And the nurse was so willing my health to restore,
She begg’d me to send for a few doctors more.”
As the vivacity which Nash put into the place very much injured the latter gentlemen, one, more angry than the rest, threatened to “throw a toad into the spring,” by writing against the waters. “Fling away!” cried Nash; “we’ll charm him out again by an additional band of music!” And he dealt another blow at them, by decreeing that, in future, the balls should commence at six, and terminate at eleven, instead of lasting, as heretofore, till daybreak.
His code of laws for these balls was the code of a terrible despot, and I can hardly account for the ready obedience which was paid to it. His force of impudence and blaze of dress, with some superiority of mind, perhaps awed the sensual and stupid peers, peeresses, squires, and dames. One of the articles of the code was to the effect, that “very young, and also the ‘elder ladies,’ be content with the second benches at the balls, the one not yet having arrived at, the other being past, perfection.” The rule was obeyed!
Precisely at six the magnificent fellow gave the signal, and the couple present highest in rank, advanced submissively, and walked a minuet. After every couple had gone through the same solemnity, the splendid “Master” gave the word for country-dances. How the ladies and gentlemen went at it in those days, may be seen from what took place when the dial showed eleven o’clock. The jewelled finger of Nash was then raised in the air, the music ceased, and, “Now,” said he, “let the ladies sit down to cool, before they go to their chairs!” On one occasion the Princess Amelia begged for another dance after eleven had struck. Nash shook all the powder out of his hair in mute horror at the bare idea of such a solecism.
The Duchess of Queensberry was also once daring enough to infringe his rules by appearing in the rooms in a laced apron. He tore it off, and threw it among the servants; and to the richest squire of the county, who presumed to appear, contrary to Nash’s own decree, in boots, he exclaimed, “Holloa, Hog’s Norton, haven’t you forgot to bring your horse?” The squire talked of swords. “No, no,” replied Nash, “I have put an end to duels; and thereby, Squire, I have prevented people from doing what they have no mind to.”
This sort of coarseness was refinement in Elizabethan days. I may cite in proof thereof, that when the valiant Welsh commander, Sir Roger Williams, knelt to Queen Elizabeth, in his rough untanned leather boots, to present a petition she was determined not to grant, she only remarked, “Williams, how your boots stink!” “Tut, Madam!” answered the Welshman, “it is my suit, and not my boots, that stink!” So did she affect to annoy Cecil, by wearing his portrait for a day tied to her shoe. On another occasion she admitted to her presence a whole bevy of country-cousins named Brown. They were of the kindred of Anne Boleyn; but when Elizabeth saw them in their queer old-fashioned dresses, she fairly frightened them by her coarse remarks, from ever coming to court again. Perhaps hence is derived the popular saying, in which allusion is made to “astonishing the Browns.” It is an Elizabethan phrase!
In the recess, Nash used to cross the country to Tunbridge. His equipage was a flaming carriage, drawn by six greys; with outriders all embroidery, and French horns all brass and bluster. He wore a white hat, of which he was the introducer; and he did so, he said, that, it being the only one of the sort, his hat might never be stolen.
In his dress he combined the fashions of two centuries; and, thanks to his luck at play, he lived as grandly as half-a-dozen kings. But none knew better than he the folly of gambling. He once lost a considerable sum to an Oxford lad who had just come into a large fortune. “Boy,” said he, “take my advice. You are a young Crœsus; play no more.” Nash himself would not play with him, but the millionnaire collegian found men less scrupulous; and the prodigal, ere he had attained his twenty-fifth year, could, like the gentleman in Shakspeare, “Thank Heaven that he was not worth a ducat.”