CHAPTER I._Fools of Fortune; or, Gambling and Gamblers

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[Illustration: _John Philip Quinn_]

FOOLS OF FORTUNE

GAMBLING AND GAMBLERS,

COMPREHENDING

A HISTORY OF THE VICE IN ANCIENT AND MODERN TIMES, AND IN BOTH

HEMISPHERES; AN EXPOSITION OF ITS ALARMING PREVALENCE AND

DESTRUCTIVE EFFECTS; WITH AN UNRESERVED AND EXHAUSTIVE

DISCLOSURE OF SUCH FRAUDS, TRICKS AND DEVICES

AS ARE PRACTICED BY “PROFESSIONAL”

GAMBLERS, “CONFIDENCE MEN”

AND “BUNKO STEERERS.”

JOHN PHILIP QUINN,

WHO MODESTLY, YET WITH SINCERITY, TENDERS TO THE WORLD WHAT

HE HOPES MAY EXTENUATE HIS TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OF GAMING

AND SYSTEMATIC DECEPTION OF HIS FELLOW-MEN.

---------------------

WITH INTRODUCTIONS BY HON. CHARLES P. JOHNSON, EX-GOVERNOR OF MISSOURI,

AND REV. JOHN SNYDER, D. D., OF ST. LOUIS, AND CHAPTERS CONTRIBUTED

BY REVS. PROFESSOR DAVID SWING AND

ROBERT MCINTYRE, OF CHICAGO.

CHICAGO:

G. L. HOWE & CO.

1890.

COPYRIGHTED, 1890,

BY JOHN P. QUINN,

W. B. CONKEY, ELECTROTYPED BY

BOOK MANUFACTURER, G. M. D. LIBBY,

CHICAGO. CHICAGO.

HON. CHARLES P. JOHNSON,

EX-GOVERNOR OF MISSOURI, AND AUTHOR OF THE ANTI-GAMBLING

LAWS OF THAT STATE;

THE CITIZEN,

WHO RECOGNIZES, AS A BOUNDEN DUTY, LOYALTY TO THE INTERESTS OF

SOCIETY AND THE STATE;

THE STATESMAN,

WHOSE EXPOSITION OF THE EVILS OF GAMBLING RESULTED IN

A LAW WHICH BRANDS THAT VICE AS A FELONY AND

ITS “PROFESSOR” AS A CRIMINAL.

THE LAWYER,

WHOSE FAME IS GROUNDED EQUALLY IN ABILITY AND

INTEGRITY, ARE THESE PAGES RESPECTFULLY

INSCRIBED BY

THE AUTHOR.

[Illustration: WHICH WAY?]

PREFACE.

Of all the vices which have enslaved mankind, none can reckon among its

victims so many as gambling. Not even the baneful habit of drink has

blighted so many lives or desolated so many homes. Its fascination is

insidious and terrible, and its power is all the more to be dreaded in

that it appeals to a latent instinct in nearly every human breast. In

view of these considerations it appears strange that English literature

contains no authentic work specially devoted to this subject; while

there exists literally no exposition of its allurements and its dangers

written from the standpoint of one on the inside.

It is to fill this vacant place in literature that the author offers

this volume to the public. For a quarter of a century he has witnessed

and practiced every variety of gambling known to the professional. From

the shores of the Atlantic to the canons of Colorado, from the frozen

lake of the North, drained by the mighty Mississippi, to the sunken

bayous that skirt its delta, he has journeyed to and fro, plying his

nefarious calling. At times realizing the success of his schemes, at

times a penniless wanderer, he has tasted all the joys of a gambler’s

career and drained to the dregs the wormwood which lurks at the bottom

of the cup of illusive, hollow happiness. No art of the fair gamester is

unknown to him, nor is there any device of the sharper with which he is

unacquainted. With shame and remorse he confesses his fault, and it is

in the hope of measurably atoning for his wrong doing, that the present

volume has been prepared.

On the general question of the evil of gaming, there is no difference of

opinion among reflecting men. The problem is, how to check the alarming

increase of the vice? The pulpit fulminates denunciations of its

sinfulness; the press points out its folly; and the legislators affix

penalties to its practice. Yet gambling houses multiply and flourish,

and the yawning jaws of the “tiger” are daily closing upon fresh

victims. The clergy are powerless to restrain young men from tasting for

themselves the fascination of the green cloth; the public prints serve

but to whet and stimulate curiosity; and the professional gamblers

openly set at defiance laws which have long since become dead letters

upon the statute books.

Where, then, is the remedy? In the opinion of the author, it is ready at

hand. Gaming-hells cannot prosper without new victims; show men that

success is impossible in an unequal contest between inexperience on the

one hand and skill and chicanery on the other, and the ranks of the

victims will soon be thinned through the lack of new recruits.

Curiosity has ever been peculiarly a characteristic of youth since the

day when the arch tempter wrought the downfall of the race through an

appeal to the desire for “knowledge of good and evil.” Young men are

anxious to investigate, to discover, to “find out for themselves.” Give

them a certain knowledge that loss is the inevitable consequence of

entering upon any designated path, and they will hesitate long before

entering upon that path. Satisfy their curiosity as to what is concealed

behind a closed door, and the chief temptation to open that door will be

removed.

Herein consists what the author cannot but believe will make these pages

a powerful agency for good. In them are faithfully portrayed the

vicissitudes of a gambler’s wretched life, while at the same time they

present a full and true disclosure of all the dishonest artifices

employed by professionals to delude and victimize their dupes. It is not

only a thirst for excitement that leads men to gamble, another powerful

incentive is the hope of winning. Convince any man, young or old, that

instead of having a chance of winning he is confronted with a certainty

of loss, and he will place no wager. This is the conviction which must

be brought home to the intelligence and reason of every thoughtful man

who carefully reads the exposition of dishonesty which this book

contains.

No graver responsibility can be conceived than that which rests upon the

shoulders of the parent to whom is intrusted the training of a young

man. Upon the manner in which is fulfilled this sacred trust, depends

not only the economic and moral value of the future citizen, but also

the welfare, for time and eternity, of a priceless human soul. The

gaming resort opens wide its doors, the entrance to which means ruin, of

both body and soul. Of what vital importance is it, therefore; that

around the youth of the Republic every safeguard should be thrown, and

that they should be shielded from temptation by exposing its fatuous

character. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

The volume is not only a recital of personal experience and an

embodiment of the lessons to be derived therefrom. It also presents a

history of gambling from remote antiquity, and a description of the vice

as practiced in every clime. The latter portion of the work is the

result of careful and painstaking research among the best sources of

information available, and is believed to be at once authentic and

complete. It has also been the aim of the author to add to the interest

of Part II by imparting to it, as far as practicable, a local coloring

through incorporating a succinct view of the vice of gaming, as

conducted at the chief American centres of civilization and commerce.

Rev. Professor David Swing, of Chicago, the eminent thinker, has

contributed an interesting chapter on the nature and effects of gaming,

and Rev. Robert McIntyre, of the same city, who has held spell-bound so

many audiences throughout the land, has added one in which he eloquently

and forcibly portrays the moral aspects of this soul-destroying vice.

The author desires to return heartfelt thanks to those who have aided

him in his self-imposed task. He acknowledges his indebtedness for the

words of encouragement which he has received from the many eminent

clergymen and educators who have endorsed his work.

_John Philip Quinn_

CHICAGO, 1890.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

DEDICATION. 5

PREFACE. 7-9

INDEX. 19-25

INTRODUCTION:—BY CHARLES P. JOHNSON. 26-28

” BY REV. JOHN SNYDER, D. D. 29-30

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JOHN PHILIP QUINN, 33-64

THE THREE STAGES OF A GAMBLER’S LIFE, 65

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=PART I.=

=...._Gambling Historically Considered_....=

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CHAPTER I.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS, FOOD FOR REFLECTION.

Gaming Indefensible—A False Idea of Happiness—Oriental

Knowledge of Ethics—Origin of the Gaming

Instinct—Blackstone’s Definition of Gaming—Gambling and

Commerce Contrasted—The Gambler’s Philosophy—His End—The

Gaming Table an Incentive to Suicide—Gambling Subversive of

Social Order—The Gamester an Ishmaelite—Hereditary Vice—The

Practice Condemned by Legislative Enactment—Jewish and

Egyptian Statutes—How Gaming was Regarded by the Greeks and

Romans—The Code of Justinian—The Common Law and Statutes of

England Compared—The Enactments of American Legislatures

Examined and Compared—The True Theory of Repression 67-73

CHAPTER II.

HEBREWS, PERSIANS, CHINESE AND JAPANESE.

The “Lot” Among the Hebrews—The Putative Sacred Origin

of Gaming—Egyptian Legends—Mercury Gambling With the

Sun—Artaxerxes and Paracletus—An Assassin’s Life at

Stake—Gambling Prohibited by the Mohammedan Code—Gaming

Among the Hindoos—Worship of the Goddess of Wealth—Ancient

Dice Throwing—Antiquity of Loaded Dice—A Game For a Kingdom

and a Wife—A Persian Legend—The Wrath of Duryodhana—The

Vengeance of the Pandavas—Gambling Among the

Chinese—Favorite Frauds Among the Celestials—Chinese

Gambling Implements—The “Poetical” Game—Gaming Prohibited by

Chinese Statutes—Oriental “Hells”—The Tan-Koon, the N’gan,

and the Ho-Koon—Favorite Chinese Games—“Ching

Low”—“Nim”—Women as Gamesters—How “Koo Yan” is

Played—Betting on Enigmas—Frauds—“Striking the White Dove”—A

Substitute For the Lottery—Cards and Dice Prohibited in

Japan 74-86

CHAPTER III.

ANCIENT AND MODERN GREEKS AND ROMANS, TURKEY IN EUROPE, AND ASIA MINOR.

Gaming a Factor in the Fall of Greece—Dicing at

Athens—Gaming an Aid to Despotism—Encouraged by

Alexander—Cocking Mains Among the Greeks—Origin of

Dice—Roman Dice—Value of Throws—Odd Customs—Roman Laws

Regarding Gaming—Infamous Character and Practices of Roman

Gamblers-“Cogged Dice”—Ancient Writers Deplore the

Prevalence of Dicing—Caligula as a Gamester—Claudius and

Nero—Cato’s Infatuation for Play—Corruption of

Children—Fighting Quails—Rome at the End of the Fourth

Century—Skill in Gaming an Introduction to Society—Gambling

a Cause of the Fall of the Empire—The Vice Universally

Prevalent—Gambling Among the Modern Greeks—Tricks of

Sharpers—Shifting the Cut—Methods of Stocking—The

“Bridge”—Fraudulent Dealing—Crimping—Palming—Tricks of

Confederates—The “Roof”—The Cold

Deck—Finettes—Costieres—Marked Cards—The Bug—Pincers as a

Gambling Implement—Strippers—The Chaplet—Degradation of the

Turks and Modern Greeks—Gambling a Source of Poverty and

Squalor—Wagering One’s Liberty as a Stake—Street

Gambling—The “Comboloio”—A Water Jug as a Dice Box—Gambling

Hells in Greece—A Multiplicity of “Joints”—Cheating Not

Regarded as Disgraceful—False Bottoms—Perils of

Travelers—Surprising Cleverness of the Greek

Gamblers—Personal Reminiscences—An Ancient Gaming House—A

Gambling Hell at Corinth 87-94

CHAPTER IV.

GERMANY, RUSSIA, ROUMANIA, BULGARIA AND SERVIA.

Gambling among the Ancient Huns—Ancient German Warriors

as Gamesters—Playing For One’s Liberty—Selling the Loser as

a Slave—Modern Germany—Famous Gambling Resorts—The Gaming

Season—The Games Played—The Growth of Homburg—The Blanc

Brothers—A Venal Prime Minister—The First Roulette Wheel at

Homburg—A Heavy Tax—The First Cure-Hall Built—A Great Gaming

Company—A Gorgeous Resort—“The Temple of Fortune”—Gambling

in the Balkan Peninsula—Gaming Among the Bulgarian and

Servian Peasants—Playing for Bread and Milk—Gamins Gambling

for Candy—Street Gamblers—Peripatetic Fakirs—“Doubles or

Quits”—Gaming Preferred to Manual Labor—A Successful

Gamester—Suicide and Starvation—“Tag Alek” A Hell in

Belgrade—Scenes of Debauchery—The “Shades”—Lightly Clad

Women as Attendants—Female Gamesters—The “Lurley”—Opium

Smoking as an Adjunct to Gambling—A Dangerous

Resort—Licensed Gambling—Large Revenues Enjoyed by

Principalities—Baden Baden—Heavy Expenses and Enormous

Profits—Wiesbaden and Ems—Spa—A President of a Council

Leases His Mansion to a Gaming Company—The attractions at

Wiesbaden—The Cure Hall—A Mixed State of

Society—Blackmailing Courtesans—Beauties of Baden—The

Conversation House—Gorgeous Appointments—Attractive

Promenades—The Gambling Rooms at Baden—Heavy License Fees

and Running Expenses—An Interesting Scene—Playing for High

Stakes—The Cure Hall—Reckless Playing—Infatuated Women—A

Ruined Gamester—A Cosmopolitan Assembly—Venturesome

Spirits—A Woman’s Passion for Play—Characteristics at Ems—A

Noted Croupier—A Checkered Career—Russian Society—Easy

Morals—Aristocratic Debauchees—Gaming in Roumania 95-112

CHAPTER V.

ITALY, MONTE CARLO, FRANCE, SPAIN, MEXICO, CENTRAL AND SOUTH AMERICA.

Gaming in Italy—At Naples, Under the Spaniards—Cardinal

Zapata’s Prohibition—High Stakes and Heavy Losses—Monte

Carlo—The Famous Casino—The Handiwork of Blanc—A Palace

Built at the Expense of Dupes—The Tables and Their

Games—Public Resorts and Private Clubs—French Disgrace—An

Enormous Rental—The Hours of Play—A Meeting Place For

Gamesters of all Nations—Are the Games Fair?—The Limit of

the Stakes—A Trente et Quarante Table described—The Bank’s

Advantage—Famous Gardens and Drives—An Ornate Theater—Free

Musical Entertainments of Rare Merit—Hotels and

Cafés—Depravity of the French Aristocracy—A Royal

Gambler—Historic Reminiscences—Cards and Dice in the

Louvre—Professional Gamblers Hired by a King—Reckless

Prodigality—Fortunes Lost and Won—Efforts to Suppress

Gambling in Paris—Spread of the Vice Among the French

People—The Reign of Louis XIV—Licensed Gaming

Houses—Gambling at the Mansions of Ambassadors—Hospitals

Founded and Supported by Fees Paid for Gambling

Licenses—Women Allowed to Play in Public Houses—Crime,

Misfortune and Scandal—Frequency of Suicides and

Bankruptcy—Fouche’s Enormous Revenue from the Sale of

Licenses—Gamblers as Police Spies—Abolition of the License

System—Gambling by high Officials of the Republic—Frascadi’s

and the _Circle des Etrangers_—Loans Without

Security—Suppers and Balls as Attractions at the

“Hells”—Anecdotes of French Gamblers—A Resort For Noblemen,

Mechanics and Loafers—French Usurers—French Women’s Love For

Play—French Club Houses—Cheating at the Parisian Gambling

Dens—“The Chaplet”—Stocking—A Snuff Box as a Shiner—Cold

Decks—Marked Cards—Celebrated Frenchmen Ruined by

Gambling—Shameful Stakes—The Reign of Napoleon

III—Demoralization Caused by Gambling—Police Surveillance of

Club Houses—Playing for Ready Money Stakes Prohibited—Sad

Experience of a Proprietor of a Club—A Million Lost in Four

Years—Profits of Baccarat Houses—High Sounding Names for

Gaming Hells—French “Steerers”—Dishonest Play the

Rule—Spanish Love For Gaming—Liberality of the Grandees of

Ancient Times—Prodigality of the Duke of Lima—Gambling

Universal and Open—Noblemen Who Live by Gaming—A Spanish

Countess’ Shame—Women Who Conduct “Banks”—Gambling Dens in

Madrid—Gambling a Characteristic Feature of the Latin

Races—Mexico, Central and South America—Dice and

Cards—Popularity of the Lottery—Publicity of Gambling in the

Central and South American Republics—A Mexican

Fandango—Mexican Gaming Booths—Chusa—Gaming the Favorite

Amusement of All Classes 113-137

CHAPTER VI.

ENGLAND.

Gambling at the time of the Crusades—The Reigns of

Richard I and John—Dice Throwing among the

Barons—Restrictions placed upon the Limit of Stakes among

the Crusaders—Gambling During the Reign of Elizabeth and the

Stuarts—Gaming in 1668—Practices of Sharpers—A Game with a

King for the Bells of St. Paul’s—Cromwell’s Efforts to

Suppress Gaming—Prevalence of the Vice Under Charles II—A

Gamester’s Suicide—A Duke Loses £230,000 in a Night—The

Reign of George III—Fox’s Heavy Losses—Faro in the Houses of

the Nobility—Decline of Gaming with Cards and

Dice—Universality of Turf-Betting—Characteristics of English

Gamesters—Gaming at Clubs and Coffee Houses—Vile

Dens—White’s—Brooks’—Crockford’s—Fishmonger’s Hall—The

Berkely Club—St. James’—Melton

Mowbray—Stangers’—Cavendish—Leicester’s—Hertford’s—Description

of a London “Hell” in 1824—A Successful Gambling

House—Palatial Appointments—An Aristocratic Resort—Reckless

Playing—Dean Swift’s Strictures on White’s—Titled

Dupes—Inveterate Gamesters of High Degree—A Fortune Lost at

Hazard—A Novel Betting Book—Strange Subjects for

Wagers—Heartless Bets—Celebrities to be Found at

Brooks’—Almack’s—Heavy Stakes—Pitt as a Gambler—Wilberforce

and Gibbon at Almack’s—The Waiter’s

Club—Dishonesty—Prevalence of Gambling in the Eighteenth

Century—Ruin, Disgrace and Despair—Multiplicity of Gaming

Rooms—The Official Staff of an English Gambling House in

1751—Gaming in Theatrical Green Rooms—Among the Lower

Classes—The “Devil’s Walk”—Dangerous Dens—Dissolute Women as

“Steerers”—“Quadrant” Clubs—London “Hells” in 1844—Gamblers

“Following the Races”—The Eldorado at Doncaster—Unlimited

Play at Warwick—Open Solicitation—A “Groom-porter”—English

and French Hazard—The Proprietor’s Winnings—Vile

Resorts—From Rags to Affluence—Infatuation and Ruin—A “Hell”

Early in the Nineteenth Century—Plundering Drunken and

Belated Players—Odds at Hazard—Provisions Against Police

Raids—Bullying Patrons—Disgusting Scenes—Staking

Apparel—Debauchery Run Riot—Various Grades of Gaming

Houses—Fortunes for the Proprietors and Ruin for the

Dupes—Subsidizing the Police—Force and

Cunning—Steerers—Dishonest Servants—Friend Betraying

Friend—The Nobility in League with Swindlers—Blacklegs at

the Tables of the Aristocracy—Base Stakes—Fashionable Ladies

as Gamesters—A Minister Conducting an Illegal Lottery—The

South Sea Bubble—Lotteries and Their Debasing

Effects—History of Ante-Gaming Legislation in

England—Curious Evidence Given Before the House of

Lords—Prosecutions for Keeping Gaming Tables—A Salesman’s

Confession—Defects in Legal Administration—Gambling English

Statesmen—Chevalier and Mad Ogle—Noted London

Gamblers—Germain—Hughes—“Beau” Nash—“Whig”

Middleton—Bennett—O’Kelly—Dick England—A Noteworthy

Trial—Wilberforce and George Selwyn—Sir Philip

Frances—Anecdotes of “Beau” Brummel 138-182

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=PART II.=

=...._Gambling Historically Considered_....=

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CHAPTER I.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

Gambling Spirit in the United States—The Features Which

Characterize It—The Green Cloth and the Stock Exchange—Greed

for Gain and a Spirit of Recklessness—“Margins” and

Stakes—“Profits” and Winnings—Various Forms of Gaming—Bucket

Shops—Policy Playing—The Louisiana Lottery—Aim of Part

II—Gambling in “Hells” and on Fair Grounds—“Banking”

Games—Their Popularity—Percentage of the Proprietors—“Draw”

and “Stud” Poker—“Square” and “Brace” Houses—“Plucking

Pigeons”—Dishonest Devices Employed at “Square” Houses—Tacit

Toleration of Gambling Rooms—Poker a National

Pastime—Gambling at Fashionable Clubs—Play at Semi-Private

Club Rooms—Police Indifference—Itinerant

Gamblers—Inefficiency of Prohibitory Legislation—The Johnson

Law—Gambling and Drunkenness Twin Relics of Barbarism 185-190

CHAPTER II.

FARO GAMBLING AND GAMBLERS.

Origin of Cards—Origin of Faro—Its Antiquity and

Popularity—A Fruitful Source of Misery—Faro Compared to the

Tiger—The Principles of the Game—Playing on a “System”—The

Dealer and the “Looker-Out”—The “Plain” and “Running”

Limit—“Parleeing” a Bet—The Lay-Out—The “Big Square”—The

“Second Square”—The “Pot”—Method of Dealing in

Germany—Invention of Dealing Boxes—“Soda” and “Hock”

Cards—Mum—“Coppering” a Bet—A “Turn”—“Splits”—“Barring” a

Bet—“Calling the Last Turn”—A “Cat Hop”—“String Bets”—“Cue

Cards”—The Chances of the Game—Fraudulent Methods and

Devices—”Side Strippers”—“Rakes”—“Hollows and

Rounds”—“Squares and Rounds”—“Faked” Dealing Boxes—The

“Screw Box”—The “Lever Movement, or End Squeeze”—The “Needle

Movement”—The “Sand-Tell” Box—“Case Keepers”—The “Put-

Back”—The “Hair Copper”—“Snaking” and the Various Methods

Employed—The Card Punch—Marking the Edges—The “Odd”—Playing

With Fifty-Three Cards—The “Double-Odd”—Other Schemes of

Fraud—Incidents—Misadventure of a “Brace” Dealer—“Cappers,”

“Steerers” and “Ropers”—Their Shameless Practices—A

“Steerer’s” Benevolent Act—“Brace” Houses Opened by

“Square”(?) Gamblers—Schemes of Rascally Confederates to

Defraud One Another—“Throwing Off” a Game—A Unique

Establishment—The Great “Hell” at Pueblo—Short Faro—Police

Protection to Gambling—Devices for Defeating an Honest

Raid—Personal Recollections—Deplorable Results of the

Gambling Mania—Sad Fate of Prominent Professional Gamblers—A

“Dip”—Heartlessness of the Blackleg 191-213

CHAPTER III.

POKER AND POKER PLAYING.

Essentially an American Game—Its Great and Growing

Popularity—Dangers of Its Insidious Fascination—Method of

Play—Relative Value of the Hands—Definition of Technical

Terms Employed—Frauds

Practiced—Strippers—Briefs—“Stocking”—The Top Stock—Bottom

Stock—Jog Stock—Palm Stock—False Shuffles—False Cuts—Running

Up Two Hands—Crimping—Cold Decks—Marked Cards—Despicable

Devices—Partnerships—Double Discard—Flushes, Fulls and

Fours—Holding Out—The “Bug”—The Sleeve Hold Out—The Table

Hold Out—The Vest Hold Out—Convexes and Shiners—The “Nail

Prick”—“Second Dealing”—The “Telegraph”—A Sure Hand—Stud

Poker—Incidents and Reminiscences 214-242

CHAPTER IV.

SHORT GAMES.

Why Called “Short”—Rouge et Noir—The Lay-Out—Method of

Play—The Enormous Preponderance of Chances in the Bank’s

Favor—Schemes of Fraud—Barefaced Robbery—Doubles or

Quits—Turning Up Jack—“Ropers” and “Steerers”—Comparative

Popularity of the Game in America and Europe—Roulette—The

Table and Wheel—How Bets are Made—Heavy Odds Against the

Player—Various “Faked” Wheels Described—The “Double

Centre”—Players at the Mercy of the Proprietors—Keno—How

Played—“Rollers” and “Collectors”—The Percentage Exacted on

Winnings—Fortunes Won With Keno “Globes”—Collusion with

“Cappers”—Rolling Faro—The Wheel Explained—How Played on

Fair Grounds, and How at Gaming Houses—The Natural Odds in

Favor of the “Bank”—How the Wheel is “Faked”—Rival

Gamblers—A Personal Reminiscence—High-Ball Poker—How and

Where Played—The Proprietor’s Percentage—The “Square” and

“Skin” Game—“Cappers” and “Pluggers” 243-255

CHAPTER V.

VARIOUS CARD GAMES.

Seven-Up, or Old Sledge—Principles of the

Game—Fraudulent Methods—Strippers—Briefs—Half Stock—The

Whole Stock—Crimping—Marking the Edges—The High Hand—The

Long Hand—The Short Hand—Holding Out—Marked Cards—Whist—Cold

Decks—A Dupe’s Good Hand—Casino—“Canada Bill” as a Casino

Player—The Use of

“Paper”—Euchre—Strippers—Briefs—Stocking—Crimping—The

“Bug”—Palming—The “High Hand” at Euchre—Cribbage—Various

Schemes of Fraud—How Cards Are Trimmed For Cribbage—The

“Telegraph”—Vingt-un, or Twenty-One—How Played—Devices of

the Professional Blackleg—Confederated Rascals 256-272

CHAPTER VI.

DICE AND THE DICE BOX.

Antiquity of Dice Throwing—The Sport Declining in

Popularity—Hieronymus—The Game Explained—The “Bowl” and

Dice—A Heavy Percentage Against Players—Deception and

Trickery—Substitution of Dice—The “Spring Board”—Fraudulent

Dice—Chuck-a-Luck—An “Old Army Game”—An Inexpensive

Outfit—Method of Betting—How Greenhorns are Cheated—A

Favorite Game for “Ringing In” Loaded Dice—Holding Out the

Cubes—An Artful Device—The Work of a “Side

Partner”—“Craps”—Personal Introduction to the Game—“Come,

Seven or Eleven”—A Rather Expensive Experience—Mode of

Play—Favorite Frauds at “Craps”—Substitution of Unfair

Dice—Cubes Made of Sugar—The Police Foiled—Eight Die Case—A

Gift Enterprise—The Prizes—Why they Cannot be Won—How Dupes

are Defrauded—“Representing”—A Shameful

Deceit—“Cappers”—Poker Dice—“Over and Under Seven”—How

Played—Modes of Cheating—“Top and Bottom”—A Bold Scheme of

Fraud—How Victims are Fleeced—Dice Tops—Grand Hazard—Heavy

Odds Against an Impossible Contingency—The Use of

“Ringers”—“Mustang”—Loaded Dice 273-283

CHAPTER VII.

GAMES AT FAIRS AND CIRCUSES.

How Licenses are Obtained—The Directors’

Disgrace—Personal Experience—Collusion With the

Authorities—Officers of the Law as Blackmailers—The Author’s

Aim—The Needle Wheel—Its Construction—How Operated—The

“Faked Element”—“Cappers” as an

Adjunct—“Representing”—“Corona,” or “Mascot”—“Cappers,”

“Bookkeepers” and “Suckers”—Nursing False Hopes—The “Wheel

of Fortune”—Its Principle—Mode of Betting—“Playing for

Prizes”—The “Six Number Wheel”—Defrauding Greenhorns—A

Manipulator a Victim—The Board of Trade Wheel—The Squeeze

Spindle—How Operated—Disadvantages of “Suckers”—A

Reminiscence—The Discomfiture of a Countryman—Fraudulent

Spindles—A Countryman’s Enforced Demand—Tivoli, or

Bagatelle—The Game Explained—“Representing”—“Cappers”—The

Jenny Wheel—The “Faked” Devices—The Profits of the

Machine—The O’Leary Belt—Its Fraudulent

Winnings—“Cappers”—Risks of the Operator—“Hap-Hazard, or

Bee-Hive”—Box and Balls—An Unfortunate Experience—Miniature

Race Track—Striking Machines—Top and Bottom Boxes—The

Swinging Ball 284-310

CHAPTER VIII.

GOLD BRICK AND BUNKO.

Ingenuity of the Gold Brick Swindlers—Inadequacy of

Newspaper Explanations—The Victim’s Taciturnity—Three

Confederates Necessary—A Small Capital Required—Selection of

a Victim—Shameless Practices of Reputable Citizens—The

“Miner”—The “Rockies”—The “Indian”—“Tom Jones”—Cupidity an

Aid to Deception—“Mr. Jones” as an Amanuensis—The Nugget and

the “Medicine Shop”—“Smoke Water”—A Tempting Bait—The

“Miner” and Mr. Jones Fellow Travelers—The “Trailer”—A

Duplicate Purchase of Acid—A Suspicious “Redskin”—“Sleepy

Water”—Substituted Borings—A “Sucker” Over-reaching

Himself—A Hasty Departure—“Every Bit True”—Dr. Snyder’s

Experience With a Gold Brick Swindler—Bunko—Millions Won

Through the Fraud—Its Methods Explained—The “Chart”—The

“Steerer” and the “Sucker”—Heartless Scoundrels—The “Capper”

and the “Dupe”—The “Send”—The “Trailer”—A Substituted

Package—A “Bunko” Game at Eureka Springs 311-332

CHAPTER IX.

CONFIDENCE GAMES.

Depravity of Confidence Men—Why they Succeed—Their

Dupes—Misplaced Sympathy—Three Card Monte—Bogus Checks—Over

Issue—“Dropping the Pigeon”—The Tobacco Box—Knife—“Padlock”

and “Safe”—“Quarter Under Foot”—The “Shot Gun”—“Give

Away”—“Five Cards”—Top and Bottom Boxes—Foot Racing—The

“Shell Game”—“Dollar Store,” or “Drop Case”—Minor Confidence

Games—The Grandmother Trick—The Soap Game—The Foot

Race—“Flim-Flam” 333-359

CHAPTER X.

GAMBLING STORIES AND PERSONAL REMINISCENCES.

Ruined by a Funeral—“Fly-Loo”—The “Top Stock” Beaten—A

Woodsman Known by His Chips—The “Morning” Principle—A

Friend’s Bad Faith—Influence of Money on Parental

Disapprobation—Timidity of Professional Gamblers—“Old Black

Dan”—Effects of a Sensitive Conscience—How an Old Scout Had

an Ace “Full”—The Failure of a Telegraph Wire—A Queer

Stake—Dan Rice’s Big Poker Game—A Discouraged Speculator—The

Luck of a One-Eyed Man—Bottom Dealing—A Whiff For a Nickel—A

Good Swimmer—A Hungry Trio—A Case of Mistaken Identity—The

Would-Be Confederate Disappointed—Five Equal Hands—A Change

of Demeanor 360-380

CHAPTER XI.

MY WIFE.

Her Family—Parental Opposition to Our Marriage—Our

Elopement—Our Marriage—Her Parents’ Anger—A Pitiful Appeal

to Maternal Love—Our Married Life—Poverty and Affliction—A

Dress for a Burial—Heart Yearnings—A Mother’s Regret—The

Agony of Separation—My Wife’s Death Bed—Mutual

Devotion—Unavailing Regrets—Taken Away From the Sorrow to

Come 381-386

CHAPTER XII.

LOCAL GAMBLING.

Celebrated Gamesters and Gaming Houses—Gambling in the

“Hell” and the Policy Shop, on the Race-Track and the

Exchange—Incidents—Biographical Reminiscences—Historical

Facts—When, Where, and How Far Tolerated by the

Authorities—Public Sentiment—Rise, Progress and Status of

the Vice at Commercial Centres—Chicago—Laxity Versus

Repression—Wentworth’s Famous Raid—Gambling Under Various

Municipal Administrations—“Skin” Gamblers—Notorious

Characters—The Gamblers’ Sad End—Players and their

Characteristics—Present Status of Pool Selling—A Chicago

Dealer’s Catalogue of Gambling Goods—St. Louis—Prevalence of

the Gaming Mania—A Poker Hand as “Collateral” Security at a

Bank—Famous Houses and their Proprietors—“Skin” Games—Sketch

of Ex-Governor Charles P. Johnson—The Gambling Houses of New

York—Street Gamins—The “Bowery”—Elegant Resorts—Low

Dives—Coming Home From the Races—A New York Gambler’s

Catalogue—Gambling at Newport—A Quiet House—San

Francisco—Early Argonauts—Women as Dealers—A Gambler’s

“Nerve”—Legislation—Famous Capitalists and Noted

Gamblers—Mining Stocks—Chinese as Gamblers—Odd Games—The

Chinese Lottery—Mongolian frauds—The California State Fair—A

Perplexing Legal Question—New Orleans—Gambling Among the

Creoles—The License System—Famous Resorts—Streets Named

After Games—New Orleans Under Military Rule—Indirect

License—The “Shakspeare Almshouse”—Keno—Negroes as

Gamesters—The Louisiana Lottery—Policy Playing—The Cotton

Exchange—Milwaukee—“Tom” Wicks—Saratoga—Morrissey’s Club

House—The American Monte Carlo—Efforts to Suppress

Gambling—Cincinnati—“Eph” Holland and Other “Sports”—The

“Queen of Spades”—Cleveland—Municipal Policy—Perfunctory

Raids—Salaries Paid to Employes—Capital Invested—Chinese

Laundrymen—Gambling in Stocks and

Grain—Mobile—Charleston—Curious Advertisements—The

Charleston Club—Policy Playing—Computation Table—Facsimiles

of “Slips”—Charleston Faro Banks—Austin—A Trusted Employe

Disgraced—Negroes Defrauded—Hartford—A Fire in a “Hell”—A

Raid—Policy—Quebec—The “Quebec Whist Club”—A Shameful

Revelation—Kansas City—Buffalo—Early Gambling—Canal

Street—Noted Professionals—Policy Playing—St Paul—The

Gambler’s Luck—Minneapolis—“Brace” Games—Bucket

Shops—Policy—Gambling at Home—Peoria—Indianapolis—The Union

Depot—Springfield, Illinois—A “Pigeon Plucker” at a Private

Club 388-547

-------

=PART III.=

=_Forms of Gambling Tolerated by Public Sentiment—Arraignment of

the Nature and Effects of the Vice._=

-------

CHAPTER I.

THE TURF.

Evils of the Race-Course—Antiquity of Horse-

Racing—Ancient and Modern Times Compared—Racing in

England—Blacklegs on the Track—A “National Sport”—The

American Turf—Colonial Days—Puritans and Cavaliers—Famous

Tracks in New York—The National Association—The American

Association—“Board of Review”—American Trotting

Association—Racing at Sheepshead Bay—A National Vice—Betting

on Races and Lottery Gambling Compared—The Duty of

Congress—The Pool Room—Its Methods—A “Betting Book”—The

“Book Maker’s Odds”—The “Combination Board”—The “Friendly

Tip”—Depreciation of Turf Gambling—Never a Local Affair—Pool

Room Habitues—Features Peculiar to the Track—The Lady

Gambler—The Confidential Stake-holder\—“Skin” Games Outside

the Track—“Dosing” Horses—Ways That are Dark and Tricks that

are Vain—The Jockey—The Handicap Fraud—Officially Protected

Crime—Effects of the Mania—A False Guide 553-576

CHAPTER II.

THE EXCHANGE.

The Exchange of the Ancients—Royal Exchange—New York

Chamber of Commerce—American Boards of Trade—Scope of the

Exchange—“Speculating” and Gambling—“Corners”—The Operator

and the Speculator—An Incident—The “Scalper”—The

“Guerilla”—“Longs” and “Shorts”—“Forcing Quotations”—“Flying

Kites”—“Puts,” “Calls,” and “Straddles”—Fictitious

News—Tempting Bait—A Day’s Session on a Western

Exchange—Regrets versus Stoicism—Interior Arrangement of a

Great Mart—Extraordinary Judicial Powers—A Travesty on

Equity—Bucket Shops—The Exchange as a Factor in

Civilization—The “Clock” 577-606

CHAPTER III.

NATURE AND EFFECTS OF GAMING.

By Rev. Professor David Swing 607-608

CHAPTER IV.

ARRAIGNMENT OF GAMBLING IN ITS MORAL ASPECTS.

By Rev. Robt. McIntyre 611-640

INDEX.

AGE, THE, 216, 217, 218.

AMERICANS, why predisposed to gaming, 185.

AMES, MAYOR, his policy toward Minneapolis gamblers, 534.

“ANTE,” 217.

AUGUSTUS, as a gamester, 88.

AUSTIN, TEXAS, gambling at, 505 _et seq._;

political influence of gamblers in, 507.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AUTHOR, 33 _et seq._

BACCARAT, as played in Paris clubs, 131.

BADEN BADEN, 101, 104;

a visitor’s description of, 106, 107;

the effective government of Paris, 118;

compared with San Francisco, 441;

with Saratoga, 484.

BAGATELLE, see TIVOLI.

BANKER, at faro, his duties, 193.

“BEARS,” 578, 585.

BEE-HIVE, see HAP-HAZARD.

BELGRADE, a gaming hell in, 98.

BENNETT, RICHARD, 176.

BERKELEY CLUB, 142.

BETTING BOOK, copy of a, 561.

BLANC, MONS., mentioned, 114, 116, 118.

BLIND, THE, 218.

“BLUFFING,” at poker, 216.

BOARD OF EXCHANGE (San Francisco), 448.

BOAS, LILY, 47.

BOGUS CHECKS, 338.

BOOK-MAKERS, 541, 563, 565.

BOTTOM DEALING, 374.

BOTTOM STOCK, THE, 222.

BOX AND BALLS, 305, _et seq._

“BREAKING” PRICES, 585.

BRIDGE, THE, 90.

BRIEFS, among the Greeks, 90;

at poker, 219, 221;

at old sledge, 259;

at euchre, 266;

at cribbage, 268.

BROOKS’, 142, 147, 180.

BROWN, MAYOR, his policy toward gambling in Milwaukee, 480.

BRUMMEL, BEAU, 180 _et seq._

BUCKET SHOPS, in Cincinnati, 490;

in St. Paul, 531;

in Minneapolis, 539;

their origin, 595;

an American institution, 596;

character of their patrons, 597;

compared with the Stock Exchange and the gaming hell, 598;

how business is done at, 598, 599;

frauds practiced by, 600.

“BUCK,” THE, at stud poker, 240.

BUFFALO, Gambling in, 517.

“BUG,” THE, among the Greeks, 91;

at poker, 234;

at euchre, 267;

at cribbage, 268;

at vingt-un, 271.

BULGARIA, gaming in, 97.

“BULLS,” 578.

BUNKO, 326 _et seq._;

cappers at, 326;

how played, 327;

bunko chart, 328;

list of prizes at, 329;

frauds at, 329, 332;

cards sometimes used at, 332.

BUNKO LAND, 424.

BUNKO MEN, in Chicago, 401, 403.

BUTLER, COL., tolerates gambling, 461.

BUTLER, GEN. B. F., his attitude toward gambling in New Orleans, 461.

CALIFORNIA STATE FAIR, gambling at, 452.

CALIGULA, as a gamester, 88.

“CALL,” THE, 216, 218, 585, 586.

CANTON, gambling at, 83.

CAPPERS, at high ball poker, 255;

at the “eight die case,” 279;

at “top and bottom,” 281;

at the needle wheel, 287;

at corona, 288;

at tivoli, 298;

at the O’Leary belt, 302;

at bunko, 326, 328, 329, 331;

at three card monte, 334;

at hap-hazard, 305;

at miniature race track, 308;

at the shell game, 349, 350.

“CAPPING A CHIP,” 218.

CARD PUNCH, THE, 204.

CARDS, surmises as to origin of, 191.

CASINO, 265.

“CAT-HOP,” 195.

CATALOGUE OF GAMBLING TOOLS, 406 _et seq._; 430 _et seq._

CATO, his infatuation for gaming, 89.

CHANCE, worshipped by gamesters instead of God, 618.

CHANCES, at faro, 192;

at rouge-et-noir, 246;

at roulette, 248, 249;

at stud poker, 240.

CHAPLET, THE, 92, 129.

CHARITY HOSPITAL, (N. O.) THE, built from lottery taxes, 473.

CHARLES II, his reign an era of gaming, 139.

CHARLESTON (S. C.), history of gambling in, 497 _et seq._;

stock and club gambling at, 499;

faro gambling in, 503;

lotteries and policy playing at, 500.

CHEVALIER, MONS., 172.

CHICAGO BOARD OF TRADE, 578, 581, 587, 592.

CHICAGO, GAMBLING IN, in early days, 389 _et seq._;

under Wentworth, 390, 397;

under Haines, 393;

a sad story concerning, 395;

under Ramsay and Sherman, 397;

under Rice, 400;

under Medill, 401;

under Colvin, 401, 402;

successful, 404;

salaries paid to employes of houses, 405;

under Heath, 402, 403;

under Harrison, 403;

under Roche, 404.

CHINESE, gambling among, 81;

laws prohibit gaming, 83;

a peculiar game with the, 84.

CHINESE GAMBLING, in San Francisco, 449;

in Cleveland, 493;

in Hartford, 509, 510.

CHUCK-A-LUCK (at dice) how played, 275;

frauds practiced at, 275, 276;

a favorite game with negroes, 468.

CHUCK-A-LUCK, wheel of, see WHEEL OF FORTUNE.

CINCINNATI, gambling in, suppressed in 1886, 487;

in war times, 487;

in bucket shops, 490.

CIRCUSES, games at, 284.

CLAUDIUS as a gamester, 89.

CLEVELAND (O.), GAMBLING IN, policy of municipality toward, 491;

raids upon, 491;

extent of, 492, 493.

CLOCK, THE GAMBLING, See GAMBLING CLOCK.

CLOTHING, staked at the card table, 155.

CLUBS, a cloak for gaming, 142 _et seq._;

see also WOMEN.

GARNIER, MONS., mentioned 114.

GENEVA, 101.

GEORGE III (of England), Gambling during the reign of, 141.

GIGS, 476, 540.

GIVE AWAY, 346.

“GOING BETTER,” 215, 216.

“GOING IN,” 215, 231.

GOLD BRICKS, 311 _et seq._;

Rev. Dr. Snyder’s experience with, 318.

GOOD SWIMMER, A, 376.

GRAND HAZARD, 282.

GRAND OPERA HOUSE, Paris, 114.

GRANDMOTHER TRICK, THE, 354.

GREECE, gambling in ancient and modern, 87, _et seq._

GREEKS, a nation of Sharpers, 90;

frauds practiced by, _id._, _et seq._

“GROOM-PORTER,” duties of the, 153.

GUERILLA, THE, 584.

“GUNNING,” STOCKS, 585.

HAINES, MAYOR, his policy toward gambling, 393.

“HAIR-COPPERS,” 202.

HALF STOCK, THE, 259.

HANDICAP FRAUD, THE, 572.

HAP-HAZARD, explained, 303;

how used, 303, 304;

the fake element in, 304.

HARRISON (MAYOR) CARTER H., his policy towards gamblers, 403.

HARTFORD, CONN., history of gambling in, 508 _et seq._;

raids in, 509;

policy playing in, 510.

HARVEY, MISS MAY, 39 _et seq._

HAVANA LOTTERY, THE, 462, 474.

HAZARD, French and Eng. games of, 152.

HEATH, MAYOR, suppresses gambling in Chicago, 402, 403.

HEAVEN, The curse of, rests upon money won at gaming, 21.

HEBREWS, see JEWS.

HENRY VIII, an unscrupulous gamester, 139;

his reign an era of gambling, 140.

HIERONYMUS, method of playing, 273, 274;

odds against players at, 274;

frauds practiced at, 275.

HIGH AND LOW DICE TOPS, see DICE TOPS.

HIGH-BALL POKER, 255.

HIGH-HAND, THE, at old sledge, 260;

at euchre, 267.

HIGH-LOW-JACK, see OLD SLEDGE.

HINDOOS, gambling among the, 75;

a legend, 76 _et seq._

HOCK CARD, THE, 194, 195.

HOLDING-OUT, at poker, 233, 241;

at old sledge, 262;

at euchre, 267;

at cribbage, 268;

at vingt-un, 271.

“HOLLOWS AND ROUNDS,” 197.

HOMBURG, 101, 118.

HORSE-RACING, in England, 554;

in America, 556;

a national vice, 558.

HOURS OF PLAY, at “hells,” 208.

HOW AN OLD SCOUT HELD AN ACE FULL, 369.

HOYLE, his explanation of faro cited, 192;

his doctrine of chances, 196.

HUNGRY TRIO, A, 376.

HUTCHINSON, B. P., 606.

INDIANAPOLIS, gambling in, 545, _et seq._

INFLUENCE OF MONEY ON PARENTAL DISAPPROBATION, 365.

ITALIAN SOCIETY, vices of, 114.

ITALY, gaming in, 113.

JAMES BROTHERS, THE, 36.

JAMES I (of England), gambling during the reign of, 139.

JAPAN, games prevalent in, 86.

JENNY WHEEL, THE, 299;

the table used for, 298.

JEWS, gambling among, 71, 74.

JOCKEY, THE, 571.

JOG STOCK, THE, 223.

JOHN (of England), gaming during reign of, 138.

JOHNSON, EX-GOV. CHAS. P., introduction by, 26;

letter from endorsing author, 59;

sketch of, 417.

JURISDICTON (State and National), conflict of, 454.

KANSAS CITY, (Kas.), gambling at, 514.

KANSAS CITY (Mo.), gambling in, 514.

KENO, how played, 251;

the “globe,” _ib._;

percentage of the game, _ib._;

frauds at, 252;

large winnings by proprietors of, 252;

a favorite game in New Orleans, 467;

popular at Austin, 506.

KENTUCKY STATE LOTTERY, 472, 474.

LAY-OUT, at faro, how arranged, 193, 194.

LEGISLATION AGAINST GAMBLING, 71, 72, 73, 75, 83, 138, 163, 165, 189;

in Louisiana, 457, 461, 462, 463, 464, 477;

in Milwaukee, 481;

in New York, 484;

in Ohio, 491, 492;

in Texas, 508;

in Minneapolis, 39;

absolutely essential, 608.

LEVANT, gambling in the, 92 _et seq._

LICENSE OF GAMBLING, by European principalities, 94, 101, 186.

LICENSE SYSTEM, THE, of gambling, 457, 461, 462, 463, 464.

LIMIT OF BETS, at faro, 193.

LOADED DICE, 283.

LONG HAND, THE, 261.

“LONGS,” 584.

LOOK-OUT, at faro, his functions, 193.

LOTTERY, THE CHINESE, 449.

LOTTERIES, early, in New Orleans, 472, 474;

in Charleston, 500.

LOTTERY TICKETS, their sale in San Francisco, 445.

LOUISIANA, the disgrace of the State, 187.

LOUISIANA LOTTERY, a favorite among San Francisco citizens, 445;

its origin, 462;

evils of, 472, 631;

history of, 472 _et seq._;

dividends paid by, 473;

table of drawings in, _ib._;

disposition of revenues from, _ib._;

its sale of tickets in Cleveland, 493;

its victims in Buffalo, 526;

in Minneapolis, 542;

as patronized at Peoria, 544.

LUCK OF A ONE-EYED MAN, 374.

“LUCKY” BALDWIN as a gambler, 443.

MCGRATH’S (N. O.) CLUB HOUSE, 460.

MADRID, gambling at, 135, 136.

MAGNETIC SPINDLES, 293.

“MAKING GOOD,” 215.

MARKED CARDS, author’s success with, 44;

at poker, 229, 230;

a game with, 241;

in old sledge, 262;

at euchre, 266;

at cribbage, 271.

MARKING THE EDGES, 198, 260.

MARTIN, SAMUEL, a partner of author;

Sundry reminiscences of, 42 _et seq._;

as a marked card player, 241 _et seq._

MASCOT, 287.

MEDILL (MAYOR) JOSEPH, his policy toward gamblers, 401.

MEXICAN MONTE, 506.

MEXICAN NATIONAL LOTTERY, 445.

MEXICO, curious gambling customs in, 136, 137.

MIDDLETON WHIG, 175.

“MILKING THE STREET,” 585.

MILWAUKEE, Gambling in, 479 _et seq._;

under O’Neill, 480;

under Brown, _ib._;

legislation against, 481.

MINIATURE RACE TRACK, 307.

MINING STOCKS, speculation in, 447.

MINNEAPOLIS, Gambling in, 533 _et seq._;

under Rand, 534;

under Ames, 535 _ib._;

under Pillsbury, 554, 557.

MINOR CONFIDENCE GAMES, 353.

MISTAKEN IDENTITY, a case of, 377.

MOBILE, Gambling in, 494 _et seq._

MOHAMMEDAN laws against gaming, 75.

MONACO, suicides at, 69;

gambling at, 116.

MONGOLIANS, see CHINESE.

MONTE CARLO, 114;

the casino of, 116;

house of play at, 117;

character of games, 117;

limit of bets, 118;

season of play at, 119;

compared with Saratoga, 212;

with New Orleans, 462.

MORNING PRINCIPLE, THE, 363.

MORRISSEY’S (JOHN) N. Y. club house, 212;

Saratoga club house, 483;

same compared to Baden Baden, 484.

MOSCOW, 111.

MOUND CITY (Mo.) author’s experience at, 236.

MUNICIPAL AUTHORITIES, Relation of to public gambling, 189, 190.

MURDER, caused by gambling, 528, 546.

MUSTANG, 283.

MUTUAL POOLS, 563, 564.

NAIL PRICK, THE, 237.

NEEDLE WHEEL, THE, 286, 287.

NEGROES, as gamesters, 467, 506, 540.

NERO as a gamester, 88.

NEW ORLEANS, history of gambling in, 455 _et seq._;

effect of civil war upon gambling in, 461;

an American Monte Carlo, 462;

number of gaming houses in, 467;

table showing extent of gambling in, 477.

NEW ORLEANS COTTON EXCHANGE, 469.

NEW YORK, Gambling houses of, 420.

NEWPORT (Ky.), Gambling at, 487.

NEWPORT (R. I.), Gaming at, 437.

NIGHT-WATCH, THE, 208.

O’LEARY BELT, THE, explained, 300;

fake element in, 301;

devices used in connection with, 302;

a favorite with itinerant gamblers, 303.

O’NIELL, MAYOR, his policy toward gambling in Milwaukee, 480.

ODD, THE, 204;

its advantage, 205.

“OLD BAILEY” (England), THE, gamblers at bar of, 155, 159.

“OLD BLACK DAN,” 367.

OLD SLEDGE, how played, 256 _et seq._;

frauds at, 258.

OPEN BOARD OF TRADE, THE, 595.

“ORIGINAL HAND,” THE, 215.

ORIGINAL LOUISIANA LOTTERY, 445.

OVER-ISSUE, 340.

OVER AND UNDER SEVEN, 280.

PADLOCK, THE, 344.

PAIRS, TWO, 217.

PALM STOCK, THE, 224.

PALMING, among the Greeks, 91;

at euchre, 267;

at cribbage, 268.

PARLEEING, the term explained, 193.

PARTNERSHIPS, at poker, 222, 223, 228, 231;

at vingt-un, 271.

PAUPERS, gamblers become, 211.

PEORIA (Ills.), gambling at, 543.

PERSIANS, gaming among, 74.

PILLSBURY, (MAYOR) GEORGE S., attitude toward Minneapolis gamblers,

534, 537.

“PLUGGERS,” at high ball poker, 255;

at San Francisco, 440.

