For which no man will care.”
In the 113th number of the ‘Tatler,’ under the motto of “Ecce iterum Crispinus,” the catalogue is given of the effects of a defunct beau: and probably with some allusion to Fielding. Among the articles cited are “A very rich tweezer case, containing twelve instruments for the use of each hour in the day.” To this succeed gilt snuff-boxes, with looking-glasses in the lid, or portraits of equivocal ladies; “a sword with a steel-diamond hilt, never drawn but once at May Fair;” eyebrow brushes, a “pocket perspective,” a dozen pair of red-heeled shoes, three pair of red silk stockings, and an amber-headed cane. The beau’s “strong box” contains “five billets-doux, a Bath shilling, a crooked sixpence, a silk garter, a lock of hair, and three broken fans.” His book-case is instructive: on the upper shelf there are three bottles of diet-drink, two boxes of pills, a syringe, and other mathematical instruments; on the second, there is a miscellaneous collection of lampoons, plays, tailors’ bills, and an almanack for the year 1700; the third shelf holds a bundle of unopened letters, indorsed “from the old gentleman,” with Toland’s ‘Christianity not Mysterious,’ and a paper of “patterns of several fashionable stuffs,”—Toland’s ‘Christianity’ being stuff that was very fashionable at that time. The lowest shelf of all reveals an odd shoe, a pair of snuffers, a French grammar, a mourning hatband, and half a bottle of usquebagh. These “effects” paint the beau of a by-gone time; and Fielding was the grand master of the petits-maîtres, who were the proprietors of this very varied property.
There was however as great, as impudent, and as renowned a beau as he. He comes this way in a white hat, and his name is Nash.
BEAU NASH.
“N’achetez pas vos principes chez ce Gentis homo, homme de la nation.”—De Bonald.
The gaudiest flies spring from the most unsavoury of cradles, and Beau Nash was born in ill-odoured Swansea. He used to say, he “could not help it.” Like Liston, it had been his own intention to be born in Shropshire; but he and the grotesque comedian possessed not the privilege of the embryo saint, whose prayers procured his birth in the locality and at the period which best suited himself. Accordingly, Richard Nash was born at Swansea in the stirring year 1674. His very boyhood was brassy, as befitted so metallic a locality.
In after years, when Nash was at the most brilliant epoch of his butterfly period, and it had for some time been remarked that, much as the Beau talked of other people, he never mentioned his own father, the Duchess of Queensberry, in her Grace’s usual familiar style, asked the meek Richard if he were ashamed of his sire, that he never mentioned him. “Nay, madam,” said Nash, “if I never name him, it is because he has reason to be ashamed of me.” It was the only humble speech which Nash ever uttered, and it had truth for its foundation.
The sire of the gay Richard was a quiet individual, a partner in one of the Bristol glass-houses. He had more ambition than wisdom; and he commenced blowing his son into a gentleman by sending him to Jesus College, Oxford, at the age of sixteen. “I hope, Dick,” said the honest man, “you will distinguish yourself before you are a year older.” “Dad,” replied Dick, “I will astonish you within that period.” And he kept his word. Before a year had expired he had taken first-class honours in puppyism, had become the terror or temptation of half the women in Oxford, made an offer of marriage to a young lady as modest as himself; and had got expelled. He did astonish his father!
The good man, on recovering from his surprise, began to perceive that his first attempt at making Dick a gentleman had failed; but he was a determined individual, and had resolved to succeed. Accordingly he bought for young Master Hopeful an ensign’s commission. “Now, Dick,” said he, “the thing is done; you are ‘an officer and a gentleman’ by right of your commission.” Poor old citizen! he might as well have said that the zenith was also the nadir by power of astronomy.