum more, ſe juſſit coli,
Aut amplos honores, tituloſque ſibi arrogavit;
Sed cuncta inſignia, etiam regium diadema rejiciens,
Caput contentus fuit ornare
GALERO ALBO,
Manifeſto animi ſui candoris ſigno.

LEGISLATOR prudentiſſimus,
Vel Solone et Lycurgo illuſtrior,
Leges, quaſcunque voluit,
Statuit, fixit, promulgavit;
Omnes quidem cùm civibus ſuis,
Tum verò hoſpitibus, advenis, peregrinis
Gratas, jucundas, utiles.

[190]VOLUPTATEM arbiter et miniſter,
Sed gravis, ſed elegans, ſed urbanus,
Et in ſummâ comitate ſatìs adhibens ſeveritatis,
Imprimis curavit,
Ut in virorum et foeminarum coetibus
Nequis impudentur faceret,
Neque in iis quid ineſſet
Impuritatis, clamoris, tumulti.

CIVITATEM hanc celeberrimam,
Delicias ſuas,
Non modò pulcherrimis aedificiis auxit,
Sed praeclarâ diſciplinâ et moribus ornavit:
Quippe nemo quiſquam
TO PREPON melius intellexit, excoluit, docuit.

JUSTUS, liberalis, benignus, facetus,
Atque amicus omnibus, praecipuè miſeris et egenis,
Nullos habuit inimicos,
Praeter magnos quoſdam ardeliones,
Et declamatores eos triſtes et fanaticos,
Qui generi humano ſunt inimiciſſimi.

PACIS et patriae amans
Concordiam, felicem et perpetuam,
[191]In regno ſuo conſtituit,
Uſque adeò,
Ut nullus alteri petulanter maledicere,
Aut facto nocere auderet;
Neque, tanquam ſibi metuens,
In publicum armatus prodire.

FUIT quanquam potentiſſimus,
Omnia arbitrio ſuo gubernans:
Haud tamen ipſa libertas
Magìs uſquam floruit
Gratiâ, gloriâ, auctoritate.
Singulare enim temperamentum invenit,
(Rem magnae cogitationis,
Et rerum omnium fortaſſe difficillimam)
Quo ignobiles cum nobilibus, pauperes cum divitibus,
Indocti cum doctiſſimis, ignavi cum fortiſſimis
Aequari ſe putarent,
REX OMNIBUS IDEM.

QUICQUID PECCAVERIT,
(Nam peccamus omnes)
In ſeipſum magìs, quàm in alios,
Et errore, aut imprudentiâ magìs quam
ſcelere, aut improbitate.
[192]Peccavit;
Nuſquam verô ignoratione decori, aut honeſti,
Neque ità quidem uſquam,
Ut non veniam ab humanis omnibus
Facilè impetrârit.

HUJUS vitae morumque exemplar
Si caeteri reges, regulique,
Et quotquot ſunt regnorum praefecti,
Imitarentur;
(Utinam! iterumque utinam!)
Et ipſi eſſent beati,
Et cunctae orbis regiones beatiſſimae.

TALEM virum, tantumque ademptum
Lugeant muſae, chariteſque!
Lugeant Veneres, Cupidineſque!
Lugeant omnes juvenumet nympharum chori!
Tu verò, O BATHONIA,
Ne ceſſes tuum lugere
Principem, praeceptorem, amicum, patronum,
Heu, heu, nunquam poſthàc
Habitura parem!

*
Tunbridge.

[193]The following tranſlation of this Epitaph, will give the Engliſh reader an idea of its contents, tho' not of its elegance.

The Epitaph of Richard Naſh, Eſq

Here lies
Richard Naſh,
Born in an obſcure village,
And from mean anceſtors.
To whom, however,
Strange to relate,
Both the vulgar and the mighty,
Without bribe or compulſion,
Unanimouſly gave
A kingdom, equally rich and flouriſhing.
A kingdom which he governed
More than fifty years,
With univerſal approbation and applauſe.
To his empire alſo was added,
By the conſent of all orders,
A celebrated province*
Which he ever ſwayed with great prudence,
[194]Not by delegated power, but in perſon.
He deigned to viſit it every year,
And while the neceſſities of ſtate demanded his preſence,
He uſually continued there.
In ſuch greatneſs of fortune
His pride diſcovered itſelf by no marks of dignity;
Nor did he ever claim the honours of proſtration.
Deſpiſing at once titles of adulation,
And laying aſide all royal ſplendor,
Wearing not even the diadem,
He was content with being diſtinguiſh'd only by the ornamental enſign
Of a white hat;
A ſymbol of the candour of his mind.
He was a moſt prudent legiſlator,
And more remarkable even than Solon or Lycurgus.
He at once eſtabliſhed and authorized
Whatever laws were thought convenient,
Which were equally ſerviceable to the city,
And grateful to ſtrangers,
Who made it their abode.
[195]He was at once a provider and a judge of pleaſures,
But ſtill conducted them with gravity and elegance,
And repreſs'd licentiouſneſs with ſeverity.
His chief care was employed,
In preventing obſcenity or impudence
From offending the modeſty or the morals
Of the Fair Sex.
And in baniſhing from their aſſemblies
Tumult, clamour, and abuſe.
He not only adorned this city, which he loved,
With beautiful ſtructures,
But improved it by his example;
As no man knew, no man taught what was becoming
Better than he.
He was juſt, liberal, kind, and facetious,
A friend to all, but particularly to the poor.
He had no enemies,
Except ſome of the trifling great,
Or dull declaimers, foes to all mankind.
[196]Equally a lover of peace and of his country;
He fix'd a happy and laſting concord
In his kingdom,
So that none dare convey ſcandal, or injure by open violence the univerſal peace,
Or even by carrying arms appear prepar'd for war,
With impunity.