POKER, a so-called national pastime, 189, 214, 507;

its defenders, _ib._;

terms used at, explained, 215, 217;

frauds practiced at, 219 _et seq._;

a favorite game in San Francisco, 442.

POKER CLUBS, 189, 493, 520, 531.

POKER DICE, 280.

POKER HANDS, their relative value, 217;

as collateral for a loan, 411.

POLICE, protection to gambling by the, 210, 427;

in New Orleans, 461, 467;

on the race track, 573.

POLICY-PLAYING, prevalence of in United States, 186;

at San Francisco, 449;

at New Orleans, 468;

in Cleveland, 493;

at Charleston, 500;

in Hartford, 510;

in Buffalo, 524;

in Minneapolis, 539.

POOL ROOMS, at San Francisco, 445;

in St. Paul, 529;

in Minneapolis, 541;

how business done in, 560, 568.

PRIVILEGES, sold on steamboats, 254;

at fairs and circuses, 284.

PRODUCE EXCHANGE (San Francisco), 448.

PUEBLO (Colorado), An immense gambling house at, 208, 209.

“PUTS,” 585.

PUT-BACK, THE, 202.

QUARTER UNDER FOOT, 345.

QUEBEC, Gambling in, 511.

QUEBEC EXCHANGE, 513.

QUEBEC WHIST CLUB, its character, 512.

QUEER STAKE, A, 371.

QUINN, JOHN PHILIP, autobiography of, 33 _et seq._

QUINN, MRS. MAY HARVEY, courtship and marriage, 41;

her death, 45;

sketch of, 381.

QUINN, MRS. LILY, her letter to author, 60;

author’s reply, 61.

RACE-TRACKS, sale of privileges at, 566, 567;

features peculiar to, 568;

various frauds at, 570, 572.

“RAKES,” 197.

RAKE-OFF, 219.

RUMSEY, MAYOR, his toleration of gambling in Chicago, 397.

RAND, MAYOR, his policy towards Minneapolis gamblers, 534.

REFLECTORS, 235.

RELIGION, the surest preventive against gambling, 626.

“REPRESENTING,” at “Eight Die Case,” 279;

at the needle wheel, 287;

at bunko, 327, 329, 330.

REPRESENTATIVES, CONGRESSIONAL, exponents of average morality, 187.

RICE, MAYOR, his policy toward Chicago gamblers, 400.

RICHARD I, gaming during reign of, 138.

“RINGING-IN,” see “COLD DECKS,” “MARKED CARDS,” “CHUCK-A-LUCK,” “LOADED

DICE.”

ROCHE, (MAYOR) JOHN A., his policy toward gambling, 404.

ROOF, THE, 91.

ROLLING FARO, 252;

the fake element in, 253;

percentage against players at, 253.

ROMAN LAWS AGAINST GAMING, 71.

ROUGE ET NOIR, as played at Monte Carlo, 117, _et seq._;

a popular American game, 188;

the game explained, 243, _et seq._;

odds against players, 242, 245;

different ways of betting at, 244, 245;

frauds practiced at, 245, 246;

steerers employed for, 246.

ROULETTE, as played abroad, 117;

bets at, 119;

a popular American game, 188;

how played, 247;

odds at, 248, 249;

frauds practiced at, 249, 250.

“ROYAL FLUSH,” see SEQUENCE FLUSH.

RUINED BY A FUNERAL, 360.

“RUNNING IN,” 198.

RUNNING UP TWO HANDS, 227.

ST. LOUIS, Gambling in, 408, _et seq._

ST. PAUL, Gambling in, 527.

SACRAMENTO (Cal.) Gambling at, 452.

SADDLES, 476, 540.

SAFE, THE, 344.

“SANDING” THE CARDS, 198.

SAND PAPER, as a means of fraud, 204.

“SAND-TELL BOX,” THE, 198, 201.

SAN FRANCISCO, Gambling at, 438, _et seq._;

compared with Baden Baden, 441;

stock speculation at, 448;

policy playing at, 449.

SARATOGA, compared with Monte Carlo, 212;

gambling in, in early days, 482;

racing at, 483;

club-houses, 483;

openly conducted, 485;

raids upon, 486;

public sentiment, 486.

SCALPER, A, 584.

SECOND DEALING, at poker, 237;

at cribbage, 271.

“SEEING A BET,” 216.

“SEND,” THE, 337.

SEQUENCE, A, 217.

SEQUENCE FLUSH, 217.

“SETTLING-DAY,” 585.

SEVEN UP, see OLD SLEDGE.

SHAKSPEARE (MAYOR) JOSEPH, his plan for indirectly licensing gaming,

464, 469.

SHELL GAME, 348.

SHERMAN, MAYOR, his toleration of gambling in Chicago, 397

SHIFTING THE CUT, 225, 267.

“SHINERS,” 235.

SHORT FARO, 210.

SHORT GAMES, 243, _et seq._

SHORT HAND, THE, 261.

“SHORTS,” 584.

SHOT GUN, THE, 346.

SIGNING UP, at poker, 222;

at whist 263.

“SINGLE PAIR,” A, at poker, 217.

SLEEVE HOLD-OUT, THE, 234.

“SNAKING,” 202, 203.

SOAP GAME, THE, 355.

SOCIETY (N. Y.) FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF VICE, 486.

“SODA” CARD, THE, 194.

SOUTH CAROLINA LOTTERY, 499.

SOUTHERN INDIANA PENITENTIARY, author’s incarceration 55;

his discharge 60.

“SPIELER,” THE, 334, 335.

“SPLITS,” explained, 197.

SPRINGFIELD (Ills.), Gambling at, 548, 549.

“SQUARES AND ROUNDS,” 198.

“SQUEAL,” A, 585.

“SQUEEZE,” A, 585.

SQUEEZE SPINDLE, 291;

faked element in, 292;

sale of a, _ib._;

a magnetic, 293.

STAKE HOLDER, The confidential, 569.

STEERERS, English, 157;

at rouge-et-noir, 246;

at faro, 207, 208;

in St. Louis, 410.

STOCKING, at faro, 197, 198;

at poker, 221, 233;

at euchre, 266;

at cribbage, 268.

STOCK EXCHANGE, Its influence on national morality, 186.

STOCK GAMBLING, its results, 448;

in San Francisco, _ib._;

at New Orleans, 469;

in Cleveland, 493;

at Charleston, 499;

in Quebec, 513;

in St. Paul, 531;

its deplorable effects, 581;

“slang” used in, 584.

STRADDLES, 585, 586.

STRIKING MACHINE, 308.

STRING BETS, 195.

STRIPPERS, among the Greeks, 91;

at faro, 197;

at old sledge, 258;

at euchre, 266;

at cribbage, 268.

STUD-POKER, 219, 239;

San Francisco, 444.

SUICIDE, Gambling leads to, 69, 414, 478;

because of failure of lottery prize, 625.

SURE HAND, A, at poker, 219, 238.

SWINGING BALL, THE, 310.

TABLE HOLD-OUT, THE, 235.

“TAKING A FLYER,” 585.

TELEGRAPH, THE, 237, 269, 271.

THREE CARD MONTE, how-operated, 334, _et seq._;

railway conductors’ share in profits of, 336.

“THREE OF A KIND,” at poker, 217.

“THROWING-OFF” A PARTNER, 209.

TIMIDITY OF PROFESSIONALS, 366.

“TIPPING THE HAND,” 226.

TIPS ON RACES, 566.

TIVOLI, the machine explained, 295;

the chart used in, 296;

how played, 297;

frauds at, 297, 298.

TOBACCO BOX, THE, 343.

TOP AND BOTTOM, at dice, 281.

TOP AND BOTTOM BOXES, 309.

TOP STOCK, THE, 221;

beating the, 362.

TOUTS, 446.

TURNING JACK FROM BOTTOM, 262.

UNITED STATES, Gambling in, 549;

why gambling popular in the, 185;

various modes of gaming practiced in, 185 _et seq._;

policy playing in, 186.

VAN HENNESY, gold brick swindle, 49.

VEST HOLD-OUT, THE, 235.

VINGT-UN, how played, 270;

frauds practiced at, 271.

WASHBURNE, CHIEF OF POLICE, his war on gambling, 399.

WENTWORTH, “LONG JOHN,” his mayoralty of Chicago, 390, 397.

WHEEL OF FORTUNE, 289;

the faked element in, 290.

WHIST, Dean Swift’s opinion of, 149;

not popular with gamblers, 263;

frauds practiced at, 263, 264.

WHITE’S (London), 142, 144, 149, 180.

WIESBADEN, 101, 111.

WILBERFORCE, as a gamester, 180.

“WILD-CAT” STOCKS, 447.

WHOLE STOCK, THE, 260.

WOMEN, as gamesters, 107, 123, 127, 130, 158, 440, 569;

as dealers, 441.

INTRODUCTION.

BY HON. CHAS. P. JOHNSON, EX-GOVERNOR OF MISSOURI.

It is now several years since I first met Mr. John Philip Quinn, the

author of this book. During my contact with him in a professional way, I

became well acquainted with him. During the necessary association of

professional duty, I became convinced that there were many good

qualities in Mr. Quinn, and all that was necessary to make a worthy

citizen of him was to induce him, if possible, to overcome the effects

of early experience and eschew, the indulgence of pernicious habits.

With no indications of inherent badness, he had supinely drifted into

indulgences that blunted his moral perceptions and weakened his will

power. Chief among these was the vice of gambling. As is well known to

all reflecting men, there is no more enervating and morally disastrous

vice than this. It seems to have, when enthralling a man peculiarly

susceptible to its fascinating allurements, a strength and tenacity

surpassing all the other vices to which society is a prey. It

insidiously lures its victim in the track of exciting indulgence, until

every emotion and passion of the soul becomes subject to its control and

mastery. In its final assumption it becomes a most relentless tyrant,

making the will powerless to resist. I found Mr. Quinn completely under

the control of this vice, and recognized the herculean effort he would

be required to make to break from its thralldom. However, I appealed to

him to make the effort, and he finally decided to attempt it.

Circumstances were favorable to the success of the effort, though at the

expense of privation and disgrace. Some time after Mr. Quinn’s

determination to reform, having found it difficult to make a living in

St. Louis, he was induced to accompany a traveling show in a tour

through the Middle States. While stopping at a town in Indiana, he met a

couple of his former associates at one of the hotels. A few days before

this a farmer in that locality had been swindled out of a large sum of

money. These parties were arrested as also was Mr. Quinn, and though he

was only partially identified by the victim, he was taken into custody,

tried, convicted and sent to prison at Jeffersonville, Indiana. He was

so confident of his innocence that he made no preparations for a

defense. He was not aware of the unreasonable prejudice that frequently

exists in the jury box against one charged with a certain kind of

offence, be he ever so innocent. There was no legal evidence warranting

his conviction, but several offences of like character of that charged

against him had been lately committed in that region of the country, and

the community demanded a victim. He was made one. I knew nothing about

it until a week or more after it occurred. His wife called upon me and

related all the facts. I immediately undertook an investigation of the

case, and discovered without the shadow of a doubt that Mr. Quinn was

innocent of the crime of which he had been convicted. I even traced the

guilt home to other parties, and they were arrested and brought to trial

in the same locality where Mr. Quinn was tried, and only escaped by a

disagreeing jury, caused by the former statement of the prosecuting

witness. But the community in which these trials took place were

convinced of the wrong done Mr. Quinn and were anxious to make

reparation. In due time, as soon as the facts in full force and tenor

could be laid before Gov. Gray, of Indiana, he promptly accorded the

justice of a pardon to Mr. Quinn. Of course it was an outrage that

should never have occurred. The sufferings of Mr. Quinn during his

period of incarceration were most unendurable. Aside from the degrading

punishment and consequent disgrace, he suffered from the poignant

reflection that he was innocent and unable to have that justice and

protection given him which is the boast of our system of government. But

notwithstanding his unfortunate condition he seems to have kept a

courageous heart and turned his attention to his surroundings, drew

instruction therefrom, and will give to the world a graphic account of

prison life, which may be of benefit to the philanthropist and the

legislator. A more elaborate and unique work, perhaps, is his book on

the gaming vice, to which it is my desire these words should be

prefixed. It is peculiarly interesting to me, and replete with

information. The subject is considered in a way that leaves little, if

anything to be said, either of instruction or suggestion. This book

should be in the hands of every young man in our land. As a usual thing

injustice of this kind sours the temper of men and discourages them from

striving to accomplish higher and nobler aims in life. In Mr. Quinn’s

case it had the opposite effect. Since his release he has shown by his

work and conduct this fact. He seems stronger to-day in his

determination to carry out his decision of reformation than ever.

Transferring his residence to another sphere, he has already gained the

confidence and esteem of his fellowmen, and is fast broadening his field

of usefulness. He is worthy of encouragement in his work; my sincere

wish is that he will liberally receive it.

[Illustration: Chas. P. Johnson.]

INTRODUCTION.

BY REV. JOHN SNYDER, D. D., CHURCH OF THE MESSIAH, ST. LOUIS, MO.

I am intensely interested in Mr. John Philip Quinn’s book on Gambling. I

met Mr. Quinn several years ago in St. Louis. I became convinced that

this book is the fruit of an earnest purpose to set before the young men

of this country the radical evils which so closely cling to the gambling

habit. I was especially pleased with the practical notions which Mr.

Quinn entertained respecting the wisest methods of reaching and

eradicating the evil. While he is himself convinced of the immorality of

gambling, he is conscious that the mere presentation of the moral aspect

of the vice will do little to arrest its growth in American society. For

the social gambler appeals to the theory of the absolute right of the

individual to dispose of his own property as he sees fit. Such a man

says: “Have I not just as much moral right to stake my money on the turn

of a card, as I have to use it in any other form of harmless enjoyment?”

This argument will be effective and even conclusive so long as society

entertains its present loose notions respecting the obligations of

wealth. But Mr. Quinn approaches the matter from another side. He shows

the evil and disreputable associations into which the gambler is

inevitably thrown. He speaks of the reckless use of money which the

gambling habit engenders, and shows how helpless the average business

man really is in the hands of the professional gambler. I claim to be a

man of fair intelligence, and yet I felt intellectually humiliated when

Mr. Quinn demonstrated to me, how easily I might be tricked out of my

money, by the shallow devices to which he says the ordinary gambler

resorts when he cannot rely upon what he calls “luck.” For illustration,

he showed me what appeared to be an ordinary pack of cards, but by the

simplest method in the world these cards had been so changed that he was

able to tell the denomination of every card by glancing at the back. Of

course the social gambler always asserts that he “plays with gentlemen,”

but the easiness of cheating offers a constant temptation on the part of

gentlemen, who are pressed in money matters, to resort to this method of

relieving themselves of their financial embarrassments.

I am convinced, then, that Mr. Quinn’s book will be of the utmost value

among the young people of this country. I am sure that the gambling

habit is doing more to undermine the character of our young men than any

form of vice in which they are likely to fall. The drinking habit has

been measurably controlled. Drunkenness has grown to be disreputable.

But in thousands of respectable, cultivated and virtuous households, in

this land, fathers and mothers are quite unconsciously educating their

boys into that pernicious habit of gambling, which will, if not

arrested, destroy the very roots of commercial life.

[Illustration: John Snyder]

PART I.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JOHN PHILIP QUINN.

Early education, family training, and circumstances often apparently

accidental are potent influences in the formation and moulding of

character. Yet not infrequently an event of seemingly little consequence

may overturn the best considered plans for a successful career and alter

the entire tenor of a man’s life. The invisible power “that shapes our

ends,” to-day, lifts one born in a humble station to a pinnacle of fame

and power, while to-morrow, it casts down from his exalted position the

man intoxicated by the fumes of the incense of popular adulation. The

Scottish bard puts this truth in those oft-quoted words:

“The best laid schemes of mice and men,

Gang aft aglee.”

This aphorism may be significantly applied to the lives of thousands. It

is true of my own career. However upright may have been my intentions at

the outset of life, they were early turned aside through the influence

of my surroundings and of a seemingly inborn propensity for gambling.

After a long and eventful experience, I have turned to a better life. My

past has not been without interest to those with whom I have been

brought in contact. It is here reviewed, not in a spirit of braggart

egotism, but with the earnest hope that it may prove a warning to many,

who are now bent upon a similar journey.

Biography is usually a simple and suggestive record, pointing its own

moral, and treating, as a rule, of the scenes and actions of that

everyday life, of which the subject forms a part. An autobiography

should be, of all others, sincere and candid, and its writer should

“Naught extenuate nor aught set down in malice.”

To those who may think that the publication of the life of so obscure an

individual as myself, and one, too, who for so many years has been a

social pariah, can be productive of neither interest nor profit, I would

say, that the eye of the fly is in many respects a more interesting

study than that of the eagle, and the light-house of more service to

humanity than the pyramids. A great artist once painted a wonderful

picture. Of one of the faces in that immortal work, it was said, to him:

“that countenance is ugly and revolting.” Thoughtfully gazing upon it,

the artist replied: “There is more of beauty in every human face than I

can comprehend.” So, in the life of every human being, there is at once

more of tender charity and vicious selfishness than can be portrayed in

words.

If the record of my life shall prove an example to deter even a few of

those who are sporting upon the outer waters of that whirlpool whose

vortex is destruction;—if its recital shall serve to open the eyes of

but one of that vast host who are staking fortune, friendship, family

affection, honor, even life itself, in the vain pursuit of an illusive

phantom, this sketch will not have been written in vain.

I was born on the 19th day of March, 1846, three miles east of Roanoke,

in Randolph County, Mo. My father was a prosperous farmer and stock

raiser. He was a man of sound judgment, indomitable pluck, tried

courage, generous disposition, and staunch integrity, kind and

charitable to his neighbors, and a man whose “word was as good as his

bond.” He was deservedly held in high esteem in the community, which he

represented in the State Legislature during 1861-3. He owned some twenty

slaves at the time of President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. No

sooner had it appeared than he called them together, read the

proclamation aloud, and informed them that they were at liberty to go or

stay. A slave trader named John Robertson, who was present, at once

offered fifteen hundred dollars in gold for four of the men, which my

father promptly refused. The trader then offered each of the former

slaves fifty dollars to go with him, but my father peremptorily declared

that a million dollars could not buy one of them unless he or she

voluntarily chose to return to servitude.

My mother was a “gentlewoman” in what has been, to me, the best sense of

that often-abused term. Faithful to all her duties as a wife and mother,

her tender devotion to her children was the controlling impulse of her

life. Her generous self-sacrifice and her all but unlimited capacity to

forgive, none can know so well as the wayward son, who numbers among his

most bitter regrets to-day the recollection of the years of anxiety and

grief which he brought upon that mother’s head and of the numberless

pangs which he caused that mother’s heart.

The only early educational advantages that I enjoyed were those incident

to an irregular attendance upon an ordinary border State, district

school, presided over by a pedagogue whose scholastic attainments were,

directly, in an inverse ratio to his zeal as a disciplinarian, and who

seemed to think that ideas which could not find a lodgment in the head

might be forced to germinate from the back by dint of persistent

application of the rod. As a boy I was mischievous and wayward; a

ringleader in all “scrapes,” and the terror of the orderly. Indeed, my

reputation as an evil doer was so well established, and my name so

thoroughly synonomous with every species of boyish deviltry, that I was

often compelled to bear the blame of escapades which I had not

conceived, and in which I bore no part.

At the time of which I am speaking, the principal diversions in country

districts in Missouri were horse-racing, card playing and other

amusements to which the element of a wager lent excitement. It was

naturally easy for a restless boy of my temperament and disposition to

contract the habit of gaming for such small sums of money as I could

command, or for other property of trifling value. But the passion of

gambling, above all others, fattens on what it feeds upon, and I soon

began to find my native village too narrow a field for the realization

of my ambition, and the few pennies of my schoolmates too small stakes

to satisfy my desire for acquisition. At the age of fourteen years,

accordingly, I left home without my father’s consent or knowledge, with

a view to enlarging my sphere of operations. I took with me one of his

horses, which might not only serve as a means of transportation, but

also stand me in stead in the unknown world with which I felt myself

well qualified to grapple. My life and habits, even as a child, had been

so erratic, that my absence from home excited no comment; indeed, it

awakened no anxiety, except in the tender breast of my gentle mother.

Upon reaching Kansas, I sold the horse, and entered boldly upon the

execution of my project, to lay the foundation of a colossal fortune,

through the (to me) alluring career of a gambler. Then followed what

might have been expected. Having watched the manipulations of a three-

card monte man, until I had satisfied myself that I could beat him at

his own game, I staked my all and—lost it. My only recourse then was to

apply to my father for relief. He sent me money with which to return

home, and in the same letter informed me of the serious illness of my

sister Laura. Like the prodigal, I returned to find a welcome, but in

time only to receive my sister’s last farewell.

The impression on me created by her death was but fleeting. I soon

recommenced gambling with the boys of the neighborhood, at first playing

poker for pennies, though the “ante” soon increased and the stakes

sometimes amounted to a dollar, which was considered high play for boys

in the country. Of course, I soon learned the slang of professional

gamblers and was otherwise rapidly fitting myself for my subsequent

career of knavery and disgrace.

Among those with whom I associated and played poker at Roanoke in those

days, were Ed. and Dod White, John Pruitt, Whit Tyrell, Tom Walton, Bill

Drinkard, Bob Holley and the Finney boys, all well known in Randolph

County.

About this time occurred an incident which made a lasting impression

upon me and aided in my initiation into the tortuous ways of the

confidence man and cheat. As I was leaving the village one morning for a

squirrel hunt, I fell in with a man who professed to be a billiard

player. He invited me to accompany him to Fayette, where he would—to use

his own expression—“throw a man off to me.” I assented with alacrity,

went with him to Fayette, and was there “thrown off” myself for all that

I was worth. The game was played in Charley King’s saloon and billiard

hall, and the man who played it was Sam Majors, afterward a prominent

lawyer and Member of Congress from Missouri.

I spent that night at Fayette, and on reaching home next morning found

that every spring and well on my father’s farm had been poisoned, and

that the entire family were violently ill from drinking coffee prepared

from the contaminated water. This villianous attempt at wholesale

poisoning resulted in the death of my only remaining sister Roma, the

manner of whose taking away, no less than the sad event itself, cast a

pervading gloom over our little family circle. For a time I was deeply

impressed; solemn thoughts of my past and future crowded upon my brain,

and I resolved to abandon my evil course, and to enter upon a new life.

But I was young; my nature was volatile; I was keenly alive to the

fascination of gambling; and even at that early age the habit had

acquired over me a power not easily broken. My surroundings, moreover,

were not of a nature either to promote reflection or encourage better

impulses. That portion of Missouri was at that time over-run by bush

whackers. Assaults and depredations were the rule, while robberies and

murders were of frequent occurrence. Bands of from ten to twenty armed

men were wont, from time to time, to ride through the streets of

Roanoke, and the clatter of horses’ feet, the firing of guns, and the

yells and oaths of demons in human form, converted a peaceful settlement

into a pandemonium.

Among other notorious characters who visited our village, I well

remember one desperate gang, armed to the teeth and flushed with

pillage, who one night alighted at my father’s grocery store for rest

and recreation. Among that band were the James boys, Bill Anderson, the

Younger brothers, and Tom Hunter. The party was quiet, even

“gentlemanly,” as that designation was then applied, inasmuch as they

departed without killing or robbing anyone. They played poker, and I can

well recall the cupidity awakened in my breast at the sight of the roll

of bills which they staked upon the game. The play ran well up into the

thousands, and never before had I seen such piles of money upon a table.

I was much impressed, nor was I able to divest myself of the idea that

money fairly won at cards was honestly earned. And, indeed, as compared

with the outrageous robbery of unoffending, defenceless citizens, by

marauding bands of armed ruffians which I saw constantly going on about

me, gambling seemed an innocent recreation. Over and again, during those

memorable years of the war, have I seen such gangs of desperadoes

forcibly enter my father’s homestead, and with a pistol leveled at his

head demand his cash. My father was determined, resolute and brave, but

more than once have I seen him forced to purchase his own life and the

lives of his family by partial submission to these threats.

I recall another incident of my early life, which occurred during the

war, and which is worthy of mention only so far as it may serve to

illustrate to what a degree of intensity my passion for gambling had

developed. The battle of Silver Creek, which was a short but spirited

engagement, was fought at night. In the morning I was sent with needed

supplies for the wounded to the Union camp, which was located only three

miles from my father’s store. After distributing the supplies, I opened

a game of poker with a party of soldiers in a store kept by one Jas. T.

Wallace. The appalling sights witnessed in the midst of the dead and

dying were powerless to restrain or curb a passion which was even then

stronger than death.

At the close of the war I felt myself a man and qualified to engage in

business. So at the age of twenty, I went to Keytsville, in Chariton

Co., Mo., and started a hardware store. I found myself unable, however,

to forego the amusement of gaming, nor could I reconcile myself to the

abandonment of my hopes of winning a fortune at the card table; I

therefore combined gambling with business (sadly to the detriment of the

latter), I divided my time between my own store and Dan Kellogg’s saloon

and gambling resort. Among my associates there were such well-known

gamblers as Bill and Tom Binford, Rives Williams, Jube Hurt, French

Blakey, besides many others. I remained at Keytsville for a year, but

failing to make any money by either legitimate or illegitimate methods,

I closed out my business and returned to Roanoke.

Here, in my native village, my next venture was to start a tonsorial and

bathing establishment. I had one bath-tub and one assistant. As I knew

nothing about shaving (except at cards), and one of the rules of the

shop was that when a customer was cut he need pay nothing, I was glad to

confine my operations to transient callers, relegating regular patrons

to the tender mercies of my assistant. As might have been expected, no

profits materialized, and after the business had dragged its miserable

length along for some twelve months, I spontaneously and cheerfully

abandoned it.

My next business move was the formation of a partnership with one James

Bird, familiarly known as “Slim Jim.” The firm was to manufacture and

sell piano dulcimers, for which, at that time, there was a great and

constantly increasing demand throughout that entire section. I was the

senior partner, and furnished the capital; Jim was the practical man and

had the experience; we united the two and the result may be very briefly

told. To facilitate delivery of the goods, I purchased a carriage,

horses and harness. I then went to St. Louis to buy materials to be used

in the manufacture of the instruments. Upon my return, I found that

“Slim” (it should have been “Slick”) Jim had been to Sedalia, Mo., where

he had sold out the horses, carriage, etc., pocketed the proceeds, and

had secured a tolerably fair start on his way to California. I trust

that I may not be regarded as unduly revengeful if I frankly admit that

when, thirteen years later, my _quondam_ partner was arrested by

Detective Henry Hutling while playing three card monte along the line of

the Chicago and Alton Railroad, I hastened to the scene of his

misfortune, and relentlessly made him disgorge by way of settlement,

seventy-five dollars in money, a gold watch and chain and a diamond pin.

In the year 1868, in company with my uncle Tom, my brothers Sidney and

Robert and a man by the name of Keen Viley, I went as far west as the

southern portion of Dakota. For several months we located ourselves at

Benton City, on the North Platte River. Here the mayor of the “city,”

one A. B. Miller, in conjunction with a man named Charles Storms,

conducted what is known in gamblers’ parlance as a “brace” faro game;

that is to say, players could win nothing except at the option of the

proprietor, and the latter lost only such trifling sums as might serve

as an allurement to continued and heavier play. In this establishment I

held the position of “case-keeper;” in other words, I kept the record of

the game. This was my first regular employment in a gambling house. Life

in the territory at that period was primitive in its comforts, but

decidedly exciting in its uncertainty. Our party slept in a canvas tent,

lined with slabs to about the height of three feet as a protection

against the stray bullets, which came, with unpleasant frequency, from

whence no one knew and went none could tell whither. During the progress

of the fusilade, no sleeper in any tent ever thought of raising his head

from his pillow, and the wisdom of lying perfectly still was abundantly

demonstrated by the many bullet holes in the upper part of the canvas.

From Dakota I again gravitated to Roanoke, where I once more embarked in

business, this time in the custom shoe trade. Being utterly ignorant of

that, or any other business, I employed a shoe-maker who, after the

manner of his kind, made it a point of honor to fill himself with

whiskey every time he lasted a pair of boots. Naturally the business

languished, and I soon sought a more congenial pursuit.

Going to Columbia, Mo., I opened a saloon; not from any desire to

indulge my appetite in this direction, inasmuch as I can truthfully say

that I never drank any intoxicating liquor in my life. My chief aim was

to conduct a gaming establishment, for which the sale of liquor might

serve as a blind. While at Columbia I used to gamble—chiefly at faro or

poker—with the Hume’s boys, of whom there were six or seven with Dr. Ed.

Compton, Sam Reader, James I. Brewitt, the Jacobs boys, Arthur

Charleston, Jesse Forshay, Alex Bradford, Billy Booth, and many others

who have since attained local prominence.

Like other young men, I was not unsusceptible to feminine charms, nor,

wicked as I was, was I incapable of appreciating true womanly worth. I

first felt the afflatus of the “divine passion” when I met Miss Fannie

White, a fair maiden of Roanoke. For a time it seemed to me as though

the sun shone only through her eyes. I prosecuted my suit with all the

ardor of a first attachment, but the young lady’s parents promptly and

forcibly interposed. My reputation was notoriously bad and a marriage

between their daughter and myself was, they said, not to be thought of.

Thus the affair was nipped in the bud. For a time I felt the blow

keenly, and bitterly realized the disgraceful position which I occupied

as a suitor rejected for such a cause. Time, however, and a sort of

sullen resentment came to my aid. I succeeded in tearing from my heart

the hopes which I had formed, as an idol is wrenched from its pedestal,

and entered upon the vice of gaming with redoubled vigor.

But a few years later I formed an attachment for a beautiful and

captivating lady, the accomplished daughter of Dr. Wm. C. and Mrs. L. A.

Harvey, who enjoyed a position of social pre-eminence in the community.

Little May Harvey was a girl suited to fill the ideal conception of a

far better man than I. Of attractive form and feature, she was modest,

truthful, and a universal favorite with her acquaintances. That I should

presume to lift my eyes to such a girl was enough to excite the

apprehension of her parents, who at once became most bitter and

unyielding opponents. But, fortunately or unfortunately, I had a

powerful advocate in May’s own heart. In affairs of the heart young

people are not always disposed to brook parental interference. They are

apt to regard themselves as best qualified to judge of what will be for

their own happiness, and to constitute themselves the sole arbiters of

their own destiny. My affection for May was deep and true, and, which is

a no less vital point, it was thoroughly reciprocated. An engagement to

May followed as a matter of course; and, also as a matter of course,

there followed an insistent demand on the part of Dr. and Mrs. Harvey

that the engagement be suddenly and finally broken off. A most plausible

excuse was found in my arrest on an utterly false charge for highway

robbery.

The facts connected with this episode in my life may prove not

uninteresting to the reader. A farmer by the name of Jesse B. Hudson,

living about five miles east of Roanoke, had been robbed of a large sum

of money by bush whackers. One of the robbers rode a horse belonging to

John Emery, which he had taken from a hitching post in the town while

Emery was on a spree. The horse was accidentally shot. Owing partly to

the existence of a neighborhood feud, and partly to my bad reputation, I

was arrested as a participant in the crime, and taken to Huntsville for

trial. There I gave bonds in the sum of $3,000 for my appearance when

wanted, two reputable farmers—W. H. Lockridge and Geo. Aulthouse—signing

my bond. Among the men suspected of the crime were such notorious

outlaws as the James boys, Quantrell, Anderson, Hunter, Clingman, Lyons,

and others, yet I was the only one arrested. At different times before,

while I was living at home, the bush whackers had aroused me at night

and ordered me to supply them with liquor from my father’s store. This

fact may have given rise to a suspicion that I was a member of the gang,

and may have led to my arrest. Be that as it may, my innocence was

easily established at the trial, and the jury promptly rendered a

verdict of acquittal.

May’s fidelity was unshaken by my arrest, and my vindication was hailed

by her with triumph. Shortly afterwards she was sent as a pupil to the

Convent of the Visitation at St. Louis, and peremptorily forbidden by

her parents to hold any communication with me. Similar instructions were

given to the Mother Superior and her assistants. The sisters faithfully

obeyed Dr. Harvey’s behest. Under these circumstances I had recourse to

strategem. I had followed her to St. Louis, where I had engaged in

gambling with many well-known sporting men of that city. Calling at the

convent I asked for an interview which was refused by the Mother

Superior. I had told the latter that I was from Roanoke, Miss Harvey’s

home. I had expected a refusal and was not unprepared. Producing a

package, I handed it to the convent Cerberus, and brazenly informed that

suspicious individual that I had been commissioned by the young lady’s

parents to convey it to her. The package contained a volume of

Longfellow’s poems and a pair of kid gloves. In one of the fingers of

the gloves was a neatly folded note, written on tissue paper, calling

attention to the fact that a letter was pasted between two of the book’s

pages. The scheme was well laid, as I thought, but failed to work. The

bundle was opened and examined by the Superior; its contents sent to

Mrs. Harvey, and the letter burned. My efforts to hold an interview with

my inamorata upon the streets proved equally fruitless, it not being

permitted to her to take her “daily walks abroad” unless accompanied by

a watchful attendant. Despairing of seeing her alone, I started with a

small party on a gambling tour to the far west, visiting Colorado and

Wyoming. The trip was uneventful, and I returned to Roanoke to find that

May had been at home and had been sent to school at Columbia, Missouri.

Thither I followed her, only to be again denied an interview. Returning

home, I forwarded to her as present from her mother, a box of fruit. A

portion of the core of one of the apples had been extracted, and its

place deftly filled by a letter written on extremely thin paper. No

suspicion was aroused by the receipt of the fruit, which was handed to

Miss Harvey. She examined every apple in the expectation of finding a

letter from me but failed to discover the right one. While sharing the

fruit with her schoolmates, one of them, in biting an apple, was

surprised to find a pin in her mouth; the mystery was solved, and the

letter reached its destination.

In due time I received an answer, full of love and encouragement,

showing that neither absence nor intimidation could conquer her faithful

spirit. To be near her I went to Columbia, where I opened a saloon and

resumed gambling. Every Sunday I was made supremely happy by seeing her.

About this time she received a letter from her mother severely

reprimanding her for encouraging my attentions. Smarting under this

rebuke she impulsively returned all my letters and presents, among which

was the engagement ring. This blow fairly overwhelmed me. To accomplish

what had now become the chief aim of my existence, any and all means

seemed to me justifiable. Accordingly, on the following Sunday evening I

attended the church at which I knew she would be present. At a favorable

moment I sank to the floor in a simulated swoon, and was carried to the

hotel by four men, whither was summoned a physician, who made me four

visits. Probably he suspected the sham, but he kept his own counsel. The

ruse had the effect desired. May’s sympathy was aroused, a

reconciliation followed, my presents and letters were again accepted,

and the engagement ring once more found a place upon her finger.

To hope for the consent of her parents to our union was, we both knew,

to expect the impossible. We therefore laid our plans for an elopement.

About nine o’clock on the evening of an August day in 1870 we met at the

appointed place of rendezvous. I was accompanied by a friend, Frank

Payne, who was to act as witness and best man. May mounted behind me one

of my father’s best saddle horses, and our little party set forth in

quest of some clergyman or justice of the peace to tie the nuptial knot.

After meeting with sundry rebuffs, and riding all night, we reached

Renick, a small town in Randolph county, about eighteen miles from

Roanoke. Here we found an accommodating magistrate in the person of

Esquire Butler. After Payne had sworn that Miss Harvey was eighteen

years old on August 24th, and therefore of lawful age, the magistrate

consented to perform the ceremony. That evening we returned to the home

of my father, who was living alone, my mother having died on Oct 12,

1865.

Great was the sensation which our marriage created in our little

village, and greater the indignation of my bride’s parents. Dr. Harvey

promptly caused the arrest of Frank Payne for false swearing, and of

Esquire Butler for solemnizing the marriage. The prosecution of Payne

was soon dropped, but the magistrate did not escape so easily, being

sentenced to pay a fine of $300 and to be imprisoned in the county jail

for three months. Both these penalties, however, were soon afterward

remitted.

For two years we lived at Roanoke, my wife’s parents refusing to

recognize us even on the streets. At the end of that time we removed to

Moberly, Missouri, where I lived by gaming, finding all avenues of

respectable employment closed against me.

Among those with whom I gambled during this period were Joe Woods, Si.

Beatty, Levi Perkins, James F. Wallace, Bill Robertson, Pat Carmody,

Perry McDaniels, John Guy, Bill Williams, Dave White, and Judge Worden.

While at Moberly I formed the acquaintance of one Sam Martin, a jovial,

good natured man, who first taught me the use of marked cards. I found

him a congenial companion, and during the eight years from 1873 to 1881

we were partners in gambling. In the latter year Martin’s health failed

and he had recourse to the waters of Hot Springs, where he died in 1885,

at the early age of thirty-five.

Perhaps I may be pardoned for relating here a few incidents of our life

at this time, which may serve to illustrate both Martin’s character and

my own. On one of our gambling expeditions we arrived at Columbia,

Missouri, and went to a hotel kept by Jim Hume. Placing a carpet satchel

upon the counter, Martin blandly demanded the best room in the house.

Being informed that the hostelry was full, he thrust his hand into his

empty vest pocket and offered to settle in advance. This audacious piece

of assurance won the confidence of the clerk, and we were assigned to

the parlor for the night. At the end of a week a bill for $12 was handed

to Martin, who excused himself from payment by saying that he had handed

all his money to me, and that he would go and find me. It was after dark

before he came across me and explained the _modus operandi_ which he had

devised. He was to lower the antique satchel from the window of our room

by a string upon receiving a signal from me that I was below. I assented

to the plan, and returning to the hotel, told the landlord to go out and

give the prearranged whistle. This he did, and down came the string with

the satchel attached, which was removed by Hume and carried into the

hotel office. Here it was opened in the presence of a large crowd of

“fakirs” who had been drawn to Columbia by the fair then in progress.

Its contents were found to be as follows: item, one deck of cards; item,

one pair of socks; item, one dirty collar; item, one rock (for ballast).

Sam’s wardrobe was regarded as unique, but of hardly sufficient value to

liquidate his bill. One of the amused sporting men present proposed

taking up a collection for Martin’s benefit. The proposition was hailed

with favor and twelve silver dollars soon jingled on the counter. The

landlord joined in the merriment, and in the exuberance of his mirth

offered to treat the crowd if someone would fetch Martin to participate

in the festivities of the occasion. Sam was soon found, and a general

jollification followed. When asked why he had not paid his bill, he

replied, “What for? Why, I could go to St. Louis and board at the

Lindell or Southern by paying for it.”

On the following day we started for St. Louis. On the train Martin

formed the acquaintance of an old gentleman, whom he courteously invited

to dine with him on reaching the refreshment station. The invitation was

accepted. Martin hurried through his meal and politely excused himself

to his companion. At the door he was asked for seventy five cents;

pointing towards the old gentleman, he said: “Father will settle.” When

his traveling acquaintance returned to the car he sought out Sam and

took a seat by his side. “Pretty good dinner for seventy-five cents,”

said Sam. “I should say so,” remarked the old gentleman. “I paid a

dollar and a half for yours and mine, and I want seventy-five cents.” At

this Martin started up in great apparent indignation, and in a loud

voice asked the conductor, “What sort of a man is that who keeps the

eating house? He has collected from both of us for our meal.” Before the

conductor could answer, the old gentleman exclaimed, “I want you to give

me that seventy-five cents that I paid out for your dinner.” Sam said

that he had no small change, but the old man assured him that he could

make change for “any sized bill.” I comprehended the situation and

quietly remarked, “Mr. Martin, this gentleman ought to be paid. I have

not enough money with me to cash your draft, but he should be paid.” My

companion at once perceived his opportunity. Producing from under the

lining of his hat a draft for $500, he said, “Now give me $499.25 and

you are paid.” Thinking that this was an attempt to “bluff” him, the old

gentleman reached down and pulled from his boot leg a large roll of

bills, from which he triumphantly counted out the “change,” as he called

it. Martin gave the conductor $20 to slow up and we jumped off the

train. The draft was, of course, utterly worthless, but the old man

apparently never made any effort to find either Martin or myself.

At St. Louis we were moderately successful in the prosecution of our

nefarious enterprises, making frequent excursions into the adjacent

country.

Our next objective point was Texas. At Houston, Martin won nearly $100

from a man by playing with marked cards. The dupe discovered how he had

been victimized and related the circumstances to a friend giving a

description of the man who had won his money. The next morning a typical

Texan called on Martin and said, “I am out making collections this

morning, and have a bill against you for exactly $96.50.” Without saying

a word, Martin opened his wallet, and counting out the amount demanded,

quietly handed it over to the “collector.” As an argument, a six-shooter

is more convincing than rhetoric.

During the Centennial year, Martin went east, visiting Philadelphia,

Baltimore and Washington. When he said good bye to me at St. Louis, he

said that he was going to wear either diamonds or shackles. A few weeks

later he wrote that it was shackles; he had been in jail three days.

In September, 1876, I went to Philadelphia myself, to join Martin. On

arriving at his hotel I found that he was temporarily absent in

Baltimore. The second night after reaching Philadelphia I was invited by

the hotel clerk to take a hand in a game of poker. I found the cards

were marked, but as the marks were very familiar I said nothing, I found

the game exceedingly interesting and rose from the table a winner by

$300. I telegraphed Sam to return to Philadelphia at once, which he did.

On opening his valise, which he had left at his hotel in Philadelphia,

he found some of his cards missing. That afternoon the clerk of the

house came to him and apologized for taking a few decks of cards from

his valise, they being convenient for use. “That is all right,” said Sam

Martin; “you are at liberty to help yourself to them at any time,

provided my friend and myself can play in the game. I only carry them

with me because they are the Hart brand of cards and are “square.” They

are a protection to me when I play for a little amusement. They won’t

cheat me.”

Of course, every pack which he had was marked, and had laid the

foundation of a great financial success. None but his celebrated “Hart”

cards were used in the games at that hotel afterwards, and in less than

three weeks we had won at poker something over $3,000.

While in Philadelphia I formed the acquaintance of a man named Anderson,

who confided to me his troubles. He told me that he had resided in the

coal regions of Pennsylvania, where he had been involved in a terrible

fight, and that he was afraid to return. He offered me $100 if I would

go down into that section and bring his family to Baltimore. This I did,

and in the evening of our arrival in the Maryland metropolis, while

Anderson and I were walking about the city together, we were both

arrested and locked up. The next morning a gentleman from the place

where my new acquaintances resided came to the jail and identified

Anderson as the man who had recently fled from that town with $3,000 of

his money. Of course, I was discharged. The gentleman from Pennsylvania

was profuse in his expressions of regret at my arrest, paid my hotel

bill, and gave me twenty dollars. I did not enjoy the experience,

however, and as the poker games at the Philadelphia hotel showed decided

symptoms of coming to an end, I determined to return to St. Louis.

But to revert to my life at Moberly. In 1874, feeling dissatisfied, I

made a trip to Hot Springs, where I passed a few months, but found

little opportunity of making money in the only way which I understood.

Accordingly, in the autumn of that year I went to reside at St. Louis.

There I was joined by my wife. Many times had I resolved to quit

gambling, but as often had my determination failed. The sight of my

wife’s sweet, patient face when I met her at St. Louis rekindled my

desire to reform and pursue some honorable vocation. The thought that I

had brought her to the shame of being a gambler’s wife was bitter. But I

overcame these reflections by arguing with myself after the manner of

those gamesters whose desire to reform is half hearted, being founded on

impulse rather than on principle. I had tried several kinds of

legitimate business and failed in each. Who would trust me in any honest

employment? How was I to provide for my wife, to say nothing of myself?

To these questions I could formulate no answer, and hence it was that

during the six years of my residence in St. Louis I played at any and

every game that promised to pay me money. In order to preserve a

semblance of respectability at home, I rarely gambled in the city.

Excursion boats, country towns, and county fairs formed the theater of

my gaming. That description of games known to professionals as “brace”

comprised those in which I engaged. My pursuits included the use of

marked cards, “squeeze spindles,” roulette, monte tricks, and “bunko

steering” for “brace” faro banks. When I could not win the entire stake

for myself, I was content to accept a percentage. Thus I lived until

April 29, 1880.

On the date last mentioned I was residing with my wife on an upper floor

at No. 1517 North Eighth Street. At about eleven o’clock in the

forenoon, as my wife was starting from home to carry aid to a former

servant who was at that time sick and destitute, her foot became

entangled in her clothing as she reached the head of the stairs and she

fell headlong to the foot of the flight. She was at once carried to her

room and placed upon her bed. Her eyes opened, and during a single

moment of consciousness she placed both hands upon her head and

exclaimed, “Where is John? O, mother! mother! you won’t forgive—you

break my heart!” She then added, “take down my hair; I am dying.”

Respiration ceased, and the loving, faithful heart that had for so many

years beat only for me was at rest.

That morning, her mother was returning from a three days’ visit at St.

Louis to her home in Roanoke; her father had just reached the National

Stock Yards at East St. Louis with two car loads of live stock; and I

was at Cote Brilliante Park, in training for a foot race with “Hank”

Wider, and Jim Bensley for a purse of $10,000. I was not apprised of the

great calamity which had befallen me until my return to my desolate home

that evening. I will not attempt to depict the emotions of remorse,

anguish, almost despair, which struggled for mastery in my heart. There

are sorrows too deep for tears and griefs too sacred to be revealed.

I at once notified Dr. and Mrs. Harvey of the death of the daughter,

whose last, agonized cry had been for a mother’s forgiveness. My

preparations for the funeral completed, the form that had been so dear

in life and was so sacred to me, in its sleep of death was carried to

Roanoke and reverently laid to rest in the family burying ground. Revs.

Talbot and Johnson conducted the last sad religious rites.

The night following the funeral I passed under Dr. Harvey’s roof, and

for the first time in my life, was kindly entertained by my wife’s

parents. Soon after leaving the village, I arranged for the erection of

a suitable monument to mark the last resting place of my loved one.

The foot race for which I was in training at the time of my wife’s death

had been declared off, out of respect for my bereavement, and when I

returned to St. Louis I was without anything to engross my thoughts.

Then how many good resolutions did I form to abandon the vice, which in

the mood of repentance induced by my wife’s death, had grown not only

distasteful but actually abhorrent to me. I saw the degradation into

which I had fallen, and I resolved to make another effort to raise

myself from the slough into which I had sunk.

After remaining in St. Louis for about six months, in the fall of 1880 I

went to Little Rock, Arkansas, where I stumbled across the Mabel Norton

theatrical troupe, then under the management of John Hogan. The

combination had become financially stranded, and I advanced the

necessary funds, taking the position of treasurer. After visiting the

principal towns in the valley of the Arkansas river, we went to Eureka,

where I severed my connection with the company and returned to my evil

courses, opening several gambling houses. Here I formed the acquaintance

of a number of persons who I initiated into the mysteries of “brace”

games with a view to their becoming of assistance to me in the pursuit

of my nefarious calling.

While I was at the last mentioned resort I wrote to Mrs. Harvey,

recommending the waters for the use of her invalid daughter. Mother and

daughter both visited the springs, and while there treated me with

kindness and even cordiality. Their visit constituted the second

occasion on which I was allowed to associate with any of the family

except my wife. I felt that I was never justly entitled to their

consideration, yet they always demanded my esteem, if not my affection.

I remained at Eureka Springs for seven months, encountering varying

fortunes, when I again returned to my old home in Roanoke.

In the early fall of 1881, I received a despatch from Jem Sanford, a

professional gambler, to come to Chicago. The dispatch conveyed a

proposition to “take in” the fairs then being held in the surrounding

country. The proposal I readily accepted, and going to Chicago I united

my fortunes with the redoubtable Jem. Together we visited many county

fairs in the states of Indiana, Illinois and Missouri. Our outfit

consisted of marked cards, dice, spindles, a hap-hazard, and other

devices to defraud the unwary. Considered solely from a money making

standpoint our jaunt was a successful one. No games involving large

stakes were played, but we reaped a constant harvest of small sums from

the ignorance and stupidity of the country people.

At Marion, Indiana, however, while I was running a game of “hap-hazard”

on the fair ground, the game was discovered to be “skin.” I was

arrested, tried, and fined $25. I paid the fine and left the place

without delay.

At the end of the fair season we returned to St. Louis. I had determined

to locate in Chicago and thither I went later in the autumn. There I

became a member of the commission firm of Stockton, Young & Co., who

referred by permission to Wm. Young & Co., then the leading general

commission house of that city. I found operating on change different

from running a “squeeze spindle,” but the “squeezing” was effectually

accomplished in both cases. In the spring of 1882 the composition and

title of the firm was changed; Ben Demint was admitted to membership,

and the firm name became Stockton, Quinn & Co.

While a member of the firm, I was causelessly arrested for defrauding a

Mrs. Morgan out of $700. By way of defence I produced her receipt, and

was thereupon honorably discharged.

One day, while business was dull, Demint and I were chatting in our

office, when one of us (probably myself) proposed, in a spirit of

deviltry, to advertise for a wife. The suggestion was adopted, and the

day following the insertion of the advertisement we received fifty-six

replies. At the end of a week we had received answers from points as far

distant as New York and later from California and New Orleans. From the

beginning I regarded the whole project as a mere matter of passing

sport. Little did I think how potent an influence it was destined to

exert over my future life.

Among my correspondents was a handsome, petite Jewess, named Lily Boas,

whose acquaintance I formed, and by whom I was captivated at once. On

July 3, 1882, we went together to Milwaukee, where we were married. My

former experience in the matter of securing parental consent had not

been of a sort to encourage me to ask for it in this instance, and as my

fiance was content without it, we agreed to regard it as a needless

formality.

I was determined that my second wife should not be subjected to the

humiliating circumstances which had embittered the life of May. I

determined to abjure gambling then and forever. To remove myself from

the temptation, I determined to withdraw from business in Chicago, and

once more to take up my residence on my father’s farm. The monotony and

ceaseless toil of a farmer’s life were irksome to me, but I hoped to

find in them a refuge from my overweaning passion. Better the dullness

of a plodding routine than the fitful excitement of a gambler’s

checkered life; better an aching body than a ruined soul.

For a year I led a rural life, and in September, 1883, I removed to St.

Louis. There I found employment with McDonald’s Detective Agency, whose

proprietors I faithfully served for two years, retaining their

confidence at the termination of our relations. While with this concern,

I returned to my former pursuits, running games at fairs, picnics, etc.,

and on excursion boats.

While living in St. Louis at this time, I became involved in two or

three transactions which brought me into some unpleasant notoriety. The

first was in connection with the sale of a saloon, known as the “White

Elephant,” on 6th Street, near Chestnut. I had an interest in this

place, jointly, with a man named Henry W. Huthsing. Huthsing sold out

the business to one Fred. Beckerer, of East St. Louis, for $1,900.

Payment was made in nineteen $100 four per cent. U. S. bonds, and my

partner, finding that the premiums and accrued interest amounted to $375

gave Beckerer his check for that sum, greatly to the latter’s surprise.

