When the Earl of T—— was a youth he was passionately fond of play. Nash undertook to cure him. Conscious of his superior skill, he engaged the earl in single play. His lordship lost his estate, equipage, everything! Our generous gamester returned all, only stipulating for the payment of L5000 whenever he might think proper to demand it. Some time after his lordship's death, Nash's affairs being on the wane, he demanded it of his heirs, WHO PAID IT WITHOUT HESITATION.
Nash one day complained of his ill luck to the Earl of Chesterfield, adding that he had lost L500 the last night. The earl replied, 'I don't wonder at your LOSING money, Nash, but all the world is surprised where you get it to lose.'
'The Corporation of Bath so highly respected Nash, that the Chamber voted a marble statue of him, which was erected in the Pump-room, between the busts of Newton and Pope; this gave rise to a stinging epigram by Lord Chesterfield, concluding with these lines:
"The STATUE placed these busts between Gives satire all its strength; WISDOM and WIT are little seen, But FOLLY at full length."'(116)
(116) The Book of Days, Feb. 3.
THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD.
Walpole tells us that the celebrated Earl of Chesterfield LIVED at White's Club, gaming, and uttering witticisms among the boys of quality; 'yet he says to his son, that a member of a gaming club should be a cheat, or he will soon be a beggar;' an inconsistency which reminds one of old Fuller's saw—'A father that whipt his son for swearing, and swore himself whilst he whipt him, did more harm by his example than good by his correction.'
GEORGE SELWYN.
The character of Selwyn,' says Mr Jesse, 'was in many respects a remarkable one. With brilliant wit, a quick perception of the ridiculous, and a thorough knowledge of the world and human nature, he united classical knowledge and a taste for the fine arts. To these qualities may be added others of a very contradictory nature. With a thorough enjoyment of the pleasures of society, an imperturbable good-humour, a kind heart, and a passionate fondness for children, he united a morbid interest in the details of human suffering, and, more especially, a taste for witnessing criminal executions. Not only was he a constant frequenter of such scenes of horror, but all the details of crime, the private history of the criminal, his demeanour at his trial, in the dungeon, and on the scaffold, and the state of his feelings in the hour of death and degradation, were to Selwyn matters of the deepest and most extraordinary interest. Even the most frightful particulars relating to suicide and murder, the investigation of the disfigured corpse, the sight of an acquaintance lying in his shroud, seem to have afforded him a painful and unaccountable pleasure. When the first Lord Holland was on his death-bed he was told that Selwyn, who had lived on terms of the closest intimacy with him, had called to inquire after his health. "The next time Mr Selwyn calls," he said, "show him up; if I am alive I shall be delighted to see him, and if I am dead he will be glad to see me." When some ladies bantered him on his want of feeling in attending to see the terrible Lord Lovat's head cut off—"Why," he said, "I made amends by going to the undertaker's to see it sewed on again." And yet this was the same individual who delighted in the first words and in the sunny looks of childhood; whose friendship seems to have partaken of all the softness of female affection; and whose heart was never hardened against the wretched and depressed. Such was the "original" George Selwyn.'
This celebrated conversational wit was a devoted frequenter of the gaming table. Writing to Selwyn, in 1765, Lord Holland said:—'All that I can collect from what you say on the subject of money is, that fortune has been a little favourable lately; or may be, the last night only. Till you leave off play entirely you must be—in earnest, and without irony—en verite le serviteur tres-humble des evenements, "in truth, the very humble servant of events."'