But tho' his power was boundleſs,
Yet never did liberty flouriſh more, which he promoted,
Both by his authority, and cultivated for his fame.
He found out the happy ſecret
(A thing not to be conſidered without ſurprize)
Of uniting the vulgar and the great,
The poor and the rich,
The learn'd and ignorant,
The cowardly and the brave,
In the bonds of ſociety, an equal king to all.

Whatever his faults were,
For we all have faults,
[197]They were rather obnoxious to himſelf than others;
They aroſe neither from imprudence nor miſtake,
Never from diſhoneſty or corrupt principle,
But ſo harmleſs were they,
That tho' they fail'd to create our eſteem,
Yet can they not want our pardon.

Could other kings and governors
But learn to imitate his example,
(Would to heaven they could)
Then might they ſee themſelves happy,
And their people ſtill enjoying more true felicity.

Ye muſes and graces mourn
His death;
Ye powers of love, ye choirs of youth and virgins,
But thou, O Bathonia, more than the reſt,
Ceaſe not to weep,
Your king, your teacher, patron, friend,
Never, ah, never, to behold
His equal.

*
Tunbridge.

[198]Whatever might have been juſtly obſerved of Mr. Naſh's ſuperiority as a governor, at leaſt it may be ſaid, that few contemporary kings have met with ſuch able panegyriſts. The former enumerates all his good qualities with tenderneſs; and the latter enforces them with impetuoſity. They both ſeem to have loved him, and honourably paid his remains the laſt debt of friendſhip. But a cool biographer, unbiaſſed by reſentment or regard, will probably find nothing in the man either truly great, or ſtrongly vicious. His virtues were all amiable, and more adapted to procure friends than admirers, they were more capable of raiſing love than eſteem. He was naturally endued with good ſenſe; but by having been long accuſtomed to purſue trifles, his mind ſhrunk to the ſize of the little objects on which it was employed. His generoſity was boundleſs, becauſe his tenderneſs and his vanity were in equal proportion; the one impelling him to relieve miſery, and the other to make his benefactions known. In all his actions, however [199] virtuous, he was guided by ſenſation, and not by reaſon; ſo that the uppermoſt paſſion was ever ſure to prevail. His being conſtantly in company had made him an eaſy tho' not a polite companion. He choſe to be thought rather an odd fellow, than a well-bred man; perhaps that mixture of reſpect and ridicule, with which his mock royalty was treated, firſt inſpired him with this reſolution. The foundations of his empire were laid in vicious compliance, the continuance of his reign was ſupported by a virtuous impartiality. In the beginning of his authority, he in reality obeyed thoſe whom he pretended to govern; towards the end, he attempted to extort a real obedience from his ſubjects, and ſupported his right by preſcription. Like a monarch Tacitus talks of; they complied with him at firſt becauſe they loved, they obeyed at laſt becauſe they feared him. He often led the rich into new follies, in order to promote the happineſs of the poor, and ſerved the one at the expence of the other. Whatever his vices were, they were of uſe to ſociety; [200] and this neither Petronius, nor Apicius, nor Tigellius, nor any other profeſſed voluptuary, could ſay. To ſet him up, as ſome do, for a pattern of imitation, is wrong, ſince all his virtues received a tincture from the neighbouring folly; to denounce peculiar judgments againſt him, is equally unjuſt, as his faults raiſe rather our mirth than our deteſtation. He was fitted for the ſtation in which fortune placed him. It required no great abilities to fill it, and few of great abilities, but would have diſdained the employment. He led a life of vanity, and long miſtook it for happineſs. Unfortunately he was taught at laſt to know, that a man of pleaſure leads the moſt unpleaſant life in the world.

[201]

A Letter from Mr. *** in Tunbridge, to Lord — in London; found among the Papers of Mr. Naſh, and prepared by him for the preſs.

MY LORD,

WHAT I foreſaw has arrived, poor Jenners, after loſing all his fortune, has ſhot himſelf through the head. His loſſes to Bland were conſiderable, and his playing ſoon after with Spedding contributed to haſten his ruin. No man was ever more enamour'd of play, or underſtood it leſs. At whatever game he ventured his money, he was moſt uſually the dupe, and ſtill fooliſhly attributed to his bad luck, thoſe misfortunes that entirely proceeded from his want of judgment.

After finding that he had brought on himſelf irreparable indigence and contempt, his temper, formerly ſo ſprightly, began to grow gloomy and unequal; he grew more fond of ſolitude, and more liable to [202] take offence at ſuppoſed injuries; in ſhort, for a week before he ſhot himſelf, his friends were of opinion, that he meditated ſome ſuch horrid deſign. He was found in his chamber fallen on the floor, the bullet having glanced on the bone, and lodged behind his right eye.

You remember my Lord, what a charming fellow this deluded man was once. How benevolent, juſt, temperate, and every way virtuous; the only faults of his mind aroſe from motives of humanity; he was too eaſy, credulous, and good-natured, and unable to reſiſt temptation, when recommended by the voice of friendſhip. Theſe foibles the vicious and the needy ſoon perceived, and what was at firſt a weakneſs they ſoon perverted into guilt; he became a gameſter, and continued the infamous profeſſion, 'till he could ſupport the miſeries it brought with it no longer.

I have often been not a little concerned to ſee the firſt introduction of a young man of fortune to the gaming-table. With [203] what eagerneſs his company is courted by the whole fraternity of ſharpers, how they find out his moſt latent wiſhes, in order to make way to his affections by gratifying them; and continue to hang upon him with the meaneſt degree of condeſcenſion. The youthful dupe no way ſuſpecting, imagines himſelf ſurrounded by friends and gentlemen, and incapable of even ſuſpecting that men of ſuch ſeeming good ſenſe, and ſo genteel an appearance, ſhould deviate from the laws of honour, walks into the ſnare, nor is he undeceived till ſchooled by the ſeverity of experience.

As I ſuppoſe no man would be a gameſter unleſs he hoped to win, ſo I fancy it would be eaſy to reclaim him, if he was once effectually convinced, that by continuing to play he muſt certainly loſe. Permit me, my Lord, to attempt this taſk, and to ſhew, that no young gentleman by a year's run of play, and in a mixed company, can poſſibly be a gainer.