Becoming dissatisfied with his bargain, the purchaser set up the claim

that the bottles and barrels in the place were chiefly filled with

water, a statement which was utterly untrue. He brought suit against us

and caused our arrest. Our experience before trial was not of a

character seriously to impress us with respect either for the

administration of justice or for the integrity of some of the legal

luminaries of the St. Louis bar. We gave bonds in $1,000 each, signed by

Henry W. Godfrey, an old-time gambler and well-known in the courts of

that city. We retained as counsel ex-judge Wm. Jones and C. R. Taylor,

paying them retainers of $50 and $100 respectively. When the case was

first called, Jones demanded $50 additional, having ascertained that

Taylor had received $100. The demand was accompanied with a threat of

withdrawing from the defense and allying himself with the prosecution,

and we complied with his request. The case was continued, and soon

afterward we gave Godfrey $300 upon his representation that the

prosecuting attorney, R. S. McDonald, had agreed to dismiss the suit.

What became of the money I cannot tell, but Godfrey repeatedly told us

that he had given McDonald $250, and we supposed that the matter was

settled. Several months later we were surprised to learn that the case

was about to be called again. Huthsing was obliged to give Judge Jones

his note for $100 to appear and defend. The day before that set for the

trial Jones wrote to Mrs. Huthsing that the note must be paid at once or

he would refuse to appear. The money was not paid and we were

accordingly deprived of the valuable services of the “Hon.” (?) Judge

Jones. I gave another attorney, Col. Nat. Claibourn $10 to move for a

continuance, which was granted, and subsequently retained ex-Governor

Charles P. Johnson, as our attorney. The case was called on January 16,

1887, and at the request of my counsel, I was granted a separate trial.

At the suggestion of Gov. Johnson, the evidence was submitted without

argument to the jury, who re-entered the court room in exactly nineteen

minutes with a verdict of acquittal. The case against Huthsing was then

dismissed. Thus the “White Elephant” was disposed of and the cheerful

prophecy of the St. Louis _Globe-Democrat_ came to naught; that paper

had said before the trial, “the way things look, it appears that softly

the cuckoo is calling for Quinn to come up the road.”

Another unpleasant experience of mine while sojourning in St. Louis was

in connection with the Van Hennessey-Wolff “gold brick” swindling case

in 1885, in which one U. S. Wolff, of Madison, Indiana, was defrauded of

$5,000. The victim offered a reward for the apprehension of the man who

had defrauded him. The matter received wide publication and attracted

general attention. A detective named Page, came to St. Louis with the

papers necessary to secure the extradition of Van Hennessey.

I knew Van Hennessey only too well, and had no reason to regard him with

affection. I had advanced to him some $1,200 to embark in the business

of running a Wild West show, no part of which sum had been returned, and

he had given me a note for $700, which I yet hold. I had pawned my own

watch and chain and my wife’s diamond ear drops to obtain the money. The

stock was to have been mine, but I discovered too late that Van

Hennessey and his brother John had mortgaged it for its full value.

While my child was ill I asked John Hennessey for money with which to

buy medicine, and was refused, although I knew that he had several

hundred dollars in his pocket at the time. When the Indiana detective

appeared upon the scene I thought my time had come. I accordingly

proposed to point out his game, knowing that the man he wanted was in

Tennessee. The result was an arrangement that Page (the detective), one

Backenstoe, and my brother should proceed to Tennessee, where they

should collect my note and then allow Hennessey to go. The amount to be

collected was to be divided equally between Page and myself, after

Backenstoe had been reimbursed for the money he was to advance for

expenses.

In the meantime, a wealthy man of Nashville, Tennessee, by the name of

Oscar F. Noel, had been swindled out of $6,000 by the gold brick scheme,

and when they arrived in Tennessee they found that Hennessey was then

engaged in a similar enterprise to defraud a man from Marietta, Georgia.

They soon found their man, whom my brother captured at the point of a

pistol. On their return trip they stopped at Nashville, where Hennessey

said that he could raise the $700. They placed him under the care of my

brother, and Page went out for a little while on “business.” About ten

o’clock that evening the latter returned with an officer, representing

the authorities of Nashville, to whom he turned over Hennessey, on the

charge of swindling Noel, receiving for his services in that connection,

it was said, the sum of $1,150. The Indiana requisition was returned and

Hennessey was tried, convicted, and sentenced to the Tennessee

penitentiary for a term of five years. After serving two years in prison

Hennessey was pardoned. He was brought to St. Louis a hopeless

consumptive, and died in a few days. The next result of the expedition

was that Backenstoe was “out” the money advanced for expenses. I found

the amount of my note to be a permanent investment, and my brother was

obliged to pawn his pistol to obtain money with which to get home. The

detective, after the manner of many of his class, “sold out” not only

us, but his state as well, and was probably well satisfied with himself.

This was the era when the gold brick swindlers were reaping a rich

harvest, and I was induced, through cupidity and vicious propensities,

to embark in that line of operations myself. I soon got into trouble. In

September, 1886, in company with a party known as “Doc” Kerns, I was

arrested at St. Louis, charged with attempting to sell a bogus brick to

one Bob Basket, of Howard County, Missouri. While we were held in jail a

Jew named Levi Stortz, a small manufacturer of jewelry, came to the Four

Courts and identified me as one of the men from whom he had bought one

of these fraudulent articles. A formal charge was thereupon made against

me, and Kerns was liberated. I was released on $1,500 bail, John Vittie

becoming my surety. Ex-Governor Johnson being absent from the city, John

I. Martin was employed as my attorney on the strength of his

representations that he “could influence” the judges. Stortz had sworn

that he paid $3,700 for the bogus brick on July 15. Mr. Martin and I

went together to St. Paul, Minnesota, where we obtained depositions from

the proprietor of a hotel where I had stopped, and from the cashier of

the city water works, and several other business men to the effect that

I was in that city on July 12th, and for two weeks thereafter.

Several months after my arrest, two men, named Frank Aldrich and “Billy”

Adkins called on me, and the former told me that he had been the cause

of my arrest. He said that he had induced Stortz to make the charge

because he had understood that I was endeavoring to have him sent to the

penitentiary. He added that he had offered $100 to a grocer on Jefferson

Avenue to go to the jail and identify me as the swindler who had tried

to defraud him in a similar way. The latter part of this story was

corroborated by Adkins, who said that he had been present at the time.

Aldrich also stated that he had endeavored to retain Governor Johnson to

assist in my prosecution, but that the latter had refused to entertain

the proposition. He went on to express his deep regret for all this,

saying that he wished to “bury the hatchet,” and as an earnest of his

desire to make atonement he handed me two ten dollar bills. Before going

to St. Paul I had myself retained Governor Johnson as counsel and he

forwarded a letter from Aldrich sent in his care, offering to establish

an alibi for me by swearing that I was with him in Chicago at the time

named by Stortz. This offer was indignantly rejected. All the facts were

brought to the notice of the prosecuting attorney, and as a result the

case was dropped.

I now come to the recital of the gloomiest chapter in my life’s history,

a chapter of legalized intimidation, of perjury and the subornation of

perjury, and of gross and wanton outrage upon personal liberty committed

in the name of justice and under the forms of law. I refer to my arrest,

trial and incarceration in the Southern Penitentiary of Indiana for a

crime of which I was as innocent as any of my readers and the

perpetrators of which, were to me entirely unknown. On August 7, 1887,

accompanied by “Doc” Kerns and John Forbes, I left St. Louis by way of

Terre Haute, at which place our party stopped for a few days. While

eating supper at a restaurant, two strangers, who afterwards proved to

be detectives, entered and accosted Kerns, who soon called me forward

and introduced me. These men, whose names were Vandeveer and Murphy,

placed us under arrest and took us to police headquarters, whither

Forbes was soon brought by Vandeveer and Chief Lawler.

Some two months before this a farmer by the name of Zach Deputy, living

near North Vernon, Ind., had been victimized by three confidence men to

the tune of $3,000, and it was this offense which was laid at our door.

Upon our arrival at headquarters, an effort was made to extort money

from us under the guise of “a compromise.” Had we been actually guilty,

this would, of course, have been an attempt to compound a felony, but

for that, these zealous officials, who had been sworn to enforce the law

whose majesty they so flagrantly violated, cared little. The proposition

was declined, and we were searched, when it was disclosed that our

entire cash assets aggregated $8.65.

After we had been placed in jail, we were visited by an alleged lawyer

calling himself Thomas Harper, who was permitted to interview us by the

grace of the police authorities. He wanted $100 for services which he

offered to render in the capacity of attorney. We declined his proposal

and he indignantly spurned our suggestion that $10 were probably all

that his services were worth. On the following Sunday Vandeveer called

on us, but we refused to recognize him, and on Monday morning the

authorities telegraphed to Webb Benton, a North Vernon detective that

they were holding the men who had fleeced Deputy. On receiving the

telegram Benton took with him a livery stable keeper named Burge and

started to convey the tidings to the old farmer. He had previously

offered a reward of $200 for the arrest of the guilty parties, and was

easily persuaded to enter into a written contract to pay the sum of $300

if Benton and Burge would point out to him the men who had robbed him.

This having been done, the trio went to Terre Haute, and the three

prisoners were brought before Deputy for identification. After he had

looked us thoroughly over, Benton asked him if he recognized us. The old

man shook his head, but pointing to Kerns said: “That man looks some

like one of them, but he is too small.” Thereupon Chief Lawler and

Vandeveer sent for Kerns and advised him to settle the matter by paying

$1,500. “Doc” replied that he had nothing to settle. Then the officers

suggested $1,000, but Kerns still proved obdurate. In order to secure

the $200 reward it was absolutely necessary that Deputy should identify

us as the men who had swindled him. To induce him to do this, Lawler and

Vandeveer told him that we had just robbed a country bank of $6,000, and

that if he would swear that we were the right parties, we would gladly

settle with him. This line of argument overcame his scruples and he at

once swore out warrants for us. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to add that

the $200 reward was promptly demanded and eventually paid.

The next day (Tuesday) we were arraigned for the preliminary

examination, Tom Harper, the alleged lawyer aforementioned, who had

indignantly shaken the dust of our cells off of his feet a few days

before, now appeared in the role of our attorney and asked for a

continuance. We promptly repudiated him, and Forbes told the court that

we would waive examination. Accordingly we were remanded to jail, and

the next day were taken to Brownstown, the county seat of the county in

which the crime had been committed. It was a slight mitigation of our

condition to be placed in the custody of Sheriff Wicks, whose kindness

was in delightful contrast to the blackmailing tactics of the police

officials of Terre Haute. Thomas Harper, Esq., who had so magnanimously

volunteered to ask for a continuance which we did not wish, easily

obtained possession of the watches taken from Kerns and Forbes by the

police, and retained them, alleging that he had a lien of $200 upon them

for his professional (?) services. They were subsequently redeemed by

Al. Burkey, of St. Louis, who paid that amount to the over-zealous

practitioner, when the watches were sent C. O. D.

At Brownstown we retained Lon Brenneman, a lawyer of some local

reputation. The next morning we telegraphed to Lieut. Governor Smith, of

North Vernon, who came to us at once, and agreed to appear in our

behalf. The Friday following, we had a preliminary hearing before a

justice of the peace. At that examination Deputy, under oath, identified

Kerns, because he was “bald-headed,” although he admitted that he was

smaller in stature and lighter in build than at the time when he alleged

that he committed the crime. He explained this discrepancy by swearing

that he believed the prisoner’s clothes were stuffed when he first saw

him, and added that on that occasion Kerns wore false whiskers. On

cross-examination the witness admitted having been instructed by Lawler

and Vandeveer to identify us as the men who had robbed him, because he

would thus recover his money and also admitted the making of the

contract with Burton and Burge. On this evidence we were held for trial

on September 12, in bonds of $3,000 each.

Gov. Smith, our counsel, strongly urged us to retain Jason B. Brown,

Esq., to which suggestion we assented. He himself went to Kansas City

and St. Joseph, Mo., to obtain depositions in our behalf. These were

secured from reputable citizens of those cities, and established the

fact that we were not in the state of Indiana at the time Deputy swore

that we had defrauded him.

The trial came off on the day appointed. Our consciousness of innocence

made us confident, and we asked for no delay. Deputy repeated his story

as told at the preliminary hearing, adding this time that when he first

saw us we all wore false whiskers and wigs and all had our clothes

stuffed out until we must have resembled a group of veritable Daniel

Lamberts. He not only made the same damaging admissions as before on

cross-examination, but also acknowledged that he had agreed to pay the

prosecuting attorney $500 in the event of our conviction, or 25 per

cent. of any money that we might pay by way of compromise.

Burge, the North Vernon liveryman, from whom the three swindlers had

hired rigs, swore that we looked like the precious trio. He also

testified to the fact that a gray horse was attached to one of the

buggies. In this latter statement he was corroborated by all the

witnesses but one, who, however, was positive in his identification of

us. Others swore to having seen us in the neighborhood about the time of

the robbery. This constituted the case for the state.

For the defence, were read the depositions taken in Missouri, which have

been already referred to as establishing an alibi on the part of Kerns,

and in addition witnesses were introduced in behalf of Forbes and

myself, who swore positively that we were both at St. Joseph, Missouri,

on the day when the complaining witness was defrauded. Among these were

Harry Trimble, now the clerk of Judge Baker’s court in Chicago, and

James Whitten, a responsible real estate owner of St. Joseph, both of

whom were well acquainted with me. It is worthy of remark that Mr.

Trimble was immediately arrested on the charge of perjury after giving

his testimony, but it is needless to add that he was never tried.

In addition, a number of prominent citizens of North Vernon who had seen

and remembered the men who had swindled Deputy were positive that we

were not the parties. Among these was a Mr. Curtis, a wealthy stock man

and the marshal of the town; another was a responsible merchant, and yet

another Mr. Douglas Snodgrass, proprietor of the Snodgrass House at

North Vernon, where the swindlers had stopped on the day of the

perpetration of the crime, and where one of them had stayed for a week

previously. The latter was corroborated by his wife, mother and three

sisters.

After being repeatedly urged by me, my counsel, Honorable Jason B.

Brown, called for the production of the contract between Deputy and the

prosecuting attorney, in which demand he was sustained by the court. The

attorney, Douglas Long, rising with flushed face and hang-dog air

admitted the existence of the contract but stated that it was not in his

power to produce it. This satisfied the court and the matter was not

pressed.

While the trial was in progress, I observed in the court room the

presence of a man whose name and residence were subsequently learned. He

was one Higgins, and he came from Detroit. It was also afterwards

ascertained that he had attended in the interest of Charles Stewart, Ed.

Rice and “Punch” Mason, the actual robbers. He appeared nervous and

deeply interested, and before the proceedings were over left the town,

ostensibly for Detroit, saying that he was going for the purpose of

raising money to clear the three innocent men then on trial. Although he

did not return, this incident furnished a clue to the guilty parties and

their whereabouts. After the rendition of the verdict, I laid these

facts before Sheriff Byrnes and warrants were obtained for the arrest of

the parties named.

Our trial consumed five days, and during its entire progress popular

sentiment against us ran very high. In the streets of Brownstown, the

demonstrations were almost riotous. Bonfires were lighted in the evening

and threats of violence were freely and openly made. The jurymen were

undoubtedly aware of these facts and were probably not uninfluenced by

them. We were informed that no man charged with crime, however innocent

he might be, could be acquitted in Brownstown “unless he brought his

jury with him,” and were asked to advance thirty-five dollars to be used

in “convincing” seven of the jurors.

After the evidence was all in, my counsel, Col. Brown, addressed the

jury in stentorian tones. His plea was alleged to be in our behalf, but

at its close I found it necessary to ask him on which side of the case

he had been speaking. The prosecuting attorney demanded a conviction (in

which he was ably seconded by the howling mob outside), the jury, and

the twelve “good men and true” withdrew from the courtroom, ostensibly

to weigh the evidence, but in reality to formulate a predetermined

verdict of guilty. Their foreman announced their conclusion (?) upon

their return, and the farce was over. For some unexplained reason Col.

Brown had retired from the room, during the absence of the jury, and it

devolved upon Lieut. Gov. Smith to make the stereotyped motion for a new

trial, which was promptly over-ruled.

The verdict fell with crushing effect upon my wife, who had been at

Brownstown throughout the trial, and whose natural grief at the

conviction of a husband whom she knew to be innocent, was rendered more

poignant by the reflection that she and her only child would be now

thrown upon the “cold mercy of an unfeeling world.”

I made a personal appeal to the presiding judges to defer sentence,

urging that I would be able to introduce additional and stronger proof

of my innocence, and in all probability to trace the parties really

guilty. My prayer was of no avail, and we were then and there sentenced

to three years’ imprisonment in the penitentiary at Jeffersonville. I

forbear to comment upon what I feel satisfied the reader will agree with

me in regard to the indecent haste of these proceedings.

That night we passed in the county jail, which was doubly guarded, with

a view to our protection against the angry, yelling crowd outside, which

surged backward and forward through the streets, rending the air with

demoniac shouts and clamoring for our execution by the light of the

great bonfire, whose livid flames danced fitfully upon the walls of our

prison. The next morning, in charge of Sheriff P. T. Byrnes, one of

nature’s nobleman, we started for Jeffersonville. We were permitted to

stop at the Snodgrass House, to say good bye to the family who, at the

risk of their own popularity and that of their hostelry had so zealously

yet fruitlessly identified themselves with our cause. They had kind

words for us in that hour of our humiliation and distress, and their

generous sympathy stirred us as nothing yet—not even the murderous mob,

thirsting for our blood—had stirred us; we broke down and wept. At

Seymour the train was boarded by that matchless orator, that eminent

jurist, that advocate without a peer, the great, the only Col. Jason B.

Brown. Words of honeyed cheer fell from his lips like rain, but alas,

they were not as “water to a thirsty land.” We had lost faith in the

redoubtable Colonel, and his assurance that he would “have us out of

prison in a week” fell upon our ears like the hollow echo of a mocking

laugh.

Arriving at the penitentiary, we went through the customary routine. The

necessary descriptions were entered, the formal minute of our

conviction, the county from which received, the crime charged, length of

sentence, etc., etc., was made. We were given the regulation bath, duly

shaved by the convict barber, and then we donned the stripes, that badge

of infamy which burns into the soul as the branding iron into the

quivering flesh. We were assigned to labor in the shoe-shop.

I feel that it would be folly for me to hope to convey to the reader who

has never tasted of the bitterness of prison life even a faint idea of

the feelings of him who for the first time enters the gloomy gates of a

penitentiary to do the State involuntary service as a felon. The

overwhelming sense of shame, the sickening feeling of isolation from all

that makes life sweet, the bitter memories of the past that crowd, like

a horde of mocking demons, upon the brain—all these might well plunge

into an agony of despairing grief, a stouter heart than mine. Nor is the

unvarying routine of prison life calculated to draw a man from that

self-contemplation which is at once the most tiresome and the most

dangerous of all mental exercises. I shall never be able to recall

without a shudder those wearisome days of bootless toil, rendered all

the more unbearable by the alternation of those dark nights of

loneliness;—nights whose bleak shadows were deepened rather than

dispelled by memories of home, of wife and child, and of all that the

heart holds dear. It is out of the utter agony of such a life that the

helpless soul turns to its Creator as its sole remaining refuge, or in

the bitterness of its torment curses even Him who made it.

After Sheriff Byrnes had safely landed us in the penitentiary, he

proceeded to Indianapolis with the warrants for the arrest of Stewart,

Rice and Mason, for the purpose of securing requisitions for their

surrender. I had had a surfeit not only of Indiana justice but of

Indiana lawyers as well. I therefore wrote to St. Louis and retained the

services of Ex-Gov. Johnson. He came to the prison and learned from me

all the facts of the case. Forthwith he set about securing the

extradition of the guilty parties from Canada, whither they had fled.[A]

-----

Footnote A:

In her anxiety to secure the release of her husband, Mrs. Kerns went

to Detroit to see Higgins. Stewart was there in Windsor, Can., where

Mrs. Kerns and Higgins found him. He politely handed her twenty

dollars and told her to return home as “as every one must skin his own

eel.” That was the only satisfaction she obtained.

-----

It will not be out of place here to recount the heroic and magnanimous

(?) zeal which Col. Jason B. Brown displayed in our behalf in due time.

Some three weeks after our incarceration he made his appearance at the

penitentiary and requested an interview with us. He did not leave us

long in ignorance as to the object of his visit. He told us that old

Deputy had been in debt to the amount of about $6,000 before that

unlucky day, when, at one fell swoop, he lost both his $3,000 and his

confidence in mankind. “If,” said the Colonel, “Mr. Deputy’s debt could

be squared up, I could arrange to have you pardoned in about ten days.”

This generous proposal being “declined with thanks,” he suggested

$3,000, and later $2,000 as a sum the payment of which might at once

convincingly prove our penitence and measurably solace Mr. Deputy under

his existing weight of misfortune. Finding his mission fruitless he left

us, but subsequently opened a correspondence, in the course of which he

offered to accept $1,000, which sum he gradually reduced to $300, as the

price which we were to pay in consideration of being pardoned for an

offense which we had never committed. These letters, of course, were

read by Mr. James Patton, the warden of the prison, who advised us to

have nothing to do with Col. Brown, inasmuch as he was quite as likely

to oppose our pardon as to champion it.

Meanwhile, requisition papers had been obtained from the Governor and

sent to Detroit by Sheriff Byrnes. The Detroit authorities showed great

vigilance. A watch was placed upon the houses in that city where the

families of the guilty parties resided, as well as upon their accustomed

haunts. The result was that one night in November, 1887, Stewart and

Rice were arrested at their homes and Mason at a gambling hell. Although

a messenger was despatched to Rice to warn him of the impending danger,

the police were on the alert, and he was brought to headquarters within

a few hours after his confederates. Sheriff Byrnes was notified and went

to Detroit at once. For five weeks the rascals fought extradition in the

courts, and the sheriff was offered $1,000 to drop the prosecution, an

offer which he indignantly spurned.

While in jail, the prisoners were photographed. Rice was obstinate and

had to be held during the operation, in consequence of which the picture

obtained showed him with closed eyes and open mouth. Poor as the

likeness was, however, it was recognized by no less than ten persons as

that of the man who had stopped at the Snodgrass House in North Vernon

on the day when Deputy had been victimized. The other two were easily

identified, and Stewart was recognized as the man who had boarded at

that hotel for a week preceding the crime. When the Detroit court

finally directed the surrender of the prisoners to the Indiana

authorities, there ensued an attempt to rescue them by force, but the

officers succeeded in placing them in a wagon in which they were driven

to the Indiana State line. Albert Boebritz, a detective, and James J.

Houston, a deputy sheriff, both of Detroit, accompanied the party to

Brownstown.

The best legal talent of the State, including such eminent advocates as

United States Senator Dan Voorhees and John Lamb, of Terre Haute, were

engaged for the defense. The trial was had in January, 1888. The accused

were positively identified by twenty-three reputable witnesses, among

them all the members of the Snodgrass family. The fact of their driving

out of town on the morning of the day of the robbery with two of Burge’s

teams, was also established, and a liveryman from Kentucky testified to

their having hired a rig from him.

It grieves me to say that the aged Deputy and Colonel Jason B. Brown did

not appear in a favorable light in connection with the investigation.

Relying upon the assurance that the nature of his evidence should be

kept secret, the old farmer went before the grand jury and identified

the men then accused, virtually admitting that he had lied while giving

his testimony at our trial. It was also learned afterwards that the

unsophisticated old man, under the tutelage of the astute Col. Jason B.

Brown, had received from Stewart and company $1,000 not to appear as a

witness against them at the trial, and had been promised the remaining

$2,000 of his loss immediately upon their acquittal. Kerns, Forbes and

myself were brought from the penitentiary to testify that we were not

within the State at the time the crime was committed. Upon our parole to

accompany the officers quietly and make no attempt to escape, we were

permitted to go without hand-cuffs in custody of Deputy Warden Barnes

and Mr. Lemons, one of the guards. At Brownstown we were kindly treated,

occupying a private room in the sheriff’s house.

After the case of Stewart, Rice and Mason had been submitted to the jury

and that body had deliberated for thirty-six hours, a ballot showed

eleven for conviction and one for acquittal. Finally the jury returned,

announcing that an agreement was impossible and they were discharged. It

was understood that the final vote was nine to three in favor of

conviction. Sheriff Byrnes had predicted a disagreement from the first.

He had himself been offered $500 if he could induce the court to reduce

the prisoners’ bonds to $1,000 each, and afterward said that he had

learned that Philip Davis, one of the jurors, had been promised $300 and

an increase in his pension if he would “hang” the jury. It is

unnecessary to state that the sheriff rejected the offer, but the judge,

Collins, saw fit, of his own motion, to make the desired reduction. The

prisoners then gave bail and fled the country, their bonds being

declared forfeited at the next term of court.

The officers of the penitentiary now took an active interest in securing

our release. A strong petition for pardon based upon the allegation of

our innocence, was addressed to Governor Gray and was endorsed by

Senator Voorhees and John Lamb, counsel for Stewart, Rice and Mason, who

not only wrote to, but also personally called upon, the executive,

Governor Johnson of Missouri, rendered invaluable service in securing

favorable action upon the petition. He demanded, not clemency, but

justice. He had sifted and weighed all the evidence bearing upon the

case, and he spoke with no uncertain sound. Words such as his, prompted

by the deliberate judgment, unerring instincts and warm heart of one of

the greatest criminal lawyers of the Mississippi Valley, could not fail

to carry weight. The result was inevitable. The executive of the State

in whose so-called courts of justice we had suffered such a grievious

wrong, restored to us our liberty and citizenship by his pardon. But to

remove from us the stigma of the felon, to atone for the weary months of

suffering which we had undergone, in a word, to put us back where we

were upon the morning of that day when we first became entangled in the

machinations of that diabolical plot,—these were boons which even this

great seal of the Sovereign State of Indiana could not bestow.

In a private letter written by Governor Johnson some months ago in

reference to this matter he says:

ST. LOUIS, May 4, 1889.

_Dear Sir_:—Your letter of inquiry as to Mr. John Quinn is received.

Permit me to say in response, that if ever there was a case of

judicial wrong and oppression, he has the misfortune of affording the

illustration. At the solicitation of his friends I became his attorney

after conviction and sentence, and visited him in prison, at

Jeffersonville, Indiana, where I heard the statement of the facts in

his case. I immediately went to work to find out the truth of the

recital. I examined into the matter exhaustively and became convinced

of his innocence of the perpetration of the crime charged against him.

I collected all the facts and circumstances going to show that my

opinion was correct and worthy of consideration, and in laying them

before Gov. Gray, of Indiana, he righted a great wrong and pardoned

him. He is not the first man in my experience who has suffered so

great a misfortune. I am very truly yours,

CHAS. P. JOHNSON, Atty.

Of my prison life I care to say but little here. Not that my memory of

it has grown indistinct, or that I might not say something that would

awaken interest. To dwell upon it in detail in this place would swell to

too great dimensions a sketch which has already outgrown my original

intention. It is enough to say that I was what is known as a “good”

convict, respectful in my demeanor to the officials and yielding

unhesitating obedience to every command. I think that I do not

exaggerate when when I say that I won and retained the confidence of the

officers, from whom I received every kindness compatible with the

necessarily inexorable discipline of a penal institution. I shall always

recall with gratitude the generous words of encouragement repeatedly

spoken to me by the warden and his deputy and by many of the guards, and

notably from Messrs. Miller and Wilkinson. In the solitude of my

workbench and cell I had ample leisure to reflect upon the follies of my

youth, and the graver offences of my maturer years. My wasted life, with

its miserable vacillation of purpose, passed before me in all its

shameful reality of color. While cleaning out the rubbish from under my

bench one day, I picked up a battered Testament, upon the fly leaf of

which were written the words, “From your broken-hearted wife.” The

entire sacred volume contains no more touching epitome of a blighted

existence than was laid before me in this inscription, with its pregnant

suggestion of early love, girlish confidence, marriage, womanly love,

home, perhaps paternity, crime, misery, punishment, and, at the end, the

despair of a broken heart. But I do not intend to moralize. It is enough

to say that within those four stone walls in which I passed so many

sleepless nights, and behind that grated door which so effectually

barred all communication with the outer world, I felt the first emotions

of what I still believe to have been true penitence. To prove it such

shall be the aim of my future life. Acting under these newly found

impulses, I became the teacher of a Sunday school class, and was one of

the ten convicts who founded, under the supervision of Chaplain

Bornhill, a Young Men’s Christian Association within the prison walls. I

was made assistant librarian—under Mr. Martin, a lifetime prisoner—and

entrusted with the writing of a considerable proportion of prisoner’s

letters to their friends.

I entered the penitentiary on Sept. 19, 1887, and just two months

afterwards I received the most severe blow of my life. It happened on

Thanksgiving day. On the recurrence of anniversaries such as this, one’s

mind naturally reverts to thoughts of home and kindred. On this

particular day I was lying upon my prison bunk, lost in a day dream of

my wife and child, when my musings were suddenly broken off by the

abrupt announcement of the death of my darling, my only, boy. The shock

of the awakening was too great for me to endure, and I fell senseless on

the stone pavement of my cell, nor was I able for days to realize the

overwhelming force of the blow that had stunned me.

I have already said that my wife was with me during my trial at

Brownstown. She also visited me twice during my imprisonment in the

penitentiary, and on both occasions had expressed unshaken confidence in

my innocence and had assured me of her unswerving fidelity to her early

love. Very precious to me were these pledges of undying constancy, and

on my part I had vowed that not even death itself should ever abate my

love for her. Her letters, down to April 15, 1888, overflowed with

tender sentiment. She gently chided me for even seeming to question her

devotion to me in my hour of darkest need. It may conceived, therefore,

with what mingled emotions of astonishment and grief I received from

her, on May 5, the following letter:

“CHICAGO, May 5th, 1888.

JOHN:

Yours received. I had hoped your attorney would inform you of my

intentions. * * * I have studied long and earnestly, and have

concluded that this is best for me. I do this of my own free will. It

was my intention to wait until you were free, but it is best to be

candid with you now. You know the way we have lived in our six years

of married life. There was nothing but sorrow and poverty. You took me

from a good home, to which I have returned, and I hope you will leave

me in peace. Heaven knows I pity you, but look deep into your heart,

and see if you can drag my young life further, as it has been. I don’t

wish you to blame anyone for this but myself, and I don’t wish to have

further correspondence with you. If you have anything further to say

you can say it through your attorney; but don’t expect a reply, as I

have filed for a divorce. Wishing you good luck and a speedy release,

I am,

Yours respectfully,

MRS. LILY QUINN.”

This blow, following close upon the death of my little boy, well nigh

prostrated me. I saw that I was also to lose my wife. Only the Searcher

of all hearts knows the depth of my affection for the mother of my

child, since whose death she had seemed doubly dear to me. The thought

of her had been, next to my newly found trust in an all-merciful

Providence, my main-stay amid the misfortunes which had engulfed me; and

when I had thought of my release from prison (and at what hour of the

day did I not think of it?), I had looked forward to her affectionate

companionship as the only refuge and solace of my earthly life.

I well knew on what grounds she would demand her divorce. The State of

Indiana had branded me as a convict, and this was enough, in the eye of

the law, to release her from a yoke which she had come to regard as

galling. Defence was impossible. Nor did I hope to be able to move her

heart by entreaty. Yet I could not forbear to write to her once again,

even if only to say farewell. As this last letter of mine embodies my

inmost feeling at the time, I venture to hope that the reader who has

honored me with his interest up to this point of my narrative may pardon

me if I transcribe it here. It ran as follows:

“JEFFERSONVILLE Penitentiary, May 13, 1888.

MY DEAR WIFE:

I feel that I cannot say anything to do justice in this case. But as

an act of justice to God and our child in heaven; to you in Chicago,

to myself in the penitentiary, I will make this feeble effort.

I am alone in my little home—a cell of 6 by 8 feet,—suffering my own

afflictions, and knowing it is far beyond my power to touch your

strange heart in sympathy; after what you have done to one you once

loved, and one who loves you still.

I do not blame you for trying to get my attorney to impart the sad

information to me, for your own conscience’s sake. I know it was a

hard trial to tell me what you have written, knowing I am innocent of

the crime for which I am placed here.

You tell me you did it with your own free will. Let us not question

the cause, but the effect. It is—that much we know. You say: “Heaven

knows I pity you.” If this is what you call pity, Heaven forgive those

who despise. You say, “I took you from a good home, and from a father

and mother who love you.” You ask me to look deep into my heart; that

I have done. Never did I forsake a friend while in trouble.

Let me ask you to seek seclusion in your own unhappy reflection. Sit

down quietly and let conscience penetrate the deepest recesses of your

heart, and you will right this terrible wrong. You act as though God

was asleep, and his all-merciful care was dormant.

You say you do not wish any further correspondence with me. Are you so

cruel after exchanging so many testimonials of affection with me

during the past six years? There is a letter in the office, addressed

“Dear Wife” to you. There is a little boy above us, looking down on us

both.

You have clung to me in many trials of adversity, and have proved to

be a brave, sweet little woman. I have neglected God for you, and it

may be better that this has happened now, for the day might come when

I would be dependent on you, and you cast me into the poor house.

When I go out of this prison I shall begin a new life; as the woodsman

in the forest hews out a new home. Where, I do not know, but will

trust to the kind hand of Providence to direct me. You conclude your

letter by saying you wish me “good luck and a speedy release.” I thank

you for that. You know I am overpowered, I surrender. I am not a

William Tell, and feel that any attempt to keep your affections would

be ineffectual.

I have had many trials. I have dwelt in the mansion of sorrow and

pain. I have associated with the neglected and forsaken here, and have

listened to the sad stories of those whom their wives have forsaken,

with tears in my eyes. But the husbands of these wives were guilty.

But that my own dear wife, whom I love so devotedly, should forsake me

in the hour of trouble, when she knows I am innocent, is a heaviness

of sorrow of which there can be no avoidance,—the severity of a mental

torture from which there can be no escape. It forms a complication of

horrors that will impel me to a convict’s grave.

Since you have turned from this scene of distress, it has shown me

that interest alone moves you, since by your actions you punish

misfortune as crime, and raise crime to a level with misfortune. Have

you forgotten the last night in the jail at Brownstown, where you said

you would never forsake me, knowing that I was not guilty? Did you not

tell Mrs. Withy you would never forsake me? No, never; that I had been

so good to you? And so many letters I have received to the same

effect. Your letter before the last one addresses me as “Dear

husband.” * * * Quite a change in so short a time.

Let us hope that mamma, Georgie and papa may some time occupy one of

those beautiful mansions prepared by the Friend of sinners, which will

prove as happy as the one at 1405 Olive Street, four years ago the

29th of last April, when our child was born. O, wife; if you could

only stand at the foot of my old straw bed and hear my cries, you

would weep for me.

Did we then think that this would ever happen? No, no, no. If I had

thought so, you would have heard the cries and groans, and witnessed

the streaming tears, and more than mortal anguish of a broken-hearted

husband, who is now in the penitentiary, innocent, yet forsaken by the

mother of his child, my wife.

The fatal blow falls hard upon me. In this hour of my deepest woe,

weakness seems to have seized upon me for my total destruction. Every

poisoned shaft, which malice could invent, has been hurled against me.

Our child has been dead nearly six months, and I have not yet heard

the story of his sickness. You began it in one of your letters (now

before me) when the doctor came in and told you that he would not live

thirty-six hours. You screamed, and the poor little darling put his

arms around your neck and said: “Mamma, don’t cry; I won’t die.” You

then walked him over and showed him my picture, and asked him who it

was. “That’s my papa,” was the reply. * * *

When I realize that you know I am innocent and utterly powerless, I

shrink with pain to think that the wound of my child’s death has only

began to heal when it is made to bleed afresh from the blow of an iron

hammer in the hands of my wife, the mother of my child. * * *

You have filed an application for divorce. Now comes the struggle. I

love you too well to oppose it if you ask for it. If you have asked

for it because I am in the penitentiary, change your complaint, for

you will have to make oath, and you know I am innocent, to which you

must swear. * * * Place it upon any other grounds and I will sign the

necessary papers.

Of course it is nothing to you now whether I stay here or not. I may

tell you that Mrs. Forbes and Mrs. Kerns will be here to meet their

husbands at the old iron door, and take them back to their affection.

Who will meet me and take my hand? I will stand alone. Where will I

go? * * * If you won’t come send Fankie (an adopted boy). I will let

him tell me what to do.

May God forgive and direct you in the path of virtue and truth, is the

prayer of your affectionate husband.

JOHN QUINN.

P. S.—I will say good-bye with the last words of our baby’s prayer:

‘God bless mamma and papa, grandma and grandpa, and everybody. Amen.’”

I was pardoned November 9, 1888, and two days later, when the long hoped

for document reached the prison, I was discharged. I was at liberty, but

carried in my heart a double desolation. Not for me did the sun shine

and the face of Nature smile. In a cemetery at St. Louis was a little

grave that held the sacred dust of the being once dearest to me on

earth, and in my heart I carried the tomb of a buried hope.

My foreman in the prison shop, Mr. George H. Eastman, welcomed me to

liberty, and invited me to his house, where I was most hospitably

entertained for a week. I next went to St. Louis, but remained only one

day; long enough to gaze once more at the home where I had last lived

with my wife and child, now gone from me forever. A sense of utter

loneliness came over me; the world seemed strange; my identity was all

that I could call my own.

From St. Louis I came to Chicago, where I sought out my old friend and

quondam partner, Ben Demint, whose warm greeting was a cordial to my

heart, and under the influence of whose genial encouragement I began to

look upon the world as not altogether lost.

Two objects were uppermost in my mind. One was to prepare and deliver a

lecture, in which I might demonstrate my innocence of the crime of which

I had been convicted; the other was to publish a work on gambling,

through which I might, by exposing the cheats and frauds of the

professional gamester, deter others from entering upon the path “whose

gates take hold on Hell.” My first lecture was delivered in the

auditorium of the First M. E. Church, at Chicago, on the evening of

Monday, May 20, 1889. My book (the present volume) is before the public.

The fact that I was contemplating issuing the present volume became

known to some members of the “profession” in Chicago a year ago, and on

June 27, 1889, about ten o’clock in the forenoon, I was arrested by

detectives Kehoe and Flynn, without the shadow of a charge having been

preferred against me. For five hours I was deprived of my liberty. What

a commentary upon the nature of the relations existing between the

“profession” and the custodians of public morals.

In this connection I desire to return thanks to John Cameron Simonds,

Esq., and Mr. Matthew W. Pinkerton, of Chicago, for their generous

intervention in my behalf. To their kind efforts I owe my speedy

release.

During my lifetime I have thus far been called upon to mourn the loss of

father and mother, three brothers—Dick, Robert and Victor—and two

sisters—Laura and Roma. Of eight children, but three of us survive,

George Sidney, who still lives in Randolph County, Missouri, where he

was born and reared; Hatsel Seldon, at present at Hot Springs, Arkansas,

and myself.

To the press of Chicago, which so kindly encouraged him in his early

ventures in the lecture field, the author desires to express his

grateful acknowledgements. Unknown and friendless, he felt the timidity

incident to one inexperienced in public speaking, and who carried in his

breast the knowledge of his own past wrong-doing. But the journals of

the city in which he made his maiden effort, those leaders and exponents

of public sentiment, sustained him, and their words of commendation

imparted to him fresh courage.

I hardly know how better to close this recital of a part whose shameful

recollections might well overcome a stouter heart than mine, than by the

following quotation from an old verse-writer, which have long floated

through my memory. They present, in homely language, a truth which

strikes a responsive chord in the heart of every man who is not

panoplied in serene satisfaction with his own virtues. The lines run as

follows:

“Thou may’st conceal thy sin by cunning art,

Which will disturb thy peace, thy rest undo;

Yet conscience sits a witness in thy heart;

And she is witness, judge and prison too.”

[Illustration: John Philip Quinn]

THE THREE STAGES OF A GAMBLER’S LIFE.

[Illustration]

The foregoing illustration presents, in a form calculated to strike the

eye and impress the mind, a view of the gradations in the downward

career of a gambler.

Starting out, with high hopes of pleasure to be derived and wealth to be

gained through a life devoted to the ruin of his fellowmen, he boldly

enters upon the way whose end is death and whose steps “take hold on

hell.” Costly is his attire and elastic his step as he at first ventures

upon the road whose path is a quagmire and whose downward course is

beset with thorns.

As he advances, he finds the declivity growing steeper; his feet are

sore and his raiment torn. Too late he perceives his error, and realizes

that it is far easier to descend than to climb the tortuous, slippery

path. The illusion is dispelled; the glamour has gone out in darkness.

No longer the jovial, roystering, “hail-fellow-well-met,”—he has become

the midnight prowler, dependent for his very subsistence, upon the

scanty earnings which he derives from the percentage doled out to him by

more prosperous members of the same villainous craft for betraying the

confidence of his friends and luring the unwary to their destruction. He

realizes his situation, only to curse it; he would retrace his steps if

he knew how, but his chosen sin holds him with a grasp as close as the

coil of the deadly anaconda.

In the figure of the forlorn tramp, a destitute, penniless wanderer, a

pariah and an outcast, we see him approaching his wretched end. The

pitiless storm that beats in his face is but the sighing of the summer

wind as compared with that which rages in his breast. The wind that

howls in his ears seems to chant the requiem of home, happiness, hope,

honor,—all that men hold dear. And yet he must go on; on, into the

blinding sleet; on into the unknown future; on, until he reaches the

Potter’s Field; on until he stands before the bar of God.

Certainly it can be no mistake to call such an one a “fool of fortune,”

a fool enslaved by his own degraded instincts and besotted passions, a

fool who, in the words of Scripture, “has said in his heart there is no

God.” But professional blacklegs are not the only “fools of fortune.”

The young man, just entering upon the path of life; the middle aged man

of family, who squanders at the gaming table the money which should go

to buy luxuries, comforts, perhaps even necessaries for those dependent

upon him, the old man, who, about to sink into the grave, finds it

impossible to overcome the fascination of the vice which has reduced him

from affluence to penury—these, one and all, are fools. The savings of a

lifetime, dissipated in an hour, the cherished hopes of years blighted

by the turn of a card—these are every day occurrences in the hells where

one class of fools worship “Fortune,” and another class delude

themselves by the belief that it is possible for money dishonestly

acquired to bring with it anything but a curse.

It is with the hope that those who have not already entered upon this

course may be deterred from entering upon it and that those who may have

already tasted the false pleasures of an unhealthy excitement may be

induced to pause before it is too late, that the author has made his

frank confession of his own follies and his revelation of all the secret

arts of the gambler’s devil born art.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER I.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS—FOOD FOR REFLECTION.

Only gamblers defend gambling. Those who play faro, roulette, hazard;

those who buy mutual pools or “puts and calls;” and even those whose

instinct for gaming is satisfied with a partly legitimate business, go

on with their practices without an analysis of their actions. It is the

object of this work, not only to trace the history of gaming, so far as

is recorded, but to expose to the mind of the most casual reader the

sophistries upon which the art of gambling is based. In other words, the

author will show that if men seek for happiness in games of chance they

find sorrow; if they hope for gain, they fall into penury; if they flee

from care, they suffer unending perplexity; if they be honorably

ambitious, they forfeit all public regard.

It is a sad fact that ethics—the science of human duty—had reached its

summit long before the Roman Empire was founded. The philosophers of

Africa and Asia taught to the students of Greece all that this work can

teach to English-speaking people. Aristotle classed the gambler with the

thief and robber, and so just was the mind of Alexander’s preceptor,

that he hated even usury. If man studied ethics, with any other purpose

than for mental relaxation, there could be no gambling; there could be

none of the gross selfishness and competition which shames our

civilization, and in reality gives to the barbaric spirit of conquest

that relief which it finds in gambling.

We have, then, only to repeat the warnings of the sages of the world,

and to reinforce them with the history of the gaming vice in all ages.

Thousands of years have elapsed since man learned that gambling was

morally wrong. Why, then, does he gamble? Because he does not know that

all wrong is a source of unhappiness. No man wishes to be unhappy. All

men _are_ unhappy; they seek peace. In the fact that argument has failed

to carry home to the human mind this conviction, that gaming cannot give

peace, the author finds his reason for writing. Only by patient

iteration of the principles which Aristotle accepted, and only by a

persevering recital of the evils which gambling has wrought on men, can

it be hoped that the young student will accept as a truth, without

personal proof, that doctrine which, to prove, would cost his fortune

and his happiness.

Why, then, is gambling wrong? Why did Aristotle denounce it? Why does

the young man of to-day need further proof that gambling is wrong and

disappointing—why does he lose years of time, hazard his respectability,

acquire dangerous habits and diseases, and regret the experiment he has

made? To answer these questions requires this volume.

Blackstone cleverly calls gaming “a kind of tacit confession, that the

company engaged therein do in general exceed the bounds of their

respective fortunes; and therefore they cast lots to determine upon whom

the ruin shall at present fall, that the rest may be saved a little

longer.” This statement, which has stood the criticisms of centuries,

leaves to the gamester the unhappy knowledge that some one in his

company is to be destroyed. Instead of sitting at an entertainment,

then, he is a pall-bearer. He carries away the dead because he himself

is not dead. To begin, therefore, the gambler who thinks must have

throttled pity. He knows it is a funeral; he is so selfish that he cares

only for his own welfare. When two or more men gamble, the winners win

and the losers lose, but there is no productive labor; therefore, nobody

profits except it be the owner of the premises who has put his building

to an unproductive business—a business closely allied with other vices

that at once rob their agents of honor, health and fortune. Commerce,

when flying almost in the face of nature, will, if successful, benefit

man and alleviate his needs, but the gambler spends his time and his

energies in that which (as this work will carefully show) is of enormous

evil. It is more than a waste of time. It is more than a waste of money.

It is more than a waste of health. It is more than a waste of thought.

For gambling, as Charles Kingsley has said, is almost the only thing in

the world in which the honorable man is no match for the dishonorable

man. The scrupulous man is weaker, by the very fact of his scruples,

than he who has none. When a man begins to play he may have a high

feeling of honor, but what right has honor to sit at a gaming-table?

There’s the rub. When he wins he will consider it folly not to extend

the hours of play, and will begin an expense that he did not indulge

before. With greater expense, he will be keener at the game—more zealous

to win. But he will lose anon, and further anon his losses and gains

will be equal. Then his increased expense—the luxury of late hours, with

dinners, carriages, and personal service—must be paid from the income

that was deemed insufficient to support a more modest mode of life. As

this manifestly cannot be done, recourse in hope must be had to the

gaming-table once more, where, with losses and gains so far equal, the

increased disbursements must be made good. To win, the tricks of the

gambler must be used; friends must be inveigled to their ruin;

advantages must be seized; a sight of the opponent’s cards must be used

for whatever it will win, and one step after another gradually reduces

the player to a condition in which he secretly knows he is a rogue.

Others about him have long known it. The true philosopher knows it the

moment the “high-minded player” sits down to the game.

But ignorance does not depict a scene so deplorable. The gambler in his

best days, is lured by a brighter vision. He does not value money, and

gathers that reward which comes from a princely generosity and a

reckless patronage of all who desire to serve him. But of real humanity

he has none, because his business, veil it as you may, is robbery. The

man who plays against the gambler is called a “producer,” and what can

that mean but fool or victim—a victim whose greed is his ruin. Despising

respectable men who play with him as greedy fools, the gambler must

oppose honest men (who will not play) as foes. Hating all men, he must

hate women; therefore marriage is rare among the “profession.” If he

secures a fortune, so that he may “retire” from hazard, it will be seen

that he owns and enslaves both men and women, and never aids the

emancipation of society. Sensualism and materialism are his

characteristics. If he loves power in his community, it is for private

aggrandizement. The hand of society has been against him; he cannot

forget it. Reform would be forgiveness, and the gambler never forgives.

True respectability would be forgetfulness of the past, and the gambler

never forgets. Such is the successful gamester—the “retired gamester.”

And to secure that much of success how many thousands of victims are in

his train? His charities are a sham, like the subscriptions of Monte

Carlo on Riviera; like the proffered relief to flood sufferers by the

Louisiana lottery. While the wail of the unhappy and the lost is heard

at the wheel, the cruel game goes on without mercy. The very existence

of these splendid dens of dishonesty and inhumanity, are a menace to

men.

But success in this crime is as rare as success in any other. The

ordinary gambler does not “retire.” He dresses extravagantly, he lives

in ignorance, he pursues the existence of an ape. The mere sensualist

sins and repents, but the reformer who toils with the drunkard and the

fallen woman despairs of the gambler. He lives his short life, and dies

alone in his garret or in prison. His fellow-gamblers are glad he is

dead. They say he was unfit to live, and they know.

Of all acts, gambling induces most often to suicide. It is believed that

the number of “the profession” is not relatively large considering the

total population, yet the suicide of the professional gambler is a

matter of the most frequent note. In England eight persons out of

100,000 kill themselves in a year. At Monaco, a solitary gambling

establishment, one hundred suicides were reported in one season. The

German tables of play have sent thousands out to death. The reason why a

gambler should kill himself appears to him in the aspect of lost honor.

If he joins to this a loss of money—the only thing for which he has

striven—he cannot summon fortitude to live. He goes out of the world,

impelled by a just nature, that thus removes his life from the earth

which he has encumbered.

The strain of gambling is a sharp one. It breaks the nerves and

prematurely ages the face. Losses, if they do not paralyze the mind, at

least enrage it against circumstances and events, turning the man to a

veritable horned beast, or to a poisonous serpent, bent on inflicting a

blow though it be on its own body. The natives of India call this

passion “hot heart,” or inner rage without vent. The revulsion has been

severe to the extent of our conception. Fortune was near, nor is it far.

The loser feels that fate is a sentient being—a hag whom he must tear

with his nails. Her blow has been twice as harsh as if he had not hoped,

and it falls on one ill-prepared to receive it. There lies but one

escape, and that is death. Hence the excitement with which professional

gamblers behold the loss of their means of livelihood. Where suicide

does not follow, the most painful blows are often delivered by the

gambler upon his own temples and forehead. He has no pity on himself for

losing money that he ought to have kept.

Gambling is closely allied with forces which tend to the subversion of

social order; it is directly conducive to various crimes of frequent

occurrence. The gambling mania is at war with industry, and therefore,

destructive of prosperity and thrift. Devotion to the gaming habit will

in time hush the voice of conscience and is a constant menace to honor

and happiness. Once possessed of the passion, an individual is lost to

every sense of duty as husband, father, citizen, and man of business.

His heart becomes the prey of emotions at enmity with affection and

sound morality. In this condition, a man is unfitted for any

responsibility requisite to the welfare of society. In spirit, if not in

fact, he is an Ishmaelite—an outlaw; then, expediency is his only

principle, and necessity his only law. In heart, at least, he is a

criminal. As a result, the man is false to every confidence, recreant to

every trust! Is this not true? Look about you and see! How many bloody

tragedies are directly traceable to the gambling “hell?” How has this

vice fed the mania for homicide, the tendency to suicide? The business

world is rife with forgeries and defalcations, which may be directly

ascribed to gambling. Widows and orphans are plundered by their

trustees, corporations wrecked by their officers, one partner made the

victim of another, the employer betrayed by his employee, all because of

this terrible passion. But is this the end? Is it even the worst? In

gambling, as in other forms of evil, are not the “sins of the father

visited upon the children, even unto the third and fourth generation.”

