Bath by Edith Sitwell

Author:Edith Sitwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2013-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter IX

The Old Age of Beau Nash

On a Certain Lovely Morning in June, 1760, a sedan-chair which had once been very gaudy, but by now was rather battered and dimmed, might be seen making its way through the shadows, that were so kind to the age of the figure within the chair. Beau Nash was by now more than eighty-five years old. He wore a very carefully brushed waistcoat, and, when he was not in his sedan-chair, a tall white hat set at a jaunty angle over a heavy purplish face, adorned by particularly meaningless and watery eyes, and several chins. Even when he was young and everybody wanted to see him, and to know him, Beau Nash had never been handsome. Goldsmith had said of him, that his person was too large and awkward, that his features were harsh, strong, and particularly irregular, though one of his admirers, or rather, one of the admirers of his power and prestige, had, in a dedicatory preface, described, in a burst of enthusiasm, ‘the very agreeable oddness of your appearance, your black wig, scarlet countenance, and brown beaver hat’.

Alas, old age had not improved that very agreeable oddness, nor that scarlet countenance, nor had it made those watery eyes more intelligent—those eyes which had searched, so unceasingly, for cases of poverty that might be relieved from the Beau’s now empty pockets. Those watery and unintelligent eyes had often, as Goldsmith tells us, been seen to shed tears when the Beau was unable to relieve distress, for ‘the sums he gave away were immense, and in old age, when at last he grew too poor to give relief, he gave, as the poet has it, a tear. . . . Poverty now denied him the indulgence, not only of his favourite follies, but of his favourite virtues. The poor solicited him in vain; for he was himself a more pitiable object than they.’

On such a lovely morning as this, Beau Nash felt younger than ever, in spite of his eighty-five years. The air was like floods of white wine; the little bee-winged lights of summer buzzed happily, with a far-off sound, among the lime-trees of the arbours, those trees that were older, even, than Beau Nash; and, as he was carried from his sedan-chair to the coffee-house, great golden stars of dew splashed upon the Beau’s coat, and the green dust of the lime-bloom, poignant as the memories of youth, brushed the old man’s face, and fell upon that imposing white hat.

The distance from the Beau’s house to the coffee-house, though not great, had seemed considerable. The sedan-chair jolted the ancient bones of the man who, in his prime, had driven in a coach drawn by six dapple-grey horses, with an escort, footmen, outriders, and French horns. Though just as young as ever, he felt very tired. But it would never do for him to be absent from the coffee-house—for had he not been the uncrowned King of Bath? He must attend all

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.