[204]Let me ſuppoſe in the firſt place, that the chances on both ſides are equal, that there are no marked cards, no pinching, ſhuffling, nor hiding; let me ſuppoſe that the players alſo have no advantage of each other in point of judgment, and ſtill further let me grant, that the party is only formed at home, without going to the uſual expenſive places of reſort frequented by gameſters. Even with all theſe circumſtances in the young gameſter's favour, it is evident he cannot be a gainer. With equal players after a year's continuance of any particular game it will be found, that, whatever has been played for, the winnings on either ſide are very inconſiderable, and moſt commonly nothing at all. Here then is a year's anxiety, pain, jarring, and ſuſpenſe, and nothing gained; were the parties to ſit down and profeſſedly play for nothing, they would contemn the propoſal, they would call it trifling away time, and one of the moſt inſipid amuſements in nature; yet in fact, how do equal players differ; it is allowed that little or nothing can be gained; but much is loſt; our youth, our time, thoſe moments that may be laid [205] out in pleaſure or improvement are fooliſhly ſquandered away, in toſſing cards, fretting at ill luck, or, even with a run of luck in our favour, fretting that our winnings are ſo ſmall.

I have now ſtated gaming in that point of view in which it is alone defenſible, as a commerce carried on with equal advantage and loſs to either party, and it appears, that the loſs is great, and the advantage but ſmall. But let me ſuppoſe the players not to be equal, but the ſuperiority of judgment in our own favour. A perſon who plays under this conviction, however, muſt give up all pretenſions to the approbation of his own mind, and is guilty of as much injuſtice, as the thief who robbed a blind man, becauſe he knew he could not ſwear to his perſon.

But in fact, when I allowed the ſuperiority of ſkill on the young beginner's ſide, I only granted an impoſſibility. Skill in gaming, like ſkill in making a watch, can only be acquired by long and painful induſtry. The moſt ſagacious youth alive [206] was never taught at once all the arts, and all the niceties of gaming. Every paſſion muſt be ſchooled by long habit into caution, and phlegm; the very countenance muſt be taught proper diſcipline; and he who would practice this art with ſucceſs, muſt practice on his own conſtitution, all the ſeverities of a martyr, without any expectation of the reward. It is evident therefore every beginner muſt be a dupe, and can only be expected to learn his trade by loſſes, diſappointments, and diſhonour.

If a young gentleman therefore begins to game, the commencements are ſure to be to his diſadvantage; and all that he can promiſe himſelf is, that the company he keeps, tho' ſuperior in ſkill, are above taking advantage of his ignorance, and unacquainted with any ſiniſter arts to correct fortune. But this however is but a poor hope at beſt, and what is worſe, moſt frequently a falſe one. In general, I might almoſt have ſaid always, thoſe who live by gaming, are not beholding to chance alone for their ſupport, but take every advantage [207] which they can practiſe without danger of detection. I know many are apt to ſay, and I have once ſaid ſo myſelf, that after I have ſhuffled the cards, it is not in the power of a ſharper to pack them; but at preſent I can confidently aſſure your Lordſhip, that ſuch reaſoners are deceived. I have ſeen men both in Paris, the Hague, and London, who, after three deals, could give whatever hands they pleaſed to all the company. However, the uſual way with ſharpers is to correct fortune thus but once in a night, and to play in other reſpects without blunder or miſtake, and a perſeverance in this practice always balances the year in their favour.

It is impoſſible to enumerate all the tricks and arts practiſed upon cards; few but have ſeen thoſe bungling poor fellows who go about at coffee-houſes perform their clumſy feats, and yet, indifferently as they are verſed in the trade, they often deceive us; when ſuch as theſe are poſſeſſed of ſo much art, what muſt not thoſe be, who have been bred up to gaming from [208] their infancy, whoſe hands are not like thoſe mentioned above, rendered callous by labour, who have continual practice in the trade of deceiving, and where the eye of the ſpectator is leſs upon its guard.

Let the young beginner only reflect, by what a variety of methods it is poſſible to cheat him, and perhaps it will check his confidence. His antagoniſts may act by ſigns and confederacy, and this he can never detect; they may cut to a particular card after three or four hands have gone about, either by having that card pinched, or broader than the reſt, or by having an exceeding fine wire thruſt between the folds of the paper, and juſt peeping out at the edge. Or the cards may be chalked with particular marks, which none but the ſharper can underſtand, or a new pack may be ſlipped in at a proper opportunity. I have known myſelf in Paris, a fellow thus detected with a tin caſe, containing two packs of cards concealed within his ſhirt ſleeve, and which, by means of a ſpring, threw the cards ready packed [209] into his hands. Theſe and an hundred other arts may be practiſed with impunity, and eſcape detection.

The great error lies in imagining every fellow with a laced coat to be a gentleman. The addreſs and tranſient behaviour of a man of breeding are eaſily acquired, and none are better qualified than gameſters in this reſpect. At firſt, their complaiſance, civility, and apparent honour is pleaſing, but upon examination, few of them will be found to have their minds ſufficiently ſtored with any of the more refined accompliſhments, which truly characterize the man of breeding. This will commonly ſerve as a criterion to diſtinguiſh them, tho' there are other marks which every young gentleman of fortune ſhould be apprized of. A ſharper, when he plays, generally handles and deals the cards aukwardly like a bungler; he advances his bets by degrees, and keeps his antagoniſt in ſpirits by ſmall advantages and alternate ſucceſs at the beginning; to ſhew all his force [210] at once, would but fright the bird he intends to decoy; he talks of honour and virtue, and his being a gentleman, and that he knows great men, and mentions his coal mines, and his eſtate in the country; he is totally diveſted of that maſculine confidence, which is the attendant of real fortune; he turns, yields, aſſents, ſmiles, as he hopes will be moſt pleaſing to his deſtined prey; he is afraid of meeting a ſhabby acquaintance, particularly if in better company; as he grows richer, he wears finer cloaths; and if ever he is ſeen in an undreſs, it is moſt probable he is without money; ſo that ſeeing a gameſter growing finer each day, is a certain ſymptom of his ſucceſs.