It would seem so, if Dr. Ribot is an authority. Descending from sire to

son, from ancestor to posterity, the vice enters into the very _fiber of

the soul_. Ribot asserts of gambling, as of avarice, theft and murder,

that the propensity is subject to the law of heredity; that the “passion

for play often attains such a pitch of madness as to be a form of

insanity, and like it transmissible.” And Da Gama Machado says: “A lady

of my acquaintance, and who possessed a large fortune, had a passion for

gambling, and passed whole nights at play. She died young of pulmonary

disease. Her eldest son, who was very like his mother, had the same

passion for play. He, too, like his mother, died of consumption, and at

about the same age. His daughter, who resembled him, inherited the same

taste, and died young.” Justified twice over, then, is society, in

protecting itself against a practice so terrible, so deadly, so far

reaching in its effects.

In course of time, this seems to have been realized by all nations

pretending to civilization, whether ancient or modern. Whatever may have

been the private practice of rulers and statesmen, in this respect,

their public policy and legislative enactments were against gambling.

Some of the laws of the ancients against gambling are worthy of adoption

to-day, and are well calculated to check the destructive evil. Amongst

the Jews, for instance, a gambler could not act as a magistrate, or

occupy any high or honorable office, nor could he be a witness in any

court of justice. Such disqualifications, at the present day, would

largely decimate the judicial ranks and deplete the government roll. In

ancient Egypt, again, a convicted gambler was condemned to the quarries

of Sinai, there to expiate his offense. Would not a kindred punishment,

now, be effectual with the “genteel” gambler—with ye “gentleman” gambler

of the gilded “hell” and “club house.” Yea, extended, even in a general

sense, to all persons, whatever their position in life, convicted of the

offense of gambling, would it not go far toward a reduction of this

great and growing evil?

No where is the capriciousness and inconstancy of the ancient Greeks

more manifest than in their policy toward gambling. Denouncing it in the

abstract, they were universally addicted to the practice. At one time

the object of legislative prohibition, with them, at another it would be

granted a license, or permitted to flourish without “let or hindrance.”

To the Romans has been ascribed a talent for political organization; a

genius for jurisprudence. Strangely inconsistent, however, was their

position on the subject of gambling. By the Roman laws, ædiles were

authorized to punish gambling, except during the Saturnalia—a time when

every passion was allowed to run riot. In other respects, the Roman law

on this subject resembled that now obtaining in England and America.

Money lost at play could not be legally recovered by the winner, and the

loser could recover the money paid by him to the winner. Under the

Justinian Code, according to Paulus, a master or father had a remedy

against any person inducing the servant or son to play. This must have

been a wholesome measure. Why may it not be on every statute book in the

United States? The most radical feature of the Roman law, perhaps, was

that by virtue of which a gambling house might be forfeited to the

State, and this equally so, whether it belonged to the offender, or to

another person cognizant of the offense. Had this Roman law of

confiscation been some years since ingrafted on the law of each State in

the Union, it may be a matter of speculative opinion, of course, how

many “club houses” would have passed into the hands of the government.

If wagers did not violate any rule of public decency or morality, or any

rule of public policy, they were not invalid by the common law of

England. And such was the principle of law inherited by the English

colonies in America, and recognized by the courts of the respective

States of the Union.

In England, however, dating from the middle of the eighteenth century, a

series of statutes has been enacted, aimed not only at gambling in

stocks, but at all wagering contracts. In 1834, the well known statute

of Sir John Barnard was enacted. This act was intended to prevent what

it styled the “Infamous Practice of Stock Jobbing.” This statute was

repealed by 23 and 24 Victoria, Ch. 28. By the act of 8 and 9 Victoria,

Ch. 109, S. 108, “all contracts or agreements, whether by parol or in

writing, by way of gaming or wagering, shall be null and void, and no

suit shall be brought in any court of law or equity for recovering any

sum of money or valuable thing alleged to be won upon any wager.” This

statute is now in force. These enactments aside, the English courts were

wont to reprehend such contracts, and frequently expressed regret that

they had ever been sanctioned.

The authorities in this country are far from uniform on the common law

doctrine; some leaning decidedly against wagering contracts. Others, on

the other hand, have countenanced them. Such contracts have been

sustained by the United States courts, and the courts of New York,

California, Texas, New Jersey, and Delaware. In Maine, Massachusetts,

New Hampshire, Vermont, and Pennsylvania, a wager was never a valid

contract. Now, by the revised statutes of New York all “wagers, bets, or

stakes, made to depend upon any race, or upon any gaming by lot or

chance, casualty, or unknown or contingent event whatever, shall be

unlawful. All contracts for, or on account of, any money or property, or

a thing in action, so wagered, bet or staked, shall be void.” Similar,

and even more stringent, legislation of like character, exists in Ohio,

Iowa, West Virginia, Virginia, Wisconsin, Missouri, New Hampshire, and

Illinois.

In many states gambling is a misdemeanor only. Where this is the case,

the gambler is allowed to prey upon the community at his pleasure, and

compelled to pay only an occasional fine. In not a few of the states,

however, the offense is a felony which may be punished by imprisonment

in the penitentiary. May it become the law in all the states. More than

this, the penalty should not be an alternative between a fine or

imprisonment. The prison door should be open to every convicted gambler,

without hope of escape.

From all this it will be seen not only that gambling has long been

denounced, and with good cause, as a great social evil; but that it has

been an important object for legislation. It will clearly appear, also,

that all laws, provisions and penalties have been ineffectual to

suppress it, prevent its growth, or counteract its demoralizing

influence. That gaming is an evil of the most pernicious character in

society, no man can have the effrontery to deny; but a doubt may be

reasonably entertained whether the propensity be not too strong to be

controlled by law, and too human for any legislative enactments.

More than human wisdom and effort is required to master the ruling and

inherent passion of universal man. Moreover, if the law is to

successfully suppress public gambling, it must be by enactments falling

with equal weight, and operating with just severity on all practitioners

of the principle which it is the object of the law to discountenance;

and not by measures protecting one class of offenders and punishing

another; not by exempting those high in social position, while those of

lowly estate are made to feel the heavy hand of authority. If at all, it

is to be accomplished only by striking at the whole system of gaming, as

far as the law can effect the object, upon one great principle, letting

law go hand in hand with justice, in the work, so that it err not in the

principle of its enactments or in the equity of its administration.

CHAPTER II.

HEBREWS, PERSIANS, CHINESE AND JAPANESE.

The Hebrews, in resorting to the casting of lots, believed it was an

appeal to the Lord. It was not thought to be gambling. It is useful that

the reader should understand this. Thus by lot it was determined which

of the goats should be offered by Aaron; by lot the land of Canaan was

subdivided; by lot Saul was chosen to wear the crown; by lot Jonah was

discovered to be the cause of the storm. It is well to note that herein

gambling had its sacred origin. Man cannot easily surrender the idea

that Heaven directs the casting of a die. It is possible that man founds

his passion for hazard upon his love of the mystic. Yet no laws are so

exact as the laws of chance, and none are so sure to seize on those laws

as the professional gambler. The priests of Egypt assured Herodotus that

one of their kings visited alive the infernal regions, and that he there

gambled with a large party. Plutarch recites an Egyptian story to the

effect that Mercury having fallen in love with the earth, and wishing to

do the earth a favor, gambled with the moon, and won from the moon every

seventieth part of the time she illumined the earth. Out of these

seventieth parts Mercury made five days, and added them to the earth’s

year, which had formerly held but 360 days.

The examples of these gods could not but move the people to gamble. We

know that the vice prevailed because we discover the existence of heavy

penalties against it. In Egypt, if a person were convicted of the crime

of dice-playing, or of being a gamester, he was sent to work in the

quarries, to recruit those vast companies which were continually engaged

in public enterprises, such as the pyramids, the labyrinth, the

artificial lake and the lesser monuments.

PERSIANS.—We gather that gaming with dice was a fashionable diversion at

the Persian court 400 years before Christ, from the historical anecdotes

recited by Plutarch in his life of Artaxerxes. The younger Cyrus, son of

Queen Parysatis, had been killed at the order of Artaxerxes by a

favorite slave of the king; and the queen, who was the mother also of

Artaxerxes, burned secretly for revenge on the slave, whose name was

Mesabetes. But as the slave had merely obeyed the monarch, her son, the

Queen laid this snare for him. She excelled at playing a certain game of

dice. She had apparently forgiven her elder son, the King, for his cruel

deed, and joined him continually at play. One day she proposed playing

for a stake of $500, to which the King agreed, and she, feigning lack of

skill, lost the money, and paid it on the nail. But affecting sorrow and

vexation over her ill-luck, she pressed the King to play for a slave, as

if her cash were short. The King suspected nothing, and accepted the

stake. It was stipulated that the winner should choose the slave. Now

the Queen resorted to all the arts of gaming, which easily procured a

victory. She chose Mesabetes, the slayer of Cyrus, and this slave, being

delivered into her hands, was put to the most cruel tortures, and to

death. When the King would have interfered, she only replied with a

smile of contempt: “Surely you must be a great loser, to be so much out

of temper for giving up a decrepit old slave, when I, who lost $500, and

paid on the spot, do not say a word, and am satisfied.”

To properly understand this story, it must be remembered that a slave

had no rights whatever, being treated simply as cattle. Should a man

express pity for a rat in the teeth of a terrier, he would be on a par

with Artaxerxes if he pitied Mesabetes. The grief of the outwitted King

was unmanly, from the ancient standpoint, but it is notable that dice

ministered to the plot of revenge and murder.

The laws of the modern Persians, who are Mohammedans, prohibit all

gambling. The Persians evade the sin by making alms of their winnings—a

sorry device, for it is only the robbery of Peter to give larger to

Paul. Like all other evasions, even this practice soon degenerates into

gambling pure and simple, the excuse being that skill more than chance

has to do with the game. The public spirit, however, is happily adverse

to the practice, and any gambling-place is called in detestation, a

morgue, a carrion-house, a “habitation of corrupted carcasses.”

THE HINDOOS.—At the “Festival of Lamps,” in honor of the goddess of

wealth, the Rajpoots make a religion of gambling. At such a time vice

may indeed prosper. Easy was the conquest of a people whose sensuality

and superstition could be so well united in the service of the

priesthood. The specialties of Hindoo gambling are interesting. The hot

climate stimulates the passion, and the greater the Raja, or King, the

longer the tale of his fortune at play.

The ancient Hindoo dice, known as _coupeen_, were similar to modern

dice, and were thrown from a box. The practice of “loading” is plainly

alluded to, and there was opportunity for skill in handling the box. In

the more modern Hindoo games, called _pasha_, the dice are not cubic but

oblong, and they are thrown like printer’s quads in “jeffing”—that is,

out of the palm of the hand. The throw may be made either directly upon

the ground, or against a post or board, which will break the fall and

render the result more a matter of chance.

A story of a Rajah’s insane love of play forms a striking passage in the

great Sanskrit poem of the Veda. The famous gambling-match was the

outcome of a conspiracy between two brothers, Duryodhana and Duhsasana,

and their uncle Sakuni, of the family of the Kauravas, for the purpose

of robbing Yudhisthira of his Raj, or the kingdom of the Pandavas. The

poem deals with the conception of a Nemesis. Envy and love of conquest

led the conspirators to invite Yudhisthira to a game of _coupeen_ at

Hastinapur. The Veda is translated as follows:

“And it came to pass that Duryodhana was very jealous of the pomp of his

cousin Yudhisthira, and desired in his heart to destroy the Pandavas and

gain the Raj. Now Sakuni was the brother of Gandhari, who was the

brother of the Kauravas, and he was very skillful in throwing dice, and

in playing with dice that were loaded, insomuch that whenever he played

he always won the game. So Duryodhana plotted with his uncle, and then

proposed to his father, the Maharaja, or Great Raja, that Yudhisthira

should be invited to the Festival, and the Great Raja was secretly glad

that his sons should be friendly with their cousins, the sons of his

deceased brother, Pandu, and so he sent his younger brother, Vidura, to

the city of Indraprastha to invite the Pandavas to the game.

“And Vidura went his way to the city of the Pandavas, and was received

by them with every sign of attention and respect. And Yudhisthira

inquired whether his kinsfolk and friend at Hastinapur were all well in

health, and Vidura replied, ‘They are all well.’

“Then Vidura said to the Pandavas: ‘Your uncle, the Great Raja, is about

to give a great feast, and he invites you and your mother and your joint

wife to come to his city, and there will be a match at dice-playing.’

“When Yudhisthira heard these words he was troubled in mind, for he knew

that gaming was a frequent cause of strife, and he was in no way

skillful in throwing the dice, and likewise knew that Sakuni was

dwelling at Hastinapur, and that he was a famous gambler. But

Yudhisthira remembered that the invitation of the Great Raja was equal

to the command of a father, and that no true Kshatriga could refuse a

challenge either to war or play. So Yudhisthira accepted the invitation

and commanded that on the appointed day his brethren and their mother

and their joint wives should accompany him to the city of Hastinapur.

“When the day arrived for the departure of the Pandavas, they took their

mother Kunti, and their joint wife Draupadi, and journeyed from

Indraprastha to the city of Hastinapur, where they first paid a visit of

respect to the Great Raja; and they found him sitting among his

chieftains, and the ancient Bhishma, and the preceptor Drona and Karua,

who was the friend of Duryodhana, and many others were sitting there

also.

“And when the Pandavas had done reverence to the Great Raja, and

respectfully saluted all present, they paid a visit to their aunt

Gandhari, and did her reverence likewise.

And after they had done this, their mother and joint wife entered the

presence of Gandhari, and respectfully saluted her; and the wives of the

Karauvas came in and were made known to Kunti and Draupadi. And the

wives of the Kauravas were much surprised when they beheld the beauty

and fine raiment of Draupadi; and they were very jealous of their

kinswoman. And when all their visits had been paid, the Pandavas retired

with their wife and mother to the quarters which had been prepared for

them, and when it was evening they received the visits of all their

friends who were dwelling at Hastinapur.

Now, on the morrow the gambling match was to be played; so when the

morning had come, the Pandavas bathed and dressed, and left Draupadi in

the lodging which had been prepared for her, and went their way to the

palace. And the Pandavas again paid their respects to their uncle, the

Maharaja, and were then conducted to the pavilion where the play was to

be; and Duryodhana went with them, together with all his brethren, and

all the chieftains of the royal house. And when the assembly had all

taken their seats, Sakuni said to Yudhisthira: “The ground here has all

been prepared, and the dice are all ready: Come now, I pray you, and

play a game.” But Yudhisthira was disinclined, and replied: “I will not

play, excepting upon fair terms; but if you will pledge yourself to

throw without artifice or deceit, I will accept your challenge.” Sakuni

said: “If you are so fearful of losing you had better not play at all.”

At these words Yudhisthira was wroth, and replied: “I have no fear

either in play or war; but let me know with whom I am to play, and who

is to pay me if I win.” So Duryodhana came forward and said: “I am the

man with whom you are to play, and I shall lay any stakes against your

stakes; but my uncle Sakuni will throw the dice for me.” Then

Yudhisthira said: “What manner of game is this, where one man throws and

another lays the stakes.” Nevertheless he accepted the challenge, and he

and Sakuni began to play.

At this point in the narrative it may be desirable to pause, and

endeavor to obtain a picture of the scene. The so-called pavilion was

probably a temporary booth, constructed of bamboos and interlaced with

basket work; and very likely it was decorated with flowers and leaves

after the Hindoo fashion, and hung with fruits, such as cocoa-nuts,

mangoes, plantains, and maize. The chieftains present seem to have sat

upon the ground, and watched the game. The stakes may have been pieces

of gold and silver, or cattle, or lands; although, according to the

legendary account which follows, they included articles of a far more

extravagant and imaginative character. With these passing remarks, the

tradition of the memorable game may be resumed as follows:

So Yudhisthira and Sakuni sat down to play, and whatever Yudhisthira

laid as stakes, Duryodhana laid something of equal value; but

Yudhisthira lost every game. He first lost a very beautiful pearl; next

a thousand bags, each containing a thousand pieces of gold; next a piece

of gold so pure that it was as soft as wax; next a chariot set with

jewels and hung all round with golden bells; next, a thousand war

elephants, with golden howdahs set with diamonds; next a lakh of slaves

all dressed in good garments; next a lakh of beautiful slave girls,

adorned from head to foot with golden ornaments; next all the remainder

of his goods; next all his cattle; and then the whole of his Raj,

excepting only the lands which had been granted to the Brahmins.

Now when Yudhisthira had lost his Raj, the chieftains present in the

pavilion were of the opinion that he should cease to play, but he would

not listen to their words, but persisted in the game. And he staked all

the jewels belonging to his brothers, and he lost them; and he staked

his two younger brothers, one after the other, and he lost them; and he

then staked Arjuna, and Bhima, and finally himself, and he lost every

game. Then Sakuni said to him: “You have done a bad act, Yudhisthira, in

gaming away yourself and becoming a slave. But now, stake your wife,

Draupadi, and if you win the game you will again be free.” And

Yudhisthira answered and said: “I will stake Draupadi!” And all

assembled were greatly troubled and thought evil of Yudhisthira; and his

uncle Vidura put his hand to his head and fainted away, whilst Bhishma

and Drona turned deadly pale, and many of the company were very

sorrowful; but Duryodhana and his brother Duhsasana, and some others of

the Karauvas were glad in their hearts, and plainly manifested their

joy. Then Sakuni threw the dice, and won Draupadi for Duryodhana.

Then all in that assembly were in great consternation, and the

chieftains gazed upon one another without speaking a word. And

Duryodhana said to her uncle Vidura. “Go now and bring Draupadi hither,

and bid her sweep the rooms.” But Vidura cried out against them with a

loud voice, and said: “What wickedness is this? Will you order a woman

who is of noble birth, and the wife of your own kinsman, to become a

household slave? How can you vex your brethren thus? But Draupadi has

not become your slave, for Yudhisthira lost himself before he staked his

wife, and having first become a slave, he could no longer have power to

stake Draupadi!” Vidura then turned to the assembly and said: “Take no

heed to the words of Duryodhana, for he has lost his senses this day.”

Duryodhana then said: “A curse be upon this Vidura, who will do nothing

that I desire him.”

After this Duryodhana called one of his servants, and desired him to go

to the lodgings of the Pandavas, and bring Draupadi into the pavilion.

And the man departed out, and went to the lodgings of the Pandavas, and

entered the presence of Draupadi and said to her: “Raja Yudhisthira has

played you away, and you have become the slave of Raja Duryodhana: So

come now and do your duty like his other slave girls.” And Draupadi was

astonished at these words, and exceedingly wroth, and she replied:

“Whose slave was I that I could be gambled away? And who is such a

senseless fool as to gamble away his own wife?” The servant said: “Raja

Yudhisthira has lost himself, and his four brothers, and you also, to

Raja Duryodhana, and you cannot make any objection. Arise, therefore,

and go to the house of the Raja.”

Then Draupadi cried out: “Go you now and inquire whether Raja

Yudhisthira lost me first, or himself first; for if he played away

himself first, he could not stake me.” So the man returned to the

assembly, and put the question to Yudhisthira; but Yudhisthira hung down

his head with shame, and answered not a word.

Then Duryodhana was filled with wrath, and he cried out to his servant:

“What waste of words is this? Go you and bring Draupadi hither, that if

she has aught to say she may say it in the presence of us all.” And the

man essayed to go, but he beheld the wrathful countenance of Bhima and

he was sore afraid, and he refused to go, and remained where he was.

Then Duryodhana sent his brother Duhsasana; and Duhsasana went his way

to the lodgings of Draupadi, and said: “Raja Yudhisthira has lost you in

play to Rajah Duryodhana, and he has sent for you. So arise now and wait

upon him according to his commands; and if you have anything to say, you

can say it in the presence of the assembly.” Draupadi replied: “The

death of the Karauvas is not far distant, since they can do such deeds

as these.” And she rose up in great trepidation and set out, but when

she came near to the palace of the Maharaja, she turned aside from the

pavilion where the chieftains were assembled, and ran away with all

speed toward the apartments of the women. And Duhsasana hastened after

her and seized her by her hair, which was very dark and long, and

dragged her by main force into the pavilion before all the chieftains.

And she cried out: “Take your hands from off me.” But Duhsasana heeded

not her words, and said: “You are now a slave girl, and slave girls

cannot complain of being touched by the hands of men.”

When the chieftains thus beheld Draupadi, they hung down their heads

from shame, and Draupadi called upon the elders amongst them, such as

Bhishma and Drona to acquaint her whether or no Raja Yudhisthira had

gamed away himself before he had staked her; but they likewise held down

their heads and answered not a word.

Then she cast her eye upon the Pandavas, and her glance was like the

stabbing of a thousand daggers, but they moved not hand or foot to help

her; for when Bhima would have stepped forward to deliver her from the

hands of Duhsasana, Yudhisthira commanded him to forbear, and both he

and the younger Pandavas were obliged to obey the command of their elder

brother.

And when Duhsasana saw that Draupadi looked towards the Pandavas, he

took her by the hand, and drew her another way, saying: “Why, O slave,

are you turning your eyes about you?” And when Kama and Sakuni heard

Duhsasana calling her a slave, they cried out: “Well said! well said!”

Then Draupadi wept very bitterly, and appealed to all the assembly,

saying: “All of you have wives and children of your own, and will you

permit me to be treated thus? I ask you one question, and I pray you to

answer it.” Duhsasana then broke in and spoke foul language to her, and

used her rudely, so that her veil came off in his hands. And Bhima could

restrain his wrath no longer, and spoke vehemently to Yudhisthira; and

Arjuna reproved him for his anger against his elder brother, but Bhima

answered: “I will thrust my hands into the fire before these wretches

shall treat my wife in this manner before my eyes.”

Then Duryodhana said to Draupadi: “Come, now, I pray you, and sit upon

my thigh;” and Bhima gnashed his teeth and cried out with a loud voice:

“Hear my vow this day: If for this deed I do not break the thigh of

Duryodhana, and drink the blood of Duhsasana, I am not the son of

Kunti.”

Meanwhile the Chieftain Vidura had left the assembly, and told the blind

Maharaja, Dhritarashtra, all that had taken place that day, and the

Maharaja ordered his servants to lead him into the pavilion where all

the chieftains were gathered together. And all present were silent when

they saw the Maharaja, and the Maharaja said to Draupadi: “O, daughter,

my sons have done evil to you this day. But go now, you and your

husbands, to your own Raj, and remember not what has occurred, and let

the memory of this day be blotted out forever.” So the Pandavas made

haste with their wife Draupadi, and departed out of the city of

Hastinapur.

Then Duryodhana was exceeding wroth, and said to his father: “O

Maharaja, is it not a saying that when your enemy hath fallen down, he

should be annihilated without a war? And now we that had thrown the

Pandavas to the earth and had taken possession of all their wealth, you

have restored them all their strength, and permitted them to depart with

anger in their hearts; and now they will prepare to make war that they

may revenge themselves upon us for all that has been done and they will

return within a short while and slay us all. Give us leave, then, I pray

you, to play another game with these Pandavas, and let the side which

loses go into exile for twelve years; for thus, and thus only, can a war

be prevented between ourselves and the Pandavas.” And the Maharaja

granted the request of his son, and messengers were sent to bring back

the brethren, and the Pandavas obeyed the command of their uncle, and

returned to his presence; and it was agreed upon that Yudhisthira should

play one game more with Sakuni, and if Yudhisthira won the Kauravas were

to go into exile; and that if Sakuni won, the Pandavas were to go into

exile, and the exile was to be for twelve years, and one year more; and

during that thirteenth year those who were in exile were to dwell in any

city they pleased, but to keep themselves so concealed that the others

should never discover them; and if the others did discover them before

the thirteenth year was over, then those who were in exile were to

continue so for another thirteen years. So they sat down again to play,

and Sakuni had a set of cheating dice, as before, and with them he won

the game.

When Duhsasana saw that Sakuni had won the game, he danced about for

joy; and he cried out: “Now is established the Raj of Duryodhana.” But

Bhima said: “Be not elated with joy, but remember my words: The day will

come when I will drink your blood, or I am not the son of Kunti.” And

the Pandavas, seeing that they had lost, threw off their garments and

put on deer-skins, and prepared to depart into the forest with their

wife and mother, and their priest Dhaumya; but Vidura said to

Yudhisthira: “Your mother is old and unfitted to travel, so leave her

under my care;” and the Pandavas did so, and the brethren went out from

the assembly hanging down their heads with shame, and covering their

faces with their garments; but Bhima threw out his long arms, and looked

at the Kuravas furiously, and Draupadi spread her long black hair over

her face and wept bitterly. And Draupadi vowed a vow, saying:

“My hair shall remain disheveled from this day, until Bhima shall have

slain Duhsasana and drunk his blood; and then he shall tie up my hair

again, whilst his hands are dripping with the blood of Duhsasana.”

Such was the great gambling match at Hastinapur in the Heroic age of

India. * * *

The avenging battle subsequently ensued. Bhima struck down Duhsasana

with a terrible blow of his mace, saying: “This day I fulfil my vow

against the man who insulted Draupadi!” Then setting his foot on the

breast of Duhsasana, he drew his sword and cut off the head of his

enemy; and holding his two hands to catch the blood, he drank it off,

crying out: “Ho! ho! Never did I taste anything in this world so sweet

as this blood.”

CHINESE.—Many gambling games have been invented by the Chinese and

gambling houses are numerous in their cities and towns. Into these dens,

as is the case in other countries, the inexperienced are enticed by

sharpers, there to be plundered of their money. It is the old story; the

sharper pretends friendship for the unsophisticated visitor and a desire

to show him the notable sights. Once in the den, the victim is permitted

to win a small sum, several perhaps, but the result is always the

same—he is fleeced of his ready money, which may not be all his own, but

entrusted to him by neighbors and friends with which to purchase goods

for them. With money gone and character ruined the poor Chinaman, in

many cases, becomes a vagabond, in process of time, a beggar, or a

thief, and finally ends his course in suicide.

A common gambling instrument in China, consists of a circular board,

some 18 inches in diameter, which is divided, either into 8 or 16 equal

parts, with lines drawn from the center to the division points at the

circumference. In the center is a standard, or post, some 8 inches high,

upon which two or three inches from the top, is placed a slender wooden

stick in such a manner as to revolve easily. At one end of this piece of

wood is tied a string, which hangs down nearly to the surface of the

board. Being turned by a sudden movement of the hand, the horizontal

stick will continue to revolve for sometime. When it stops the string

indicates the division of the board which wins. The player places his

bet on any division he may favor and whirls the stick himself. If the

string stops over any other place than the one upon which he placed his

money, he loses. If he wins, the proprietor of the concern pays him in

money, or sweetmeats, as he may prefer. This gambling device operates

upon the same principle as the modern “wheel of fortune.”

Another method of gambling may be called the “literary” or “poetical.”

The “banker,” or gambler proprietor, having provided himself with a

table, seats himself behind it, in the street. On the table, for the

inspection of those who may wish to gamble, is written a line of poetry

of, say, five or seven characters, one word of which is omitted. A list

of several words is furnished, anyone of which, if inserted in the blank

place, will make good sense. In betting which of these words is the one

omitted consists the gambling. He who guesses the right word receives

five times his stake. Yet another method of gambling is this: Provided

with three slender slips of bamboo, or other wood, eight or ten inches

long, the gambler seats himself by the wayside and, grasping the slips

at one end, holds them up so that they diverge from each other. A red

tassel, or string, hanging from the hand which conceals from sight the

lower ends of the slips, is supposed to be attached to one of them. He

who wishes to play the game bets that he can guess the slip to which the

string is attached. If he fails, he loses his stake; if he succeeds he

receives back his stake and twice as much more. The game is often

dishonestly operated, and the operator seldom forfeits any money.

Frequently, the red string is attached to all three of the slips, but in

such a way that when one of them is pulled from the hand which grasps

it, it will slip off and remain on the other two. If, then, one of these

is pulled, it slips again and remains attached to the one still held in

the hand. Then the gambler opens his hand to show that everything has

been conducted “fairly” and the thread is seen to be attached to the

slip that was not drawn, thus everything seems to have been honestly

managed. Of course, the man who operates deceitfully and unfairly does

not allow the condition of the string on the ends of the sticks in his

hand to be seen or examined at the beginning of the game.

In China, gambling is forbidden by law. It is tolerated by the

government, nevertheless, and considerable sums of money are realized by

it from this source. Indeed, certain magistrates at Canton once actually

converted their spare rooms in their respective “yamuns” into gaming

houses. But, as a rule, the dens are in back or side streets, for, there

as well as here, the more respectable trades people object to such an

establishment. In 1861, all the shop-keepers in a particular street in

Canton closed their shops and refused to open them, until the Governor-

General of the province promised to issue an order directing the

district ruler to close a gambling house which he had permitted to be

opened in the street. It appeared, however, that these merchants did not

object to the gambling establishments on moral grounds, but through fear

that their business would be injured.

There are various kinds of gaming houses in China. Some are conducted by

joint-stock companies, consisting of ten or twenty partners. In such

houses there are usually two apartments. In the front room is a high

table, in the center of which is a small square board, the sides of

which are numbered one, two, three and four. The game in this room

requires the presence of three of the partners. One is called the Tan-

koon, or croupier; the second, Tai-N’gan, or shroff, and sets by the

side of the former with his tables, scales and money drawers; and the

third, the Ho-Koon, who keeps account of the game and pays over the

stakes to the rightful winners. The gamblers and their patrons assemble

around the high table, on which the Tau-Koon, or croupier, places a

handful of “cash,” over which he immediately puts a cover so that the

gamblers cannot calculate the amount. The players are then requested to

place their stakes on such side of the square as they may choose. When

this has been done, the cover is removed by the croupier, who, using a

thin ivory rod a foot long, proceeds to diminish the heap of coin by

drawing away four pieces at a time. Should one piece remain the gambler

who placed his stake on the side of the small square marked one is the

winner. If two or three remain he saves his stake; if four, he loses it.

This game is called Ching-low and the player has one chance of winning,

two of retaining his stake and one of losing it. Another game, called

Nim is played at the same table. At this game the player has one chance

of winning double the amount of his stake, two of losing it and one of

retaining it. Should his stake be placed on that side of the board

numbered two, and two pieces of money remain of the heap after

successive removals of four, his winnings are double the amount of his

bet. If three pieces remain he retains his stake, but if either one or

four remain he loses it. Yet a third game played at this table is called

Fan, in which the player has one chance of winning three times his stake

and three chances of losing it. Still another and similar game at this

table is known as Kok. In it the stake is placed at a corner of the

board, between two of the numbers, and if either of them corresponds to

the number of pieces left of the pile of money, the player wins the

amount of his stake; if either of the other two numbers corresponds he

loses his bet.

In the inner apartment of these establishments, the stakes are all

silver coin, and here also three of the partners are required to conduct

the game. The stakes are often heavy and the money is not placed on the

table for fear the vagabonds or desperate characters in the place should

make a rush and seize it. The players and their stakes are therefore

distinguished by corresponding cards from different packs. Because of

the large sums paid monthly to the mandarins by the proprietors the

expenses of the latter are very heavy and they exact from the players

seven per cent. of all the winnings. Sometimes gaming establishments are

started by prostitutes, but they are generally closed by the authorities

as soon as detected.

One peculiar mode of gambling is called Koo-Yan, or “The Ancients,”

sometimes known under the name of “Flowery Characters.” This game, it is

said, originated in the department of Chun-Chow, and was introduced in

the 28th year of the reign of Taou-Kwang. The term “ancients” means a

number of names by which thirty-six personages of former times were

known. These names are divided into nine different classes as follows:

1. Four men who attained the highest literary distinction. In a former

state of existence these men were respectively a fish, a white goose, a

white snail, and a peacock.

2. Five distinguished military officers. These men were once

respectively a worm, a rabbit, a pig, a tiger, and a cow.

3. Six successful merchants. These were once respectively a flying

dragon, a white dog, a white horse, an elephant, a wild cat, and a wasp.

4. Four persons who were conspicuous for their uninterrupted happiness

on earth. Respectively, in former state, a frog, an eagle, a monkey, and

a dragon.

5. Four females. Respectively a butterfly, a precious stone, a white

swallow and a pigeon.

6. Five beggars. Respectively a prawn, a snake, a fish, a deer, and a

sheep.

7. Four Buddhist priests. Respectively a tortoise, a hen, an elk, and a

calf.

8. Two Taouist priests. Respectively a white egret, and a yellow

streaked cat.

9. The name of a Buddhist nun who, in another world, was a fox.

The company selects a person who has an aptitude for composing enigmas,

to whom they pay a very large salary. New enigmas are constantly wanted,

as the houses where this game is played are open twice daily, at 7 A. M.

and 8 P. M. Each enigma is supposed to refer to one of the creatures

enumerated. When an enigma is composed, it is printed and sold to the

people, the sale of itself bringing in a considerable revenue. When the

purchaser of an enigma thinks he has discovered the creature to which it

refers, he writes his answer on a sheet of paper, and at the appointed

hour hastens to the gambling house and gives it into the keeping of a

secretary, together with the sum of money he is prepared to stake upon

the correctness of his guess. When all the answers and stakes have been

received, the names of those who have answered correctly are recorded by

the secretary. Suspended from the roof of the chamber, where the players

are assembled, is a folded scroll containing a picture of the creature

to which the enigma refers. At the proper time this scroll is unfolded

by the secretary, and as soon as the picture is seen it is greeted with

a loud shout of exultation by the successful few and with murmurs of

discontent from the many who have guessed wrong. “It is hardly necessary

to add that the managers take care to provide enigmas of such ambiguous

character that the majority are always wrong in their conjectures. The

amount staked in these places is limited.”

Much money is lost at such establishments by ladies, but as they are not

allowed to appear in public, they are represented by their female

servants.

Large sums are daily lost by all classes in a game called ta-pak-up-pu,

or “strike the white dove.” A company is formed of fifty partners,

having equal shares. One acts as overseer, and, for reasons which will

presently appear, is required to live in strict retirement. To him is

given a sheet of paper on which are eighty Chinese characters,

representing, respectively, heaven, earth, sun, moon, stars, etc. In his

private apartment, he makes twenty of the characters with a vermilion

pencil. The sheet is then deposited in a box, which is carefully locked.

Thousands of sheets of paper, containing eighty similar characters, are

then sold to the public. Marking ten of the eighty characters, the

purchasers next morning, take their papers to the gambling establishment

to have them compared with the one marked by the overseer. Before they

give them up, they make and retain copies of them. When all the papers

have been received, the box containing the overseer’s paper is unlocked,

and when taken out, the player’s papers are compared with it. If a

player has not marked more than four of the characters marked by the

overseer, he receives nothing. If he has marked five, he receives seven

“cash;” if six, seventy “cash;” if eight, seven dollars; and if ten,

fifteen dollars. A person can buy as many as three hundred copies of the

gambling sheet, but he must make them all alike. There are never more

than two establishments of this kind in large cities and their winnings

must be very great, judging from the number of sheets sold daily.

There are also houses in which cards are played night and day, and in

them many persons are brought to ruin. To elude the vigilance of the

authorities, these establishments are more or less private, but card

players experience little trouble in finding such haunts. Gambling by

means of oranges is also practiced at fruit stalls, the wagers being

made upon the number of pips or seeds an orange may have. At fruit

stalls, also, it is common to gamble for sticks of sugar cane. The cane

is placed in a perpendicular position, and he who succeeds in cutting it

asunder from top to bottom with a sharp edged knife, wins it from the

fruitier. Should the attempt fail, the fruitier retains his cane and

wins more than its value in money. Gambling by means of a joint of meat,

or pork, or fish, is a very common pastime. The joint or fish is

suspended from the top of a long pole and bets are taken as to its

weight.

The games prevalent in Japan closely resemble those practiced in China.

Cards and dice are strictly prohibited, and, although the law is said to

be transgressed by the gambling houses, at home the Japanese respect it.

CHAPTER III.

ANCIENT AND MODERN GREEKS AND ROMANS, TURKEY IN EUROPE, AND ASIA MINOR.

It is probable that the fall of Greece was due to the license that

prevailed as to gaming, and consequently to all other and lesser forms

of dissipation and corruption. Philip of Macedon was planning the battle

of Cheronea at the very time when dicing had reached its most shameful

height in Athens. Public associations existed, not for the purpose of

defending Greece against her foes, but for the encouragement of the

basest passions that surge in the human breast. Both Philip and

Alexander knew the value to despotism of vice among the people.

Alexander put a fine on those of his courtiers who did not play, for he

had a jealous fear of subjects who were engaged in more serious

pursuits.

But dice alone did not furnish the implements of gambling. The ancient

Greeks had the equivalent of Cross and Pile, and gambled at cocking

mains. The Athenian orator, Callistratus, notes the desperation of these

practices when he says that the games in which the losers go on doubling

their stakes “resemble ever-recurring wars, which terminate only with

the extinction of the combatants.”

It was a practice of the ancients to put the invention of vicious acts

or games upon foreign nations. Thus we have Plutarch’s indignant answers

to Herodotus; but no Grecian ever resented the story that dice was first

made by Palamedes, at the siege of Troy. Dice were called _alsae_ by the

Romans, and there were two kinds, the _tali_, or four-sided

knucklebones, and the _tesserarae_ or six-sided bones. The _tali_ has

four sides long-wise, the two ends were not regarded. Up one side there

was an ace, or _canis_; on the opposite side six; on the other two sides

four and three. On the _tesserarae_ the numbers were from one to six.

But on both sides of _alsae_ or dice the numbers on the upper and lower

side would make seven, as now-a-days on dice.

The game was played with three _tesserarae_ and four _tali_. They were

put into a box made into the form of a tower, with a straight neck—wider

below than above, called _fritillas turris_, _turricula_, _orca_, etc.

This box was shaken, and the dice was thrown upon the gaming board,

_forus_, _alvenus_, _tabulalus oriae_. The highest or most fortunate

throw was called _Venus_, or _jactus venereus_, or _basilicas_ (the

King’s throw.) It consisted of three sixes on the _tesserarae_, and

differing numbers, as two alike, on the _tali_. The worst throw, the dog

throw, was called in Latin _jactus pessimus_, or _jactus canes_. In this

throw, the three _tesserarae_ must be aces, and the _tali_ all the same

number. The other throws were valued according to the numbers. Cocked

dice nullified the throw, as now-a-days. While throwing the dice it was

customary to name the desires of the player, and this practice still

holds with negroes in their game of _craps_. Old men were specially fond

of the game. _Jacta alsa, esto!_ Let the die be cast! was Cæsar’s cry at

the Rubicon when he betrayed the Roman republic. The law prohibited

dice-playing, except in the month of December, during the Saturnalia,

and the character of gamesters was then as infamous as now, although

there was much gambling. The works of Horace, Cicero, Suetonius,

Juvenal, Tacitus, Plautus, Varro, Ovid, Pliny, and Paulus, show by

direct reference and by metaphor, the familiarity of dice in the public

mind, and the evils they involved. Persius, in his satires, speaks of

the practice of cogging the dice, and cheating the unwary.

Augustus, the first Roman emperor, was an habitual gambler, and,

notwithstanding the laws prohibiting the practice, gambling was

prevalent at Rome in all ranks of society. Although the emperor was a

passionate gambler—as devoted to the vice, at least, as his cold and

deliberate nature would permit—yet he was nothing if not a politician,

and in frequenting the gaming table, he had motives other than cupidity.

For example, he wrote Tiberius: “If I had exacted my winnings during the

festival of Minerva; if I had not lavished my money on all sides,

instead of losing twenty thousand sestercii (about $5,000) I should have

gained 150,000 sestercii (about $37,000). I prefer it thus, however, for

my bounty should win me immense ‘glory.’”

If Horace may be credited, they could “cog” a die in the Augustan age,

if they could not “secure” it, as in this.

The emperor, Caligula, converted his palace into a gambling house, and

while indulging his passion for play, this human monster conceived his

most fiendish deeds, and resorted to falsehood and perjury in his

efforts to escape the tide of ill-luck that set against him. When

frenzied by losses, this wretch would vent his cruel spleen upon those

about him, and to make good what he had lost he did not hesitate at

murder most foul and confiscation most wanton. On one occasion, it is

related, after having condemned to death several Gauls of great opulence

and confiscated their wealth, he rejoined his gambling companions and

exclaimed, “I pity you when I see you lose a few sestercii, whilst, with

the stroke of a pen I have just won six hundred millions” (about

$150,000,000). Although the author of a treatise on gambling, yet the

emperor Claudius played like an imbecile. In gaming, as in all else,

Nero was a veritable madman, and would stake hundreds of thousands on a

single cast of the dice. In ghastly humor the imbecile, Claudius would

play against the estates of his murdered victims. In his caustic

description of the hypotheosis of Claudius, the great Seneca brings the

emperor finally to hell, and represents him as there condemned to play

at dice forever with a bottomless box, always in hope, but ever balked.

“For whenso’er he shook the box to cast,

The rattling dice delude his eager haste;

And when he tried again, the waggish bone

Insensibly was through his fingers gone;

Still he was throwing, yet he ne’er had thrown.”

Cicero is authority for the statement that Cato, the censor, was an

inveterate gambler. If so, how inappropriate the appellation which has

brought to his memory an ill-deserved fame? With what consistency could

a man addicted to gambling censure the conduct of his fellow man?

Domitian was blamed for gaming from morning till night and without

cessation even on the festival days of the Roman calendar. But this is

scarcely notable in a man who was brutal in every instinct, base in

every passion. In his satires Juvenal exhibits children playing dice in

imitation of their fathers, and in his third satire they are represented

cheating in their games. The fighting quails of the Romans are mentioned

by Plutarch, and to him we are also indebted for the lament of Marc

Antony, that even the very quails of Octavius Caesar were superior to

his own. Was this a foreboding of the fate of Cleopatra’s lover at the

battle of Actium? Returning to Juvenal we find this graphic picture:

“When was the madness of games of chance more furious? Nowadays, not

content with carrying his purse to the gaming table, the gamester

conveys his iron chest to the play room. It is there that, as soon as

the gaming instruments are distributed, you witness the most terrible

contests. Is it not mere madness to lose one hundred thousand sestercii,

and refuse a garment to a slave perishing with cold?” This inexorable

and terrible satirist was the contemporary of eleven Roman Emperors,

including Domitian.

Gibbon, quoting from Ammianus Marcellinus, thus describes the situation

at Rome at the end of the fourth century: “Another method of

introduction into the houses and society of the ‘great’ is derived from

the profession of gaming, or, as it is more politely styled, of play.

The confederates are united by a strict and indissoluble bond of

friendship, or rather of conspiracy. A superior degree of skill in the

“tessarian” art is a sure road to wealth and reputation. A master of

that sublime science who, in a supper or assembly, is placed below a

magistrate, displays in his countenance the surprise and indignation

which Cato might be supposed to feel when he was refused the prætorship

by the votes of a capricious ‘people.’”

All authorities who mention the subject agree that gambling made fearful

havoc in society and government under the Emperors, and the conclusion

is irresistible, that the “decline and fall” was due in a large measure

to the prevalence of this infatuating and demoralizing vice. It is

asserted, on good authority, that at the epoch when Constantine

abandoned Rome, never to return, every inhabitant of that city, down to

the populace, were addicted to gambling.

The Greeks are to-day famous for the number of sharpers that ply their

trade, both with dice and cards, but especially with cards. To cheat in

this way the Greek relies on shifting the cut, which is done in many

ways:

1. As the Greek lays down the pack to be cut, he is ready to seize that

part of the deck which his opponent leaves on the table, and lay it on

the other so that the upper part projects over the lower and toward him.

This offers a niche for the insertion of the little finger of the hand

which raises the pack. It is possible for a player having his little

finger thus in a pack, to twirl the two parts and restore them to their

original or uncut position. All that can be seen is a whirring movement,

and even this cannot be seen if the hand falls for an instant beneath

the table.

2. To pass the cut, the sharper replaces the top part of the deck

himself, but so quickly that it is impossible to see that he puts the

top part almost half way back off the deck. With the right hand he

raises the misshapen pack to the palm of his left hand. As the back of

his left hand obscures the vision, he clutches the forward or lower half

of the pack and brings it to the top, the appearance being that he is

straightening the pack, in order to deal. He now has the cards as he

stocked them in the first place. This trick is called the _straddle_ and

other names.

3. A wider card is introduced from another pack, and placed exactly over

the stocked portion of the deck. As this card is about half-way down,

and as it offers a salient edge for the fingers, the victim usually

makes the cut precisely where the sharper designed it.

4. The _bridge_ is formed by bending half the deck convexly and the

other concavely. Thus, if the other half be convex at the face of the

card, it is difficult for the victim to lift any of the lower half, and

he will make the cut in precisely the same place as if there were a

wider card to aid him.

In dealing, the sharper can at any time retain on the top of the pack a

card which he does not wish to deliver, and it is impossible to detect

the cheat until after a long study of the motions of the player. When

gamesters play with each other, they are constantly on the lookout for

this trick, which is aided by the crimping or denting of important

cards. A gambler examines his aces closely to see if his opponent has

crimped them. If not, he crimps them. If two gamblers confront each

other in a game where “producers” are present, the two gamblers “take

the office” and cheat together, dividing stakes after the play.

The palming of cards is practiced where two of the sharpers sit together

in a large game. The dealer holds a “hand” in the palm of his right

hand, dealing to himself a hand at his extreme left. As he lays down the

deck he lowers his left arm upon his fair “hand” and pushes it along,

meanwhile pretending to pick up the “hand” which has been in the palm.

The confederate stays out of the play and with his right arm receives

the fair “hand” and throws it in the rejected cards along with his own

hand.

The _roof_ is a large number of cards which the sharper holds from a

deck of thick cards. The decks are changed by consent from very thin

faro-cards to very thick cards. At the first deal of the victim the

_roof_ is placed on in the act of cutting, and the victim cannot detect

the difference in thickness because of the change of decks. Thus the

victim deals himself four kings and his dishonest foe four aces.

Counting the cards, he finds the deck complete. Vain in the belief of

his acuteness, he bets and loses.

The _cold deck_ is a pre-arranged pack, introduced under the tray of a

waiter at the call for liquor, or carried in rear pockets called

_finetles_. Pockets called _costieres_ are in front. To mark the cards,

the Greek will buy the stock of a tradesman and exchange the goods on

some excuse, often preparing and sealing the decks. Then, at some future

time, he has the satisfaction of being asked to play with cards bought

by his victim, every one of which carries a mark known only to the

rogue.

The Greek carries a tin-box under the fore-arm, in his coat sleeve. This

is called _the bag_ in English. Projecting from the sleeve is a pair of

pincers which will seize and withdraw any card that may be desired.

Basiled cards, or _strippers_, were one of the most effective methods of

cheating in the eighteenth century, when the secret was known only to

sharpers. _Strippers_ are made by cutting the cards so that they are

wider at one end than at the other. Now, if one of the cards be turned,

it will present, at the narrower end of the deck, the feeling of a wide

card, and can be _stripped_ out of the deck in a twinkling. In the hands

of an expert, the basil may be scarcely perceptible to the touch, and

the further advantage of a variety of basils may be obtained. Thus, with

a convex basil or ax-like edge, the gambler may feel for a court card,

while with a convex basil, or razor-like edge, he may detect a low card.

Thus he may cut high or low with only a few cards turned, and those by

accident in the hands of his victim. Basiled cards cannot be detected

without a delicate touch and close scrutiny, implying suspicion and

inviting a quarrel if the rogue be vicious, as none is so jealous of his

honor as a thief.

The _chapelet_ is an arrangement or stock of cards by the order of

certain words. One of the oldest _chapelets_ is found in Latin, and each

word means a certain card of the pack of fifty-two.

The poverty, squalor and filth among the Turks and the Greeks is due, in

a considerable degree, to gambling. Men gamble away their money, their

merchandise, their household, their clothes, and not infrequently they

hazard themselves, on the chance of a die.

“One of my sudri, or carriers,” writes a gentleman to us, “when I was

going from Jenidscheh up into the Rhodope mountains, had lost himself in

this way and had become the property of a wealthy ‘Broussa’ merchant,

but on the death of the latter he again became free and resumed his

precarious gambling life. That is only one instance out of hundreds to

be found in the Turkish Peninsula, of men becoming so degraded by this

mad passion for gaming.

“I remember once stopping at a street corner in Zante, the capital of

the Island of Currants, the Zacynthus of the ancients, and watching a

party of ragged idlers, who had chosen a shady corner of a colonnade as

they played ‘comboloio.’ The ‘comboloio’ is a rosary, or bead string,

and the game is played with the loose beads and a ‘Kanate’ or earthen

jar, with a long, narrow neck, generally used for water. I didn’t

understand the rationale of the game, but it seemed to consist of

betting on which of the colored beads would come out successively, after

being shaken up in the ‘Kanate.’ Presently one of the party went off to

fetch some wine and I strolled away down to the harbor. I had occasion

to pass the same spot in the evening, about dusk, or rather the short

twilight that answers to dusk in those latitudes, and the group was

still there, rolling the colored beads out of the water vessel, and

passing little copper coins to and fro. They were always good humored

and merry. Indeed, amongst the lower classes in Greece, and particularly

amongst these loafers of the street, one rarely meets with any strong

display of feeling over losses or gains at play. They have become

largely imbued with the spirit of the Turk, and take everything that

comes with a dull resignation to fate. There are few large gambling

houses in Greece, as far as I know, but every town has plenty of little

‘dens’ and ‘joints’ where gaming is openly practiced and allowed.

“The spirit of hazard is inherent in the Greek, and everywhere one finds

the dice box, the wheel, the ‘Koulai,’ or card tables. Cheating is

regarded, I will not say as legitimate, but at least as justifiable. If

a man is fool enough to allow himself to be cheated, he must suffer the

consequences, and his acceptance of these consequences is always

graceful and blended with a sort of admiration for the cheater. Speaking

of this, I remember seeing in the museum at Athens (I think it was) a

number of the Kanatii mentioned above, with false bottoms carefully

fitted to them. They are a standing puzzle to the ceramist. If they were

used simply as vessels for holding water or wine, the use of these false

bottoms seems inexplicable, but I believe this was only a device used by

the gamblers in the game of ‘comboloio.’

“The American gentleman, traveling in Greece, had better beware of

sitting down at the card table with delicate handed Greeks. He is sure

to be invited wherever he goes, and unless he knows his company well, he

is sure to lose his money, no matter how skilled he may be in the tricks

common to the fraternity in his native land in the west; and if he

should take a hand and find that he is being plucked, the only way is to

ignore it, and withdraw from the game at an opportune moment. It would

never do to treat the Greek in the manner that certain parties once

treated Ah Sin when playing ‘The game he did not understand.’

Everywhere, through the Grecian Islands, one will find these dens kept

by Levantines and Greeks, and fitted up with all the modern

paraphernalia of gambling.

“This is the most beautiful part of Europe. The waves of the glorious

Mediterranean wash eternally on the ‘Shores of the old Romance.’ No spot

of the land, or the sea, but has a history, a legend, or a poem. Here in

old Salonica, the seven-towered citadel, once the Acropolis, still

watches o’er the town, its rugged cliff facing Mount Olympus across the

gulf. Down below, in the town itself, is many a temple, but little

attended since the days when Olympus was the abode of the gods. What a

great pity that the people should have become so degraded.

‘We have the Pyrrhic dance as yet;

‘Where is the Pyrrhic-phalanx gone?”

“Sings Byron. Yes, the Pyrrhic-dancer and the Pyrrhic gambler meet one

at every step. Some of these old houses that I have mentioned were

pointed out to me as noted gambling hells, and they have probably been

so for centuries.

“One house that I went into at Corfu, just off the Italian-looking

Spianata, or Esplanade, had scratched on the tiled walls of the rooms

some jokes and ribaldries, which must have been hundreds of years old.

