of his own unlimited experience.  Witness, for instance, the care he took of ‘Miss Sylvia,’ a lovely heiress who brought her face and her fortune to enslave some and enrich others of the loungers of Bath.  She had a terrible love of hazard, and very little prudence, so that Nash’s good offices were much needed in the case.  The young lady soon became the standing toast at all the clubs and suppers, and lovers of her, or her ducats, crowded round her; but though at that time she might have made a brilliant match, she chose, as young women will do, to fix her affections upon one of the worst men in Bath, who, naturally enough, did not return them.  When this individual, as a climax to his misadventures, was clapt into prison, the devoted young creature gave the greater part of her fortune in order to pay off his debts, and falling into disrepute from this act of generosity, which was, of course, interpreted after a worldly fashion, she seems to have lost her honour with her fame, and the fair Sylvia took a position which could not be creditable to her.  At last the poor girl, weary of slights, and overcome with shame, took her silk sash and hanged herself.  The terrible event made a nine hours’—­not nine days’—­sensation in Bath, which was too busy with mains and aces to care about the fate of one who had long sunk out of its circles.

When Nash reached the zenith of his power, the adulation he received was somewhat of a parody on the flattery of courtiers.  True, he had his bards from Grub Street who sang his praises, and he had letters to show from Sarah of Marlborough and others of that calibre, but his chief worshippers were cooks, musicians, and even imprisoned highwaymen—­one of whom disclosed the secrets of the craft to him—­who wrote him dedications, letters, poems, and what not.  The good city of Bath set up his statue, and did Newton and Pope[20] the great honour of playing ‘supporters’ to him, which elicited from Chesterfield some well-known lines:—­

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

Meanwhile his private character was none of the best.  He had in early life had one attachment, besides that unfortunate affair for which his friends had removed him from Oxford, and in that had behaved with great magnanimity.  The young lady had honestly told him that he had a rival; the Beau sent for him, settled on her a fortune equal to that her father intended for her, and himself presented her to the favoured suitor.  Now, however, he seems to have given up all thoughts of matrimony, and gave himself up to mistresses, who cared more for his gold than for himself.  It was an awkward conclusion to Nash’s generous act in that one case, that before a year had passed, the bride ran away with her husband’s footman; yet, though it disgusted him with ladies, it does not seem to have cured him of his attachment to the sex in general.