The young gentleman who plays with ſuch men for conſiderable ſums, is ſure to be undone, and yet we ſeldom ſee, even the rook himſelf make a fortune. A life of gaming muſt neceſſarily be a life of extravagance, parties of this kind are formed in houſes, where the whole profits are conſumed, and while thoſe who play, [211] mutually ruin each other, they only who keep the houſe or the table acquire fortunes. Thus gaming may readily ruin a fortune, but has ſeldom been found to retrieve it. The wealth which has been acquired with induſtry and hazard, and preſerved for ages by prudence and foreſight, is ſwept away on a ſudden; and when a beſieging ſharper ſits down before an eſtate, the property is often transferred in leſs time, than the writings can be drawn to ſecure the poſſeſſion. The neglect of buſineſs, and the extravagance of a mind which has been taught to covet precarious poſſeſſion, brings on premature deſtruction; tho' poverty may fetch a compaſs and go ſomewhat about, yet will it reach the gameſter at laſt; and tho' his ruin be ſlow, yet it is certain.

A thouſand inſtances could be given of the fatal tendency of this paſſion, which firſt impoveriſhes the mind, and then perverts the underſtanding. Permit me to mention one, not caught from report, or dreſſed up by fancy, but ſuch as has [212] actually fallen under my own obſervation, and of the truth of which, I beg your Lordſhip may reſt ſatisfied.

At Tunbridge, in the year 1715, Mr. J. Hedges made a very brilliant appearance; he had been married about two years to a young lady of great beauty and large fortune; they had one child, a boy, on whom they beſtowed all that affection, which they could ſpare from each other. He knew nothing of gaming, nor ſeemed to have the leaſt paſſion for play; but he was unacquainted with his own heart; he began by degrees to bett at the tables for trifling ſums, and his ſoul took fire at the proſpect of immediate gain; he was ſoon ſurrounded with ſharpers, who with calmneſs lay in ambuſh for his fortune, and cooly took advantage of the precipitancy of his paſſions.

His lady perceived the ruin of her family approaching, but at firſt, without being able to form any ſcheme to prevent it. She adviſed with his brother, who at [213] that time was poſſeſſed of a ſmall fellowſhip in Cambridge. It was eaſily ſeen, that whatever paſſion took the lead in her huſband's mind, ſeemed to be there fixed unalterably; it was determined therefore, to let him purſue fortune, but previouſly take meaſures, to prevent the purſuits being fatal.

Accordingly every night this gentleman was a conſtant attender at the hazard tables; he underſtood neither the arts of ſharpers, nor even the allowed ſtrokes of a connoiſſeur, yet ſtill he played. The conſequence is obvious; he loſt his eſtate, his equipage, his wife's jewels, and every other moveable that could be parted with, except a repeating watch. His agony upon this occaſion was inexpreſſible; he was even mean enough to aſk a gentleman, who ſate near, to lend him a few pieces, in order to turn his fortune; but this prudent gameſter, who plainly ſaw there were no expectations of being repaid, refuſed to lend a farthing, alledging a former reſolution againſt lending. Hedges was at laſt [214] furious with the continuance of ill ſucceſs, and pulling out his watch, aſked if any perſon in company, would ſet him ſixty guineas upon it: the company were ſilent; he then demanded fifty; ſtill no anſwer; he ſunk to forty, thirty, twenty; finding the company ſtill without anſwering, he cried out by G—d it ſhall never go for leſs, and daſhed it againſt the floor, at the ſame time, attempting to daſh out his brains againſt the marble chimney-piece.

This laſt act of deſperation, immedidiately excited the attention of the whole company; they inſtantly gathered round, and prevented the effects of his paſſion; and after he again became cool, he was permitted to return home, with ſullen diſcontent, to his wife. Upon his entering her apartment, ſhe received him with her uſual tenderneſs and ſatisfaction; while he anſwered her careſſes with contempt and ſeverity; his diſpoſition being quite altered with his misfortunes. But my dear Jemmy, ſays his wife, perhaps you don't [215] know the news I have to tell; My Mamma's old uncle is dead, the meſſenger is now in the houſe, and you know his eſtate is ſettled upon you. This account ſeemed only to encreaſe his agony, and looking angrily at her, he cried, there you lie, my dear, his eſtate it not ſettled upon me. ‘"I beg your pardon, ſays ſhe, I really thought it was, at leaſt you have always told me ſo."’ No, returned he, as ſure as you and I are to be miſerable here, and our children beggars hereafter, I have ſold the reverſion of it this day, and have loſt every farthing I got for it at the hazard table. ‘"What, all",’ replied the Lady. Yes every farthing, returned he, and I owe a thouſand pounds more than I have to pay. Thus ſpeaking, he took a few frantic ſteps acroſs the room. When the Lady had a little enjoyed his perplexity. No my dear, cried ſhe, you have loſt but a trifle, and you owe nothing, our brother and I have taken care to prevent the effects of your raſhneſs, and are actually the perſons, who have won your fortune; we employed proper perſons for this purpoſe, who brought their winnings to me; your money, [216] your equipage, are in my poſſeſſion, and here I return them to you, from whom they were unjuſtly taken, I only aſk permiſſion to keep my jewels, and to keep you, my greateſt jewel, from ſuch dangers for the future. Her prudence had the proper effect, he ever after retained a ſenſe of his former follies, and never played for the ſmalleſt ſums, even for amuſement.

Not leſs than three perſons in one day, fell a ſacrifice at Bath to this deſtructive paſſion. Two gentlemen fought a duel, in which one was killed, and the other deſperately wounded, and a youth of great expectation, and excellent diſpoſition, at the ſame time ended his own life by a piſtol. If there be any ſtate that deſerves pity, it muſt be that of a gameſter; but the ſtate of a dying gameſter, is of all ſituations the moſt deplorable.