Among other things there was a representative of the old tessara, or

marble game, a sort of pocket billiards, now to be found only in the

lowest dives, and usually played with biased balls.

“At Milon, a suburb of Corinth, is a magnificent gaming house, worthy of

Monte Carlo, and it would seem as if a special Providence watched over

it. The street in which it stands has been twice almost entirely

destroyed by fire, but the house has escaped; earthquake after

earthquake has left the place intact; and while I was in the city there

was a very severe shock of earthquake, which desolated the entire

suburb, but did not even disarrange the mirrors in the ‘Glass Room,’ a

chamber where only high play is permitted, and whose very floors and

ceilings are of plate glass. By the way, there is an ugly hole through

one of these very mirrors, a little round hole, which has not starred

the glass, telling that a certain Russian Prince once shot himself with

a revolver in that room, and in his death agony pressed the trigger

again, firing another shot which pierced the mirror behind him.”

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

GERMANY, RUSSIA, ROUMANIA, BULGARIA AND SERVIA.

“The Huns,” says St. Ambrose, “a fierce and warlike race, are always

subject to a set of usurers, who lend them what they want for the

purpose of gaming. They live without laws and yet obey the laws of

dice.” The Father adds that when a player has lost he sets his liberty

and often his life upon a single cast, and is accounted infamous if he

does not pay his “debt of honor,” as a debt of dishonor has always been

named.

We are told by Tacitus, in his history of the Germans, that the warriors

gambled without the excuse of being drunk, which was probably an

ironical indictment of the Romans, who did the same thing. The practices

noted in a later age, by St. Ambrose, are described by the great Roman

scholar, who says that a German who loses his liberty, submits to be

chained and exposed to sale. The winner is always anxious to barter away

such slaves.

Let us now look into the Germany of to-day. In 1838, the government at

Paris abolished the public salons of play, and then arose Baden,

Weisbaden, Sissingern, Wilhelmbad, Koethen, Hamburg, Ems, Spa, Geneva

and Monaco. The gaming season began in the spring, when the leaves were

green and closed in the late autumn. The opening and closing days of the

tables were like the saturnalia of the Romans. _Rouge-et-noir_ and

_roulette_ were the games.

[Illustration: _The Garden at Wiesbaden._]

In 1842, Homburg was an obscure village, the capital of the smallest of

European countries. Its inhabitants were poor and unassuming. There was

one inn, the “Aigle.” To this, a few German families came to drink the

waters of a mineral spring. In the year 1842, the famous Blanc brothers

arrived from Paris, from whence they had been driven. Frankfort had

refused to receive them, and hearing of Homburg, they traveled thither

in a diligence, and put up at the “Aigle.” The prime minister, who

governed the Landgrafate of Homburg, at a salary of $300 a year, was

open to the offers of a visitor so rich as the elder Blanc. Permission

was given to set up a _roulette_-wheel at the inn and an old and

skillful croupier of Frascati turned the wheel. No one could beat this

wheel. So successful was the summer’s business that Blanc, at its close,

obtained from the prime minister an exclusive concession to build a

cure-hall, lay out a public garden, and pay into the national exchequer

40,000 florins (over $17,000) a year. With this concession Blanc went to

Frankfort, and the Jews aided him in forming a company with a capital

stock of about $175,000. Of this sum the Jews took half, and the Blancs

half. During the winter a small cure-hall was built, and advertisements

of the sanitive properties of the waters filled Europe. Next year

visitors poured into Homburg in large numbers, and they were offered

fully as much gambling as mineral water. From this beginning arose the

great “company.” In 1867, the place was the most noted gaming resort in

Europe. Nature and art had conspired to make it attractive. On one side

are the mountains; on the other the river plains; the stream being the

Main. On the mountain-side is a forest, with walks for the visitors.

Gardens, lawns, groves, lakes, fountains, swans, music, and perfume, all

united to dull the sense of right, and make a heaven of hell, for hell

was what Homburg had come to be in 1867.

Fronting on the main street of the town, built of brown freestone in the

fashion of a palace of Florence, was the “Temple of Fortune.” A spacious

vestibule, paved with Roman mosaic, led to the great _salon_, whose

walls and ceilings were laden with gilt and sculpture, mirrors and

curtains of velvet and satin. Sofas and chairs of damask appeared to

invite to rest, but there was no rest in that dread chamber. The rattle

of the balls went on. Money sounded and checks clicked. There came

regularly the cries of the croupiers, the cappers and the recommenders:

“Make your play, gentlemen and ladies;” “The play is made; nothing more

goes.”

As he entered, the visitor must remove his hat, as if he were in St.

Peter’s. The goddess of fortune was a jealous and very exacting deity.

From a gentleman once connected with the “_Levant Herald_,” we are

indebted for the following glimpses of gambling as it obtains in the

Balkan Peninsular to-day:

“In Bulgaria and Servia I have seen the peasants throwing dice, or

coins, or even a notched stick, to decide the point as to who should pay

for the morning meal of ‘yekmek e’ soot’ (bread and milk.)

“The gamins of the street gamble for ‘Loukouni,’ little sticks of what

looks like ‘Turkish Delight.’ In all the towns one may see at the street

corners, the ‘hakimal,’ or ‘fakirs,’ with their packs of greasy cards,

wheels of fortune, and little cunning traps of dingy brass work into

which you drop small pieces of money and see whether it will ever reach

the bottom. Unfortunately that happy event rarely occurs. The coin

almost invariably becomes intercepted in its tortuous path and is

claimed by the swarthy proprietor of the “faki.” Very often these men

carry jewelry, and will match their wares against some property of your

own; then play you ‘double or quits’ at ‘djini,’ which is practically

the same as three card monte, only both parties have the privilege of a

throw. While in Belgrade I came across an Arab, a most intelligent man,

who had been a courier in Europe for years. I remarked to him upon this

passion for gambling, and denounced its results in very strong terms.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but what would you have? These people are happy; they

enjoy themselves. Why should they work when they can earn money so

easily?’ ‘_Ed djunya djifetun ve talibeha khilab_’ (The world is an

abomination, and those that work thereon are dogs.) This man had a

supreme contempt for manual labor, and would spend days and nights in

gaming houses. He was a master of the art of cheating, and told me he

never employed any but fair means. ‘I know enough to guard myself from

others,’ he said, ‘but why should one waste one’s talents on cattle like

these?’ pointing to a long-bearded, venerable ‘hakimal’ near by. I

think, however, that he did use his ‘talents’ pretty freely, for I

noticed that he never came away from the table empty-handed.

“Now here was an instance of a man with remarkable natural intelligence,

a fine linguist, well read, cultivated, a most agreeable traveling

companion; but he was a gambler, and all his thoughts and energies were

directed to one object—the winning of money by unfair means. He won

immense sums, and if he had kept them, would have been a very wealthy

man. But ‘light come, light go,’ and every cent was squandered in

pleasure, often of the vilest, most revolting kind. I told him how it

would probably end in a horrible death from starvation. ‘No,’ he replied

quietly, ‘not like that. There is always a way out of life,’ and he

pointed significantly to a small Malay creese which he carried in his

belt. I went with him one night to the ‘Tag Alek’ in Belgrade, a hell of

the worst reputation, and where I would not have ventured alone for a

kingdom, but I knew I was safe in the company of ‘Le Brulant,’ as the

courier was called. We passed through a dimly lighted court yard and

entered by a little arched door-way, which opened into a small stone

hall with a little fountain in the middle. My companion spoke a few

words to the man in charge (cawass), who supplied us with felt sandals,

and also gave me a loose gown to put over my European dress. Then we

passed into a long, low room filled with little tables, each occupied by

its group of card players, who were waited on by nearly nude negroes.

[Illustration: _The Old Castle, and View of Baden-Baden._]

“There was almost perfect silence, broken now and then by a muttered

oath or exclamation. The players were well, and even richly dressed, and

seemed to embrace many nationalities. We went through noiselessly, and

into another small room fitted up with divans and lounges. This was a

conversation room, and there were two or three men talking in a Slav

dialect in one corner. From here one could pass by separate doors, to

the rooms where roulette, rouge et noir, and other games were played,

but my companion refused to enter these, saying we should only disturb

the players. We sat down, and an attendant brought us some coffee, black

and bitter as gall, then handed us each a ‘tcihbouque’ (pipe), to light

while a little boy dressed as an Albanian, brought us a piece of red hot

charcoal on a platter. After a few minutes ‘Le Brulant’ proposed that we

should see the rest of the house. I agreed, and we arose. ‘Let’s go to

the Shades first,’ he said. I asked him what he meant. ‘Well,’ was the

reply, ‘the rooms over these,’ pointing to the way by which we had

entered, ‘are nothing. The men who play there are quiet, steady people.

They are not initiated. Look here,’ and he drew back a heavy gold-

embroidered curtain which concealed the end of the passage we had

traversed. It was a magnificent room which lay beyond, gorgeous with

gold and silver, and all the vivid colors of oriental furnishing. At the

different tables were men and women seated, and apparently absorbed in

their game. The attendants in this room were young girls dressed in a

single fold of a fabric so fine and transparent that the white flesh

gleamed through like pearl. My companion dropped the curtain and said:

‘Ah, there’s no one there to-night but the Lurley (mentioning the

soubriquet of a woman infamously known all over Europe) and she seems to

have a new victim.’ The Arab ground his teeth together savagely, as he

hissed: ‘They may well call her the Lurley.’ We looked into a number of

other rooms, where the same scene was being enacted, with variations.

These were the public rooms, but there were also private dens, some of

which were set apart for opium devotees. ‘But,’ I said to ‘Le Brulant,’

‘I don’t see any danger in coming here. Everything seems quiet and

orderly. How is it that the house has such a fiendish reputation?’ ‘Yes,

you see the fair side to-night,’ he answered, ‘but if I was to leave you

now, you might never get out of this place alive, if you had any money

or jewelry about you. One of those sirens yonder would soon lure you to

a nice, cool resting place at the bottom of the Danube.’ He said this so

fiercely that I shuddered, and the thought struck me that the gambling

fever might flash out in his veins at any moment and leave me without a

protector in this hell upon earth. He saw my disquietude, and said

gently: ‘Come, let’s go; its best not to stay too long.’ We passed out

by another door opening on the same dark court yard, and I breathed more

freely when we reached the open air, and I could see the stars above my

head and feel the fresh breeze blowing down from the mountains, sweeping

away the sense of languor and enervation imbued by the heavy scented

atmosphere of the Tag’ Alek.”

At the German watering places the gambling houses were required to pay a

heavy tax by the several principalities, which licensed them,

notwithstanding games of hazard were forbidden by the laws. Moreover,

the respective governments were so perfectly conscious of the ruin

caused by gaming that they prohibited their subjects from patronizing

the licensed establishments. In Homburg the law even forbade citizens

from living intimately with gamblers and visitors, under a penalty of

from 30 to 150 florins.

“The bankers” of Baden-Baden paid an annual license of 300,000 francs

($60,000), which was expended in constructing and beautifying the baths.

The “bankers” were at an annual expense, in addition to this license, of

700,000 francs ($140,000), yet, notwithstanding this, the net profit of

one season amounted to 2,000,000 francs ($400,000).

At Wiesbaden and Ems, the tables belonged to a joint stock company,

which paid 115,000 florins for the double license. So profitable was the

business that the company offered 100,000 florins more for the privilege

of keeping the establishment open during the winter. The expenses of the

company, for the season of 1860, were estimated at 750,000 francs, yet,

from the net profit of the year, a dividend of 49·30 francs was paid on

each one of the 25,000 shares of stock, showing an aggregate net profit

of 1,232,500 francs ($246,500). At Wiesbaden there were two tables for

roulette and two for rouge-et-noir, and at Ems one for each.

Homburg paid a license of 50,000 francs ($10,000), for which it had the

privilege of keeping the tables in operation throughout the year. The

society, or company, defrayed the expense of all buildings and

embellishments. Its capital was divided into 10,000 shares, each of

which earned a dividend of fifty-three francs.

Spa, for a time one of the most flourishing gaming resorts, paid a net

annual profit of more than 1,000,000 francs from the operation of one

roulette and one rouge-et-noir table. Geneva, like Spa, paid no license.

The gaming “sessions” were held in a mansion of the President of the

Council, for which, in 1860, a rental of 25,000 francs was paid. The

general expenses that year were about 125,000 francs, and the net

profits 300,000 francs ($60,000). Towards the end of the last century,

Aix-la-Chapelle was a great rendez-vous of gamblers, and play there was

generally desperate and ruinous. The chief banker paid a license of

4,000 Louis. The gaming profits in 1870 were 120,000 florins ($70,000).

Wiesbaden is in the Duchy of Nassau, being three or four miles farther

from the historic city of Frankfort, to the westward, than Homburg is to

the northward. Situated on the spurs of the Taunaus, about 100 feet

above the Rhine, it is environed by beautiful villas, remarkable for the

picturesqueness of their gardens—the residences, for the most part, of

the wealthy bankers of Frankfort, the financial center of continental

Europe. Wiesbaden is one of the oldest watering places in Germany. The

locality is referred to by Pliny, in his natural history, and the

remains of a Roman fortress were discovered some twenty years ago in the

Heidenburg, north of the city.

Among the noteworthy buildings of the place are the Ducal Palace, built

in imitation of the Alhambra, the ministerial building, once occupied by

the Florentine Consulate, and the Catholic Church. Until 1872, the

architectural and social center was the Cure Hall. In this structure the

principal hall once contained copies of the Apollo, Venus, Laocoon and

other celebrated productions of ancient art, and was embellished with

pillars of red and gray marble quarried in the region. Outwardly, the

Cure Hall is a reproduction of the immortal Pantheon, with its imposing

portico fronting upon a charming square, wherein fountains play in the

sunlight or beneath the soft rays of the moon, glinting through the

leaves and branches, all of which makes beautiful shades and contrasts

of color. On each side of the square are broad colonnades lined with

fancy shops. The interior of the Cure Hall was furnished and adorned in

a sumptuous and florid manner, as at other German Spas, and the pleasure

grounds in the rear presented a charming prospect of walks, grottoes,

and miniature lakes.

When gambling was in the ascendant at Wiesbaden, society there was in a

very mixed and deplorable state. The fast were in full possession,

almost, and as late as 1872 respectable women dared not take a stroll in

the grounds outside the Cure Hall. When gambling, with “hideous mien,”

stalked through this fair scene, the aged, broken down courtesans of

Paris, Vienna and Berlin made Wiesbaden their autumn rendez-vous. A

correspondent of the London _Daily Telegraph_ described them as “arrayed

in all the colors of the rainbow, painted to the roots of their dyed

hair, shamelessly decollette, prodigal of “free” talk and unseemly

gestures, these ghastly creatures, hideous caricatures of youth and

beauty, flaunted about the play rooms and gardens, levying blackmail

upon those who were imprudent enough to engage them in “chaff” or

badinage, and desperately endeavoring to hook themselves onto the

wealthier and younger members of the male community. They poison the air

around them with sickly perfume; they assume titles and refer to one

another as “cette chere comtesse,” their walk was something between a

prance and a wiggle; they prowled about the terrace whilst the music was

playing, seeking whom they might devour, or rather whom they might

inveigle for their devouring. How they did gorge themselves with food

and drink when some silly lad or aged roue allowed himself to be bullied

or wheedled into paying their scope, their name was legion and they

constituted the very worst feature of a palace which, naturally a

paradise, was turned into a seventh hell by the uncontrolled rioting of

human passions. They had no friends, no “protectors.” They were

dependent upon accident for a meal or a piece of gold to throw away at

the tables; they were plague spots upon the face of society; they were,

as a rule, grossly ignorant, and horribly cynical, and yet there were

many men who were proud of their acquaintance, always ready to entertain

them in the most expensive manner, and who spoke of them as if they were

the only desirable companions in the world.

[Illustration: _The Conversationhaus, Exterior and Interior._]

In all the world cannot be found an inland watering place so charming as

Baden. The climate is invigorating, the situation unequalled and the

locality, from every point of view, exceedingly beautiful. Situated on

the confines of the “Black Forest,” in the beautiful valley of the

Oelbach, and surrounded by green and graceful hills, Baden resembles

both Heidelberg and Freiburg, but is more lovely than either.

Overlooking the town are the fine old ruins of a castle, dating from the

11th century. This castle was for centuries the residence of the

Margraves of Baden, and was destroyed as late as 1869 by the French.

From the ruins a beautiful panorama is unfolded to the view. In the

distance can be seen the broad valley of the Rhine, from Strasburg to

the ancient town of Worms. Nearer lies the delightful valley of Baden,

with its green pastures, and groves of fir trees and charming villas.

Near the castle are huge and irregular masses of porphyry, which seen at

a distance, reminds one of ruined towers and crumbling battlements.

The pleasant walks and drives, which are numerous about the town, lead

one to pretty villages and fine views of old Roman ruins. Baden has only

about 8,000 inhabitants, but the annual influx of visitors has been

known to reach 50,000 or 60,000.

Prior to 1873, the central attraction of Baden was, of course, the

conversationhaus (Conversation House); so called, it is presumed,

because no one was permitted to speak there above a whisper. Applying

the name “conversationhaus” to a gambling hall must have been due to

some Teutonic vagary in which irony was uppermost. The conversationhaus

contained drawing, reading, dining, concert and gaming rooms, all

elaborately gilded and frescoed and richly furnished. Great mirrors, on

every side, reflected all that transpired and made the place appear

larger and the players more numerous than they really were.

The promenades of Baden, during the afternoon and evening, when an

excellent band played before the gambling hall, presented a very

animated and attractive scene. There representatives could be seen from

all quarters of the world and of every nationality claiming to be

civilized. The great majority were faultlessly attired in the latest

fashion, and many very elegant toilets were to be seen. No better

opportunity could be imagined to show a pretty face, a fine figure, or

costly jewels and gowns, and the women were therefore happy. The men

struggled to express that grand insouciance which indicates the final

fathoming of all social profundities. The pleasantest feature of Baden

were the walks and promenades where one could stroll leisurely with the

bright sunshine overhead, soft and perfect music in the ear, and a gay

panorama of pretty women and well dressed men before him.

The gambling rooms at Baden usually had six roulette and rouge-et-noir

(trente-et-quarante) tables running. The games opened daily at 11

o’clock in the morning, and ran continuously until 11 o’clock at night.

The place was almost as public as the street. Everybody went in or went

out, played or refrained from playing, as he pleased. There was no one

to question or interrupt, to invite or discourage, any respectably

dressed or decently behaved stranger, who, from curiosity, inclination

or other motive might desire to enter and look about. It was contrary to

the rules for one to wear his hat or to take a cane or umbrella into the

gambling rooms, and in the vestibule, lackeys were stationed to relieve

visitors of these articles. These lackeys wore livery not unlike a court

costume and were most obedient, obsequious and ready to do any one’s

bidding, with the expectation of course, of receiving a “tip” for their

trouble. The Directors paid a license of $75,000 a year and paid out as

much more for the running expenses of the establishment, yet reaped

immense profit. The season extended from May until October and was at

its height from the middle of July until the first of September.

The Baden salons during the height of the season, were attractive to the

mind and interesting to the eye. The contemplative spectator, the

student of human nature, saw much relating to cosmopolitan society which

he could scarcely find elsewhere. The _roulette_ and _trente-et-

quarante_ tables were always crowded, while the games were in progress.

Well dressed men and women, young and old, notables and nobodies, many

of distinguished bearing, sat around the tables, or leaned over from

their standing posture behind, and placed their bets, raked in their

winnings, or scowled and muttered curses when they lost. All the players

were absorbed in the game. Around each table, also, were to be seen,

scores of persons, whose despondent countenances told, as plainly as

words could express it, that their last louis had been swept away. The

“banker” or dealer, and the croupiers, his assistants, occupied seats

raised above those of the players, that they might the better see what

was transpiring on the table, and not to be interfered with by the

movements of the bettors.

No attache of the establishment was ever known to ask any one, even in

the most indirect manner, to take part in the game. All seemed

indifferent on that point, and visitors were free to play or not as they

pleased. Dealers, croupiers, and lackeys—all maintained an air of good

breeding and never allowed themselves to exhibit emotion or even any

particular interest. Thousands were raked in, or paid, with each deal or

roll of the ball, and all proceeded in a marvelously mechanical way. The

players did but little talking and rarely spoke above an undertone. The

chink of the coin could be distinctly heard, as the dealer tossed it

adroitly to the winning stakes, or as the croupiers raked in the losses.

Over all, like a sad refrain, was heard periodically, the dealers

direction to the players, “faites votre jeu, messieurs,” “le jeu est

fait,” and “rien ne va plus.” (“Make your play, gentlemen!” “Nothing

more goes!”)

Baden was the most dangerous of all gambling resorts, though the most

respectable. On arriving from Homburg or Wiesburg, say in 1860, and

entering the Maison de Conversation, at Baden, one could hardly believe,

for the moment, that he was in a gambling house, for the interior was in

striking contrast with that of most places devoted to this purpose. The

attendants were neatly attired and quite courteous. The company was

elegantly dressed and no one over-stepped the bounds of strict decorum.

The professional gambler was a rarity. The titled aristocrat was there

and potentates arrived in their elegant carriages, from the city, or the

country. Representatives of the _demi-monde_ were there, but they

differed little, in outward aspect, from the most respectable.

Writing of the interior of the Conversationhaus in 1870, Mr. Whitelock

said: “How shall I describe to my readers, in language sufficiently

graphic, one of the resorts the most celebrated in Europe—a place if not

competing with Crockford’s in gorgeous magnificence, use, and display,

at least surpassing it in renown, and known over a wider sphere? The

metropolitan pump-room of Europe, conducted on the principle of

gratuitous admittance to all bearing the semblance of gentility and

conducting themselves with propriety, opens its Janus doors to all the

world with the most laudable hospitality and with a perfect indifference

to exclusiveness, requiring only the hat to be taken off upon entering,

and rejecting only short jackets, cigar, pipe, and meerschaum. A room of

this description, a temple dedicated to fashion, fortune, and

flirtation, requires a pen more graphic to vivify and depict. Taking

everything, therefore, for granted, let us suppose a vast salon of

regular proportions, rather longer than broad, at either end garnished

by a balcony; beneath, doors to the right and left and opposite to the

main entrance, conduct to other apartments, dedicated to different

purposes. On entering, the eye is at once dazzled by the blaze of lights

from chandeliers of magnificent dimensions, composed of lamps, lustres,

and sconces. The ceiling and borders set off into compartments showered

over with arabesques, the gilded pillars, the moving mass of

promenaders, the endless labyrinth of human beings, assembled from every

region in Europe, the costly dresses, repeated by a host of mirrors, all

this combined, which the eye conveys to the brain at a single glance,

utterly fails of description. As with the eye, so it is with the ear; at

every step a new language falls upon it and every tongue with different

intonation, for the high and the low, the prince, peer, vassal and

tradesman, the proud beauty, the decrepit crone, some freshly budding

into the world, some standing near the grave, the gentle and the stern,

the sombre and the gay; in short, every possible antithesis that the

eye, ear, or heart can perceive, hear, or respond to, or that the mind

itself can imagine, is here to be met with in two minutes. And yet all

this is no Babel; for all, though concentrated, is admirably void of

confusion; and evil or strong passions if they do exist, are religiously

suppressed—a necessary consequence, indeed, where there can be no

sympathy, and where contempt and ridicule would be the sole reciprocity.

In case, however, any such display should take place, a gendarme keeps

constant watch at the door, appointed by the government, it is true, but

resembling our Bow street officer in more respects than one.”

We here append what a traveler witnessed within the Cure-hall at Baden

in the summer of 1854:

“Almost immediately on our entrance our attention was attracted to a

young Englishman, fashionably dressed, but yet of such rakish and

sinister aspect that I set him down at once as a black-leg who had

figured at Epsom or Newmarket; a London roue, who, having lost character

and means at home, now formed one of that base band of English sharpers

who are to be found on the continent, and who initiate our young bloods

into the mysteries of the gambling tables, or fleece them at private

gaming parties. In eager excitement this person pressed through the

crowd, and, bending over the table, repeatedly deposited a handful of

silver florins, until nearly every yellow line or space had a stake

placed upon it. It seemed as if he had set his life upon the cast and

was resolved to take the bank by storm. Within a few minutes, however,

his entire cash was lost, and as the croupiers remorselessly gathered it

in with their little rakes, he turned abruptly away.

“But whose are the small gloved hands and rounded arms which, just at my

left, are suddenly thrust forward to obtain silver for the Napoleon d’or

which she gives to the markers? I look around and see a tall and

elegantly dressed French lady standing at my side. She cautiously

deposits one or two florins on the board, and with subdued excitement

watches the progress of the game. At length the silver pieces are all

staked and lost. Now, with gloved hands, she unfastens the string of her

purse and other gold is produced and changed, until all is gone, and

she, too, suddenly disappears.

“The game has progressed but a few moments when our countryman returns

and proceeds as before, with the same result, and then disappears again.

Now, here is also the French lady again, with her silk purse containing

gold pieces, and playing with greater excitement than ever; but after

some winnings, she, too, loses all.

“Yonder stands a tall, thin lady, who seeks the table on which small

sums can be played. See how anxiously she glances over the table, and

how cautiously she deposits her little sum. Once or twice she wins, and

her pale cheeks become flushed, and her eyes kindle; but in a short time

it is all gone, and then, leaving the place, she retires to one of those

garden chairs sitting apart from the rest of the people, her cheeks more

wasted, her eyes duller, apparently broken-hearted, as if the thought of

her confiding husband and little ones far away oppressed her spirit. But

look again and you will see another lady with a younger lady by her

side. It is her daughter, and she is initiating her into the mysteries

of gambling. Who would like to marry such a woman, thus trained into the

mysteries of such a game as this?

“A man now enters the room. His dress and person are neglected, his face

is unwashed, his long and curly hair falls wildly over his forehead,

seamed and furrowed with deep wrinkles, A little girl is by his side.

She, too, is miserably dressed, and his rank seems to be that of a

peasant. He is an inveterate gambler and cannot do without his

excitement. He takes a seat at the foot of the table, deposits a florin

from time to time, and carefully examines a small marked card on which

is marked the result of each revolution of the deal. For a time

familiarity with the game seems to give him an advantage, and with a

calm satisfaction he rakes in his winnings in a heap, on which the

little girl bends her glistening eyes. And there he sits until the

evening closes, when he departs, having passed an evening of feverish

excitement and lost all. The face of that gambler and the little girl,

who was always with him and who seemed as if she were the only one left

of a ship-wrecked and ruined family, haunt me to this hour.

“At rouge et noir is a more select class than is generally found playing

at roulette. English, French, Germans, Russians, and Poles, and the fire

of Mammon always burning on his altars and the doomed flies buzzing

about them, some with already scorched-off wings; it is a scene of

external gaiety with all that is internally hollow and deceiving.

“The lights are burning brightly overhead, the players nearly all

seated, and a large number of people forming an outer circle.

“Here are two gentlemen who are bold players. They never stake silver. A

pile of Napoleons lies at the side of each. One player is about sixty

years of age, tall and robust; the other a little, dark haired, black

eyed man, and both appear to be habitues of the place. Three gold pieces

formed the first stake, and the player winning, the same was doubled.

Five more Napoleons are won.

“At this moment one of the proprietors can be seen talking with some

friends nonchalantly, and apparently uninterested in the game, in the

background; but if you will watch him carefully, you can see that he

ever and anon casts a searching glance toward the table, for this

evening the game is going against the bank. But soon caution on the part

of the player is gone, and golden visions beckon onward. One of the

gentlemen leaves ten gold pieces on the cloth, another turn and all is

gone.

[Illustration: _Gambling Saloon at Wiesbaden._]

[Illustration: _The Kursaal at Wiesbaden._]

“It was here that an Englishman played one night until he lost £180,000,

and announced his determination to win it back or to lose everything;

but he was doomed to drink, and justly too, the cup of bitterness: he

lost everything.”

Mrs. Trollope has thus described two specimens of the gamestresses, who

were wont to frequent the German watering places:

“There was one of this set,” she says, “whom I watched day after day,

during the whole period of our stay, with more interest than, I believe

was reasonable; for had I studied any other as attentively, I might have

found less to lament.

“She was young, certainly not more than twenty-five, and though not

regularly nor brilliantly handsome, most singularly winning, both in

person and demeanor. Her dress was elegant, but peculiarly plain and

simple—a close white silk bonnet and gauze veil; a quiet colored silk

gown, with less of flourish and frill, by half, than any other person; a

delicate little hand, which, when ungloved, displayed some handsome

rings; a jeweled watch of peculiar splendor; and a countenance

expressive of anxious thoughtfulness—must be remembered by many who were

at Baden in August, 1833. They must remember, too, that, enter the room

when they would, morning, noon or night, still they found her nearly at

the same place at the rouge et noir table.

“Her husband, who had as unquestionably the air of a gentleman, as she

had of a lady, though not always close to her, was never very distant.

He did not play himself, and I fancied, as he hovered near her, that his

countenance expressed anxiety. But he returned her sweet smile, with

which she always met his eye, with an answering smile; and I saw not the

slightest indication that he wished her to withdraw from the table.

“There was an expression in the upper part of her face that my

blundering science would have construed into something very foreign to

the propensity she showed; but there she sat—hour after hour, day after

day, not allowing even the blessed Sabbath, that gives rest to all, to

bring it to her;—there she sat, constantly throwing down handfuls of

five-franc pieces, and sometimes drawing them back again, till her young

face grew rigid from weariness, and all the lustre of her eye faded into

a glare of vexed inanity. Alas! alas! is that fair woman a mother? God

forbid!

“Another figure at the gaming table, which daily drew our attention, was

a pale, anxious old woman, who seemed no longer to have strength to

conceal her agitation under the air of callous indifference which all

practiced players endeavor to assume. She trembled, till her shaking

hand could hardly grasp the instrument with which she pushed, or

withdrew her pieces; the dew of agony stood upon her wrinkled brow; yet,

hour after hour, day after day, she, too, sat in the enchanted chair. I

never saw age and station in a position so utterly beyond the pale of

respect. I was assured she was a person of rank; and my informant added,

but I trust she was mistaken, that she was an Englishwoman.”

Ems is a quiet village in the Duchy of Nassau, fifteen miles north of

Wiesbaden, situated picturesquely on the river Lahn; it is surrounded by

green hills, beautiful landscapes and delightful drives. The discovery

of ancient vases and coins in the vicinity indicates that, like

Wiesbaden, it was known to the Romans. Ems has a population of less than

5,000, but entertains about 8,000 visitors each summer. When gambling

flourished at Ems, years ago, there was a croupier whose life had been a

most adventurous and checkered one. The illegitimate son of a German

Margrave, he was educated a soldier and served with distinction. Leaving

the army, he traveled through the East—was in succession a Mohammedan, a

member of the Greek church, an Israelite, a Roman Catholic, a Buddhist

and an Atheist. By his father’s death he inherited a large fortune.

Married three times, he had quarreled with and separated from each wife.

Becoming an epicurean and dilettante, he was soon a sensualist and a

sot. Broken down with dissipation, and reduced to poverty, he found

himself at Ems. Thoroughly familiar with gambling, he was given a

situation as croupier, provided he would give up drinking. This he

agreed to do, and kept his pledge. A man of exceptional ability, and

unusual opportunities, he had, in twenty short years, ruined his

prospects and his health, and settled down to the monotonous and

hopeless career of a croupier in a gambling house.

The Russians, late to learn civilization, but keenest of its students,

have begun—so say the English, their enemies—by learning all the vices.

Like Alexander the Great, the Russian autocrat permits a dissolute life

among the nobility, in order that the empire may not have to confront

the resolutions of more honorable men. Ennui wears upon the gentry. At

Moscow and St. Petersburg, the man of the fashionable world dwells in a

state of social license that contrasts sharply with his political

restrictions. Moscow is filled with men in disgrace, who are here

allowed to live in splendid exile. Gaming, racing, intemperance, and

libertinism are the most striking features of the Russian realistic

novel. If we read “Anne Karenina,” by Tolstoi, we shall be outraged with

the gross treatment of an honest husband, at the hands of an author who

pretends to follow the practical teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. The

minister of state, who suffers from the incursions of a libertine, is

dwelt upon, and held up to ridicule, while the inner life of a villain

who steals away the love of a bad wife, is glazed over and made

entertaining to low minds. It may be said that this was necessary, in a

land where a betrayed husband was the butt of ridicule; but why should

the life of a woman offer a field for the apologetics of Tolstoi? Why

should the noble author who toils like a peasant in the field, have no

word of praise for a husband whose every act was visibly an attempt to

do justice and serve the state? Why should not gambling and racing

receive a stinging rebuke at the hands of an author who is not afraid to

rebuke all other iniquities? Possibly “Anne Karenina” would have had a

very limited sale, if gamblers, libertines, and a wicked woman had not

figured as the principal characters.

In Roumania, lansquenet, makaw, baccaret, and other games are the

pastimes of old and young, and consequently the Shylock flourishes. All

Roumanians play, and it is difficult for the visitor to resist the

epidemic. The Roumanians lay the blame on the Russians and declare that

gambling sprung up during the two military occupations. Exiles like the

emigrants from France, weary of absence from their own vodki, introduced

games of chance; and card playing is now the only social entertainment

of the salons. “Every drawing-room in Bucharest is an unlicensed cure-

halle,” say a recent writer.

[Illustration: VIEW OF EMS.]

CHAPTER V.

ITALY, MONTE CARLO, FRANCE, SPAIN, MEXICO, CENTRAL AND SOUTH AMERICA.

Histories, accessible to the author present but few glimpses here and

there of the gambling vice as it has prevailed in modern Italy. He found

but few allusions to the subject by historians, and only an occasional

word in books of travel. However, from what is generally known of Italy,

and Italians, it is beyond question that in gaming this people are not

behind the rest of their fellow men. In Naples, while under the Spanish

dominion, there was scarcely one viceroy who did not issue a decree

against games of chance; but all their efforts were in vain, for the

governor of the Vicarial Court farmed out the gaming tables to the

nobles, the people and the soldiers. The nobility at that time,

especially, were passionately devoted to every sort of gaming. When in

1620, A. D., Cardinal Zapata assumed the government, he forbade the

further farming of the gaming table by the governor, who complained

loudly. This prohibition remained in force, only until a _son_ of the

Cardinal was appointed to the gubernatorial office. Thousands of ducats

were staked upon cards and dice during this period. In the year 1631,

the Duke of St. Agata lost ten thousand ducats at tarocchi. Vencinzio

Capece, the natural son of a Knight of Malta, acquired sixty thousand

ducats by lending money to be used in gaming. His income, from interest

on such loans, amounted to fifteen and even twenty ducats daily. When

the Neopolitan people revolted, in 1647, they complained that gaming had

been encouraged by the nobility. On the 29th day of July, of that year,

the people assembled in groups to visit the gambling resorts—even the

Royal Palace was not spared. A mob entered the house of one Belogna,

where the nobles of highest rank were accustomed to meet for gaming

purposes. “Ye lord cavaliers,” called out one of the leaders, “do you

think that you will be allowed to go on with such doings? For what else

but to indulge in your evil passions for dice and cards, have you sold

the poor citizen to his arch-enemy? For what else have you sold your

votes to the Viceroy that he may burden us to his heart’s desire?” The

mob then set fire to the house, which was destroyed, together with its

contents—household furniture, tables, cards and dice. It has been

estimated that more than one hundred gaming houses were at this time

consumed by fire. Not only the nobility, but numerous adventurers gained

a livelihood at these licensed _redoubts_, (as the gaming resorts were

named). For instance, under the Second Duke of Alcala, a Calabrian

cavalier, Muzio Passalacqua, kept a house of this character, where the

play was so high that Bartholo Meo Imperiali lost sixty thousand ducats

in one evening. We are told that during the time under consideration a

similar state of affairs prevailed throughout the Italian Peninsula.

The picture given reflects the vices of Italian society, which had then

prevailed for more than four hundred years. Sismondi and John Addington

Symonds, clearly indicate that during the twelfth, thirteenth and

fourteenth centuries, the gaming vice spread amongst all classes of

Italians. In the princely castle, the ducal palace, the lowly cot, and

even the monastery, dice and other gaming devices held sway. From such

views as we obtain from the later Latin historians, of their barbarian

neighbors in the north, we know that with their invasion of Italy, was

introduced the gaming vice in its most persistent and pernicious

features. How prone the modern Italian is to the fascination of gaming,

is evident from the papal lottery system as it flourished in all parts

of the country.

Passing to the northwest, we reach the little principality of Monaco,

and the notorious Monte Carlo. Monaco is now reduced to a square mile or

two, but has a malodorous reputation greatly exceeding its political

importance or geographical dimensions. Leaving the city of Nice, by

train, and passing through a tunnel, you come full upon the beautiful

little bay of Villa Franca. Go under ground, again, and you presently

emerge upon a rocky headland jutting out into the sapphire, sea. This

cape bears aloft the little town of, Monaco. On the extreme southern

side of the headland is a deep bay, beyond which, at a distance of less

than half a mile, stands Monte Carlo on another and lesser promontory.

The bay is lined with hotels, cafes, shops and lodging houses. The

famous Casino crowns the slope of Monte Carlo, and contains the gambling

rooms, concert hall, and theatre. Near this massive structure are more

hotels and the enclosures for pigeon shooting. The walks are shaded by

orange trees and cacti, while a velvet turf spreads like a verdant

carpet under the trees. All this was the work of the late M. Blanc, who

established the Casino and its environs, after his enforced departure

from Baden-Baden. But in reality this stately palace was erected, and

the surrounding grounds laid out, at the expense of the dupes, the

blacklegs, and the courtesans of Europe. M. Garnier, who planned the

Grand Opera House, at Paris, designed the architecture of the Casino in

its sensuous detail. But this devil’s university of Monte Carlo, with

its classic rooms, and chairs for Professors Belial and Mammon, is, in

sober truth, the erection of those named. The fortune is always with

_roulette and rouge et noir_.

[Illustration: _The Casino at Monte Carlo, Monaco._]

There are six tables in the Casino for _roulette_, where the lowest

stake is twenty-five francs. Two _rouge et noir_, where the lowest stake

is twenty francs. These tables are always crowded, Sundays and week days

alike. Some persons, it is true, make lucky coups, but the majority

lose, of course. Some years ago a British dowager won four hundred

pounds, and a German two thousand pounds the same day.

By some Europeans, it has been insisted that while Monte Carlo may not

have moral or elevating influence, yet men will play, and it is not

worse there than at the club. This plea is specious and superficial. The

club is private; it is not open to women and children. The mischief that

might occur there is not an example for the public, and therefore not

contagious. The club does not exist for the sole purpose, and is not

supported by the profits of the play. It is not an instrument of

wholesale demoralization, as is Monte Carlo. The latter is a curse, a

public scandal, and an unmitigated evil. In these times of spirited

foreign policy, a more wholesome exercise of diplomacy cannot be

imagined for some influential European power, than bringing pressure to

bear on France for the extinction of Monte Carlo. It is a disgrace to

the French Republic that under its protecting wing this pandering to

European vice should be allowed, or that Monte Carlo should be a shelter

for the sharpers expelled from other haunts on the continent, there to

fatten on the wages and spoils of iniquity. If Monaco and Monte Carlo

were cleansed of this blot, they would be among the most alluring

resorts of the world. The demoralizing tables, and the vicious crew

should not be allied with such delightful scenery and salubrious

climate. Let us hope that the report is not true that an American

syndicate has offered eight million francs for the right of keeping a

gambling house at Taft-chi-dar, Hungary, like that at Monte Carlo.

[Illustration: ROULETTE WHEEL AND LAY OUT.]

M. Blanc, now dead, obtained the lease of the place from the Prince of

Monaco, agreeing to pay him an enormous rental, one-tenth of the profits

of the game, and to defray the expense of maintaining the standing army,

the police, and the menials of the principality. M. Blanc’s widow now

enjoys the profits accruing from the bargain made by her husband. The

games at Monte Carlo are kept running from noon until 11 o’clock at

night, every day in the year, Sundays not excepted, and are patronized

by the titled and most aristocratic personages in Europe. In the height

of the season, from December to April, Monte Carlo is one of the most

cosmopolitan places on earth. English, French, Germans, Russians,

Americans, Spaniards—all nationalities, almost, are to be seen about its

gaming tables. Elegantly dressed women, young and old, some of them the

wives, or members of the families, of the most reputable men in Europe;

some representatives of the demi-monde mingle with the throng and engage

in the play. The interior of the Casino presents the appearance of a

grand drawing room feté. Monte Carlo is the last and sole representative

of the class of gambling resorts of which Baden Baden, Wiesbaden,

Homburg; and Ems, were formerly notable examples.

It is said that the game at Monte Carlo is undoubtedly fair. This may be

true. The eyes of the greatest scoundrels in Europe, it is argued, are

bent upon the dealers, and that ought to be a sufficient guarantee

against any fraud being practiced. But this does not certainly follow.

The powers of a Professor of Legerdemain are admitted, and knowing this,

it would be childish to guarantee the integrity of any professional

gambler.

[Illustration: ROUGE ET NOIR.]

At the Casino eight roulette and two trente et quarante, or rouge et

noir tables, are kept running. Roulette is not played precisely as in

America, the player has less odds against him, from the fact that the

tables have only one zero instead of two. The heaviest play occurs at

the trente et quarante tables. This game is played with six packs of

cards of 52 each. Having shuffled the cards, the dealer passes them to

the nearest player, sometimes the nearest female player, to be cut. It

is a gamblers superstition that bad luck attends the one who cuts the

cards, and accordingly the professional often shirks that duty. The pack

is not cut as in the United States. The operation consists of inserting

a blue card in the sextuple pack. Two rows of cards are dealt on the

table, the first representing black and the second red. The ace counts

as one, and court cards as ten each, and the tailleur, or dealer,

continues to turn cards for the black row until the aggregate number of

their spots exceeds thirty. Suppose he deals three “court” cards, or

tens, he must deal another. If it is a deuce he calls “_deux_,” and then

proceeds to deal the red row, which, perhaps, aggregates thirty-five.

“_Cinq_,” exclaims the dealer. The black row being nearest to thirty

wins, and accordingly, all who have bet on the black win the amount of

their stakes, and the bank rakes in all that has been bet on the red.

Should the two rows tie, on thirty-one, the bank takes half of the

stakes, but ties on any other number are considered as a stand-off and

the player is free to withdraw or shift his bet, as he pleases. Bets may

also be made on “_couleur_,” or “_envers_,” the former winning, when the

winning color is the same as that of the first card dealt; and the

latter, when it is not. In the time when Baden-Baden and Homburg

preserved the air of Paris; when Meyerbeer played at Spa, and while

Tamberlik was losing his Louis, _trente et quarante_ was played with a

_quart de refait_, which only gave the bank a quarter, instead of a

half, of the money on the table, in case of a tie at thirty-one. This

was the practice, also, at Monte Carlo, until these other public

gambling establishments were closed. These ties, like all other

manifestations of chance, occur with great irregularity. On some days

there will be scarcely one; on others they will occur with terrible

frequency. M. Blanc invented a system of insurance against these ties at

thirty-one, and heavy players generally avail themselves of it. It

consists, simply, in the player paying to the bank one per cent. of his

bet, which being done, the bank does not take any of his stake when such

tie occurs. In such case the player pays one per cent. for the privilege

of playing a game in which the chances are precisely even.

At Monte Carlo no bet of less than a Louis (four dollars) is taken at

the _trente et quarante_ tables, and no bet larger than 12,000 francs

($2,400). The smallest bet allowed at _roulette_ is five francs, and the

largest 5,000 francs. On a single number, nine Louis, or 180 francs, is

the largest bet permitted. Roulette, compared with _trente et quarante_,

is a very unfavorable game for the player.

Formerly, at European gaming resorts, the game was played with two zeros

and thirty-six numbers; that is, two chances out of thirty-eight were

reserved for the bank. With the advent of M. Blanc at Homburg a more

liberal policy was inaugurated, and only one zero was employed. When M.

Blanc went to Monte Carlo he made the game still more favorable to the

players by taking, when the ball struck zero, only half, instead of the

whole of the bets on the colors, odd or even, etc. Including the zero,

the Monte Carlo roulette table has thirty-seven numbers, and the player

on a single number is paid thirty-five for one. The advantage which the

bank has, is easily seen. In backing two numbers with a single bet, one

is banking one eighteenth of the table, and is paid seventeen times his

stake. In backing four numbers, “_en carré_,” as it is called, he bets

on one-ninth and is paid eight for one. Accordingly, as he places his

bet, the punter, even though he stakes but a single coin, can play one,

two, three, four, or six numbers at once. He can also bet on the first,

second or third twelve in the thirty-six numbers, or one of the three

columns in which the numbers are arranged on the board, or on the

colors, or odd or even, or on what is called “_manque et passe_,” the

former signifying the numbers from one to eighteen, and the latter those

from nineteen to thirty-six. Betting on the columns, or the dozens,

against which the bank pays two to one, is a favorite game for punters,

who potter about the room with a handful of five-franc pieces, and

struggle all day long to win or lose a Louis or two. Twenty francs is a

Louis, in the language of the gamester. However he may bet, the

advantage is ever preserved by the table.

Though the games at Monte Carlo are kept running throughout the year,

the great rush of visitors occurs between December and April, during

which period hundreds of thousands from all parts of the civilized world

visit the Casino. Very many stay at the hotels or villas in Monte Carlo,

but the majority come and go on the trains from Nice, Menton, San Remo

and other Riviera resorts. Particularly is this true of the sports of

both sexes, who, for the most part, make Nice their headquarters. The

gardens and drives about Monte Carlo are as famous as those of any other

Riviera towns, and share, with the Casino, the attention of visitors.

Connected with the Casino is a spacious and richly adorned theater, in

which an orchestra of about seventy-five instruments furnish, each

afternoon and evening, as fine music as can be heard in Europe. These

entertainments are free, and are always crowded. The most stylish hotel

and café, the Hotel de Paris and the Café de Paris, which flanks the

Casino on either side, respectively, are both under the same management

as the Casino. The café, particularly at night, is a gay place, and

couples are continually emerging from the “lair of the tiger” to while

away a few minutes in the enjoyment of ices and liquid refreshments

under the cool awning of the café. This is a favorite resort of the

courtesans, who are ever on the watch for men who have made a winning,

and who, in consequence, are often in a mood to be lavish in spending

their easily procured gains.

In French story and song we read much of the chivalry—the valor and

honor—of their Kings and nobles in the days of old.

Here, again, “distance lends enchantment to the view.” If we are to

credit the impartial annalist, bad is the pictures of the _noblesse_ in

early France, addicted as they were to violence, drunkenness and gaming.

In spite of the admonitions of the virtuous St. Louis, his brother was a

determined gamester and, while in prison, gambled away his estates. We

have it, on authority of Froissart, that the Duc de Touraine, a brother

of Charles VI, set to work eagerly to win the King’s money, and was

transported with joy, one day, at having won five thousand livres; his

first cry was: “Monseigneur, faites-moi payer!” “Please pay me, Sire.”

Gambling went on, not only in the camp, but even in the face of the

enemy. In their devotion to the practice generals squandered their

property and imperiled the safety of their country. While in command of

the French army before Florence, under Charles V., Philibert Chalon,

Prince d’Orange, lost at play the money with which he had been entrusted

to pay the soldiers. As a result, he was obliged to capitulate to those

he might have conquered. During the reign of Charles VI, the Hotel de

Nesle was made infamous by a series of gaming catastrophes, in which,

among the nobility and opulent men of the day, who alone were allowed to

frequent it, not a few lost their fortunes and their honor and some even

their lives. In the following reign, that of Charles VII, a wonderful

reformation in the matter of gambling was effected among the lower and

middle classes, and by the preaching of an Augustinian friar, at whose

instigation the people lit fires in several quarters of Paris and, with

the greatest enthusiasm, threw into them their cards and other gambling

instruments. This reformation did not reach the royal Palace and

mansions of the nobility, where gaming continued as before, but it seems

to have quite effectively checked the gambling mania among the common

people for a number of years.

Louis XI, according to Brantome, being desirous, one day, of having

something written, called to him an ecclesiastic who had an inkstand

hanging at his side, and bade him open it. As the later obeyed a set of

dice fell out.

“What kind of sugar plums are these?” asked his majesty.

“Sire,” replied the priest, “they are a remedy for the plague.” “Well

said,” exclaimed the king, “you are a fine paillard,” (a word he was

wont to use) “you are the man for me.”

Thereupon the king took the priest into his service, for he was fond of

bon mots, and sharp wits, and was not adverse to tempting dame Fortuna

himself with the dice.

Henry III established card and dice rooms in the Louvre, and information

to this effect having been sent to a coterie of Italian gamesters by

their representatives in Paris, they gained admission at court and won

thirty thousand crowns from the king. Henry III, according to Brantome,

was very fond of play, but not through cupidity or avarice. He was wont

to play tennis and, if he won, distribute his winnings among his

companions, and, if he lost, would pay, not only his wager, but the

losses of all engaged in the game. At that time, the stakes were not

usually above three or four hundred crowns. Later, play ran much higher,

and bets of ten or twelve thousand crowns were not uncommon.

It is related that a French Captain, named La Roue, once offered a bet

of twenty thousand crowns against one of Andrew Doria’s war galleys.

Doria took the wager, but immediately declared it off, fearing the

ridiculous position in which he would be left should he lose. “I don’t

wish this young adventurer,” he said, “who has nothing worth naming to

lose, should he win my galley, to go and triumph in France over my

fortune and my honor.”

Henry IV, when very young and stinted in ready money, used to raise

money with which to gratify his growing passion for gaming by sending

his own promissory note to his friends with the request that they should

cash it, an experiment that almost invariably succeeded, as his friends

were only too glad to have the prince beholden to them. The influence of

Henry IV was exceedingly pernicious in the matter of gaming, as in other

vices. Gambling became the ruling vice, and many noted families were

brought to ruin by it.

In a single year the Duc de Biron lost over 500,000 crowns (£125,000).

The celebrated D’Audigne wrote: “My son lost twenty times more than he

was worth, so that, finding himself without resources, he abjured his

religion.” Henry IV was, indeed, the gambling exemplar of France. He was

very avaricious, and those who played with him had either to lose or to

offend their sovereign.

The Duke of Savoy, it is said, once sacrificed 40,000 pistoles (about

£28,000) rather than incur the king’s enmity. The king always wanted

“revanche,” or revenge, when he lost, and often used his royal authority

in exacting it. The extent of gambling in France at this period was

astonishing, and Paris swarmed with gamesters.

Bassompierre says in his memoirs that he won 500,000 livres in a single

year, and that his friend, Pementello, won more than 200,000 crowns

(£50,000—$250,000). It was at this period that, for the first time, were

established “Academies de jeu,” or gaming academies, as they were

called. They were public gambling houses, to which all classes of

society, even to the lowest, were admitted. Scarcely a day passed

without its suicide or scandal arising from the ruin of somebody through

gambling.

Upon the accession of Louis XIII the laws against gambling were revived,

and a vigorous attempt was made to enforce them. Nearly fifty licensed

gaming houses in Paris, which had been paying half a sovereign a day to

each of a number of magistrates, were closed. As a consequence of this

movement, gaming among the lower classes was checked to a considerable

extent, but little, if any, effect was produced upon the progress of the

vice among the nobility and the rich, beyond causing the practice to be

carried on with much greater secrecy.

