The Peers and the Parliament generally were a singularly inconsistent set of people at this time. They passed a law which suppressed gambling everywhere, _except in the royal palace_, under a penalty of £50; and they no sooner passed this law than they hurried to many places, and to Bath especially, to break it. Nash said _he_ was King of Bath, and that playing in his palace was _not_ infringing the ordinances; but the Parliament was too much even for him in the long run, and, by the ultimate suppression of all “tables,” in whatsoever locality, they deprived the Beau of much of his power to put gold lace on his coat, and guineas in his pocket. Still he was the despot of the rooms; and again I say, that the secret of his power almost defies conjecture. He was indeed a splendid decker of his person; but that person was clumsy, large, and awkward. His features were harsh. It is to be remembered however, that he not only had fine clothes, but a stupendous gift of “flattering;” and he had, besides, more wit than most of the ladies he cajoled. “Richard,” said a modest young creature to him one day (and it is painful to think that she might have been our grandmother;—that is, yours, reader, or mine): “Richard, you have a tongue that would debauch a nunnery!” He assumed an airy sort of “indifference” in his method of gallantry, and the ladies found this deliciously provoking. It set the fashion; and it became the characteristic of the Georgian beaux. It was a contrast, much welcomed, after the smartness and pertness of the beaux of the reign of Queen Anne; and it was preferable to the slimy solemnity of the beaux of the age of King Charles. And Dick, be it said for him, always kept hold of a rag of dignity, whereby to help himself; and when he found that he could not be a seducer, he became a champion. He loved to rescue damsels from the suit of adventurers, and he _did_ save many. He chastised scandal; would not tolerate it even in the elder ladies who sat on his sacred benches. The King of Bath made a royal monopoly of the article, as the King of France did of tobacco. He had capital opportunity of indulging in his favourite dish, when he used to consult with the old Duchess of Marlborough upon the fashion of her liveries. Like Florian, who used to hunt out distressed subjects for his patron, the Duc de Penthièvre, to relieve, he took a praiseworthy delight in discovering worth in adversity, and then compelling the wealthy to do something to lighten that adversity. It is perfectly true that, having gained £200 at picquet, and hearing a bystander remark, “How happy that sum would make me!” Nash threw him the money, saying, “There, then, go and be happy!”