There is another argument which your lordſhip, I fancy, will not entirely deſpiſe; beauty, my lord, I own is at beſt but a trifle, but ſuch as it is, I fancy few would willingly [217] part with what little they have. A man with an healthful complexion, how great a philoſopher ſoever he be, would not willingly exchange it for a ſallow hectic phyz, pale eyes, and a ſharp wrinkled viſage. I entreat you only to examine the faces of all the noted gamblers round one of our public tables; have you ever ſeen any thing more haggard, pinched, and miſerable? and it is but natural that it ſhould be ſo. The ſucceſſion of paſſions fluſh the cheek with red, and all ſuch fluſhings are ever ſucceeded by conſequent paleneſs; ſo that a gameſter contracts the ſickly hue of a ſtudent, while he is only acquiring the ſtupidity of a fool.

Your good ſenſe, my lord, I have often had an occaſion of knowing, yet how miſerable it is to be in a ſet of company where the moſt ſenſible is ever the leaſt ſkilful; your footman with a little inſtruction, would, I dare venture to affirm, make a better and more ſucceſsful gameſter than you; want of paſſions, and low cunning, are the two great arts; and it is peculiar [218] to this ſcience alone, that they who have the greateſt paſſion for it, are of all others the moſt unfit to practiſe it.

Of all the men I ever knew, Spedding was the greateſt blockhead, and yet the beſt gameſter, he ſaw almoſt intuitively the advantage on either ſide, and ever took it; he could calculate the odds in a moment, and decide upon the merits of a cock or an horſe, better than any man in England; in ſhort he was ſuch an adept in gaming, that he brought it up to a pitch of ſublimity it had never attained before; yet with all this, Spedding could not write his own name. What he died worth I cannot tell, but of this I am certain, he might have poſſeſt a miniſterial eſtate, and that won from men, famed for their ſenſe, literature and patriotiſm.

If after this deſcription, your Lordſhip is yet reſolved to hazard your fortune at gaming, I beg you would avert to the ſituation of an old and luckleſs gameſter. Perhaps there is not in nature a more deplorable being, his character is too well [219] marked, he is too well known to be truſted. A man that has been often a bankrupt, and renewed trade upon low compoſitions, may as well expect extenſive credit as ſuch a man. His reputation is blaſted, his conſtitution worn, by the extravagance and ill hours of his profeſſion, he is now incapable of alluring his dupes, and like a ſuperannuated ſavage of the foreſt, he is ſtarved for want of vigour to hunt after prey.

Thus gaming is the ſource of poverty, and ſtill worſe, the parent of infamy and vice. It is an inlet to debauchery, for the money thus acquired is but little valued. Every gameſter is a rake, and his morals worſe than his myſtery. It is his intereſt to be exemplary in every ſcene of debauchery, his prey is to be courted with every guilty pleaſure; but theſe are to be changed, repeated, and embelliſhed, in order to employ his imagination, while his reaſon is kept aſleep; a young mind is apt to ſhrink at the proſpect of ruin, care muſt be taken to harden his courage, and make [220] him keep his rank; he muſt be either found a libertine, or he muſt be made one. And when a man has parted with his money like a fool, he generally ſends his conſcience after it like a villain, and the nearer he is to the brink of deſtruction, the fonder does he grow of ruin.

Your friend and mine, my Lord, had been thus driven to the laſt reſerve, he found it impoſſible to diſentangle his affairs, and look the world in the face; impatience at length threw him into the abyſs he feared, and life became a burthen, becauſe he feared to die. But I own that play is not always attended with ſuch tragical circumſtances, ſome have had courage to ſurvive their loſſes, and go on content with beggary; and ſure thoſe misfortunes, which are of our own production, are of all others moſt pungent. To ſee ſuch a poor diſbanded being an unwelcome gueſt at every table, and often flapped off like a fly, is affecting; in this caſe the cloſeſt alliance is forgotten, and contempt is too ſtrong for the ties of blood to unbind.

[221]But however fatal this paſſion may be in its conſequence, none allures ſo much in the beginning, the perſon once liſted as a gameſter, if not ſoon reclaimed, purſues it ſtrough his whole life; no loſs can retard, no danger awaken him to common ſenſe; nothing can terminate his career but want of money to play, or of honour to be truſted.

Among the number of my acquaintance, I knew but of two who ſucceeded by gaming; the one a phlegmatic heavy man, who would have made a fortune in whatever way of life he happened to be placed; the other who had loſt a fine eſtate in his youth by play, and retrieved a greater at the age of ſixty five, when he might be juſtly ſaid, to be paſt the power of enjoying it. One or two ſucceſsful gameſters are thus ſet up in an age to allure the young beginner; we all regard ſuch, as the higheſt prize in a lottery, unmindful of the numerous loſſes that go to the accumulation of ſuch infrequent ſucceſs.

[222]Yet I would not be ſo moroſe, as to refuſe your youth all kinds of play, the innocent amuſements of a family muſt often be indulged, and cards allowed to ſupply the intervals of more real pleaſure; but the ſum played for in ſuch caſes ſhould always be a trifle; ſomething to call up attention, but not engage the paſſions. The uſual excuſe for laying large ſums is, to make the players attend to their game; but in fact, he that plays only for ſhillings, will mind his cards equally well, with him that betts guineas; for the mind, habituated to ſtake large ſums, will conſider them as trifles at laſt; and if one ſhilling could not exclude indifference at firſt, neither will an hundred in the end.