It is said that the favorite stake of the Marechal D’Ancre was 20,000

pistoles (£10,000—$50,000). Louis XIII was opposed to gambling, and

indeed to all games, with the single exception of chess, of which he was

exceedingly fond.

Gambling became furious and universal again under the reign of Louis

XIV. The revolutions effected in morals by Cardinal Richelieu were

entirely nullified, at least so far as gambling was concerned, by

Cardinal Mazarin. He introduced gaming at the court of Louis XIV in

1648, and, according to St. Pierre, induced the king and queen regent to

not only countenance, but engage with much interest in various games of

chance. Everybody who had expectations at court learned to play cards as

a prerequisite to success. Games were often continued all through the

night, and the gaming mania quickly spread from the court to the city,

and thence to the country. One of the evil effects of this was shown in

the marked decrease in the respect shown to women. Under the infatuation

of the play they would remain up all night in company with their male

fellow gamesters and would give up their honor to pay their losings, or

to secure a loan with which to continue the indulgence of their passion

for play.

From the time of Louis XIV., gambling again spread among the French

people, even the magistrates becoming inveterate gamesters. Cardinal de

Retz stated that in 1650, the oldest magistrate in the parliment of

Bordeaux, also reputed the wisest, staked his entire property at play

one night, and that so general was the gambling mania, the act was in no

wise thought to his discredit.

Madame de Sevigne, familiar as she was with all that transpired at the

“iniquitous court,” as she calls it, has left more than one picture of

the disgraceful state of the gambling habit there present. In the

private houses of the crown officials, even the nobility gambled for

money, lands, houses, jewels and wearing apparel. Gourville, in his

memoirs, writes that within a few years he won more than a million

francs, while a few won considerable amounts, many more brought ruin

upon themselves and their families.

In addition to the licensed gaming houses, others were maintained in the

mansions of the ambassadors and representatives of Foreign Courts.

Indeed several gamesters of quality, in fullness of their temerity

offered to hire a hotel for a certain plenipotentiary and to defray all

expenses incident to the establishment, if he would but permit one

apartment to be used for play, and allow their valets to wear his

livery. In 1775, Sartines, lieutenant of police, licensed gambling

houses in Paris, and directed that the fees thus obtained should be

applied to the foundation and support of hospitals.

Women were then allowed to visit these houses two days in the week. So

numerous became the crimes, misfortunes and scandals directly

attributable to gambling, that it was prohibited in 1778. At court, and

in the houses of the ambassadors, however, it continued to flourish,

soon the public houses re-opened their doors, and the vice was even more

rampant than before, because of the temporary check. Suicides and

bankruptcies became so frequent, that the attention of parliament was

called to the subject, and it placed the gambling houses under rigid

regulations, which the proprietors were forbidden to violate, under

penalty of the pillory and whipping post.

Gambling was a conspicuous vice during the reign of Louis XVI. Fouche,

the minister of police, received an income of £128,000 ($640,000) a year

for licensing, or “privileging” the gaming establishments. These

furnished employment for not less than 120,000 persons, and, it is said,

they were all spies of Fouche. In 1836, so long, so scandalous and so

disastrous had been the rule of licensed vice, that public opinion

revolted at a further continuance of the policy, and all gambling houses

were ordered closed from January 1st, 1838. Since that time none have

been licensed, and gambling in France is on the same footing as in

England,—prohibited by law, but protected in secret.

In the French world M. Vernon was both influential and conspicuous in

his day. He has given to the world an interesting sketch of gambling in

Paris, from the Consulate to 1840. When a young man he sought the

allurements of the gaming table, and for several years was addicted to

the practice of this vice. His experience as a gamester would be a

lesson, in itself, for every thinking man, could it be here given in all

its masterly analysis. So elaborate is it, however, that it cannot be

given the necessary space.

Under the _regime_ of 1840, M. Thiers, then president of the cabinet,

offered M. Vernon several places in the employ of the government. The

latter, however, requested the _Maître des Requêtes_. “The thing is

impossible,” replied Thiers; “the traditions of the country would not

allow an ex-manager of play to such a noble position,” and M. Thiers

instanced, among others, a State Counselor, whose name and virtue then

commanded the highest respect. M. Vernon smiled and left M. Thiers to

his allusion. This very virtuous statesman, like M. Vernon, had been one

of the most assiduous frequenters of the gambling houses. One day,

thereafter, M. Vernon placed twenty francs on the _rouge_; he won, and

was paid by the banker; wishing, soon after, to take up his twenty

francs, he found they had disappeared. When the “deal” had ended, a

player stepped up to M. Vernon, and said: “See here, Monsieur, here are

the twenty franc pieces you are looking for. I took them up by mistake.”

This absent-minded player was none other than M. Thiers’ virtuous State

Counselor.

Two popular gambling resorts in the Paris of that day were Frascadi’s

and the _Circle des Etrangers_. In both places visitors were required to

leave their hats with the servants, in the vestibule, for which they

were given a check. Servants also brought sugar and water gratuitously;

while at Frascadi’s refreshments, in large variety, could be ordered. At

the _Circle des Etrangers_, the visitor was permitted to sup with the

person or persons he had invited to the resort. In some gambling houses

of the lower order, money upon personal credit was loaned to the patrons

by the inmates. At Frascadi’s and the _Circle des Etrangers_ as well,

large sums were loaned to known players without a receipt. Such loans

were always recompensed at the will of the borrower. One could bet as

low as ten cents in some houses of the second and third class, but at

_roulette_, as a rule, the first stakes could not be under two francs,

and at _trente et un_, the first stake could not be less than five

francs. In all games, the first or the highest doubling stakes, could

not exceed 12,000 francs. All gambling houses opened at noon and closed

at midnight. At the _Circle des Etrangers_ gambling commenced at eight

o’clock only on the days that dinners were given, and on all other days

at ten o’clock. At Frascadi’s and the _Circle des Etrangers_ suppers,

were occasionally given, with balls.

“I often met at one resort,” said M. Vernon, “a literary man with

powdered hair, who in his lucky bets, would rejoice over his winnings in

Latin. He was a poor wretch, and the least loss would make him

penniless. One day he touched me on the shoulder and led me out into the

hall: ‘See here,’ said he, ‘take this Persius and this Juvenal, and give

me forty cents.’ I refused to pay less than a dollar for these two Latin

poets. His joy was excessive, but in half an hour he returned to me, and

putting his hand in his pocket said, ‘take that pair of black silk

stockings, and give me what you please.’ I had consented to diminish his

library, but I would not consent to wear his old clothing.”

“At one time a young man, who was about to be married, came up from the

provinces with 1,500 francs to purchase his wedding gifts. He returned

home, at the end of the week, empty-handed, having lost everything at

play. His fiancee, on learning the facts, broke the engagement.

“The bank is not completely protected from swindlers. Two young men

entered Frascadi’s one evening. One staked on the _rouge_ fifty Louis

d’or in double Louis. The other staked on the _noir_, the same sum in

similar coins. The _rouge_ won and the fifty Louis were paid. The stakes

and money won were immediately taken away. The banker took up the stakes

lost on the _noir_, and saw that these double Louis were merely forty

cent pieces well gilded. The player who had won had instantly departed.

The other was arrested, whereupon, he was not at a loss for argument. ‘I

did not say,’ he said, ‘that I staked fifty Louis. I have not given you

counterfeit money; nay I lost a hundred francs. It was your business to

be more careful about paying the party beside me.’ The affair ended

here, and the bank lost its 900 francs.

“A celebrated general invented a trick which still bears his name. One

day, during the empire, he staked at the _Circle des Etrangers_, at

_rouge et noir_, a small rouleau sealed at both ends, which looked

exactly like a rouleau d’or of 1,000 francs. After he lost, he took up

the rouleau and gave the bank a thousand franc notes. He won, and said

to the banker who in turn offered him a thousand franc notes, ‘I beg

your pardon, I staked more than that.’ He opened the roll, and drew out

of the midst of some gold pieces it contained, fifteen or twenty

thousand franc notes. The general was paid, but the lesson was never

forgotten, and no one was allowed to play except with his money open and

with limited stakes.”

Before 1779, public gaming was authorized in France, but was afterwards

abolished. Under the Consulate, Fouche farmed out the gambling

privileges to a certain Perrin, and enjoined him especially to open a

_Circle des Etrangers_. However, this offer was not gratuitous. Benazet,

who was a farmer of the gambling houses during the Restoration, said

that Perrin gave to Fouche fifty Louis d’or every morning without taking

a receipt. Not satisfied with this, Fouche frequently made police drafts

on him of ten or twenty thousand francs.

The _Circle des Etrangers_ frequently gave balls, known as the _Bals

Livre_. During the Directory and under the Consulate, _Bals_ were all

the rage. Baron Hamelin, Madam Tollien, and indeed all the distinguished

ladies of society were invited to these _Bals_. During the Consulate and

the first days of the Empire, Napoleon, in company with Duroc, one of

his most intimate generals, visited them for a few hours, on several

occasions, both being masked. The president of the _Circle des

Etrangers_ barely allowed Perrin to show himself. If the unanimous

testimony of all contemporaries of the Directory and the Consulate can

be trusted, nothing can give an idea of the pleasures, the brilliancy

and the intoxication of this period of revival.

Perrin, who was made colonel, in order that he might deal Pharaon before

the queen without offense, was succeeded by Chalabre. Marie Antoinette

played Pharaon nearly every evening at the Tuilleries, at Versailles and

Trianon. Subsequently, the farming of the gambling houses was public,

and the four successive farmers were M. Bernard, Chalabre, Boursault and

Benezet. In every respect Chalabre was a man of the old _regime_. He

powdered, and was a man of fine manners. Boursault, on the contrary, was

a man of the times, with a marked face, heavy voice, violent and

passionate. He made himself heard, perhaps applauded, in more than one

club during the Restoration. It was his aim to participate only in that

which gave large profit. He therefore contracted for the mud, for the

night-soil and for the gambling houses of Paris. His house was

splendidly arranged, and he had also a rare collection of plants and

flowers, which in those days were a luxury. Benazet, the last farmer of

the gambling houses, was an ex-attorney, a man of talent and enterprise,

and both obliging and generous. At the revolution of July, he was

elected the commandant of one of the legions of the National Guard of

the environs of Paris. He was subsequently appointed chevalier in the

Legion of Honor. When alone with his intimate acquaintances, they called

him the “Emperor.” At the Cheque office of the Theatre _Francais_, they

invariably said to him “Mon Prince.”

While M. Benazet was farmer, all the gambling houses in Paris were open.

Said M. Vernon, “the leases each contained the following provisions. The

farmer paid the treasurer by equal monthly instalments, the annual sum

of 5,500,000 francs. Upon this sum appropriated to the city, the

Minister of the Interior, and under the Restoration, the Minister of the

King’s Household, received annually, and by equal monthly instalments

the sum of 1,660,000 francs, as an appropriation to the theatres and

other places of amusement. The Minister of the Interior took from it

also a good deal more money for the political refugees, or the disasters

in the department, and for charity and all sorts of misfortunes.

“The expenses of the gambling houses were fixed in the lease in the sum

of 2,400,000 francs. The farmer also received out of the net receipts

100,000 francs as his interest, and was obliged to have always either

upon the gaming tables or in his safe, 1,219,000 francs. The result of

gambling per day, and per gaming table was stated in a formulated

journal. The total capital at the beginning and at the end of the

gambling, was written in the presence of the cities’ controllers, and

showed the net proceeds. The ninth article of the lease stated that all

expenses of the administration to the annual sum of 5,550,000 francs

appropriated to the city being there paid, should further be

appropriated to the city, all the net profits when there were profits,

one-half when the total annual net profits did not exceed 9,000,000

francs belonging to the farmer. On the 31st day of December, 1837, the

gambling houses of Paris were closed by vote of the Chamber of Deputies.

From 1819 to 1837 the gambling houses cleared from 6,841,838 francs to

9,008,628 francs per year, making a grand total from 1819 to 1837 of

137,313,403 francs, and the money of foreigners formed a greater part of

this sum.”

Gambling was universally prevalent in Paris during 1829-30, and the

houses were very numerous and varied in character. Of the higher order,

were the Salon and Frascadi’s; specimens of the lower class were to be

found in the Palais Royal. The Salon and Frascadi’s were on the Rue

Richelieu, near the boulevard. They were of pretentious appearance,

externally, and magnificently furnished. They pretended to be exclusive

and to admit only such as were vouched for by some person of recognized

standing. Access was not difficult, however, and at Frascadi’s

particularly, admittance was rarely refused to those who were decently

dressed. This most popular resort opened for business at one o’clock.

Rouge et noir, roulette and dice, were played in different rooms, the

first named being most popular. In addition to the elegant furnishings

of the establishment, which included everything conducive to the comfort

and convenience of the patrons, the directors provided another feature

“for the good of the house.” They admitted a number of the demi-monde,

and, in fact, encouraged their presence. The beauty, rich toilets and

engaging manners of these females were an attraction to young men, who

would not otherwise have visited the establishment.

These women played more or less, and naturally their example was

followed by the rich scions who sought their favor. Five francs was the

smallest, and 12,000 francs the largest wager permitted at Frascadi’s.

These rooms were frequented by the nobleman, the mechanic, and the

loafer, provided their apparel was tolerably presentable. A large

proportion of the patrons were foreigners, the English predominating.

The lower class of gambling houses, in the Paris of that time, were

supported mainly by mechanics, clerks, draftsmen, and the like, men

whose character would have been ruined had it been known that they were

addicted to play, and who would not have gambled, probably, had not the

law thrown its protecting arm around the gaming dens.

In an English work on ecarte, the author says of gambling in Paris: “In

no capital of the world, are the exigencies of the needy and dissipated

made more an object of speculation than in Paris. As for our Jews, or

usurers, they are not only honest, in comparison, but far inferior, both

in their number and in their practices, to the wretches who are

everywhere to be met with in the French capital, ready to advance their

money at an extortionate interest, provided the security afforded by the

parties is such as to preclude all possible risk. With the natives of

the country themselves, these people are not only limited in their

advances, but scrupulous to a nicety in regard to public credit, since,

as by the loss of friends, a debtor for a term of confinement not

exceeding five years, is entitled to his liberty, and becomes exonerated

from any pre-existing claim, it not infrequently occurs that those who

are heavily laden with debt, prefer to be incarcerated for a few years,

to giving up property which constitutes their whole fortune and the

means of their future subsistence. The money lenders keep a regular list

of names noted down in their books, to which, in cases of necessity,

they usually refer and advance or withhold in proportion as their

employers have been more or less forward in their liquidation of former

engagements. This caution has only reference to the gay and dissipated

of their own country. But with foreigners, and Englishmen in particular,

the case is widely different, for upon these they have a hold which is

equal to all the mortgages and freehold securities in the world, being

in the event of defalcation almost certain of the debtor and for life.

“But the principal auxiliaries of these people are the dashing, splendid

females, who frequent the salons d’ecarte. Although the greater number

of these women have independent incomes, and form attachments for young

men, they usually meet in these haunts, without any view of personal

interest. Still there are many who are often without any other gifts

than those afforded by their natural attractions, and on whom the

irresistible impulse of play operates a desire to produce, in any

possible manner, the means of gratifying their favorite propensity. Most

of these also have some sort of liaison, either with their own

countrymen or with strangers. When, therefore, as the natural result of

the play and lavish expenditure of his chere amie of the moment, the

immediate finances of the young man are exhausted, and he has no longer

the means of gratifying his favorite passion, or of conducing to the

amusement of the mistress, she kindly suggests the possibility of his

procuring a sum of bills on such and such terms. These are ever in favor

of the money lender, and furnished with the necessary powers, she

instantly repairs to one of them and bargains for a present for herself

in proportion to the amount required. Then when the money is all

expended, either wholly ruined, or what is nearly the same thing, thrown

into St. Pelagie, at all events, unable to command further resources,

the young man can no longer please his fair enchantress; she forsakes

him without the least ceremony, and looks out for some other lover whose

prospects are yet in a flourishing condition. Very frequently these

women have for their lovers young men moving in the first sphere of

Parisian society, yet rendered nearly as indigent as themselves from

play, whose credit with the money lending race has long been ended.”

Gambling in Paris is carried on mainly in resorts of three distinct

kinds,—regularly established clubs, places called “clubs,” but which are

open to the public solely for gambling purposes, and the illegal

gambling houses. At all the clubs properly so-called, play runs high.

Strange as it may seem, at first thought, the danger of being cheated is

greater at these “clubs” than elsewhere, for the reason that occasional

visitors do not suspect dishonest methods in such a place. Knowing this,

sharpers manage to introduce themselves and then fleece the members as

rapidly as is possible, without exciting suspicion. This cannot be so

readily accomplished in the so-called “clubs,” which are maintained

solely for gambling, owing to the constant watch maintained by the

crooks, sharpers and professionals who frequent these resorts. The same

state of things prevails at the illegal gaming houses. The French are

quite as fond of gambling as they ever were, though there has been a

change in the manifestation of the propensity. They now seem to gamble

more for pleasure than gain, and to prefer games of the simpler sort. In

betting they are excitable like the Italians, but show better judgment.

The English surpass them in coolness, and the Americans in shrewdness

and audacity.

The most approved methods of cheating are practiced in the Paris

gambling dens. One is by arranging a “chaplet,” that is, putting the

cards into the deck in some particular order, the succession of which is

retained by the memory of the dealer; “stocking” the cards, as it is

called in the United States. The collusion of a card room attendant is

necessary to affect this. With a “chaplet” the dealer knows, of course,

what each card is before it is turned. Dealers have been known to obtain

an unfair advantage by having on a table in front of them a highly

polished snuff box, or cigarette case; which, serving as a mirror,

enables their quick and practiced eye to catch the reflection of the

cards, as they are dealt.

In American parlance, the same device is called a “shiner.” The time

honored fraud of “ringing in a cold deck” is still occasionally

practiced, and the utmost watchfulness does not always prevent it. The

dealers are sometimes the losers at this game, for, through bribery, or

otherwise, sharpers now and then succeed in having attendants supply

decks of marked cards. An instance is told of a sharper who obtained a

supply of marked cards of fine quality and then succeeded in selling

them in large quantities to persons who supplied such goods to gaming

establishments. Waiting until the cards were in use, the sharper won

many thousands of dollars before the fraud was discovered. From time to

time the same trick has been successfully played in many parts of the

United States.

M. Des Perriers, it is stated, once saw a friend of his playing ecarte

with a stranger and after watching the game for awhile perceived that

his friend was being cheated. Watching his opportunity Des Perriers

warned his friend of the fact, and the latter coolly replied “Oh that’s

all right, I know perfectly well that he is cheating me, but it is

agreed that every time I catch him at it, I shall score an extra point.”

This recalls the story of the game on a Mississippi river boat, wherein

one friend warned another that the latter was being cheated by a certain

gambler in the game. “Well, what of it, Isn’t it his deal?” the friend

replied.

The number of celebrated Frenchmen who have been ruined by gambling is

great. Of the number were Coquillart, a poet of the 15th century, Guido

the great painter, Rotrote, Voiture, M. Sallo, counselor to the

parliament of Paris, and Paschasiur Justus, a celebrated physician.

Montaigne and Descartes, the philosophers and Carden the scientist, were

all gamblers at one stage of their life, but each succeeded in

conquering the passion.

Previous to the reign of Louis XIV., women could not gamble openly, and

retain their reputation. If it was known that they were addicted to

play, they lost caste. Before the end of the reign of Louis XV., the

wives of aristocrats, generally, played heavily in their own houses

without exciting much, if any, adverse criticism; and, by the close of

the last century, gambling among women of the higher classes was almost

universal and viewed as a matter of course. It has been often remarked

that with the so-called respectable there has been less honor among

women gamesters than among men; many of them, indeed, not hesitating to

claim unfair advantages, and even to engage in downright lying and

cheating. Many women of wealth and title have by heavy losses at the

gaming table, been brought to a state of desperation and degradation

most surprising. Instances have been numerous where they have sacrificed

their virtue in order to obtain money with which to continue the

indulgence of their passion for play. Cases are not unknown where they

even sacrificed the virtues of their own daughters to the same end. The

beautiful Countess of Schwiechelt, it is said, after losing 50,000

livres at Paris became so desperate that she resorted to the robbery, of

a friend, Madame Demidoff, in order to repair her losses. The latter

possessed a magnificent coronet of emeralds which, at a ball given by

her, was stolen by the Countess, who next day proceeded to raise money

with the coronet as collateral. She was detected and convicted of the

crime. She had many influential friends who tried to induce Napoleon I.

to pardon her, which he steadfastly refused to do.

Towards the close of the Reign of Napoleon III., the circles or clubs,

became greatly demoralized by card gambling. Heavy play, which had been

confined chiefly to the mansions of the rich, places of considerable

privacy, began to be common at the clubs and be talked about in public.

Disregard for the gambling laws gradually increased, until after the

Franco-Prussian war, and numerous “clubs” were organized solely as

gambling resorts. The authorization of the Prefect of Police was

necessary, whenever a circle or club was started, and one of the

stipulated conditions was, that no play for ready money stakes should

occur at such club. It is unnecessary to say that this regulation is now

scandalously ignored and that the authorities wink at the infraction.

Baccarat is the favorite game at these resorts, as it is in the more

aristocratic and legitimate clubs of the city. In this connection, by

way of illustration, the following experience of a once prosperous

founder of one of these circles, or clubs, told by himself, is

interesting:

“I had never been in a gambling club in my life,” he said, “until one

evening in 1872, a friend took me to the circle de —— in the Place de

l’Opera. I had a capital dinner and a cigar of the first choice, and

after this everybody went into the card room. “Cincq cents louis en

banque,” (five hundred louis in the bank) were the first words I heard,

and then I watched the people play. I understood nothing of Baccarat at

that time, and my friend had to explain to me how it was played, how

much the different counters were worth, and how the man sitting in the

centre of the table opposite the dealer, and passing the cards to the

players with a sort of lath, and paying out counters or raking them up

after each coup, was an attendant, called a croupier, specially engaged

for the purpose of conducting the play. I was struck by seeing this

croupier at each bank, about every ten minutes on an average, drop

several counters, representing a louis each, into a small slit in the

table within easy reach of his hand. “Why is he doing that?” I asked my

friend. “That is the percentage which the house takes on the banks,” he

replied, “ostensibly for the use of the cards. That slit you perceive

into which the money is dropped is called the “cagnotte.” Not wishing to

play myself, and having nothing else to do, I thought I would see

exactly how much the croupiers would put in this “cagnotte” within a

given time, and I found that in an hour twenty-nine louis had been

levied on the various banks. “But at this rate,” I said to my friend,

“the house must take in an immense lot of money in the course of a few

months.” “Rather,” he replied. “It is one of the greatest money-making

concerns in the world.” “And how do they manage to start these clubs?” I

asked. “Well, you see, it all depends upon the Prefecture; if you can

only get an authorization you will find any number of capitalists to

give you what money you want to carry on your club with.” I said

nothing, but I determined to get an authorization for a club myself, if

I could. I spoke about it to some of my friends—you must know that I was

then a fabricant de brouges, and got my decoration just after the war

for having allowed them to convert a lot of my bronzes into a cannon for

the defence of Paris—I spoke to my friends, and we formed a committee,

and then I waited on the Prefect’s secretary with a document setting

forth that a few commercial gentlemen of the —— arrondissement wished to

open a club where they could meet after the business of the day, etc.

“Yes, but you are sure you will have no cards?” said the secretary,

“Monsieur le Prefect won’t hear of gambling.” I said: “Only a little

Piquet, perhaps, or ecarte; nothing more.” Well, after waiting a few

months I got my authorization, and then that scoundrel, Theodore, who

cheated me out of seventy thousand francs later on, come in with capital

as cashier. Ole Z., the usurer, came in too, and we took that apartment

on the boulevard—only 16,000 francs rent. We sent out our invitations to

the press, and to the leading players, and gave a grand dinner for the

opening night. Well sir, you may believe me if you like, but we made

12,000 francs cagnotte in that one evening, and the first year I made

300,000 francs for my share, and ought to have had more, only Theodore

and Z. swindled me. But then, of course, I had to play; I had to keep

the game going, and the luck was always against me. I had to sell out my

share in the club. I lost that, and now you see where I am.”

“It was unnecessary for the narrator to finish for the one to whom he

was speaking knew “where he was.” He had gambled away nearly a million

francs in four years and exhausted his credit, and finally had been

forced to take a position as “commissaire des jeux,” or steward in

another den similar to the one at the head of which he had formerly

prospered. He had dealt “banks” at a thousand or two thousand louis, and

won and lost time and again a hundred thousand francs in a night. Now he

was receiving in his menial position only a few guineas a week and his

one consuming desire was to wager these at the table as soon as he got

possession of them. This was not easy to do, for the commissaires are

expected to refrain from playing. But he managed it in some way or

another and invariably lost them before the evening passed. During the

rest of the week, until his next wages were due, his only pleasure

consisted in rehearsing to whoever would listen to the experiences of

his halcyon days.”

Many men of like experience are to be found in the baccarat clubs of

Paris. Some are in the height of their short-lived prosperity; the

greater number, however, are wrecks. The class includes unsuccessful

speculators on the Bourse, ex-government officials, and men who have

failed in the legitimate callings in life. Gambling dens, the world

over, are peopled by a horde of broken down, disreputable, and degraded

beings, and those of Paris are not an exception.

So profitable to their managers are these baccarat clubs, that it is not

surprising their number increased rapidly, until, at one time, there

were nearly a hundred of them, the majority of which occupied

pretentious and well-appointed quarters, until, a few years ago, in

obedience to public indignation, an attempt was made to close them up.

Many were compelled to shut their doors, but, as the movement was not

thorough, a score or more remained, defiling and corrupting the best

quarter of the city, prospering the more because of the diminished

competition. As a rule, these clubs bear high-sounding names, not

calculated to arouse suspicion in the mind of a stranger of the

iniquitous business going on within their walls. The Cercle des Arts

Liberaux, Cercle des Arts Industriels, Cercle des Artistes Dramatiques;

such were and are specimens of these names. Standing side by side with

clubs of genuine respectability, are some of these dens, in which it is

unsafe to leave anything of the slightest value in an over-coat pocket.

As a rule the baccarat clubs are managed with great shrewdness. Rules

regarding entrance fees and dues exist, but merely that they may be

cited when necessary in support of a claim that these institutions

partake of the character of genuine clubs. “Members” are rarely asked

for either fees or dues. Invitations by the hundred are sent to

frequenters of the boulevards, and each one is given to understand that

he may take his friends. Practically, these cercles are open to all who

have money. Emissaries, known variously as rabatteurs, racoleurs, or

rameneurs, or, as the English would call them, “bennets,” frequent

public places, in order to specially invite rich foreigners and

greenhorns with whom they may become acquainted. Journalists are always

welcomed and treated handsomely, in order that they may puff the musical

or other attractions offered, and that they may refrain from exposing

the real character of the places. Elaborate dinners and luncheons are

served at nominal prices; the rooms are richly furnished and adorned;

there are reading rooms, containing a wide range of current literature,

and writing rooms replete with all that convenience could suggest;

liveried attendants, deferential and polite to a nicety, attend to all

possible wants, and, in short, almost every conceivable attraction is

provided. Those who enter and, amid all these seductions, resist the

temptation to play, are exceedingly few, and to play is to lose.

Visitors naturally infer that they are in the private club house of a

company of gentlemen. The elegance is substantial enough, but the

company in reality is largely composed of genteel scoundrels and

thieves, who scruple at no dishonesty, provided the chances are fairly

against detection.

These Paris clubs are exceedingly demoralizing, not only to the members

and visitors, but to their attaches. Hundreds of persons, employed at

first when mere boys, as pages, and rising (rather descending) to be

croupiers, dealers, cashiers, etc., and gradually acquiring the desire

to own houses and carriages, and keep mistresses, can attribute their

ultimate ruin to these dens.

Dishonest playing is probably more rife in the Paris clubs now than ever

before, and is carried on with skill never before equaled. Once in a

while, as in the case of the very “respectable” Cercle de la Rue Royale,

an expose is made of a system of cheating that has been pursued for

months, perhaps, and for a week or two all Paris talks of the scandal.

If the truth were known it would be found that similar practices obtain

in nearly every gambling club. Only collusion between a menial, a

croupier, the dealer, and perhaps one or two others, is necessary for

marked cards to be introduced. Those in the secret, divide the ill-

gotten profits and detection is not probable, unless a quarrel arises

over the division of plunder. Cheating at baccarat is general, and

organized bands of sharpers scour the cities of Europe, reaping a rich

harvest from each one. The mechanism and methods of cheating at gambling

have been perfected wonderfully within the last twenty or thirty years,

as the reader of M. Hector Malots’s novel, “Baccara,” can well

understand, and nowhere has this perfection manifested itself to a

greater extent than in Paris. That Gambling is having a most

demoralizing effect in Paris is indisputable.

The time is ripe for a reformation in Paris, and many are praying that

it may come soon and be sweeping and thorough in character.

[Illustration: DISTANT VIEW OF MADRID CLUB HOUSE.]

The Spaniards are as much addicted to gambling, at least, as any

nationality. There is a tradition that they were once very liberal in

their gaming, and Voltaire says: “The grandees of Spain had a generous

ostentation; this was to divide the money won at play among all the

bystanders of whatever condition.” Montefiero tells of the liberality of

the Duke of Lima, Spanish minister to the Netherlands, who, when he

entertained Gaston (brother of Louis XIII), with his retinue, was

accustomed, after dinner, to put two thousand louis d’or on a large

gaming table, to be gambled for by the Prince and his attendants. Such

open-handedness certainly does not characterize the Spanish gamester of

this day. He is as greedy as any gamester, judging from appearances.

Gambling in Spain is general, and has always been practiced more openly

than in other European countries. “I have wandered through all parts of

Spain,” writes a traveler, “and though in many places I have scarcely

been able to procure a glass of wine, or a bit of bread, or any of the

first conveniences of life, yet I never went through a village, however

mean and out of the way, in which I could not have purchased a pack of

cards.”

The nobility of Spain, for centuries, have been especially addicted to

gambling. Not a few of this class, indeed, are said to live from the

proceeds of the gaming table, and that, too, without any apparent loss

in reputation. The condition of things in Spain thirty years ago, is

thus described by another traveler: “After the bull-feast, I was invited

to pass the evening at the hotel of a lady who had a public card

assembly. This vile method of subsisting on the folly of mankind is

confined, in Spain, to the nobility. None but women of quality are

permitted to hold banks, and there are many whose faro banks bring them

in a clear income of a thousand guineas a year. The lady to whom I was

introduced is an old countess, who has lived nearly thirty years on the

profits of the card tables in her house. They are frequented every day,

and though both natives and foreigners are duped out of large sums by

her, and her cabinet junto, yet it is the greatest house of resort in

all Madrid. She goes to Court, visits people of the first fashion, and

is received with as much respect and veneration as if she had exercised

the most sacred functions of a divine profession. Many widows of great

men have kept gaming houses, and lived splendidly on the vices of

mankind. If you be not disposed to play, be neither a sharper nor a dupe

you can not be admitted a second time to their assemblies. I was no

sooner presented to the lady, than, she offered me cards, and on my

excusing myself, because I really could not play, she made a very wry

face, turned from me and said to another lady in my hearing, that she

wondered how any foreigner could have the impertinence to come to her

house for no other purpose than to make an apology for not playing. My

Spanish conductor, unfortunately for himself, had not the same apology.

He played and lost his money—two circumstances which constantly follow

in these houses. While my friend was thus playing the fool, I

attentively watched the countenance and motions of the lady of the

house. Her anxiety, address and assiduity were equal to that of some

skillful shop-keeper, who has a certain attraction to engage all to buy,

and diligence to take care that none shall escape the net. I found out

all her privy counsellors, by her arrangement of her parties at the

different tables, and whenever she showed an extraordinary eagerness to

fix one particular person with a stranger, the game was always decided

the same way, and her good friend was sure to win the money. In Madrid

one is scarcely welcome in polite society, unless he engages in play,

and, it may be added, unless he loses much more than he wins. In the

capital there are resorts where all classes meet and play together. In

these places the tables are managed by suspicious looking men, who

insist that you will be almost certain to win, if only you engage in

play: They even go so far, in inviting you to play, as to assert that

they themselves do not play for gain but for pleasure.”

Gambling is perhaps more distinctively a characteristic of the Latin

races than of any other. Not only is it almost universal in Spain, but

it seems to cling to Latin blood wherever it is found, however much it

intermingles with that of other peoples. In Mexico, Central America, and

the countries of South America, gambling thrives as in the mother

country. “Chusa,” dice, cards, and lotteries are the principal means of

indulging the vice, but there are many other devices and games in use.

The lottery is an especial favorite, and no Mexican, Nicaraguan or

Brazilian neglects taking one or more chances of getting a fortune in

each drawing, as it occurs. Gambling in these countries is carried on

with more publicity than in England, France or Germany. In none of the

Spanish Republics on our South, is it acknowledged as one of the most

debasing and ruinous vices to which humanity is addicted; indeed, by

many, it is scarcely thought to occupy a place among the vices at all.

It is regarded scarcely to the injury of a person’s reputation that he

gambles, and it will doubtless be many years before serious attempts are

made in these countries to suppress the evil.

In this connection may appropriately be appended a picture drawn by a

tourist in Mexico, a Mr. Mason, illustrative of the gambling

propensities of the Spanish Americans in that country. He writes: “This,

being Easter Eve, was the first of those days especially set apart for

gaming and idleness, and at about nine o’clock I went to the Plaza—an

open space near the church—where I found many hundred people already

assembled to amuse themselves. A large circle, surrounded by spectators

and dancers, was especially set apart for fandangoes, which, whatever

they may be in Spain, are in the New World much inferior in grace and

activity to the common American dances, though the latter, it must be

confessed, are usually to the sound of tin pans and pots and empty

gourds. Here the music was somewhat better, though not less monotonous,

and consisted of a guitar, a rude kind of harp, and a screaming woman

with a falsetto voice. Beyond the fandango stood a range of booths

beneath which men and women of all descriptions, old and young, rich and

poor, officers in full uniform and beggars in rags, were gambling with

the most intense interest, and individuals who, from their appearances,

might be considered objects of charity, were fearlessly staking

dollars—some even venturing a handful at one time. The favorite game was

called “Chusa,” which is played on a deep saucer-shaped table, and

resembled the “E. O.” of England.

“When the oppressive glare of the sun had ceased, and the cool evening

breezes set in, Donna Francisca announced to me her intention of

visiting the “Chusa,” and invited me to accompany her. She walked there

in good state between Don Antonio and myself, preceded by her three

servant maids, one of whom was in her Indian dress and had charge of the

cigars for her mistress. We found our way to the largest gambling table,

at which Francisca, having elbowed some ragged women off the only bench

in the place, established herself in full play. Even ladies with mock

jewels, and women of all shades and colors, with every variety of mien,

crowded around their favorite game, and my landlady having succeed in

getting the balls in her hands, became entirely occupied in throwing

them, with such gestures, or turns of the arm, as, in her opinion, would

insure success. Before leaving the Plaza, where Francisca remained

playing until nearly daylight, I made my way through the crowd to take a

last peek at her, and saw a fellow to whom I had paid a real (the eighth

of a dollar) in the morning for sweeping before my door, and who was

almost in rags, standing beside my fair friend, acting as banker to the

table, at which I suppose he had been successful. He ventured his dollar

at every turn with the most perfect sang froid. The apparent

indifference to losses, and apathy when successful, is very remarkable

with all classes of Mexicans, but they gamble so incessantly that I

should conceive all excitement in this dangerous fashion must be

deadened and that love of play at last becomes a disorder, rather than

an amusement. I have frequently seen a couple of poor porters, who had

not a farthing of money, sit gravely down in the dust with a greasy pack

of cards, and anxiously stake their respective stock of paper cigars

until one or the other became bankrupt.”

This picture of life in Mexico is typical of all Spanish America.

[Illustration: owl]

CHAPTER VI.

ENGLAND.

Under the second Henry, when the courtiers grew weary of the minstrels

and jugleurs, or when they were not occupied in making love, they

beguiled the lagging moments by gaming in every form then known. Before

the third crusade, there was no check upon the gaming vice, and no limit

to the stakes. The gamester, when he had been defrauded of his

patrimony, in turn preyed upon the unsuspecting youth. He lived upon the

weaknesses of human nature then as now, and watched with pleasure the

trembling fingers and flushed cheeks of his victim, led on, as they

were, by apparent carelessness, to risk a larger sum after losing a

smaller. The victim was left by the gamester, only when the former could

not even call his clothes his own. The dupes often discovered, when it

was too late, that they had been ruined, not by the superior skill of

their adversary, but by his dishonesty. For their own advantage, then,

they who had been victims began to practice the arts of deception, chief

among which was the loading of the dice.

During the reign of Richard I., (he of the Lion’s Heart) and that of

King John, dice constituted the chief amusement of the nobility, and the

length to which they carried the game, may be inferred from the fact

that not even the “pomp and circumstance” of the martial field could

allure them from the fascinating pursuit. The Barons who collected to

resist the tyranny of John, were reproached by Matthew Paris with

spending their time in gambling with dice when their presence was

required in the field. Even the flames and the dissensions of civil war

could not excite in them an ardor equal to that induced by the dice-box.

But the evil did not stop here, and honor itself was sacrificed at the

shrine of the unworthy and demoralizing passion by some of that

brilliant band of cavaliers to whom England is indebted for her

fundamental privileges and constitutional liberty. Should still stronger

proof be required of the prevalence of the gaming vice among the Anglo-

Normans of to-day, it would be found in the instrument which was

prepared by the “allied” kings of England and France in 1190, for the

government of the forces they had fitted out against the Saracens, and

which related particularly to this vice. It was thereby enacted that

“knights and clerks should be restrained to the loss of twenty shillings

in one day, but that sailors and soldiers detected in playing for money

at all should be fined at will, or ‘ducked.’” During subsequent reigns

gaming, although generally condemned, was vigorously pursued. How the

practice operated upon the morals of the English people, during the

reign of Elizabeth and her immediate successors, may be inferred from

that phrase in Shakespeare which avers “dicers’ oaths are accounted

proverbially false.” Gambling prevailed in England under Henry VIII, and

it seems the King himself, was an unscrupulous gamester. The evidence is

ample that gambling flourished during the reigns of Elizabeth, James I,

and in the time of Charles II. Evelyn, writing on the day when James II

was proclaimed King of England, says: “I can never forget the

inexpressible luxury and profaneness, gaming and dissoluteness, and, as

it were, total forgetfulness of God (it being Sunday evening), which

this day I was witness of. The King sitting and toying with his

concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland and Mazarine, a French boy singing

love songs in that glorious galaxy, whilst about twenty of the great

courtiers and other dissolute persons were at Basset round a large

table, a bank with twice two thousand pounds in gold before them, upon

which two gentlemen who were with me made reflection with astonishment.

Six days after, all was in the dust.”

From the Harleian Miscellany, we copy the following observations on

gaming in England during the year 1668:

“One propounded this question: Whether men in ships at sea were to be

accounted amongst the living or the dead—because there were but a few

inches betwixt them and drowning. The same query may be made of

gamesters, though their estates being never so considerable—whether they

are to be esteemed rich or poor, since there are but a few casts at dice

betwixt a person of fortune and a pauper.

“Betwixt twelve and one of the clock a good dinner is prepared by way of

ordinary, and some of civility and condition oftentimes eat there and

play a while for recreation after dinner, and both moderately and most

commonly without deserving reproof. Towards night, when ravenous beasts

shall seek their prey, there come in shoals of hectors, trepanners,

gilts, pads, biters, prigs, divers, lifters, kidnappers, vouchers,

millikens, pie-men, decoys, shop-lifters, foilers, bulkers, droppers,

gamblers, donnapers, cross-biters, etc., under the general appellation

of “rooks,” and in this particular it serves as a nursery for Tyburn,

for every year some of its gang march thither.

“Would you imagine it to be true that a grave gentleman well stricken in

years, in so much that he cannot see the pips of the dice, is so

infatuated with this witchery as to play here with other’s eyes, of whom

this quibble was raised; ‘That Mr. Such-a-one plays at dice by the ear.’

Another gentleman, stark blind, I have seen play at hazard, and surely

that must be by the ear, too.

“Late at night, when the company grows thin, and your eyes dim with

watching, false dice are often put upon the ignorant, or they are

otherwise cozened with topping, or slurring, and if you are not vigilant

the book shall square you up double or treble books, and though you have

lost your money, dun you as severely for it as if it was the justest

debt in the world.

“There are yet some more genteel and subtle ‘crooks’ whom you shall not

distinguish, by their outward demeanor, from persons of condition, and

who will sit by a whole evening and observe who wins, and then if the

winner be ‘bubbleable’ they will insinuate themselves into his

acquaintance, and civilly invite him to drink a glass of wine, wheedle

him into play, and win all his money either by false dice, as high

fulhams, low fulhams, or by palming, topping, etc. Note by the way, that

when they have you at a tavern, and think you are a sure ‘bubble,’ they

will many times purposely lose some small sums to you the first time, to

encourage you more freely to ‘bleed’ at the second meeting to which they

will be sure to invite you. A gentleman whom ill fortune had hurried

into a passion, took a box to a side table and then fell to throwing by

himself. At length he swore with an emphasis—‘Now, I throw for nothing,

I can win a thousand pounds, but when I play for money I lose my all.’”

In the time of Henry VIII., as stated heretofore, gambling pervaded

every rank of society. Sir Miles Partridge threw dice with this king and

won from him the celebrated “Jesus bells,” then the largest in England,

which were in the tower of St. Paul’s. Partridge was hung for some

criminal offense in the time of Edward VI. During the Protectorate of

Cromwell, vigorous attempts were made to suppress gaming; but under

Charles II., a dissolute monarch, the vice more than recovered the

ground it had lost. The aristocracy of the period plunged into gaming as

it did into other dissipation. After the death of this King the gambling

mania again declined only to revive during the classic reign of Queen

Anne. Parliament thereupon turned its attention to the subject, and

passed stringent measures against the evil.

Under the first and second Georges, faro and hazard were subjected to

heavy penalties and yet, these and other games continued to be played by

all classes. In his correspondence with Horace Walpole, Lord Oxford

makes pregnant and forcible reference to the absorbing passion for play

that distinguished, or rather, disgraced, the times. December 13, 1754,

Walpole wrote: “I met Dyke Edgecombe and asked him with great

importance, if he knew whether Mr. Pitt was out?” “Yes,” replied

Edgecombe, who was too much of a gamester not to have a sportsman’s

conception of the meaning of “out,” “How do you know?” I asked, “Why, I

called at his door, just now, and his footman told me so,” he replied.

Another incident, related in Lord Oxford’s correspondence, shows to what

ruin the desperate play of that time sometimes led. After expressing his

surprise at the extraordinary death of ——, a most accomplished man of

the day, he says: “He himself, with all his judgment in debts, would

have bet any man in England against himself for self murder. Yet, after

having been supposed the sharpest genius in his time, he, by all that

appears, shot himself in the distress of his circumstances. He lost

£1,200 a year by Lord Albemarle’s death and more by Lord Gage’s, late

Duke of Bedford. The same day he asked immediately for the government of

Virginia, or the fox hounds, and pressed for an answer with the

eagerness that surprised the Duke of N., who never had a notion of

pinning down the relation of his own, or any man’s wants, to a day. Yet

that seems to have been the case with ——, who determined to throw the

die of life or death upon that answer from the court. Tuesday was the

night for the answer, which did not prove to be favorable. He consulted,

indirectly, and at last directly, several people of the easiest method

of finishing life, and seems to have thought that he had been too

explicit, and invited company to dinner on the day of his death, and

ordered a supper at White’s, where he had supper but the day before. He

played until it was one o’clock in the morning; it was New Year’s

morning. Lord Bertie drank to him a happy New Year. He clapped his hands

strangely to his eyes. In the morning he had a lawyer and three

witnesses to execute his will, which he made them read twice very

carefully, paragraph by paragraph, and then asking the lawyer if that

would stand good though a man were to shoot himself, and being assured

that it would, he said, “Pray be seated while I step into the next

room,”—and shot himself. I feel for the distress this man must have felt

before he decided on so desperate an action. He had the the most

compendious understanding of any man I ever saw. He had effected a

finesse in many matters beyond what he deserved, and aimed at reducing

affections to a calculation like Demoirves.

Again Lord Oxford writes: “The great event is the catastrophe of Sir ——,

who has frittered away his whole fortune at hazard, but that does not

exceed what was lost by the Duke of Bedford, he having lost at one

period of the night (though he recovered the greater part of it) 230,000

pounds. The citizens put on their double chameleoned pumps and trudged

to St. James Street expecting to see judgment on White, angels with

flaming swords and devils playing away with the dice box, etc., but

there was nothing done.”

In gambling, the reign of George III. was no improvement on those of his

predecessors, but quite the contrary. The vice became more general among

the nobility and, if possible more desperate. The most talented men of

the day were heavy players at faro and hazard. Lord Lauderdale states

that £5,000 ($25,000) were often staked on a single card at faro; and,

on authority equally good, we learn that Mr. Fox played at hazard for

twenty two consecutive hours and lost on an average £500 ($2,500) in

cash each hour. Fox was an infatuated gamester, and he once declared

that the greatest pleasure in life was to play and win, and the next

greatest pleasure to play and lose.

Under this monarch, gambling invaded private mansions to an extent

greater than ever before, or since. Many noblemen, enjoying public

esteem and political confidence, permitted their homes to become virtual

gambling dens. Lords, statesmen, and orators received from ten to twenty

guineas per hour for dealing faro in the houses of eminent personages.

At this time, women of the highest rank plunged into gaming and in their

houses promoted the terrible evil.

Since the time of George IV. gambling among the aristocracy has

decreased greatly. Gambling parties in the houses of the higher classes

are now exceedingly rare. The English Lord or Baronet now gambles at his

club, at Monte Carlo, or some other Continental resort. One sees many

English women playing at Monte Carlo, but it is said with them to be a

pastime mainly. Gambling is still largely indulged in by the lower

classes of London, but is attended with much inconvenience and risk

owing to the vigilance of the police. Turf betting, however, in which

all classes join, goes on unchecked.

In gambling, as in all other occupations, the Englishman manifests his

race characteristics. Cool and collected, he bets in a cold-blooded sort

of way, impossible to an Italian or Frenchman. The Englishman knows

generally what he is doing and rarely “loses his head,” whatever else he

may lose. Although conservative, he will, at times, bet heavily and

desperately. The gambling propensity in England now exhibits itself on

the turf more than elsewhere. Gambling houses have flourished for 200

years at least. Formerly, gambling among the nobility was carried on at

clubs or “coffee houses,” and was one of the understood features of

club-life. It was also largely practiced in private mansions. In time,

establishments, devoted solely to gambling, were started, and called

“clubs,” that an air of importance and respectability might be thrown

about them. The practice has continued to this day and the vilest gaming

“hells” in London are known by the euphonious name of “clubs.” Some of

the gaming resorts once noted in London were: “White’s”, “Brooks’”,

“Crockford’s”, “Fishmongers’ Hall”, the “Berkely Club”, “St. James”,

“Melton-Mowbray”, “Strangers”, “Cavendish”, “Leicester”, and “Hertford.”

In its day, “Fishmonger’s Hall” was the most celebrated den of the

metropolis. A description of this place was given in a communication to

the London _Times_, of July 22nd, 1824 as follows:

At the head of these infamous establishments is one yclept,

“Fishmongers’ Hall,” which seeks more plunder than all the others put

together, though they consist of about a dozen. This place has been

fitted up at an expense of about £40,000, and is the most splendid house

interiorly and exteriorly in all the neighborhood. It is established as

a bait for the fortunes of the great, many of whom have already been

very severe sufferers. Invitations to dinners are sent to noblemen and

gentlemen, at which they are treated with every delicacy, and the most

intoxicating wines. After such enjoyment a visit to the French hazard

table in an adjoining room is a matter of course, where the consequences

are easily divined. A man thus allured to the den may determine not to

lose more than a few pounds, which he has about him, but in the

intoxication of the moment and the delirium of play, it frequently

happens that notwithstanding the best resolves he borrows money upon his

checks, which being known to be good, are readily cashed for very

considerable amounts. In this manner £10,000, £20,000, £30,000, or more,

have often been swept away. The profits for the last season over and

above expenses, which cannot be less than £100 a day, are said to be

fully £150,000 ($750,000). It is wholly impossible, however, to come at

the exact sum unless we could get a peep at the ledger of accounts of

each day’s gains at this pandemonium, which, though, of course, contains

no name, as it might prove awkward, if at any time that book fell into

other hands. Some idea can be formed of what has been made, when it is

understood that £1,000 alone was given to be divided among the waiters

at the end of the last season, besides the “Guy Fawkes” of the place,

the head servant having that amount given him last year as a New Year’s

gift.

“It would be well for the frequenters of this resort to understand that

it is their money that pays the rent and superb embellishments of the

house, the good feed and fashionable clothes which disguise the knaves

of the establishment, the refreshments and wine with which they are

regaled, and which are served with no sparing hand in order to bewilder

the senses, to prevent from being seen what is going forward, and which

will not be at their service longer than they have money to be fleeced

of; they may also understand that it is their money which has gone to

make the vast fortunes of which two or three of the keepers are

possessed. The ‘hellites’ at all the ‘hells,’ not content with the gains

by the points of the game in favor of the bank, and from the equal

chances, do not fail to resort to every species of cheating. The dealers

and croupiers are especially selected for their adeptness in all the

mysteries of the black art. Sleight-of-hand tricks at rouge et noir, by

which they make any color when they wish, false dice and cramped boxes

at French hazard, are all put in practice with perfect impunity, when

every one save the banker and croupiers are in state of delirium of

intoxication. About two years ago false dice were detected at the French

hazard bank in Piccadilly, in which the proprietors of the ‘Fishmongers’

Hall’ had a share. A few noblemen and gentlemen had been losing largely,

(it is said about £50,000) when the dice became suspected, one gentleman

seized them, conveyed them away, and found the next morning that they

were false.

“The ‘hells’ generally are fitted up in a very splendid style, and their

expenses are very great. Those of the ‘Fishmongers’ Hall’ are not less

than £1,000 per week. The next in importance are about £150 per week,

and the minor ones from £40 to £80.

