'
The end of the Bath Beau was somewhat less tragical than that of his
London successor--Brummell. Nash, in his old age and poverty, hung about
the clubs and supper-tables, button-holed youngsters, who thought him a
bore, spun his long yarns, and tried to insist on obsolete fashions,
when near the end of his life's century.
The clergy took more care of him than the youngsters. They heard that
Nash was an octogenarian, and likely to die in his sins, and resolved to
do their best to shrive him. Worthy and well-meaning men accordingly
wrote him long letters, in which there was a deal of warning, and there
was nothing which Nash dreaded so much. As long as there was immediate
fear of death, he was pious and humble; the moment the fear had passed,
he was jovial and indifferent again. His especial delight, to the last,
seems to have been swearing against the doctors, whom he treated like
the individual in Anstey's 'Bath Guide,' shying their medicines out of
window upon their own heads. But the wary old Beckoner called him in, in
due time, with his broken, empty-chested voice; and Nash was forced to
obey. Death claimed him--and much good it got of him--in 1761, at the
age of eighty-seven: there are few beaux who lived so long.
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