I have often aſked myſelf, how it is poſſible that he who is poſſeſſed of competence, can ever be induced to make it precarious, by beginning play with the odds againſt him; for wherever he goes to ſport his money, he will find himſelf over matched and cheated. Either at [223] White's, New-market, the Tennis Court, the Cock Pit, or the Billiard Table, he will find numbers who have no other reſource, but their acquiſitions there; and if ſuch men live like gentlemen, he may readily conclude it muſt be on the ſpoils of his fortune, or the fortunes of ill judging men like himſelf. Was he to attend but a moment to their manner of betting at thoſe places he would readily find the gameſter ſeldom propoſing betts, but with the advantage in his own favour. A man of honour continues to lay on the ſide on which he firſt won; but gameſters ſhift, change, lie upon the lurch, and take every advantage, either of our ignorance or neglect.

In ſhort, my Lord, if a man deſigns to lay out his fortune in queſt of pleaſure, the gaming table is, of all other places, that where he can have leaſt for his money. The company are ſuperficial, extravagant, and unentertaining; the converſation flat, debauched, and abſurd; the hours unnatural, and fatiguing; the anxiety of loſing, [224] is greater than the pleaſure of winning; friendſhip muſt be baniſhed from that ſociety, the members of which are intent only on ruining each other; every other improvement, either in knowledge or virtue, can ſcarce find room in that breaſt, which is poſſeſſed by the ſpirit of play; the ſpirits become vapid, the conſtitution is enfeebled, the complexion grows pale, till, in the end, the mind, body, friends, fortune, and even the hopes of futurity ſink together! Happy, if nature terminates the ſcene, and neither juſtice nor ſuicide are called in to accelerate her tardy approach.

I am, my Lord, &c.
[225]

Among other Papers in the cuſtody of Mr. Naſh, was the following angry Letter, addreſſed to him in this manner.

To Richard Naſh, Eſq King of Bath.

SIRE,

I Muſt deſire your Majeſty to order the incloſed to be read to the great Mr. Hoyle, if he be found in any part of your dominions. You will perceive, that it is a panegyrick on his manifold virtues, and that he is thanked more particularly for ſpending his time ſo much to the emolument of the public, and for obliging the world with a book more read than the Bible, and which ſo eminently tends to promote chriſtian knowledge, ſound morality, and the happineſs of mankind.

(The incloſed we have omitted, as it contains a ſatire on gaming, and may probably give offence to our betters.)

[226]This author, however (continues the letter writer) has not ſet forth half the merits of the piece under conſideration, nor is the great care which he has taken to prevent our reading any other book, inſtead of this, been ſufficiently taken notice of: beware of counterfeits, theſe books are not to be depended on, unleſs ſigned by E. Hoyle, is a charitable admonition. As you have ſo much power at Bath, and are abſolute, I think you ſhould imitate other great monarchs, by rewarding thoſe with honours who have been ſerviceable in your ſtate; and I beg that a new order may be eſtabliſhed for that purpoſe. Let him who has done nothing but game all his life, and has reduced the moſt families to ruin and beggary, be made a Marſhal of the Black Ace; and thoſe who are every day making proſelytes to the tables, have the honour of knighthood conferred on them, and be diſtinguiſhed by the ſtyle and title of Knights of the four Knaves.

[227]The moment I came into Bath, my ears were ſaluted with the news of a gentleman's being plundered at the gaming table, and having loſt his ſenſes on the occaſion. The ſame day a duel was fought between two gentlemen gameſters on the Downs, and in the evening another hanged himſelf at the Bear; but firſt wrote a note, which was found near him, importing that he had injured the beſt of friends. Theſe are the atchievements of your Knights of the four Knaves. The Devil will pick the bones of all gameſters, that's certain!—Ay! and of duellers too! but in the mean time let none think that duelling is a mark of courage; for I know it is not. A perſon ſerved under me in Flanders who had fought four duels, and depended ſo much on his ſkill, the ſtrength of his arm, and the length of his ſword, that he would take up a Quarrel for any body; yet, in the field, I never ſaw one behave ſo like a poltroon. If a few of theſe gameſters and duellers were gibbeted, it might perhaps help to amend the reſt. I have often [228] thought, that the only way, or at leaſt, the moſt effectual way, to prevent duelling, would be to hang both parties, the living and the dead, on the ſame tree*; and if [229] the winner and the loſer were treated in the ſame manner, it would be better for the publick; ſince the tucking up of a few R—ls might be a warning to others, and ſave many a worthy family from deſtruction.

I am yours, &c.
*

A ſcheme to prevent duelling, ſimilar to this, was attempted by Guſtavus Adolphus; and is thus recorded by the writer of his life.

"In one of the Pruſſian Campaigns, when the irrational practice of duelling aroſe to a conſiderable height in the Swediſh army, not only amongſt perſons of rank and faſhion, but even amongſt common ſoldiers. This prince publiſhed a ſevere edict, and denounced death againſt every delinquent. Soon after, a quarrel aroſe between two officers of very high command, and as they knew the king's firmneſs in preſerving his word inviolable, they agreed to requeſt an audience, and beſought his permiſſion to decide the affair like men of honour. His Majeſty took fire in a moment, but repreſſed his paſſion with ſuch art, that they eaſily miſtook him; of courſe with ſome reluctance, but under the appearance of pitying brave men, who thought their reputation injured, he told them, that he blamed them much for their miſtaken notions, concerning Fame and Glory; yet as this unreaſonable determination appeared to be the reſult of deliberate reflection, to the beſt of their deluded capacity, he would allow them to decide the affair at the time and place ſpecified: and, gentlemen, ſaid he, I will be an eye witneſs myſelf of your extraordinary valour and proweſs."

At the hour appointed Guſtavus arrived, accompanied by a ſmall body of infantry, whom he formed into a circle round the combatants. ‘"Now, ſays he, fight till one man dies;"’ and calling the executioner of the army to him (or the provoſt-marſhal, as the language then ran) ‘"Friend, added he, the inſtant one is killed, behead the other before my eyes."’

Aſtoniſhed with ſuch inflexible firmneſs, the two generals, after pauſing a moment, fell down on their knees, and aſked the king's forgiveneſs, who made them embrace each other, and give their promiſe to continue faithful friends to their laſt moments; as they did with ſincerity and thankfulneſs.