“The inspectors, or over-lookers, are paid from £6 to £8 a week each,

the croupiers or tailleurs £3 to £6, the waiters and porters £2, and a

looker-out for the police officers, to give warning of their approach

£2. What may be given to the watchman upon the beat of the different

houses, besides liquor, etc., is not known, but they receive no doubt

according to the services they are called upon to render. Then comes

rent, and incidental expenses, such as wines, etc. There is another

disbursement, not easily ascertained, but it must be very large, viz.:

the money annually given in a certain quarter to obtain timely

intelligence of any information laid against a ‘hell’ at a public

office, to prevent sudden surprises. This has become the more necessary

since by recent act the parties keeping the houses, and those playing

and betting at them are, when sufficiently identified, subject to a

discipline at the tread mill. The houses are well fortified with strong

iron-plated doors, to make the ingress into them a tardy and difficult

matter. There is one at the bottom of the stairs, one near the top, a

third into the room of play. These are opened or closed one after

another as the person ascends or descends, for the doorkeeper to take a

bird’s eye view of the person. The appearance of the houses, attention

of the waiters, civility of the dealers, condescension of the bankers,

refreshments and wine, all combined, have an intoxicating influence upon

the inexperienced and unreflecting mind. The proprietors, or more

particularly speaking, the bankers of these houses of robbery are

composed for the most part of a heterogenous mass of worn out gamblers,

blacklegs, pimps, horse dealers, jockeys, valets, pettifogging low

tradesmen that have been dealers at their own, and at other tables. They

dress in the first style of fashion, keep good houses, women, carriages,

and fare sumptuously, bedizen themselves out with valuable gold watches,

chains, diamonds, and rings, costly snuff boxes, etc.—property with but

little exception originally belonging to unfortunates who had been

fleeced out of everything, and who, in the moment of disaster, parted

with them for a mere trifle. Some have got into large private mansions,

and keep very respectable establishments, but persons with a superficial

knowledge of the world can very easily see through the disguise of the

gentlemen they assume. They are awkward and vulgar in their gait, nearly

all without education and manners, and when they discourse, low slang

bespeaks their calling—escapes them in spite of their teeth. There is

not a single constant player who can say that he is a winner by them.”

In 1830 “Crockford’s” was one of the most prosperous gambling

establishments in London. It was situated on the west side of St. James

street, Piccadilly, and was built by the man whose name it bore.

Although devoted to gambling purposes, “Crockford’s” was a private club,

and numbered among its members several gentlemen of eminent

respectability. It was from this fact, doubtless, that the place

succeeded in maintaining a fair reputation and was not interfered with

by the authorities. Mr. Crockford, early in life, had been a fishmonger,

which occupation he abandoned to become a gaming-house keeper. With a

man named Taylor, he for a time, managed the “Waiters’ Club,” which had

for its patrons employes and well-to-do trades-people. In little more

than a year Crockford amassed a large sum of money. Being ambitious, he

next constructed a net for higher game, in his St. James street palace.

In its meshes he would entangle the aristocratic and wealthy. In this he

succeeded to a remarkable degree, and, within a few years, accumulated a

colossal fortune. His “club house” was most magnificent within and

imposing without. The interior comprised a grand drawing-room, library,

billiard room, supper room, and several “parlors” devoted to play. All

the apartments were embellished and furnished at enormous expense and

with a magnificence quite beyond description. From the start every

precaution was taken to make the membership as select as possible; the

founder sagaciously perceiving that no surer course to success could be

adopted. The most distinguished personages of the day, including the

Duke of Wellington, were members, and “Crockford’s” became the “fad” in

fashionable London. Play was heavy in this palatial “hell,” and

repeatedly £10,000, £15,000, £20,000, and even more, were lost at a

single sitting by members of the nobility. It is said that not less than

a dozen lost £100,000 each at this fashionable “den.” Crockford’s policy

extended a liberal credit to his noble dupes. A score or more of the

heads and scions of great families were indebted to him constantly to

the extent of hundreds of thousands of pounds. He retired in 1840 but

long before that was a millionaire. Building for himself an expensive

town residence and buying an estate at Newmarket, once the property of a

proud nobleman, Crockford lived like a prince, and that, too, without

losing favor with the titled dupes whom he bled. It would seem as if the

aristocrats deemed it a privilege to impoverish themselves in his

“gilded hell.” It was said, perhaps in the bitterness of irony, that

Crockford retired only because there were not remaining enough unplucked

noblemen to make it an object to continue his business.

“White’s Club,” established as a “chocolate house” in 1698, near the

bottom of St. James street, was the most famous gaming resort of its

time. Dean Swift, in his essay on Modern Education, says of the place:

“I have heard that the late Earl of Oxford, in the time of his ministry,

never passed by White’s Chocolate House, a common rendezvous of famous

sharpers and noble cullies, without bestowing a curse on that famous

‘academy’ as the bane of half the English nobility.” White’s was the

place where the nobility indulged their passion for play, and of the

number who frequented its baneful precinct, were the Duke of Devonshire,

the Earls of Chesterfield, Chalmanely, Colley Cibber, Major John

Churchill, and Budd Doddington. It was there that Chesterfield uttered

many of his celebrated witticisms, and afforded delightful entertainment

to a distinguished company. He gambled, although fully aware of the

inevitable results of the practice. Indeed, according to Walpole, he

once told his son that “a member of a gambling club should be a cheat or

he would soon be a beggar.” Pelham, the Prime Minister, was a life-long

gambler, and, even when holding his exalted office, divided his time

between attending to its duties and playing at White’s. In a letter to

Dr. Doddridge, in 1750, Lord Littleton said: “I tremble to think that

the rattling of the dice box at White’s may, one day or other, if my son

should become a member of that ‘noble academy,’ shake down all our fine

oaks. It is dreadful to see, not only there, but almost in every house

in town, what devastations are made by that destructive power, the sport

of play.” Faro was the principal game at White’s, and professional

gamblers, provided they were thought honest, were admitted. “Heavy”

betting was the practice, and Lord Carlisle lost £10,000 at one sitting.

During the game he stood to win £50,000 of Sir John Bland, of Kippax

Park, who, himself, after losing £32,000 one night, succeeded in winning

back the greater part of it. In 1755, however, he gambled away his whole

fortune at hazard. At this period almost every difference of opinion

regarding expected occurrences was made the subject of a bet. A book for

the recording of such bets was kept at White’s and some of the entries

were of the strangest character. One member bet that the first baronet

to be hung would be Sir William Burdette, who seems to have been the

black sheep of a very respectable family. Bets were recorded on the

duration of the ministry, the receiving of titles, on earthquakes,

scandals, births, deaths, marriages, and countless other events. One day

a man fell to the pavement in front of White’s and instantly a member

bet that he was dead and the wager was accepted. When it was proposed to

bleed the man the gamesters protested vigorously on the ground that the

use of the lancet would interfere with a fair settlement of the bet.

Walpole writes: “A person coming into the club on the morning of the

earthquake of 1750, and hearing bets laid whether the shock was caused

by an earthquake or the blowing up of a powder mill, went away in a

hurry, protesting that they were such an impious set that he believed

‘if the last trumpet were sounded they would bet puppet show against

judgment.’” And in another place he says, “One of the youths at White’s

has committed murder and intends to repeat it. He bet £12,000 that a man

could live twelve hours under water, hired a desperate fellow, sunk him

in a ship by way of experiment, and both ship and man have not been

heard of since. Another man and ship are to be tried for their lives

instead of the real murderers.” “Lord Digby,” wrote Guy Williams, “is

very soon to be married to Miss Fielding. Thousands might have been won

at White’s on his lordship not knowing that such a being existed.” One

of the entries in the book read, “Lord Mountford bets Sir John Bland 20

guineas that Nash outlives Colley Cibber.” Neither won the bet, for both

committed suicide before either Nash or Cibber died. Bets were also made

that Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, would out-live the Duchess of

Cleveland.

Play at White’s was believed to be “on the square,” but there is much

information to the effect that it was not. The fact that professional

gamblers were admitted ought to be conclusive on the point. Hogarth, in

his representation of gambling at White’s, places a highwayman at the

fireside, waiting until the heaviest winner shall depart and thus

furnish his opportunity.

“Brooks’ Club” was founded in 1764, immediately south of White’s, on St.

James street. Of the celebrities who frequented it, one time or another,

were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Garrick, Hume, Gibbon, Sheridan, Fox, Pitt,

Lords Euston and Chatham, Wilberforce, Horace Walpole, the Dukes of

Roxburgh and of Portland, the Earl of Strathmore, and Mr. Crew,

afterwards Lord Crew. It did not flourish at first and Brooks, its

proprietor, died in poverty in 1772. The club then became known as

“Almack’s” and for a time enjoyed prosperity as the favorite rendezvous

of the rich and great men of London. That the betting was heavy there

may be inferred from the fact that a certain Mr. Thynne, because he won

only 12,000 guineas ($63,000.) in two months, retired in disgust on

March 21st., 1772. Fast scions of noble families were accustomed to lose

or win from £10,000 to £25,000 in an evening at “Almack’s”. It was

asserted that when play was in progress there was rarely less than

£10,000 in bets on the table. Lord Starbordale, one night while he was

still in his minority, lost £10,000, but won it back by one fortunate

turn at hazard, whereupon he exclaimed, with a great oath: “Now if I had

been playing deep I might have won millions.”

The fashionable young men of the day were veritable dudes and affected

foreign notions and tastes and wore curls and eyeglasses. When about to

sit down to play, they replaced their embroidered coats with others of

frieze, or turned them wrong side out for luck. They slipped on leather

wristlets to save their lace ruffles. To avoid disarranging their hair

and to protect their eyes from the light, high-crowned broad-brimmed

hats were worn by them. Pitt put his whole soul in play while at it, as

into all else that he did. When Wilberforce returned in triumph to

Parliament and to London, in 1790, he was at once elected to membership

in all the “clubs.” “Almack’s,” however, was his favorite resort, where

he became very intimate with Pitt, whom he had known at Cambridge.

Wilberforce was not a heavy gambler and did not continue the practice

long. It has been handed down that he once lost £100 and that on another

occasion he kept the bank and won £600.

Gibbon, the historian, spent much of his time at “Almack’s”, and was far

from averse to play. He was accustomed to indite his correspondence from

there and in one letter, dated June 24th, 1776, wrote: “Town grows

empty, and this house, where I have passed many agreeable hours, is the

only place which still invites the flower of English youth. The style of

living, though somewhat expensive, is exceedingly pleasant, and

notwithstanding the range for play, I have found more entertainment and

rational society than in any other club to which I belong.”

Six years before, Horace Walpole, in a letter to Mann, draws a less

favorable picture. “Gaming at “Almack’s”, which has taken the place of

“Whites”, is worthy the decline of our Empire, or the decline of the

wealthy, as you choose.”

The “Berkley Club” enjoyed its greatest prosperity about the middle of

the present century. It had spacious and finely furnished rooms and

afforded every convenience to its members. French hazard was the

principal game at this resort. No stake less than a sovereign was

accepted and players were allowed to bet as high as they desired. The

terms of play, as well as the management, were such as to exclude all

except the wealthy elite. These frequented the place in considerable

numbers, but it never had the patronage once enjoyed by “White’s”,

“Almack’s”, and “Crockfords.”

The “Waiter’s Club,” in Piccadilly, flourished in the early part of the

present century. For ten years, or more, the company wont to gather

there was rather select, but the ruinous effects of play (dishonest

play, it was quite generally believed) soon demoralized and actually

forced them to disband. By an easy transition the place passed to the

management of a set of blacklegs, who conducted it as a common gambling

“hell.”

Gambling in the 18th century, in England, is thus described in the

_Eclectic Magazine_ for May, 1885: “In the more contracted sense in

which we understand the word ‘gambling,’ our grandsires appear to have

been more attached to it than the generations which went before them.

The actor and the politician, the divine and the tradesman, were alike

infected with the rage for gaming. The Duke of Devonshire lost his

valuable estate of Leicester Abbey, to Manners at a game of basset.

Peers were impoverished, and estates mortgaged, in a single night, and

the men who had entered the room in a state of affluence, rushed madly

into the streets at night, penniless, and probably in debt to a large

amount. The chocolate rooms in the neighborhood of Charing-cross,

Leicester-fields, and Golden Square, were the principal ‘hells’ of the

West end, and it was not far for ruin, disgrace and despair to find

oblivion in the bosom of the Serpentine, or the Thames. The coffee

houses, we are told, most notorious for gambling, were ‘White’s

Chocolate-house,’ for ficket or basset clubs, in 1724, ‘Littleman’s,’

for faro, which was played in every room; ‘Oldman’s,’ ‘Tom’s,’ ‘Will’s,’

and ‘Jonathan’s’ Coffee-houses, for ‘ombre,’ ‘picquet,’ and ‘loo.’ About

1730 the ‘Crown’ Coffee-house, in Bedford-row, became the rendezvous of

a party of whist players. Early in the century, although Swift mentions

it as a clergyman’s game, whist appears to have been less in vogue,

excepting with footmen and servants, among whom it kept company with

foot and all fours.

“From the frequent mention of it in Swift’s ‘Journal to Stella,’ we

should surmise that ‘ombre’ was in great fashion about 1710 to 1730, as

was crimp among the ladies, according to Steele, and, in 1726, we find

in ‘Gay’s Correspondence’ a letter to Swift, in which he alludes to the

favor in which the game of quadrille was then held: ‘I can find

amusement enough without quadrille, which here is the universal

employment of life.’ ‘Nay,’ cries honest parson Adams, in the ‘True

Briton,’ on January the 28th, 1746, ‘the holy Sabbath is, it seems,

prostituted to these wicked revellings, and card playing goes on as

publicly as on any other day. Nor is this only among the young lads and

the damsels, who might be supposed to know no better, but men advanced

in years, and grave matrons are not ashamed of being caught at the same

pastime.’

“The _Daily Journal_ of January 9th, 1751, gives a list of the officers

retained ‘in the most notorious gaming houses,’ showing how these

matters were then managed. The first twelve were:

“1. A commissioner, always a proprietor, who looks in of a night, and

the week’s account is audited by him and two other proprietors.

“2. A director, who superintends the room.

“3. An operator, who deals the cards at a cheating game called ‘faro.’

“4. Two crowpiers (croupiers) who watch the cards and gather in the

money for the bank.

“5. Two puffs, who have money given them to decoy others to play.

“6. A clerk, who is a check upon the puffs, to see that they sink none

of the money given them to play with.

“7. A squib is a puff of lower rank who serves at half-pay salary while

he is learning to deal.

“8. A flasher, to swear how often a bank has been stripped.

“9. A dunner, who goes about to recover money lost at play.

“10. A waiter, to fill out wine, snuff candles, and attend to the gaming

rooms.

“11. An attorney, a Newgate solicitor.

“12. A captain, who is to fight any gentleman who is peevish at losing

his money.

“The green-rooms of the theatres even, were the scenes of great doings

in the gaming way, and Miss Bellamy tells us that thousands were

frequently lost there in a night—rings, brooches, watches, professional

wardrobes, and even salaries in advance, being staked and lost as well

as money.

“It was in vain that essays, satires and sermons were written with a

view to checking this universal vice. Hogarth has depicted it in all its

horrors, whether in the scene where it first leads the idle apprentice

into sin, or in others, where it shows the young rake on the way to

jail. But its dreadful consequences were most forcibly placed before the

eyes of the infatuated town by Edward Moore, in a tragedy, first

performed at Drury Lane in 1753, and entitled the “Gamester.” How did

“the town” receive this lesson? The “New Theatrical Dictionary” says:

“With all its merits, it met with but little success, the general cry

against it being that the distress was too deep to be borne. Yet we are

rather apt to imagine its want of perfect approbation arose in one part,

(and that no inconsiderable one) of the audience from a tenderness of

another kind than that of compassion, and that they were less hurt by

the distress of “Beverly” than by finding their darling vice—their

favorite folly—thus vehemently attacked by the strong lance of reason,

and dramatic execution.”

But gambling in England has never been confined to the aristocracy. If

anything, it has been even more prevalent in the “Lower orders of

society.” The play in the “dens” frequented by them has been less

“heavy,” but none the less ruinous and far more productive of misery and

crime. Such resorts have thrived for centuries in every part of London,

and indeed, in every large English city. Many of them have been known as

“clubs,” as are those of to-day, which the police raid from time to

time.

In these places, as in those more aristocratic, hazard became the

favorite game immediately upon its introduction from Paris, early in the

century, and for a time almost superceded other gambling devices. St.

James street early became the center for aristocratic gambling, and in

no quarter of London were the third and fourth class “hells” so numerous

as in the section surrounding this district. After “Crockford’s” was

established and it became apparent that it was not only prospering under

the protection and patronage of the ennobled and wealthy, but was also

safe from police interference, the gamblers who designed to prey upon

the lower classes were not slow to conclude that nowhere in London would

they be so secure as in the same vicinity. Accordingly, in a short time,

scores of “clubs” sprung up in Leicester Square, the Quadrant, in Regent

street, and between Bennett and Jermyn Streets. The Quadrant was known

as “Devil’s walk,” getting the name because of the half dozen or more

“hells” which flourished on its North side, between the County Fire

offices and Glasshouse street, and because of the hundreds of abandoned

women who promenaded the pavement then, as now, during the closing hours

of the day and far into the night. It was a locality especially

favorable to these “dens.” The throngs of people were greater in its

vicinity at night than in any other part of London. Competition between

the different houses was so sharp that each had its messengers on the

street, mixing with the people, and thrusting into their hands cards of

invitation to their respective resorts. Even the courtesans solicited

for the dens at the time they solicited for themselves.

The Quadrant “clubs” have been the ruin of thousands of young men.

Finally, the scandal became so great and openly offensive that the

public revolted. Some young men turned over the cards of invitation to

their parents, the latter in turn passing the invitations to the police.

With the cards as a clue the authorities began a determined fight upon

the evil, and finally exterminated the infamous resorts. Their doors had

opened readily, day and night, Sundays included. Anyone, no matter how

high or low in degree and circumstances, was welcome, and all were

systematically plucked.

As late as 1844 there were no less than fifteen gambling houses, well

known to the police, in the parishes of St. James’, St. George’s, St.

Ann’s, and St. Martin’s-in-the-fields, besides the rooms of public

houses, billiard rooms and coffee shops, in which gambling was

conducted. These latter, known as “copper halls,” usually accepted the

lowest stakes, down to a penny or a ha’penny, and were patronized mainly

by clerks and servants.

Gambling establishments, pure and simple, and of the lowest order, have

generally “followed the races;” that is, have been opened during race

week in the town where the courses are located—such as Warwick,

Doncaster, etc. Allusion has been made already to the fact that betting

on horse races is a favorite species of gambling in England. That

subject receives due attention in another part of this work. Reference

is proper here, however, to the gambling by those who attend the races.

It was said of Doncaster in 1846: “The Eldorado, or grand source of

income and wealth to the proprietors, arises from the prolific revenue

of the play of gaming tables, of which there are usually six in constant

nightly operation during the racing week. The proprietors of the

Subscription Betting Rooms are not ostensibly connected in the co-

partnership of the banks, or in the business of the tables, but they

are, nevertheless, largely interested in the successful issue of the

week, as will be shown. In the first instance it should be stated that

the sum of £350 or £400 is paid down to them by the party contracting

for the tables, and for the privilege of putting down the banks. This is

all clear profit, paid for in advance, and without any contingency, and

in addition to this large sum so paid, for the mere privilege of finding

capital, there is a stipulation also on the part of the proprietors of

the room, that they shall receive a considerable part or share of the

clear profits or gains of the week, accruing from the tables, and this

without the risk of a single shilling by them under any unlooked-for

reverse of fortune.”

Doncaster, at an earlier period, often harbored fully thirty or forty

gambling establishments during race week, which were conducted in the

most open manner. Men were stationed in front to hand to passers by

cards bearing such inscriptions as, “Roulette, £1,000 in the bank.” A

former magistrate of Warwick certified that once during the races nearly

every house in a certain street was utilized for gambling purposes, and

that the windows were wide open so that those who were passing could see

what was transpiring within. Though the sporting gentry had usually to

pay large fees for the privilege of running race week “hells,” they

could well afford to do so in view of their enormous profits. The games

usual at such places were roulette and hazard. Both French and English

hazard were in favor, the latter to accommodate the older generation of

“sports,” with whom it was a favorite. French hazard is a quiet game;

English hazard a noisy one. In the former, the players have simply to

place their stakes in particular positions on the table; as they wish to

bet, and await the result of the cast. They need not utter a word. At

the English game, on the contrary, every player is usually shouting at

the top of his voice, and the scene is not unlike that in the wheat pit

of a Board of Trade or in the Stock Exchange in New York. “The caster’s

in for five pounds!” “done;” “I’ll bet fifteen to ten!” “What’s the main

and chance?” “Seven to five;” “I’ll take on doublets!” “The caster

throws before the five for ten pounds.” These are samples of the

exclamations made by those who are offering and taking bets. The players

in the English game bet against each other and not against the banks as

in the French game. Wranglings, disputes and hot words are frequent,

owing to misunderstandings and the efforts of sharpers to impose upon

those whom they take to be inexperienced and susceptible to bravado.

An English hazard game is superintended by a “groom-porter,” as he is

called, who presides at the table to regulate the bets made between the

“caster,” or thrower of the dice, and the “setter,” or person opposed to

him. The proprietor does not get a percentage of the money staked as in

the French game, but derives his profit from a stipulated amount from

all the players who are fortunate enough to throw on three mains, or win

three times successively. Such winnings, it has been estimated, occur

eight times an hour. Accordingly the proprietor gets about $40 an hour

for each table, or $400 a night on the basis of ten hours. Of course,

the amount varies with the number engaged in playing. But the amount,

whatever it is, is clear profit, for the use of the table only is

involved. The “groom porter” has very arduous duties to perform, and

must, of necessity, be quick and determined, in order to keep track of

all the bets made and to defeat the frequent attempts at fraud by knaves

and scoundrels who sometimes stake less than their proportion, or

endeavor to escape their “obligations.”(?) In return for this protective

vigilance he receives a gratuity of a guinea or more from every one who

throws six mains, or wins six times successively. When betting is large

his “doucers” are generally increased, and sometimes he receives as much

as five or ten pounds.

In these “dens” the roulette tables are usually more numerous than those

devoted to hazard, and they prove more remunerative to the proprietors,

as the percentage against the players is about five and a half, or more

than three times what it is in hazard. The profits during race week

averaged, some times, £2,500 each.

Of the low gambling resorts in London, early in this century, Fraser’s

Magazine, of August 1833, gives this interesting account: “On an

average, during the last twenty years, about thirty ‘hells’ have been

regularly open in London for the accommodation of the lowest and most

vile set of hazard players. The game of hazard is the principal one

played at the low houses, and is, like the characters who play it, the

most desperate and ruinous of all games. The wretched men who follow

this play are partial to it, because it gives a chance, from a run of

good luck, to become possessed speedily of all the money on the table.

No man who plays hazard ever despairs making his fortune at some time.

Such is the nature of this destructive game, that I can now point out

several men, whom you see daily, who were in rags and wretchedness on

Monday, and, before the termination of the week, they rode in a newly

purchased stanhope of their own, having several thousand pounds in their

possession. The few instances of such success, which unfortunately

occur, are generally well-known, and consequently encourage the hopes of

others who nightly attend these places, sacrificing all considerations

of life to the carrying their all (if it be only a few shillings) every

twenty-four hours to stake in this great lottery, under the delusive

hope of catching Dame Fortune at some time in a merry mood. Thousands

annually fall, in health, fame and fortune, by this mad infatuation,

while not one in a thousand finds an oasis in the desert. The inferior

houses of play are always situated in obscure courts, or other places of

retirement, and most frequently are kept shut up during the day, as well

as at night, as if unoccupied; or some appearance of trade is carried on

as a blind. A back room is selected for all operations, if one can be

secured sufficiently capacious for the accommodation of forty or fifty

persons at one time. In the centre of the room is fixed a substantial

circular table, immovable to any power of pressure against it by the

company who go to play, a circle of inlaid white hollywood is formed in

the middle of the table, of about four feet diameter, and a lamp is

suspended immediately over this ring. A man, designated the “groom

porter,” is mounted on a stool, with a stick in his hand, having a

transverse piece of wood affixed at its end, which is used by him to

rake in the dice, after having been thrown out of the box by the caster,

(the person who throws the dice). The avowed profits of keeping a table

of this kind is the receipt of a piece for each box-hand—that is, when a

player wins three times successively, he pays a certain sum to the

table, and there is an aperture in the table made to receive these

contributions. At the minor establishments, the price of a box-hand

varies from one shilling to half-a-crown, according to the terms on

which the house is known to be originally opened. If there is much play,

these payments produce ample profits to the keeper of the house, but

their remuneration for running the risk of keeping an unlawful table of

play, is plunder. At all these houses, as at the better ones, there is

always a set of men who hang about the table like sharks for prey,

waiting for those who stay late, or are inebriated, and come in towards

morning to play when there are but few lookers-on. Unfair means are then

resorted to with impunity, and all share the plunder. About eleven

o’clock, when all honest and regular persons are preparing for rest, the

play commences, the adventurers being seated around the table, one takes

the box of dice, putting what he is disposed to play for into the ring

marked on the table, as soon as it is covered with a like sum, or ‘set,’

as it is termed, by another person, the player calls ‘a main,’ and at

the same moment throws the dice, if the call comes up, the caster wins,

but if any other ‘main’ comes uppermost on the dice, the thrower takes

that chance for his own, and his adversary has the one he calls, the

throwing then continues, during which bets are made by others, on the

event, until it is decided. If the caster throws deuces or aces, when he

first calls ‘a main,’ it is said to be ‘crabbed,’ and he loses, but if

he throws the number named, he is said to have ‘nicked it,’ and thereby

wins. Also, if he should call six or eight, and throws double sizes, he

wins, or if seven be the number called, and eleven is thrown, it is a

‘nick,’ because those chances are ‘nicks’ to these ‘mains,’ which

regulation is necessary to the equalization of all the chances at this

game when calling a ‘main.’

“The odds against any number being thrown against another number varies

from two to one, to six to five, and consequently keeps all the table

engaged in betting. All bets are staked, and the noise occasioned by

proposing and accepting wagers is most uproarious and deafening among

the low players, each having one eye on the black spots marked on the

dice, as they land from the box, and the other on the stake, ready to

snatch it if successful. To prevent the noise being heard in the street,

shutters closely fitted to the window frames are affixed, which are

padded and covered with green baize. There is also invariably an inner

door placed in the passage, having an aperture in it, through which all

who enter the door from the street may be viewed. This precaution

answers two purposes, it deadens the sound of the noisy voices at the

table, and prevents surprise by the officer of justice. The generality

of the minor houses are kept by prize fighters, and other desperate

characters, who bully and hector the more timid out of their money, by

deciding that bets have been lost when in fact they have been won.

Bread, cheese, and beer are supplied to the players, and a glass of gin

is handed when called for, gratis. To these places thieves resort, and

such other loose characters as are lost to every feeling of honesty and

shame. A table of this nature in full operation is a terrific sight, all

the bad passions appertaining to the vicious propensities of mankind are

portrayed on the countenances of the players. An assembly of the most

horrible demons could not exhibit a more appalling effect, recklessness

and desperation overshadow every noble trait, which should enlighten the

countenance of a human being. Many, in their desperation, stripped

themselves on the spot of their clothes, either to stake against money,

or to pledge to the table-keeper for a trifle to renew the play, and

many instances occur of men going home half naked, after having lost

their all. They assemble in parties of from forty to fifty persons, who

probably bring on an average each night of from one to twenty shillings

to play with. As the money is lost the players depart, if they can not

borrow or beg more, and this goes on some times in the winter season for

fourteen or sixteen hours in succession, so that from 100 to 150 persons

may be calculated to visit one gambling table in the course of a night;

and it not unfrequently happens that, ultimately, all the money brought

to the table gets into the hands of one or two of the most fortunate

adventurers, save that which is paid to the table for box-hands, whilst

the losers separate, only to devise plans by which a few more shilling

may be secured for the next night’s play.

“Every man so engaged is destined either to become by success a more

finished and mischievous gambler, or to appear at the bar of the ‘Old

Bailey’ where, indeed, most of them may be said to have figured already.

“The successful players, by degrees, improve their external appearance,

and obtain admittance to the houses of higher play, where 2s. 6d., or

3s. 4d. is demanded for box-hands. At these places silver counters are

used, representing the aliquot parts of a pound; these are called

‘pieces,’ one of which is a box-hand.

“If success attends them, in the first step of advancement, they next

become initiated into pound-houses, and associate with gamblers of

respectable exterior, where, if they show talent, they either become

confederates in forming schemes of plunder, and in aiding establishments

to carry on their concerns in defiance of the law, or fall back to their

old station of playing chicken-hazard, as the small play is designated.

“The half-crown, or third rate houses, are not less mischievious than

the lower ones. These houses are chiefly opened at the west end of the

town, but there are some few at the east. In the parish of St. James, I

have counted seven, eight and nine, in one street, which were open both

day and night.

“One house in Oxenden street, Coventry, had an uninterrupted run of

sixteen or seventeen years. Thousands have been ruined there, while

every proprietor amassed a large fortune. The man who first opened the

house (G. S.) has resided at Kentish Town for years past, in ease and

affluence, keeping his servants and horses, although he rose from the

lowest of the low.

“Several others who have followed him have had equal success. The

watchmen and Bow street officers were kept in regular pay, and the law

openly and expressly set at defiance, cards being handed about, on which

were written these words: ‘Note, the house is insured against all legal

interruptions, and the players are guaranteed to be as free from

officious interruptions as they are at their own homes.’

“At another of these medium houses, known by the numerals ‘77,’ the

proprietor, (a broken down Irish publican, formerly residing in the

parish of St. Anne’s) accumulated in two years so much money that he

became a large builder of houses and assembly rooms at Cheltenham, where

he was at one time considered the most important man of the place,

although he continued his calling to the day of his death. ‘Alas! J. D.

K., hadst thou remained on earth thou wouldst ere this have been honored

with the title of Grand Master of all the Blarney Clubs throughout the

United Kingdom. Many a coroner hast thou found employ, and many a guinea

hast thou brought into their purses, and many a family hast thou cast

into the depths of sorrow.’ So runs the world. Fools are the natural

prey of knaves, nature designed them so, when she made lambs for wolves.

The laws that fear and policy framed, nature disclaims; she knows but

two, and those are force and cunning. The nobler law is force, but then

there’s danger in’t; while cunning, like a skillful miner, works safely

and unseen.

“The subject of these remarks was not only subtle, wily, and in some

measure fascinating, but most athletic and active in person. He was part

proprietor of No. —, Pall Mall, for many years, where he would himself

play for heavy stakes. And it was a favorite hobby of his to go into St.

James’ Square, after having been up all night, to jump over the iron

railings and back again, from the enclosure to the paved way.

“The average number of these third-rate houses in London, open for play,

may be calculated at about twenty-five. If there were not a constant

influx of tyro-gamblers this number would not be supported. Their agents

stroll about the town, visiting public house parlors, and houses where

cribbage-players resort, whist clubs, also billiard and bagatelle

tables, experience having taught them that the man who plays at one

game, if the opportunity be afforded him, is ever ready to plunge deeper

into the vice of gambling on a large scale. Junior clerks, and the upper

class of gentlemen’s servants are the men whom they chiefly attack.

“It is an extraordinary and uncomfortable fact that no set of men are

more open to seduction than the servants of the nobility, and the

menials of club-houses, an instance of which occurred a few months

since, in the case of a servant of the Athenæum Club, who was inveigled

into a house in the Quadrant, where he lost, in two or three days, a

considerable sum of money belonging to his employers.

“The sum annually lost by the servants of the present day may reasonably

be laid at one million and a half sterling. At most of the middle class

gambling houses, play is going on from three o’clock, p. m. to five or

six o’clock a. m. In the afternoon, from three to seven, it is called

morning play, being generally rouge-et-noir or roulette.

“As soon as the proprietor of a ‘crown-house’ amasses money enough to

appear on the turf, and becomes known at Tattersall’s as a speculator on

horse-racing, he is dubbed a gentleman. Associating now with another

class of men, a high ambitious spirit prompts him to open a superior

house of play, where the upper class of gamblers and young nobility may

not be ashamed of meeting together. All petty players are excluded. When

he has accomplished his object he deems himself in the high road for the

acquirement of a splendid fortune, being now master of a concern where

money and estate are as regularly bought and sold as any commodity in a

public market; one man of fashion betraying another—the most intimate

and bosom friends colleaguing with these monsters for the purpose of

sacrificing each other to the god Plutus, instances of which occur in

this viciated town as often as the sun rises and sets.

“It might be thought invidious to mention names by innuendo, but every

man of the world, or rather of the London world (which comprehends some

thousand swindlers intermingled with the same number of nobility and

gentry), must have a knowledge of those characters who have elevated

themselves from the lowest state in society by gambling, to associate on

terms of equality with nobles. One married his daughters to peers of the

realm, and was treated with respect daily at the table of those who

enact laws for the punishment of swindlers, and also of bishops who

expatiate daily against all kinds of vice, including that of gambling,

and the sin of countenancing those who promote it. Another, whose

confederate was executed for poisoning horses, to secure for himself and

his honorable employer a large sum of money, now stalks through the

halls of our proud Norman, but too susceptible aristocracy, with as much

freedom and nonchalance as one who could trace his ancestry back to

William the Conqueror, and was possessed of a pure and unblemished

reputation. When the history of this individual and that of six others,

who, to use their own phraseology, have rowed through life together in

the same boat, are before the world, scenes will be developed which will

stand as beacons to warn future generations against coming in contact

with such characters.

“In accordance with the reigning spirit of the day, such persons having

acquired money, no matter how, rank as gentlemen, and are qualified to

sit at the tables of the nobility. The company of fashionable or club

society is that of black-legs, and it would not be difficult for me to

name from twenty to thirty individuals at this moment who associate

with, and move among, persons of high life, who were, but a few years

back, in low vice and penury, and who have possessed themselves of a sum

of money certainly not less than from eight to nine millions sterling.

“Again, there are hundreds of others who have amassed from ten to twenty

thousand pounds each. Add to these the two or three thousand who

annually make smaller sums of money, or manage to keep themselves and

families in comfortable style by ‘hokey-pokey’ gambling ways, as Brother

Jonathan would say, some estimate may be made of the evil occasioned to

society by the movements of these men in it.”

One of the most deplorable phases of gambling in England is that women

have figured prominently. Incredible as it may seem, numerous instances

are recorded where the honor of wives and daughters has been staked in

the desperation of cowardly men. It may be believed that this occurred

only when all else had been swept away, and by persons from whom every

vestige of manhood had departed. Ethiopians, it is said, have been known

to gamble away their wives and children, and Schouten tells of a

Chinaman who lost his family in this manner. A similar story is told of

a Venetian, by Paschasius Justus, and in the wicked Paris of Louis XV,

debauched nobles played at dice for the favor of a notorious courtesan.

English literature contains many allusions to women gamblers. So far did

ladies of fashion carry the vice that certain nights for meeting were

set apart in their private mansions, at which young and old, married and

single, played with a desperation that must have made their husbands and

fathers tremble. Professionals, whose morals were not above reproach,

were engaged to conduct the games, and thus the women were thrown into

association with bad characters, and their names and reputations bandied

about in the mouths of the sporting gentry of London.

In 1820, James Lloyd, a harpy who practiced on the credulity of the

lower orders by keeping an illegal lottery, was arrested for the

twentieth time to answer for the offense. Lloyd was a Methodist

preacher, and on Sundays expounded the gospel to his neighbors; the

remainder of the week he instructed them in the gambling vice.

“In the same years,” says a writer of the time, “parties of young

persons robbed their masters to play at a certain establishment called

‘Morley’s Gambling House,’ in the city of London, and were there ruined.

Some were brought to justice at the Old Bailey, others in the madness

caused by their losses, destroyed themselves while some escaped to other

countries.”

To the games of faro, hazard, macao, doodle-doo and rouge-et-noir, at

this time, more than to horse-racing, may be ascribed the ruin of many

London merchants who once possessed fortunes and prosperous business.

Thousands upon thousands were thus ruined in the vicinity of St. James;

but this was not confined to youths of fortune only, but to decent and

respectable merchants, who were engulfed in its vortex.

Of the “South Sea Bubble,” a writer in the _Eclectic Magazine_ for May,

1885, says: “If not the earliest, at least the most remarkable instance

of this national spirit of gambling displayed itself in the last

century, and was the infatuation which led all classes to commit

themselves to the alluring prospects held out to them by the South Sea

Company. The public creditor was offered six per cent. interest, and a

participation in the profits of a new trading company, incorporated

under the style of ‘The Governor and Company of Merchants of Great

Britain trading to the South Seas and other parts of America.’ But,

whatever chances of success this company might have had, were soon

dispersed by the breaking out of the war with Spain, in 1718, which

rendered it necessary for the concoctors of the scheme to circulate the

most exaggerated reports, falsify their books, bribe members of the

government, and resort to every fraudulent means, for the purpose of

propping up their tottering creation. Wonderful discoveries of valuable

resources were trumped up, and, by the mystery which they contrived to

throw around the whole concern, people’s curiosity was excited, and a

general, but vague impression got abroad that one of the South Sea

Company’s bonds was talismanic, and there was no reckoning the amount of

profit it would bring to the fortunate possessor. The smallest result

expected from the enterprise was that in twenty-six years it would pay

off the entire amount of the National debt.

“How it was to be done no one knew, or cared to inquire, it was

sufficient to know that it was to be done. Trade and business of all

kinds was suspended, every pursuit and calling neglected, and the

interest of the whole nation absorbed by this enchanting dream. Money

was realized in every way, and at every sacrifice and risk, to be made

available in the purchase of South Sea stock, which rose in price with

the demand from £150 to £325. Fresh speculators came pouring in, and the

price went up to £1,000. This was at the latter end of July, but alas, a

whisper went forth that there was something wrong with the South Sea

Company. The chairman, Sir John Blunt, and some of the directors had

sold their shares. There was a screw loose somewhere, and on the 2nd of

September it was quoted at £700. An attempt to allay the panic was made

by the directors, who called a meeting on the 8th, at Merchant Tailors’

Hall, but in the evening it fell to £640, and next day stood at £540.

The fever had been succeeded by a shivering fit, and it was rapidly

running down to zero. In this emergency, the king, who was at Hanover,

was sent for, and Sir Robert Walpole called in, when the case was

desperate. He endeavored to persuade the Bank of England to circulate

the company’s bonds, but in vain. The stock fell to £135, and the bubble

burst. The duration of this public delirium, as Smallett has truly

called it, may be estimated when we state that the bill enabling the

company to raise the subscription received the royal assent on the 7th

of April, 1720, with the stock at £150; that the price subsequently ran

up to £1,000; and that, on the 27th day of September it had again sunk

to £150, and the delusion was over, and the nation in a state of panic,

with public credit shaken to its center. Investigations were now made

into the conduct of the managers of this marvelous fraud. A bill was

first passed through parliament to prevent the escape of the directors

from the kingdom, and then a Committee of Secrecy appointed to examine

into their accounts. It then came out that the books had been destroyed,

or concealed, entries erased and altered, and accounts falsified; that

the king’s mistress, even, the Duchess of Kendal, had received stock to

the amount of £10,000; another favorite, the Countess of Platen,

£10,000; Mr. Aislabie, Chancellor of the Exchequer, £70,000; Mr. Graggs,

father of the Secretary of State, £659,000; the Duke of Sutherland,

£160,000; Mr. Graggs, Jr., £30,000; and Mr. Charles Stanhope, Secretary

of the Treasury, two amounts, one of £10,000, and another of £47,000.

The manner in which these worthies, who were in the secret, could

anticipate and influence the markets, is obvious. Poor Gay had received

an allotment of stock from Mr. Secretary Graggs which was at one time

worth £20,000, but he clung fast to the bubble, refused to sell at that

price, and waited till it was worthless, when he found himself hugging

the shadow of a fortune. The amount of the company’s stock, at the time

of the inquiry, was found to be £37,800,000, of which £24,500,000

belonged to individual proprietors. As some compensation to these rash

and ruined speculators, the estates of the directors were confiscated.

Sir George Caswell was expelled from the House of Commons, and made to

disgorge £250,000; Aislabie, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, was

expelled, and committed to the Tower; Sir John Blunt, the chairman, was

stripped of all but £5,000, and the excitement and popular resentment

was so intense that it is marvelous that they escaped with their lives.

“The South Sea frenzy was not sufficient to engross the gambling spirit

that it had generated, simultaneously there oozed up a crowd of smaller

bubbles, of which Malcom counted 156. The titles to some of them were

sufficient to illustrate the madness which had seized upon the nation.

There were companies for carrying on the undertaking business and

furnishing funerals, capital £1,200,000 at the ‘Fleece Tavern’ (ominous

sign,) Cornhill; for discounting pensions, 2,000 shares at the Globe

Tavern; for preventing and suppressing thieves, and insuring all

persons’ goods from the same (?), capital £2,000,000, at Cooper’s; for

making Joppa and Castile soap, at the Castile Tavern; for sweeping the

streets, for maintaining bastard children; for improving gardens and

raising fruit trees, at Carraway’s, for insuring horses against natural

death, accident or theft, at the Brown Tavern, Smithfield, another at

Robin’s, of the same nature, capital £2,000,000; for introducing the

breed of asses; an insurance company against the thefts of servants,

3,000 shares of £1,000 each, at the Devil Tavern; for perpetual motion,

by means of a wheel moving by force of its own weight, capital

£1,000,000 at the Ship Tavern,” etc., etc. The Prince of Wales became

governor of a Welsh Copper Company. The Duke of Chandos was Chairman of

the York Building Company, and of another Company for building houses in

London and Westminster.

“Many of these speculators were jealously prosecuted by the South Sea

Company, but they all succeeded, in a greater or less degree, in

spreading the general panic. The amount of capital proposed to be raised

by these countless schemes was three hundred million sterling—exceeding

the value of all the lands in England. The most amusing instance of the

blind credulity of the public was in the success which attended one wary

projector, who, well knowing the value of mystery, published the

following proposal:

“‘This day, the 28th inst., at Sam’s Coffee-house, behind the Royal

Exchange, at three in the afternoon, a book will be opened for entering

into a joint co-partnership for carrying on a thing that will turn to

the advantage of all concerned.’

“The particulars of this notable scheme were not to be revealed for a

month, and, ‘in the meantime’ says Smallet, he declared that every

person paying two guineas should be entitled to a subscription of one

hundred pounds, which would produce that sum yearly.’ In the forenoon,

the adventurer received a thousand of these subscriptions, and, in the

evening, set out for another kingdom.

“Some curious satires on these several schemes are preserved in the

British Museum, in the shape of a book of playing-cards. Thus, one is a

caricature of York-buildings, with the following lines beneath it:

‘You that are blessed with wealth by your Creator,

And want to drown you money in Thames water,

Buy but York-buildings, and the cistern there

Will sink more pence than any fool can spare.’

“A ship-building company is thus ridiculed:

‘Who but a nest of blockheads to their cost

Would build new ships for freight when trade is lost?

To raise fresh barques must surely be amusing,

When hundreds rot in dock for want of using.’

“The Pennsylvania Land Company comes in for a share of the satire:

‘Come, all ye saints, that would for little buy

Great tracts of land, and care not where they lie,

Deal with your Quaking friends—They’re men of light,

The spirit hates deceit and scorns to bite.’

“The Company for the insurance of horses’ lives against death, or

accident, is thus dealt with:

‘You that keep horses to preserve your ease,

And pads to please your wives and mistresses,

Insure their lives, and, if they die we’ll make

Full satisfaction—or be bound to break.’

“Smallett gives us a more dismal picture. ‘The whole nation,’ he says,

‘was infested with a spirit of stock-jobbing, to an astonishing degree.

All distinctions of party, religion, sex, character, and circumstances

were swallowed up. Exchange-alley was filled with a strange concourse of

statesmen and clergymen, churchmen and dissenters, Whigs, and Tories,

physicians, lawyers, tradesmen, and even with females. All other

professions and employments were utterly neglected.’

“It is not to be wondered at that various lottery schemes were started

and prospered immensely at a time when the public mind was in the state

indicated above. They were launched by the State, by private companies

and by individuals. These institutions played no small part in the

general debasement of the public mind and the ruin of fortunes and

families.” This will appear more fully in the treatment accorded to

lotteries elsewhere in this book.

The history of anti gambling legislation in England, and the various

efforts which have been made to suppress or regulate the vice forms an

interesting phase of the subject, and also suggests how the evil was

regarded from time to time in the public mind. The earliest legislation

on the subject appears to have been based on the idea, not that gambling

was immoral and degrading, but that it interfered with the usefulness of

servants and employes, induced idleness, and diverted attention from

archery. “The first statute (12 R. 2, c. 6) in England (1388)

prohibiting gambling, applied only to servants of husbandry, artificers,

and victuallers—not to servants of gentlemen—and commanded such to

refrain from ‘hand and foot ball, quoits, dice, throwing of stone

kayles, and such other importune games.’ The next statute (1409)

enforced the above, with a penalty of six days imprisonment for such

offence. The next act (17 Ed. 4, c. 3, 1477,) after naming in a preamble

the foregoing games, says, ‘Contrary to such laws, games called kayles,

half-bowles, hand-in-hand-out, and queckeborde, from day to day are used

in divers parts of the land,’ then provides that no occupier or master

of a house shall voluntarily permit any prohibited person to play at any

such game in said house, under pain of three years’ imprisonment and

forfeiture of £20 for each offense. No prohibited person could play

under pain of two years’ imprisonment and £10 default. Another act (11

H. 7, c. 2, 1494,) provided that no artificer, laborer or servant should

play any unlawful game except at Christmas, while the law (19 H. 7, c,

12) of 1503, absolutely prohibited certain persons named therein from

playing at any game. In 1511, (3 H. 8, c. 3) unlawful games were again

prohibited, and a still more stringent law enacted in 1535 (22 H. 8, c.

35).

“In 1541, (33 H. 8, c. 25) the manufacturers and dealers in archery

petitioned Parliament to prohibit all games and enforce the practice of

archery. Accordingly, in 1542, a most stringent act was passed, obliging

all able-bodied men, between the ages of 17 and 60 years, except

ministers and judges, to own bows and arrows, and to practice with the

same. Masters were required to see that their servants were provided

with bows and arrows and instructed in their use; if not provided, the

master must furnish the same, and was empowered to deduct the price from

the servant’s wages. This act repeals all other laws concerning gaming,

and then prohibits the keeping of any ‘common house, or place of

bowling, coytinge, cloyshe, cayles, half-bowle, tannys, dysing table, or

cardianage, or any other unlawful new game hereafter to be invented,’

under a penalty of 40s. for each offense. Magistrates, sheriffs,

bailiffs, constables, and head officers of cities, boroughs and towns,

were required and authorized to enter all such places, at any time, and

arrest offenders; they must also search at least once a month to

discover such places, and suppress the same under a monthly penalty of

40s. for every default.”

Section 16, of this act then provided that “No manner of artificer,

craftsman, husbandman, apprentice, laborer, servant at husbandry,

journeyman, or servant of artificer, mariner, fisherman, waterman, or

servingman shall play at the tables, tennis, dice, cards, bowles, clash,

coyting, logating, or any other unlawful game, out of Christmas, under

pain of 20s. for each offense.” At Christmas, this class could play only

in their master’s house or presence. This act made no game in itself

unlawful. It only became unlawful by being used by certain persons at

certain times, or certain places. The keeping of a common gambling house

for any unlawful game, for lucre or gain was prohibited, but no game was

made unlawful unless played in such common house. Faro and rouge et noir

were not then considered unlawful games.

In 1745, faro, bassett, ace of hearts, hazard, passage, roly-poly,

roulette, and all games of dice, except backgammon, were prohibited

under a penalty to the “setter-up,” of £200, and £50 fine for players. A

subsequent act repealed so much of the act of 1542 as prohibited

bowling, tennis and other games of mere skill.

Justices of the Peace, at their annual licensing meetings, were

empowered to grant license to persons to keep a room for billiards,

bagatelle-boards, and the like, but these were prohibited between the

hours of 1 and 8 A. M., and on Sundays, Christmas, Good Friday, or any

public feast, or Thanksgiving day. Gambling was not then indictable at

common law. In England, at common law, it was held, “a common gambling

house kept for lucre or gain, was per se a common nuisance, as it tends

to draw together idle and evil-disposed persons, to corrupt their morals

and ruin their fortunes, being the same reasons given in the case of

houses of common prostitution.” (King vs. Rogers and Humphrey.)

The following curious piece of evidence is probably an extract from the

Journal of the House of Lords, although there is no reference to the

subject in the published debates.

“DIE LUNÆ, 29 DEGREES, APRILIS, 1745—GAMING.”

“A bill for preventing the excessive and deceitful use of it having been

brought from the Commons and proceeded on, so far as to be agreed to in

the committee of the whole house with amendments, information was given

to the house that Mr. Burdus, Chairman of the Quarter Session for the

sitting and liberty of Westminster; Sir Thomas Deveil, and Mr. Lane,

Chairman of the Quarter Session for the County of Middlesex, were at the

door. They were called in and at the bar severally gave an account that

claims of the privilege of peerage were made and insisted on by Ladies

Mordington and Cassilis, in order to intimidate the peace officers from

doing their duty in suppressing the public gaming houses kept by said

ladies. And the said Burdus thereupon delivered the instrument in the

written hand of said Lady Mordington, containing the claim she made of

privilege for her officers and servants employed by her in her said

gambling house; and then they were directed to withdraw, and the said

instrument was read as follows: ‘I, Dame Mary, Baroness of Mordington,

do hold a house in the great plaza Covent Garden for, and as an

assembly, where all persons of credit are at liberty to frequent and

play at such diversions as are used at other assemblies, and I have

hired Joseph Dewbery, William Horsely, Ham Croper, and George Sanders as

my servants or managers under me. I have given them orders to direct the

management of other inferior servants, namely, John Bright, Richard

Davids, John Hill, John Vandevoren as book-keepers, Gilbert Richardson

as house-keeper; John Chaplin, William Stanley, and Henry Huggins,

servants that wait on the company of the said assembly, and all the

above named persons I claim as my domestic servants, and demand all

those privileges that belong to me as a peeress of Great Britain

pertaining to my said assembly. M. Mordington. Dated, 8th of January,

1744.’ Resolved and declared that no person is entitled to the privilege

of peeress against any prosecution or proceeding for keeping any public

gaming house, or any house, room, or place, for play at any game or

games prohibited by any law now in force.”

In the time of Queen Anne gambling ran riot to such an extent that it

commanded the attention of Parliament, and resulted in the following

act: “Whereas, divers low and dissolute persons live at great expense,

having no visible establishment, profession, or calling to maintain

themselves, but support these expenses by gaming only, it is hereby

enacted that any two justices may cause to be brought before them all

persons within their limits whom they shall have just cause to suspect

of having no visible establishment, profession, or calling, to maintain

themselves by, but do, for the most part, support themselves by gaming;

and if such persons shall not make the contrary appear to such justices,

they are to be bound to their good behavior for a twelve-months, and in

default of sufficient security, to be committed to prison until they can

find the same, and if security be given it will be forfeited on their

betting or playing for—at any one time—more than the value of twenty

shillings.”

This act was further enforced and its deficiencies supplied during the

reign of George I and George II, and the forfeiture under that act could

be recovered in a court of equity; and, moreover, if any man were

convicted, upon information or indictment, of winning or losing, at any

one sitting, ten pounds, or twenty pounds, within twenty-four hours he

forfeited five times that sum. Another statute also inflicted pecuniary

penalties as well upon the master of any public house wherein servants

were permitted to gamble, as upon the servants who were found in the act

of gaming. Nor were the statutes against their masters less severe.

During these reigns the games of faro and hazard were by law declared to

be lotteries, subjecting those persons in whose houses they were played

to the penalty of £200, and all who played at them to that of £50.