The author of this letter appears to have been very angry, and not without reaſon; for if I am rightly informed, his only ſon was ruined at Bath, and by ſharpers. [230] But why is Naſh to be blamed for this? It muſt be acknowledged, that he always took pains to prevent the ruin of the youth of both ſexes, and had ſo guarded againſt duelling, that he would not permit a ſword to be worn in Bath.

As the heart of a man is better known by his private than public actions, let us take a view of Naſh in domeſtick life; among his ſervants and dependants where no gloſs was required to colour his ſentiments and diſpoſition, nor any maſk neceſſary to conceal his foibles. Here we ſhall find him the ſame open-hearted, generous, good-natured man we have already deſcribed; one who was ever fond of promoting the intereſts of his friends, his ſervants and dependants, and making them happy. In his own houſe no man perhaps was more regular, chearful, and beneficent than Mr. Naſh. His table was always free to thoſe who ſought his friendſhip, or wanted a dinner; and after grace was ſaid, he uſually accoſted the company in the following extraordinary manner, to [231] take off all reſtraint and ceremony. ‘"Come, gentlemen, eat and welcome, ſpare, and the Devil choak you."’ I mention this circumſtance for no other reaſon but becauſe it is well known, and is conſiſtent with the ſingularity of his character and behaviour.

As Mr. Naſh's thoughts were entirely employed in the affairs of his government, he was ſeldom at home but at the time of eating or of reſt. His table was well ſerved, but his entertainment conſiſted principally of plain diſhes. Boiled chicken and roaſt mutton were his favourite meats, and he was ſo fond of the ſmall ſort of potatoes, that he called them Engliſh pineapples, and generally eat them as others do fruit, after dinner. In drinking he was altogether as regular and abſtemious. Both in this and in eating, he ſeemed to conſult nature, and obey only her dictates. Good ſmall beer, with or without a glaſs of wine in it, and ſometimes wine and water, was his drink at meals, and after dinner he generally drank one glaſs of wine. He [232] ſeemed fond of hot ſuppers, uſually ſupped about nine or ten o'clock, upon roaſt breaſt of mutton and his potatoes, and ſoon after ſupper went to bed; which induced Dr. Cheney to tell him jeſtingly, that he behaved like other brutes, and lay down as ſoon as he had filled his belly. Very true, replied Naſh, and this preſcription I had from my neighbour's Cow, who is a better phyſician than you, and a ſuperior judge of plants, notwithſtanding you have written ſo learnedly on the vegetable diet.

Naſh generally aroſe early in the morning, being ſeldom in bed after five: and to avoid diſturbing the family, and depriving his ſervants of their reſt, he had the fire laid after he was in bed, and in the morning lighted it himſelf, and ſat down to read ſome of his few, but well choſen books. After reading ſome time, he uſually went to the pump-room and drank the waters; then took a walk on the parade, and went to the coffee-houſe to breakfaſt; after which, till two o'clock (his uſual time of dinner) his hours were ſpent in arbitrating [233] differences amongſt his neighbours, or the company reſorting to the wells; directing the diverſions of the day, in viſiting the new comers, or receiving friends at his own houſe, of which there were a great concourſe till within ſix or eight years before his death.

His generoſity and charity in private life, tho' not ſo conſpicuous, was as great as that in publick, and indeed far more conſiderable than his little income would admit of. He could not ſtifle the natural impulſe which he had to do good, but frequently borrowed money to relieve the diſtreſſed; and when he knew not conveniently where to borrow, he has been often obſerved to ſhed tears, as he paſſed through the wretched ſupplicants who attended his gate.

This ſenſibility, this power of feeling the misfortunes of the miſerable, and his addreſs and earneſtneſs in relieving their wants, exalts the character of Mr. Naſh, and draws an impenetrable veil over his [234] foibles. His ſingularities are forgotten when we behold his virtues, and he who laughed at the whimſical character and behaviour of this Monarch of Bath, now laments that he is no more.

FINIS.

Appendix A ERRATA.

Page 127. Line 6 from the top, for pump-room read Wiltſhire's ball-room. P. 172, l. 21, for who read many of whom. P. 175, l. 18, for 3d of February read 12th of February. P. 221, l. 5, for ſtrough read through.

Appendix B BOOKS juſt Publiſhed by J. NEWBERY, at the Bible and Sun in St. Paul's Church-Yard, London; and W. FREDERICK, at Bath.

[]
  • 1. THE HISTORY of MECKLENBURGH, from the firſt Settlement of the Vandals in that Country to the preſent Time; including a Period of about Three Thouſand Years. Adorned with a Copper-plate Print of the Queen (from an original Drawing) and dedicated to her Majeſty. One Volume Octavo. Pr. 5 s. bound.
  • 2. The ART of POETRY on a new Plan. Illuſtrated with a great Variety of Examples from the beſt Engliſh Poets; and of Tranſlations from the Ancients; together with ſuch Reflections and Critical Demarks as may tend to form in our Youth an elegant Taſte, and render the Study of this Part of the Belles Lettres, more rational and pleaſing. In two Vols. 12mo. Pr. 6 s. bound.
  • 3. The IDLER. By the Author of the RAMBLER. In 2 Vols. 12mo. Pr. 6 s. bound.
  • 4. The CITIZEN of the WORLD: Or, Letters from a Chineſe Philoſopher, reſiding in London, to his Friends in the Eaſt. In two Pocket Volumes. Price bound 6 s.
  • 5. PHILOSOPHIA BRITANNICA, or a new and comprehenſive Syſtem of the Newtonian Philoſophy, Aſtronomy, and Geography: In a Courſe of twelve Lectures, with Notes; containing the Phyſical, Mechanical, Geometrical, and Experimental Proofs and Illuſtrations of all the principal Propoſitions in every Branch of Natural Science. Alſo a particular Account of the Invention, Structure, Improvement, and Uſes, of all the conſiderable Inſtruments, Engines, and Machines; [] with new Calculations relating to their Nature, Power, and Operation. The whole collected and methodized from all the principal Authors, and public Memoirs, to the preſent Year. And embelliſhed with Eighty-one Copper-Plates.

    By B. MARTIN.

    To which is added a Supplement, containing two Appendixes: The firſt, compriſing the new Experiments on Electricity and Magnetiſm: The ſecond contains ſeveral new Improvements in Microſcopes, Teleſcopes, Micrometers, and other Optical Inſtruments. The Second Edition, in Three Volumes Octavo, Price 18 s. bound.

    This Supplement may be had alone by thoſe who bought the former Edition, Price 2 s. 6 d.

  • 6. PLUTARCH's LIVES, abridged from the Original Greek, and illuſtrated with Notes and Reflections, for the Uſe of young Gentlemen and Ladies.
    The Firſt Volume contains.
    The LIVES of Plutarch, Theſeus, Romulus, Lycurgus, Numa, Solon, P. Valerius Poplicola, Themiſtocles, and Furius Camillus.
    The Second Volume contains.
    The LIVES of Pericles, Fabius Maximus, Alcibiades, C. M. Coriolanus, Timoleon, and Paulus Aemilius.
    The Third Volume contains.
    The LIVES of Pelopidas, Marcellus, Ariſtides, Cato the Cenſor, Philopoemen, T. Q. Flaminius, and Pyrrbus.

    N.B. The Whole of the LIVES recorded by Plutarch will be comprized in about Seven Volumes; and if they ſhould exceed Eight, the Remainder will be given gratis. So that this [] Work when complete will coſt the Purchaſer no more than twelve Shillings.

    A Volume will be publiſhed the Firſt of every Month, till the Whole is completed. Pr. 1 s. 6 d. each, ſewed, and embelliſhed with Copper-plate Prints.

    Biography has, ever ſince the Days of Plutarch, been conſidered as the moſt uſeful manner of Writing, not only from the Pleaſure it affords the Imagination, but from the Inſtruction it artfully and unexpectedly conveys to the Underſtanding, It furniſhes us with an Opportunity of giving Advice freely, and without Offence. It not only removes the Dryneſs and dogmatical Air of Precept, but ſets Perſons, Actions, and their Conſequences before us in the moſt ſtriking Manner; and by that Means turns even Precept into Example: Whence ariſes the Propriety of placing theſe Volumes in the Hands of Youth.

    A Gentleman of uncommon Underſtanding, being aſked what was the beſt Leſſon for Youth? anſwered, The Life of a good Man: And being aſked, what was the next beſt? replied, The Life of a bad one: For, that the firſt would make him in love with Virtue, and teach him how to conduct himſelf through Life, ſo as to become an Ornament to Society, and a Bleſſing to his Family and Friends; and the laſt would point out the hateful Conſequences of Vice, and make him careful to avoid thoſe Actions himſelf which appeared ſo deteſtable in others.

    ‘"What Hiſtories can be found (ſays the Marquis De Monteſquieu) that pleaſe and inſtruct like the Lives of Plutarch? He paints the Man whoſe Life he relates; he makes him known ſuch as he was at the Head of the Armies, in the [] Government of the People, in his own Family, and in his Pleaſures. In ſhort, I am of the ſame Opinion with that Author, who ſaid, that if he was conſtrained to fling all the Books of the Antients into the Sea, PLUTARCH ſhould be the laſt drowned."’

    In the Courſe of this Work, all thoſe Actions which are uſually called Great and Glorious, but which are productive of the moſt miſchievous Effects, will be particularly conſidered, ſtript of their captivating Glare, and reduced to the Standard of Reaſon and of Juſtice.

  • 7. The WORLD DISPLAYED! Or, a curious Collection of Voyages and Travels, from the Writers of all Nations. In which the Conjectures and Interpolations of ſeveral vain Editors and Tranſlators are expunged; every Relation is made conciſe and plain, and the Diviſions of Countries and Kingdoms are clearly and diſtinctly noted. In 20 Volumes, Price 1 l. 10 s. ſewed, or 2 l. bound in Calf.

    Curioſity is ſeldom ſo powerfully excited, or ſo amply gratified, as by faithful Relations of Voyages and Travels. The different Appearances of Nature, and the various Cuſtoms of Men, the gradual Diſcovery of the World, and the Accidents and Hardſhips of a naval Life, all concur to fill the Mind with Expection and with Wonder; and as Science, when it can be connected with Events, is always more eaſily learned, and more certainly remembered, the Hiſtory of a Voyage may be conſidered as the moſt uſeful Treatiſe on Geography, ſince the Student follows the Travellers from Country to Country, and retains the Situation of Places by recounting his Adventures. It is hoped that this Collection wil be favourably received, as no one has hitherto been offered ſo cheap, or ſo commodious.

Notes
*
This account of his age, which contradicts that given us by Doctor Oliver, was copied from Mr. Naſh's own hand-writing, by George Scott, Eſq from a book in the poſſeſſion of Mr. Charles Morgan, at his coffee-houſe at Bath.
*
The HYMN ſung at his Funeral.
I.
Moſt unhappy are we here,
Full of ſin and full of fear,
Ever weary, ne'er at reſt,
When, O Lord, ſhall we be bleſt.
II.
Earth's a clog, a pageant life,
Fill'd with folly, guilt and ſtrife;
'Till we all unite in thee,
With ourſelves we diſagree.
III.
What's our comfort here below,
Empty bubble, tranſient ſhew;
Wrapt in the body's vile diſguiſe,
None truly is until he dies.
IV.
Here we dwell, but not at home,
To other worlds ordain'd to roam;
Yet ſtill we ſeek for joys that waſte,
Fleeting as the vernal blaſt.
V.
Lord remove theſe ſhadows hence,
Give us faith inſtead of ſenſe;
Teach us here in life to die,
That we may live eternally.
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5345 The life of Richard Nash of Bath Esq extracted principally from his original papers. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-58C1-7