The records of Marlborough street police-court show that in 1797

information was laid against Lady Elizabeth Lutterell and others, for

having, on the night of the 30th of January last, played at faro at Lady

Buckingham’s house in St. James square, and a Mr. Martindale, then

living in Broad street, was charged with being the proprietor. The

defendants appeared by their counsel. Witnesses were called to support

this information, whose evidence went to prove that the defendants

charged had a game at their houses by rotation; that is, that they

played at faro, rouge et noir, etc., meeting at different houses upon

certain days of the week; that Mr. Martindale acted as master of the

tables, generally, and that they began to play about eleven or twelve

o’clock at night and continued to play until three or four o’clock in

the morning. Martindale’s penalty was £200 fine, as proprietor of a faro

table, and the Countess of Buckingham, Lady Lutterell and Mrs. Sturt

were fined £50 each for playing. A Mr. Mathias O’Brien was subsequently

brought in. He was also fined for participating in these same games.

In 1817 a prosecution occurred at Brighton which elicited a queer array

of facts, illustrating the gambling methods of that day. A warrant was

sworn out by one William Clarke against William Wright and James Ford,

on the charge of feloniously stealing one hundred pounds. But Clarke did

not appear to prosecute, and when the magistrate issued a warrant to

compel his attendance he hastily decamped. The prisoners were

discharged, but very shortly afterward Wright was summoned before the

magistrate to give evidence in an examination against one Charles

Walker, of the Marine Library, for keeping an unlawful gaming house.

Wright testified that Clarke engaged him about five weeks previously as

a punter, or decoy player, to a game called “noir, rouge, tout les

deux,” and that at the game was a gentleman who lost £125. Clarke asked

witness if he thought the gentleman was rich, and being answered in the

affirmative, told witness to invite the gentleman to dinner, let him

have all the wine he wanted, and to spare no expense to get him drunk.

This was done, and the gentleman returned to play again. As he had

nothing but large bills he was induced to go to London with witness to

change them, witness being enjoined to be sure to bring him back. One of

the firm, which was composed of Clarke, O’Mara, Pollett and Moreley,

gave the gentleman a letter to certain London Brokers to enable him to

change his bills. On their way back to Brighton witness told the

gentleman that he suspected the firm would substitute a false table

during their absence. However, the gentleman returned to play, and

witness and another decoy named Ford were given £100 each with which to

play and to lead the gentleman on, and if possible to fulfil the

expectations of the firm, which were to fleece the gentleman of five or

six thousand pounds. As they entered the library, Walker accosted them

and wished them better success, but he trembled visibly and seemed ill

at ease. The game was carried on in a room over the library, for which

the firm paid rent of twelve guineas a week. As the gentleman ascended

the stairs a porter locked the door, by Walker’s order, and when he came

into the gaming room he became alarmed at the appearance of the men

there, and hastily descending the stairs and giving a plausible excuse

to the porter, was allowed to pass out and thus escaped. Witness had not

returned the £100 to Clarke, and it was on that account that Clarke had

sworn out a warrant against him. Afterward Clarke had visited him and

offered him £100 if he would not tell what he knew to the magistrate.

Ford and the gentleman substantiated Wright’s testimony, and the latter

said that he went to Walker and demanded back the £125 which he had been

cheated out of at play at the start. Walker was very much confused and

nervous, and finally offered to return £100 of the sum, which offer was

refused; and thereupon he laid the whole matter before the magistrate.

Walker was found guilty and sentenced to several years imprisonment.

Messrs. Houlditch, the coach makers of Long Acre, had a traveling

salesman whom they sent to the Continent to dispose of their goods. Like

thousands of other employes, holding responsible positions of trust, he

fell a victim to the vice of gambling, and soon found himself a

defaulter and reduced to the utmost desperation. While in this frame of

mind he wrote the following letter to his employer, which was read in

subsequent court proceedings, and is given here to illustrate how

frightfully ruinous the passion for play becomes when once it gains

possession of a young man. The letter reads:

“_Sir_:—The errors into which I have fallen have made me so hate

myself that I have adopted the horrible resolution of destroying

myself. I am sensible of the crime I commit against God, my family and

society, but have not courage to live dishonored. The generous

confidence you placed in me I have basely violated. I have robbed you,

and though not to enrich myself, the consciousness of it destroys me.

Bankruptcy, poverty, beggary and want I could bear—conscious integrity

would support me; but the ill-fated acquaintance I formed led me to

those earthly hells, gambling houses, and then commenced my villainies

and deceptions to you. My losses were not large at first, and the

stories that were told me of gain made me hope they would soon be

recovered. At this period I received the order to go to Vienna, and,

on settling at the hotel, I found my debts trebled what I had

expected. I was in consequence compelled to leave the two carriages as

a guarantee for part of the debt, which I had not in my power to

discharge. I had hoped success at Vienna would enable me to reinstate

all to you, but disappointment blasted every hope, and despair, on my

return to Paris, began to generate the fatal resolution which, at the

moment you read this, will have matured itself to consummation. I feel

that my reputation is blasted, no way left of reimbursing the money

wasted, your confidence in me totally destroyed, and nothing left to

me but to see my wife and children and die. Affection for them holds

me in existence a little longer. The gaming table again presented

itself to my imagination as the only possible means of extricating

myself. Count Montoni’s 3,000 francs, which I received before you came

to Paris, furnished me the means—my death speaks the result.”

The legal aspects of gambling in London early in this century are well

treated in an article in Fraser’s Magazine for August, 1833, which says:

“The officers of justice are regularly kept in the pay of the

proprietors of the gaming houses, through whom timely notice is always

given of any information laid against the establishment, and the

intended attack guarded against. If this be doubted the same can be

attested on oath, and otherwise proved beyond disputation. The expense

of some of the gaming houses in London during the season (seven months)

exceed £10,000. What, then, must be the gains to support this advance

and profusion of property? Elegant houses are superbly fitted up, the

most delicate viands and the choicest wines, with every other luxury,

are provided to lure and detain those for whom the proprietors’ nets are

spread. It is almost an impossibility to convict these wicked men under

the present law; their enormous wealth is applied to the corruption of

evidence, always unwilling, because the witnesses expose their own

habits and culpability in attending these notorious dens of infamy. The

sleeping partners are ever ready to advance money to oppose

prosecutions, and often come forward to give evidence in opposition to

the witnesses’ and to blacken the character of those who offer their

testimony. Then there is always money to support those who may chance,

once in ten years, to be convicted. Many practicing attorneys, too, are

connected with these establishments, who threaten to prosecute for

conspiracies, and not unfrequently, fictitious debts are sworn to, and

arrests for large amounts made, to keep witnesses from appearing at

court on the day of trial. One professional man in the parish of St.

Anne has, to my knowledge, supported himself for thirty-five years by

lending himself in this way to the middle-rate gambling houses, at the

west end of town. His method is either to suborn or intimidate the

parties, by threatening to indict them for perjury or otherwise

persecute them to utter destruction.

“When it is considered that those who are competent to give evidence

calculated to produce convictions well know the characters with whom

they have to contend, and the phalanx of scoundrels there is always

arrayed against them, it is not to be wondered at that they should be

deterred from coming forward at the last moment, when even their persons

are not free from danger, particularly as all minacious tricks are

backed with a bribe, thus bringing fear and interest to bear against

their antagonists. As every one who comes forward to give evidence

against a gambling house must himself have been a participator in the

offence of play, no man who has been the cause of a conviction has ever

yet escaped ruin; no matter the motive which influenced him, whether it

be remorse, pique, or public good, the conspiracy against him will be so

powerful and ramified, through the leading men’s numerous emissaries and

dependants, that his future course in life will be tracked, and his

character blasted in every neighborhood where he may take up his abode.

In one instance a young man who had laid information against a house,

although no conviction followed, was hunted out of no fewer than eight

situations. The clique of gamblers he had made his enemies contrived to

find out in whose employ he was engaged, and then daily assailed his

master with anonymous letters, defaming the young man’s character to

such a degree that few could well retain him in their service,

especially as the fact of having himself gambled at a public table could

never be gotten rid of.

“When all other means of deterring a witness are exhausted, personal

threats are used by ruffians, who are employed to cross him in whatever

public company he may join, seeking every occasion to insult and quarrel

with him until he is intimidated, and all other would-be witnesses,

through fear of similar persecution, are prevented from offering any

obstruction to their establishments.

“By these confederacies, backed as they are with enormous capital,

notwithstanding the existing laws, houses have been kept open for the

indiscriminate mixture of all grades, from the well bred gentlemen, the

finished sharper, the raw and inexperienced flat, to the lowest

description of pickpockets and other wretches of public nuisance, and,

where all the evils the acts of Parliament were intended to annihilate,

have for years past been in full activity. But in no period of our

history have misery, distress—and crime, been so conspicuous, and the

cause so manifestly and decidedly traced to the gambling habit of the

community, as in the present day.

“As before observed, the incompetency of the magistracy, as now armed by

law, to oppose the growing evil, is mainly attributable to the

methodized system of confederacy and partnership concerns, wherein

capitals are embarked by a large number of individuals, who have, (with

a very few exceptions) sprung originally from the very scum of society.

Now suppose one or more magistrates, employed especially as guardians of

the public morality, whose peculiar duty it should be, acting on private

information, to direct their officers to adopt any lawful mode of

obtaining evidence to convict offenders against the law; could anything

be more easy than to send two well-dressed men, under the authority of a

magistrate, into the town with money in their pockets, who might in a

short time, with very little tact, mix with gambling characters, and in

a few weeks have free ingress and egress to all the hells in London, as

amateur players? Nor can the keepers of these places ever by possibility

guard themselves against this mode of attack, as the persons so employed

might always be kept behind the curtain, introducing others of their

friends, who could again, (as many as were needed) continue to introduce

others, until every player and keeper of a gambling house was

identified, and ample testimony for their conviction be prepared, when

the blow might be struck against all in one day, and the fullest penalty

of the law enforced on each offender.”

A writer in Bentley’s Magazine, speaking of the warfare that had been

made on the gambling houses in England in 1838, said: “Hence arose

appeals to the law and indictments against the parties which, in their

success, gave encouragement to similar proceedings by others, and in the

course of time this system was discovered to afford a fine source of

profit to the prosecuting attorneys in the shape of costs, and they

were, in consequence, frequently gotten up by some of the riff-raff of

the profession, in the name of fictitious parties and with the sole view

of extracting from the different houses large sums of money in

settlement of the matter, without proceeding to trial. This was finally

discovered, by the keepers of the houses, and after turning the tables

on the prosecutors, and, indeed, convicting several for perjury,

gambling houses went on again more vigorously than ever.”

The prosecution of gamblers and gambling house-keepers, in London, has

been more thorough during the last quarter of a century than ever before

and in these days there appears to be, on the part of the authorities, a

sincere desire to exterminate the evil of common gambling, so far as

they may be able to effect it. Every week, almost, the police raid one

or more of the “dens,” which, though run solely as gambling resorts,

assume to be “clubs,” in order to increase their chances of being

unmolested. Usually, the proprietors are fined heavily. Yet, these

“hells” resume business, or start up in a new place. The profits are so

large that the proprietors willingly take all risks of being prosecuted.

Gambling is indulged in, in the aristocratic west end clubs, but the

authorities assume to know nothing of it.

The noted Englishmen who were addicted to gambling are very numerous,

and many of the incidents related of them, in connection with the vice,

are most interesting. Sir Arthur Smithouse, once possessed of a very

valuable estate, and considerable ready money, lost everything at play

and died in extreme want. Sir Humphrey Foster lost the greater part of

his possessions, but by a fortunate run of luck, won them back, and

could thereafter never be induced to jeopardize them again. The

celebrated Mr. Hare meeting at Bath one day the well known Major

Brereton, who was an habitual and heavy player, asked how the world went

with him. “Pretty well,” replied Brereton, alluding to his success at

the gaming table, “but I have met with a sad misfortune lately, I have

lost Mrs. Brereton.” “At hazard or quine?” asked Hare. Major Aubrey was

not only a great lover of gaming, but was very skillful. He won and lost

three fortunes at play, and early in his career had the foresight to

place a comfortable annuity for himself beyond danger of being swept

away by any ill run of luck. He once lost £25,000 at billiards. It is

related that he was once heard to say: “Play is like the air we breathe;

if we have it not we die.” His life was a most eventful one. In early

life he went to India, and the ship took fire. He jumped overboard and

floated on a hen coop until picked up by another ship. “I was completely

surrounded by sharks,” he said, “just as I have been ever since.”

Lord Barrymore and Sir John Lade, who had fine estates, lost them to

sharpers. Mathias O’Brien, an ignorant Irish adventurer, yet a very

shrewd man, succeeded in gaining the confidence of the high-born

sportive gentry, of the latter part of the last century, to such an

extent that he dined at the tables of the great, and entertained them at

his own house in return. He boasted that he had at one time sitting

around his table, two princes of the blood, four dukes, three duchesses

and several counts, besides others of distinction of both sexes. One

night he won at picquet £100,000 from a titled gentleman. Knowing

perfectly well that his antagonist could not pay this immense sum, and

suspecting that if he could not pay it all he would not pay any of it,

he purposely allowed him to win back all but £10,000, which amount the

gentleman paid. This incident caused Mr. Hare to give him the name of

“Zenophon O’Brien,” on account of his “retreat with ten thousand.”

Fox, the celebrated statesman, was an inveterate and desperate gambler.

A few evenings before he moved the repeal of the marriage act, in

February, 1772, he went to Brompton on two errands, one to consult

Justice Fielding on the penal laws, and the other to borrow £10,000 with

which to continue his gambling. He was a most skillful whist and picquet

player, and one of his contemporaries said that if he had confined

himself to those games Fox could easily have won £4,000 a year. But he

could not let faro and hazard alone, and he almost invariably lost

heavily. He reduced himself many times to extreme want, and lacked such

small amounts as were necessary to defray little daily expenses of the

most pressing nature. He was often obliged to borrow a few shillings of

the waiters at Brooks’. He had lodgings in St. James street, close by

Brooks’ Club, at which he spent almost every hour that was not devoted

to the House of Commons.

It is said by Lord Tankerville that Fox once played cards with

Fitzpatrick, at Brooks’, from ten o’clock at night until near six

o’clock the next afternoon, a waiter standing by to tell them whose deal

it was, they being too sleepy to know. Fox once won about £8,000, and

one of his bond creditors, who soon heard of his good luck, presented

himself and asked for payment. “Impossible, sir,” replied Fox, “I must

first discharge my debts of honor.” The bond creditor remonstrated.

“Well, sir, give me your bond,” said Fox. The bond was produced and Fox

tore it in pieces and threw it in the fire. “Now, sir,” said Fox, “my

debt to you is a debt of honor,” and immediately paid him. Amidst the

wildest excesses of youth, even while a perpetual victim of his passion

for play, Fox cultivated his taste for letters, especially the Greek and

Roman historians and poets, and he found solace in their works under the

most severe depressions occasioned by ill success at the gaming table.

One morning, after he had passed the whole night with Topham Deauclere

at faro, the two friends were about to separate. Fox had lost throughout

the night, and was in a frame of mind bordering on desperation.

Deauclere’s anxiety for the consequences which might ensue led him to be

early at Fox’s lodging, and on arriving he inquired, not without

apprehension, whether he had risen. The servant replied that Mr. Fox was

in the drawing room. Deauclere walked up stairs and cautiously opened

the door, expecting to find a frantic gamester stretched on the floor

bewailing his losses, or plunged in moody despair, but he was astonished

to find him reading Herodotus. “What would you have me do?” said Fox, “I

have lost my last shilling.” Upon other occasions, upon staking all that

he could raise upon faro, instead of exclaiming against fortune, or

manifesting agitation natural under such circumstances, he would lay his

head upon the table, and retaining his place, but exhausted by mental

and bodily fatigue, almost immediately fall into a profound slumber.

Fox’s love of play was frightful. His best friends are said to have been

half ruined in annuities given by them as securities for him to the

Jews. “£500,000 a year of such annuities of Fox and his estates were

advertised to be sold at one time.” Walpole further notes that in the

debate on the 39 Articles, February 6, 1772, Fox did not shine, nor can

it be wondered at. He had sat up playing at hazard at Almack’s from

Tuesday evening the 4th, until 5 in the afternoon of Wednesday the 5th.

An hour before he had recovered £12,000 that he had lost, and by dinner,

which was at 5 o’clock, he had ended by losing £11,000. On Thursday he

spoke in the above debate, he went to dinner at half past eleven at

night, and from thence to White’s where he drank until seven the next

morning, thence to Almack’s where he won £6,000, and, between three and

four in the afternoon, he set out for Newmarket. His brother Stephen

lost £2,000 two nights afterwards and Charles £10,000 more on the 13th.

Monsieur Chevalier, Captain of the Grenadiers in the first regiment of

foot Guards, in the time of Charles II., was one of the most remarkable

gamesters known in history. He was a native of Normandy, and in his

youth was a page to the Duchess of Orleans. Going to England to seek his

fortune, he soon became an ensign in the first regiment of foot Guards.

He took to gaming and met with such success that he very quickly was

enabled to live in a style far above his station. He once won from a

nobleman a larger sum than the latter could pay down, and upon being

asked for time, granted it in such a courteous and obliging manner that

the nobleman, a fortnight later, wishing to show him that he appreciated

his kindness, went to him and told him that he had a company of foot to

dispose of and that, if it was worth his while, it should be at his

service. Chevalier gladly accepted it, and got his commission signed the

same day, well knowing that it was immensely to his advantage to have a

visible position and income, for without them, one who lives like a

gentleman and makes gaming his sole occupation would naturally be

suspected of not playing merely for diversion, if, indeed he was not

charged with resorting to sharp practices.

“Chevalier once won 20 guineas from ‘Mad Ogle,’ the Life Guardsman, who

understanding that the former had bitten him, called him to account,

demanding his money back, or satisfaction on the field. Chevalier chose

the latter alternative. Ogle fought him in Hyde Park, wounded him in the

sword arm and was returned his money. After this they were always good

friends.”

It is said that Chevalier was so skillful at “cogging” dice and throwing

that he could chalk a circle the size of a shilling on the table, and

standing a short distance away, could throw a die within it and have it

show an ace, tray, six, or whatever he pleased. Aubrey de Vere, Earl of

Oxford, had a consuming desire to rival Chevalier in dice throwing, but,

though he practiced for days and weeks, Chevalier always worsted him,

and won large amounts from him. Chevalier, it is said, was a thorough

sharper, and knew all the tricks of gaming, such as loaded dice, etc.

Occasionally he was detected, and was obliged to fight several duels to

square the injury done his antagonist. He was severely wounded a number

of times, and got so that he would avoid fighting whenever it was

possible to do so. How he did this on two occasions is thus related:

“Having once ‘choused,’ or cheated a Mr. Levingstone, page of honor to

King James II, out of fifty guineas, the latter gave the captain a

challenge to fight him next day, behind Montague House, a locality long

used for the purpose of duelling. Chevalier seemingly accepted the

challenge, and next morning, Levingstone, going to Chevalier’s lodgings,

and finding him in bed, put him in mind of what he was come about.

Chevalier, with the greatest air of courage imaginable, rose, and having

dressed himself, said to Levingstone, ‘Me must beg de favor of you to

stay a few minutes, sir, while I step into my closet dere, for, as me be

going about one desperate piece of work, it is very requisite for me to

say a small prayer or two.’ Accordingly, Mr. Levingstone consented to

wait whilst Chevalier retired to his closet to pray, but hearing the

conclusion of his prayer to end with these words: ‘Me verily believe

spilling man’s blood is one ver’ great sin, wherefore I hope the saints

will intercede with the virgin for my once killing Monsieur de

Blotieres, at Rochelle; my killing Chevalier de Comminge, at Brest;

killing Major de Tierceville, at Lyons; killing Lieutenant du Marché

Falliere at Paris, with half a dozen other men in France, so, being also

sure of killing him I’m now going to fight, me hope his forcing me to

shed his blood will not be laid to my charge.’ Quoth Levingstone to

himself, ‘and are you then so sure of me? But I’ll engage you sha’nt,

for if you are such a devil at killing men, you shall go and fight

yourself and be ——.’ Whereupon he made what haste he could away, and

shortly Chevalier coming out of the closet and finding Levingstone not

in the room, was very glad of his absence.”

When King James ascended the throne, the Duke of Monmouth raised a

rebellion in the west of England where, in a skirmish between the

Royalists and Rebels, he was shot in the back, and the wound was

believed to be given by one of his own men, to whom he had always been a

most cruel, harsh officer, whilst a captain of the Grenadiers of the

Foot Guard. He was sensible himself of how he came by his misfortune,

for when he was carried to his tent, mortally wounded, and the Duke of

Albermarle came home to visit him, he said to his Grace, “Dis was none

of my foe dot shot me in the back.” “He was none of your friends that

shot you,” the Duke replied. He died a few hours afterwards, and was

buried in a field near Philip Norton Lane, as the old chronicler says,

“Much unlamented by all who knew him.”

Monsieur Germain, born of low parentage in Holland in 1688, is

celebrated for having introduced into the gambling circles of London a

game called Spanish whist, by which those familiar with the tricks of

the game won great amounts. He was also noted for his expertness in

playing ombre, which Pope describes entertainingly in his “Rape of the

Lock.” Germain became intimate with Lady Mary Mordaunt, wife of the Duke

of Norfolk, whom he first met at a private gambling party. The Duke

obtained a divorce from her, in consequence, and thereafter she lived

openly with Germain until her death.

Tom Hughes was a London gambler whose life well illustrated the ups and

downs of the profession. He was born in Dublin and when a young man

became a London sport. He played heavily and skill and good luck enabled

him to win a great deal of money which he spent as fast as he made it,

chiefly at a resort for frail females in the Piazza, Covent Garden. He

was for a time proprietor of E. O. tables, in a house in Pall Mall, kept

by a Dr. Graham, and was often to be found also at Carlisle House, in

Soho Square. He once won £3,000 from a young man, just of age, who made

over to him a landed estate for the amount. Being admitted a member of

the Jockey Club, he was quite prosperous for a time but, his luck

changing, he fell into the clutches of “Old Pope,” the money lender, and

was obliged to give up to him the estate he had won. He fought several

duels over disputes arising at the gaming table and finally died in a

debtor’s cell leaving not enough to pay for his coffin.

It is narrated of Whig Middleton, who was wealthy, handsome and dressed

in extreme fashion, that, after losing a thousand guineas one night, to

Lord Montford, he was asked by the latter, in gambler’s parlance, what

he would do, or would not do, to get home? “My Lord,” said he,

“prescribe your own terms;” “Then” replied Lord Montford, “dress

directly opposite to the fashion for ten years.” Middleton accepted the

terms and lived up to them “dying nine years afterward,” as the narrator

expresses it, “so unfashionably that he did not owe a tradesman a

farthing, left some playing debts unliquidated; and his coat and wig

were of the cut of Queen Anne’s reign.”

Wrothesly, Duke of Bedford, fell amongst a party of sharpers, including

a manager of a theatre and Beau Nash, master of ceremonies, who had

conspired to bleed him. After he had lost £70,000 the Duke rose in a

passion and pocketed the dice, declaring that he intended to inspect

them and see if they were crooked. He then threw himself on a sofa and

fell asleep. The sharpers held a consultation, as to what they had best

do, and it was finally decided that they would cast lots to see who

should pick the Duke’s pocket of the loaded dice and put fair ones in

their place. The lot fell on the theatre manager, and he performed the

feat without being detected. The Duke examined the dice when he awoke

and, being satisfied that they were all right, returned to playing and

lost £30,000 more.

The sharpers had received £5,000 of the money they had won, and when

they came to dividing it got to quarreling. Beau Nash was so

dissatisfied that he went to the Duke and exposed the whole scheme of

robbing him. The Duke believed this was done purely through friendship

and, accordingly, made Nash a handsome present and patronized him ever

afterward.

Beau Nash, as is well known, was an immense favorite with the

aristocratic society of his time. He was both homely and clumsy, yet his

wit, flattery and fine clothes made him a pet of the ladies. “Wit,

flattery and fine clothes are enough to debauch a nunnery,” he was wont

to say. Nash was a barrister and lived in Middle Temple, where, when

still a young man, he organized and directed the grand “revel and

pageant,”—the last of its sort—upon the accession of King William. This

he did so successfully that the King offered to knight him, which Nash

declined, saying: “Please your Majesty, if you intend to make me a

knight, I wish it may be one of your poor knights of Windsor and then I

shall have a fortune at least able to support my title.”

It is said of Nash, that when he submitted his accounts to the Masters

of the Temple, this item was among them: “For making one man happy,

£10.” Being asked to explain it, Nash said that he overheard a poor man

declare to his wife and large family that £10 would make him happy, and

that he could not resist the temptation to give him the sum. He offered

to refund the money, if the item was not allowed. The Masters, struck

with such good nature, not only allowed the bill but thanked him for his

generosity and doubled the allowance.

Nash became subsequently Master of the Ceremonies, at Bath, then the

popular fashionable summer resort, where he ruled with such undisputable

authority that he was styled “King of Bath.” Gambling was deep and

furious at Bath, and, in consequence of disputes over the table, swords

were frequently resorted to in settling matters. Thereupon Nash

commanded that no swords should be worn at Bath, and the order was

obeyed. Nash’s later years were spent chiefly in gambling in a small

way. He died at Bath, in 1761, and was buried with great ceremony in the

Abbey Church, three clergymen preceding the coffin, aldermen acting as

pall-bearers, the Masters of the Assembly Rooms following as chief

mourners and the streets and housetops being thronged with people

anxious to do honor to him, whom they regarded as “the venerable founder

of the prosperity of the City of Bath.”

Richard Bennett is an example of a gambler, who, through a long life,

enjoyed almost uninterrupted prosperity. He was of the unscrupulous

sort, and rose from being a billiard sharper in Bell Alley, to be

partner in several of the aristocratic “houses” or “clubs” in St. James

street. He brought up and educated a large family. He was finally

indicted for keeping several gaming houses, and sentenced to

imprisonment until he should pay fines aggregating £4,000. He remained

in prison for some time, but managed to effect his release without

paying his fines.

A circumstance almost identical to the one related of the Duke of

Bedford, is told of another noble duke. “The late Duke of Norfolk,” says

the author of “Rouge et Noir,” writing in 1823, “one evening lost the

sum of seventy thousand pounds in a gaming house, on the right side of

St. James street, and, suspecting foul play, he put the dice in his

pocket, and, as was his custom when up late, took a bed in the house.

The blacklegs were all dismayed, until one of the worthies, who is

believed to have been a principal in poisoning the horses at Newmarket,

for which Dan Dawson was hanged, offered, for five thousand pounds, to

go to the Duke’s room with a brace of pistols and a pair of dice, and if

the Duke was awake to shoot him, if asleep to change the dice.

Fortunately for the gang the Duke ‘snored,’ as the agent stated, ‘like a

pig,’ and the dice were changed. His Grace had them broken in the

morning, when, finding them good, he paid the money, and left off

gambling.”

The Earl of March, better known as the Duke of Queensberry, who lived in

the middle of the last century, was one of the most famous and genial

“sports” that England ever produced. He was an adept, not only at all

card games, but also at dice and billiards. And in the mysteries of the

turf, and in all knowledge—practical and theoretical—connected with the

race course, he was perhaps never surpassed. He won 2,000 Louis ($8,000)

once of a German, at billiards, and time and again won thousands of

pounds betting on the races, his intimate knowledge of all horse flesh

and race track conditions giving him advantages which few possessed.

Dennis O’Kelly, if accounts of him may be credited, was a Napoleon of

the turf and the gaming table, devoting his whole time to the former by

day and the latter by night. He was accustomed to carry a great number

of bank notes, crumpled up loosely in his waistcoat pocket. On one

occasion he was seen turning over and over again a great pile of them,

and, being asked what he was doing, replied, “I am looking for a little

one—a fifty or something of that sort, just to set the caster.” At

another time he was standing at play, at the hazard table, when some one

opposite perceived a pickpocket in the act of drawing a couple of notes

from O’Kelly’s pocket. The alarm was given, and many wanted to take the

offender before a magistrate, but O’Kelly seized him by the collar and

kicked him down stairs, exclaiming as he returned: “He’s punished enough

by being deprived of the pleasure of keeping company with gentlemen.” A

large bet was once offered to O’Kelly at the gaming table and accepted,

whereupon the proposer asked him where lay his estates which would be

surety for the amount if he lost. “My estates?” cried O’Kelly, “Oh, if

that’s what you mean, I’ve a map of them here.” And he opened his pocket

book and showed bank notes to ten times the amount of the wager, to

which he soon afterward added the contribution of his opponent.

Dick England, one of O’Kelly’s associates, was also a notorious gambler.

These two and several others plundered a clerk of the Bank of England,

who robbed the bank of an immense sum with which to pay his “debts of

honor.” Dick England and fourteen others once conspired to beat a Jew at

dice, and upon their entry one of them laid a wager of £10, calling

“seven the main.” Six was the cast, whereupon the player with great

effrontery declared that he had called six instead of seven. After the

matter had been disputed for a time, it was agreed to leave it to a

majority of those present, whereupon Dick England and the twelve others

in the conspiracy declared in favor of “six,” and then they went out and

divided the plunder. This same Dick England, with two or three

associates, once made a bold attempt to plunder a rich young man named

D——, from the country, at Scarborough. They got into his company and set

to drinking with a view of getting him drunk so that he could be bled

more easily. They succeeded so well in this that the young man became so

stupidly drunk that he could not play at all. Not to be frustrated,

however, the conspirators played for a short time and then proceeded to

make out three “I. O. U’s.,” two of which read: “D—— owes me eighty

guineas;” and “D—— owes me one hundred guineas;” and the third, which

Dick England had, read, “I owe D—— thirty guineas.” The next day Dick

England and the young man met and the latter apologized for becoming

intoxicated and hoped he had given no offense. Dick assured him that he

had not and then producing the evidence of indebtedness, proceeded to

discharge it by handing the young man thirty guineas. The young man

declared that he had no recollection at all of playing, but finally took

the thirty guineas, and paid Dick a high compliment for acting in such

an honorable manner. Meeting the holders of the other papers shortly

afterward he renewed his apologies and again complimented Dick England

for having paid to him a bet which he had no remembrance of making. At

this juncture the two produced their papers which purported to show that

the young man owed them 100 and 80 guineas respectively. He was

astonished, of course, and protested that he did not think he had played

at all, but he had compromised himself by accepting his thirty guineas,

and finally, he decided to make the best of a bad matter by paying the

claims. Before he could do so, however, his friends interfered, and,

after a little investigation, exposed the whole fraud, and saved him his

money. At another time, Dick England won £40,000 from the son of an

Earl, who was so broken up at the loss, that he went to Stacia’s hotel

and shot himself, almost at the very hour that his father sent his

steward to pay the debt, though being convinced that his son had been

cheated out of the amount. Dick England is known to have fought eleven

duels and to have ruined about forty persons at play.

The Gentlemen’s Magazine published the following account of a tragic

occurrence in the life of Dick England.

“Mr. Richard England was put to the bar at the Old Bailey, charged with

the ‘willful murder’ of Mr. Rowlls, brewer, of Kingston, in a duel at

Cranford Bridge, June 18, 1784.”

“Lord Derby, the first witness, gave evidence that he was present at

Ascot races; when in the stand upon the race course, he heard Mr.

England cautioning the gentlemen present not to bet with the deceased,

as he neither paid what he lost, nor what he borrowed; on which Mr.

Rowlls went up to him, called him rascal or scoundrel, and offered to

strike him, when Mr. England bid him stand off, or he would be obliged

to knock him down, saying at the same time, ‘We have interrupted the

company sufficiently here, and if you have anything further to say to

me, you know where I am to be found.’ A further altercation ensued, but

his Lordship being at the other end of the stand, did not distinctly

hear it, and then the parties retired.

“Lord Dartrey, afterward Lord Cremorne, and his lady, with a gentlemen,

were at the inn at the time the duel was fought. They went into the

garden and endeavored to prevent the duel. Several other persons were

collected in the garden. Mr. Rowlls said, if they did not retire, he

must, though reluctantly, call them impertinent. Mr. England at the same

time stepped forward, took off his hat, and said, “Gentlemen, I have

been cruelly treated, I have been injured in my honor and character, let

reparation be made, and I am ready to have done this moment.” Lady

Dartrey retired. His Lordship stood in the bower of the garden until he

saw Mr. Rowlls fall. One or two witnesses were called, who proved

nothing material. A paper, containing the prisoners defense, being read,

the Earl of Derby, the Marquis of Hertford, Mr. Whitbred, Jr., Col.

Bishopp, and other gentlemen were called as to his character. They all

spoke of him as a man of decent gentlemanly deportment, who, instead of

seeking quarrels, was studious to avoid them. He had been friendly to

Englishman when abroad and had rendered some service to the military at

the siege of Newport.

”Mr. Justice Rooke summed up the evidence, after which the jury retired

for about three quarters of an hour, when they returned a verdict of

‘manslaughter’ The prisoner having fled from the laws of his country for

twelve years, the Court was disposed to show no lenity. He was therefore

sentenced to pay a fine of ten shillings, and be imprisoned in Newgate

twelve months.”

Dick England died in 1792 from a cold caught in jail, where he had been

sent in consequence of having been arrested at a gaming table.

The celebrated Selwyn was a devoted patron of the gaming table, and

often played high. In 1765 he lost £1,000 to a Mr. Shafto, and it is

said, was frequently the victim of sharpers. Late in life he gave up his

ruinous diversion. Lord Carlisle, who was second cousin of Lord Byron,

was a victim of the infatuation of play and his losses brought him to

financial straits. In his letters he reproaches himself deeply for

yielding to the vice and shows that he fully appreciated the degrading

effects of indulging in it. Like Selwyn he finally succeeded in

emancipating himself from his terrible master. Pitt, the celebrated

statesmen, was another eminent Englishman who, at one time, in his

career, was an inveterate gambler, and who subsequently reformed. “We

played a good deal at ‘Goosetree’s’”, wrote Wilberforce, “and I well

remember the intense earnestness which Pitt displayed when joining in

these games of chance. He perceived their increasing fascination, and

soon after abandoned them forever.” Wilberforce once lost 500 pounds at

the faro table. At another time he was at the club and, the regular

dealer being absent, a gentleman jokingly offered him a guinea if he

would take his place. He accepted the challenge and quit the table £600

winner.

“On my first visit to Brooks’” wrote Wilberforce, “scarcely knowing any

one, I joined, from mere shyness, in play at the faro tables, where

George Selwyn kept bank. A friend, who knew my inexperience, and

regarded me as a victim decked out for sacrifice, called to me—‘What,

Wilberforce is that you?’ Selwyn quite resented the interruption, and,

turning to him, said in his most expressive tone, ‘Oh, sir, don’t

interrupt Mr. Wilberforce, he could not be better employed.’” And again:

“The first time I went to Boodle’s I won twenty-five guineas of the Duke

of Norfolk. I belonged, at this time, to five clubs, Miles’ and Evans’,

Brooks’, Boodle’s, White’s and Goosetree’s.”

Sir Philip Francis, who many believe was the author of the famous

“Junius Letters,” was much addicted to gambling and was a boon companion

of Fox. The career of the Rev. Caleb C. Colton is an interesting one. He

was educated at Eton, graduated at King’s College, Cambridge, as a

Bachelor of Arts, in 1801, received the degree of Master of Arts in 1804

and held a curacy at Tiberton. He speculated heavily in Spanish bonds

and yielded to the ruling passion of gaming, and his financial affairs

becoming involved, he absconded. Subsequently, he reappeared in order to

retain his living, but he lost it in 1828. After some time spent in the

United States, he returned to Europe and became a frequenter of the

gaming resorts in the Palais Royal in Paris, where, it is said, he won

in a year or two £25,000. Part of his wealth he devoted to establishing

a picture gallery.

Upon Lord Byron’s death he composed and printed for private distribution

an ode on that event. Having become afflicted with a disease which

necessitated a painful surgical operation, he blew out his brains rather

than submit to it. This occurred at Fontainbleau in 1832.

Beau Brummell was even a greater gambler than was Beau Nash, and his end

was far more sad. He frequented “Wattier’s,” where the play was so high

that the club and almost every one connected with it, were ruined. One

night in 1814, it is related, Pemberton Mills entered the club just in

time to hear Beau Brummell, who had lost heavily for five successive

nights, exclaim that he had lost his last shilling and that he wished

some one would bind him never to play again.

“I will,” said Mills, and taking out a ten-pound note he offered it to

Brummell on condition that he should forfeit a thousand if he played at

White’s within a month from that evening. The beau took it, and for a

few days discontinued coming to the club, but about a fortnight after,

Mills happened to go in, and saw him hard at work again. Of course the

thousand pounds was forfeited, but his friend, instead of claiming it,

merely went up to him, and touching him gently on the shoulder, said,

“Well, Brummell, you may at least give me back the ten pounds you had of

me the other night.”

One night at Brook’s club, Alderman Combe, the brewer, then Lord Mayor

of London, was busily playing at hazard in company with Brummell and

others. “Come, Mash-tub,” said Brummell, who was the caster, “What do

you set?” “Twenty-five guineas,” answered the alderman. “Well, then,”

returned the beau, “have at the mare’s pony” (a gaming expression for

twenty-five guineas). He continued to throw until he won twelve ponies

of the Lord Mayor, and then, getting up and making him a low bow, whilst

pocketing the cash, he said, “Thank you, alderman; for the future I

shall never drink any porter but yours.” “I wish, sir,” replied the

brewer, “that every other blackguard in London would tell me the same.”

Brummell was concerned in an incident which occurred at Wattier’s club

one night which threw all present into consternation. One of the players

was a Mr. Bligh, whom every one knew to be a mad-man, but did not think

especially dangerous. The incident is thus told by Mr. Raikes:

“One evening at the maco table, when the play was very deep, Brummell,

having lost a considerable stake, affected, in his farcical way, a very

tragic air, and cried out, ‘Waiter, bring me a flat candle-stick and a

pistol.’ Upon this, Bligh, who was sitting opposite to him, calmly

produced two loaded pistols from his coat pocket, which he placed upon

the table, and said, ‘Mr. Brummell, if you are really desirous to put a

period to your existence, I am extremely happy to offer you the means

without troubling the waiter.’ The effect upon those present may easily

be imagined at finding themselves in the company of a known mad-man who

had loaded weapons about him.”

Brummell lost all of his money and a large amount beside, which he

succeeded in borrowing of the money-lenders on bills signed by himself

and several friends. Serious trouble over the division of one of these

loans caused Brummell to flee to France. He used to say that up to a

particular time in his life he prospered in everything, and that he

attributed his good fortune to the possession of a silver sixpence with

a hole in it, which a friend had given him “for luck.” One day he gave

it to a cabman by mistake and from that time nothing but disaster had

attended him in everything. One person to whom he told this asked him

why he did not advertise for his lost sixpence. “I did, and twenty

people came with sixpences having holes in them to obtain the reward,

but mine was not amongst them.” “You never afterwards ascertained what

became of it?” “Oh, yes,” he replied, “no doubt that rascal, Rothschild,

or some of his set got hold of it.”

Beau Brummell died at Caen, in 1840, at the age of 62, having long been

in great poverty, and for some time in a demented condition.

Tom Duncombe was one of the high-flyers of his day. He was heir to an

income of more than £12,000 a year but he anticipated the whole of it

before he was thirty. His father, at one time, intending to pay off the

debts contracted by his reckless son, caused a schedule of them to be

made and it was found that they aggregated £135,000. He increased them

to a still larger amount before he finished his career.

The cases of Lords Halifax, Anglesey and Shaftesbury, and hundreds of

others might be referred to were it necessary, to show how great havoc

the passion for play has caused in the English aristocracy. But it is

not necessary. Enough has been said to point a moral, it would seem,

that all cannot but heed.

PART II.

CHAPTER I.

GAMBLING IN THE NEW WORLD.

It may be questioned whether any other country on the globe affords a

more striking illustration of the prevalence and the power of the

gambling mania than does the great Republic of the North American

Continent. Nor are the reasons far to seek. Hereditary titles of

nobility are not recognized by the American constitution. In the general

scramble for position and power, wealth counts for more in the United

States than in any other land under the blue vaulted dome of Heaven.

At the same time it should not be supposed that an insane desire to

accumulate fortunes lies at the root of American gaming. The hard,

practical common sense of the average Yankee convinces him that he is

not likely to win a competence at the green cloth. A large majority of

American gamesters (_i. e._, local, as distinguished from professional)

gamble because their brains are in a constant whirl of excitement. Rest

has no charms for them; they seek recreation in the substitution of one

form of mental stimulant for another. The “operator” on the exchange,

whose days are spent in watching the rise and fall of commodities purely

speculative, finds the ordinary paths of life too quiet, too monotonous,

to elicit more than a passing thought. From the moment when he leaves

“the floor” until he returns to it next day, his brain is in a mad whirl

of excitement. What more natural than that he should seek relief for an

overtaxed mind through exchanging one avenue of activity for another?

The application of these remarks, however, cannot be confined to “stock-

jobbers” and manipulators of “corners.” The same spirit pervades all

classes of society. This accursed thirst for gold—_sacra auri

fames_—enters every American home, as the serpent insinuated his wiles

into the Garden of Eden, and destroys at once domestic happiness and

individual peace. The mechanic stakes and loses his week’s wages; the

clerk risks his month’s salary; the husband and father ventures upon the

turn of a card the money which should be devoted to the support of wife

and children. Yet, as has been said, this reckless improvidence cannot

be ascribed solely to a hope of acquiring rapid gains. The feeling of

dissatisfaction with his condition which lurks in the breast of the

average American, leads him, insensibly to himself, into all sorts of

rash excesses, among which is gambling at cards.

American gambling, however, presents some distinctively characteristic

features. In the first place it is mainly conducted on the floor of the

exchange, rather than in public gaming rooms. The Stock and Produce

Exchanges are sapping the very vitals of the country’s morality. For

“stakes” are substituted “margins;” for “winnings” read “profits;” while

the designation of “players” is changed into the more euphonious

appellation of “speculators.” With these changes in nomenclature, the

game is the same in principle; the same in the method of its

manipulation; the same in its demoralizing results. Even “suckers” are

known, but they are termed “lambs.”

Professional gamblers have not been slow to recognize this fact, nor

have they scrupled to avail themselves of it. From this circumstance has

sprung into existence the “bucket shops,” those preparatory schools for

the penitentiary in which the young, the poor and the unsophisticated

are incited to avarice, duplicity, embezzlement and actual theft. The

school boy, the artisan and the bootblack read or hear of colossal

fortunes, accumulated on the “floors” of commercial exchanges. To

operate a “corner” is beyond their means; but the conviction is not slow

in forcing itself upon their minds that they may at least follow humbly

in the footsteps of men whose faults the public is willing to condone in

view of their success. Herein lies the chief danger—to the perpetuity of

the Nation—in those marble halls wherein gambling is conducted upon a

scale in comparison with which that at Monaco and Monte Carlo is dwarfed

into insignificance, and where one man rides triumphantly into wealth

and power upon a sea whose bottom is strewn with wrecks.

Yet another form of gambling which prevails in the United States more

than in any other civilized nation on the globe is the mania for lottery

speculation and particularly for “policy playing,” by which latter

term—as is elsewhere more fully explained—is meant betting on the

particular numbers which will win a prize at any given drawing. These

forms of gaming are confined to neither sex, nor do they know the

limitation of age, occupation or social rank. The official list of

drawings is scanned with equal solicitude by the leaders of society and

the outcasts of the slums; by the reckless young “blood,” who “takes a

flyer” by day and leads the german at night and by the decrepted old

negro, who risks his last dime upon “4-11-44;” by the veteran and the

school-boy, by the philosopher and the proletaire. That the general

sentiment of the country as voiced by the exponents of public opinion

has uniformly and unhesitatingly condemned the practice is

unquestionable. While the vice is peculiarly American, in the number and

character of its devotees, it is totally _un_-American in so far as the

moral countenance of the Nation is concerned. Minor principalities of

Europe have sought to replenish treasuries drained by the extravagance

or debauchery of their rulers through the institution and legal

authorization of lottery schemes, whose world-wide advertisement might

draw to the country English pounds, French Napoleons and American

Eagles. It has remained, however, for the State of Louisiana to bring

disgrace upon the Republic by accepting, through her law-makers, a

direct pecuniary bribe to consummate her public shame. Even the new

State of North Dakota with its farmers crying for seed wheat showed the

moral courage to resist the fastening into its vitals of the delicate,

but deadly tendrils of the octopus which saps the morals of the

commonwealth which tolerates its embrace as does its physical prototype

the very life blood of the individual victim on which it fastens its

fangs. Louisiana prides itself on its cognomen of the “Pelican” State.

What a misnomer! While the pelican robs her breast to minister to her

young, her mistaken namesake robs her own young to feed the vulture

which first whets its appetite on her own offspring and later gorges its

distended veins and arteries on the very vital fluid of other States and

Territories. Out upon the indifference to public morals which

recognizes, in this matter, a mere question of sectional lines. Shame

upon the venality which would bring a nation into disrepute before the

whole world in order that a purchasable Syndicate of corrupt law-makers

might be enriched. The remedy for such a state of public morals is not

easy to find. It is idle for any given community to insist that their

chosen representatives do not represent the average morals of the

district which places the latter in positions of responsibility. And yet

the commonwealth of Louisiana would consider its character impugned

should the palpable inference be drawn. It remains to be hoped that the

legislators of the future may be able to devise some method by which the

escutcheon of this great State may be relieved of the shadow which just

now dims its brightness. This sort of dissertation, however, is hardly

in place in the present connection. Gambling on the exchange and in the

bucket-shops is discussed elsewhere. The history of the Louisiana

lottery, from its inception, is given in another chapter. Nevertheless

in an introduction to the general subject of American gambling, it is

impossible to avoid these allusions although they are, perforce, of a

somewhat desultory character.

What we are particularly considering in this section of the volume, Part

II, is gaming as practiced in the halls, the club room and private

houses in the United States. For those who, from poverty or other

causes, are unable to gratify their taste for public gambling in rooms

devoted to the purpose there is a multiplicity of devices, found upon

fair grounds and at various other localities at which large crowds are

wont to gather, which offer to the casual gamester an opportunity for

gratifying his thirst for excitement at an expense sometimes trifling

and sometimes costly.

At the gaming houses proper, the preference is given to what are known

as “banking games.” By this term is meant games where the deal never

passes from hand to hand, and where all players bet against one central

fund, known as the “bank,” which is owned and operated by the

proprietors of the resort. Of this class of games, faro, roulette and

rouge et noir, are by far the most popular, the star of the former being

decidedly in the ascendant. Another game of this description which holds

a high place in public favor is keno (a full explanation of which may be

found in Chapter IV) the popularity of which is due, primarily, to the

small capital necessary to play, and, secondarily, to the belief that

the legitimate percentage in favor of the bank is so great that the

temptation to fraud is reduced to a minimum, if not an infinitesimal

quantity.

Next to the banking games in the estimation of the bettors comes poker,

both “draw” and “stud.” The former is played according to recognized

rules, but the “house” exacts a percentage from the holders of certain

winning hands. This percentage is technically known as the “rake-off,”

and insures the proprietors of the establishment a handsome royalty on

all winnings. In “stud” poker the dealer always represents the “house.”

The players are never permitted to handle the cards. To quote Tennyson’s

poem of The Brook, the “man in the chair might say—

‘Men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.’”

In the public gambling rooms, also, many of the gaming devices seen upon

fair and circus grounds are to be found, notably the wheel of fortune.

These various contrivances are fully explained in subsequent chapters.

Public American gaming resorts are ordinarily classified under two

general headings—“square” and “brace.” Under the former caption are

included those where the “occasional player” is supposed to enjoy an

opportunity of laying a wager with some possible chance of winning.

“Brace” games, as the term is understood among the fraternity, are

veritable “hells,” into which a victim is enticed for purposes of

downright robbery under the pretence of a game of “chance.” The dupe who

enters a room of this character, seals his own doom by the mere fact of

entrance. The proprietors, from that moment, mark him as their own

peculiar prey. If he has but little cash, he is promptly and

incontinently relieved of it. If he is a “pigeon” whose future

“plucking” promises a rich harvest, his mentors are merciful, and he is

encouraged to “call again.” “Luck” appears variable, although, as a

matter of fact, in a “brace” house—otherwise yclept a “skin game”—“luck”

is dependent solely upon the will of the dealer.

In regard to American gambling houses generally, it may be remarked that

there exists a popular misapprehension as to the relative proportion of

“square” and “brace” resorts. It is unquestionably of no small value to

any resort that it should enjoy the reputation of being “square,” and it

cannot be denied that there are those where, under ordinary

circumstances, the “bank” contents itself with its legitimate (?)

percentage. Yet, as a matter of fact, it may be doubted whether there is

a “square” hell (what a contradiction in terms!) in the country which

has not conveniently at hand and ready for use, all the fraudulent

contrivances so dear to the heart of the “brace” dealer. Not always are

they brought into requisition, but, like the reserves of an army, are

always at hand, and always ready to be brought into action.

The fact that the statutes of nearly every State prohibit gambling,

necessitates a sort of _sub-rosa_ activity. At Monaco, Baden-Baden and

Monte Carlo gaming is carried on, not only under the very eyes, but even

under the sanction and patronage of the government. Not so in the United

States. The genius of American institutions has stamped upon gambling

the seal of its statutory condemnation. Two elements have combined,

incidentally, against any action which would enforce the will of the

people. The first is the half-heartedness of the war waged against

gambling by municipal authorities; the second is the assistance which

proprietors receive from outside confederates. The latter “goes without

saying.” Every habitue of a gaming house knows that there are “cappers.”

Equally thorough is the knowledge enjoyed by every proprietor that some

sort of satisfactory arrangement can be made with the municipal

authorities. What is the result? Each of the operating causes produces

its own effects. Guests at the hotels of every large town are persecuted

by solicitations to gamble, while the Mayor and Common Council of the

average city indulge in raids at a set time, for the simple reason that

the officers of the law exact and receive a percentage on the profits of

every game which they tolerate.

Outside of “banking” games, however, there is one which is almost as

peculiarly American as is base ball. “Poker” seems to be, for some

unexplainable reason, looming up as a National pastime. Some reference

has already been made to gambling at the fashionable club house and in

the family circle. Under such circumstances poker is the game _par

excellence_. Stakes ordinarily run high, no matter how small the

introductory ante may be. As a matter of fact there is scarcely a club

house in any prominent commercial center of the Union in which there is

not an apartment curtained from the vulgar gaze, where play is not

carried on for high stakes. And these very gentlemen who play a friendly

game rarely suspect that into their midst there is sometimes introduced

a professional, who not only wins a handsome stake for himself, but also

assists in recouping losses sustained by the gentlemen who introduced

him. This statement may seem incredibly absurd upon its face, yet the

author knows whereof he speaks.

There is still another distinctive feature of American gambling which

deserves notice. Men who know that they cannot be admitted as members of

any recognized club form an association by themselves, also known as

clubs, which are organized for gambling purposes, pure and simple.

Associations of this character are primarily conducted for the

convenience of players, yet the keeper of the room rarely fails to “earn

a profit” through selling liquid refreshments and the manipulation of

the “rake-off,” which is conducted in a manner similar to that followed

in public houses.

The interference by the municipal authorities with the “hells” is

regarded by the proprietors as a contingency too remote to be worth

seriously considering. There are various reasons for the excellent

understanding which usually exists between the gamblers and the “powers

that be.” Political influence sometimes lies at the bottom of the

friendliness. It is also a sad truth that too often the explanation is

to be found in actual venality on the one hand and corruption on the

other. Yet there is one circumstance which should not be lost sight of.

The “fraternity” not infrequently renders valuable assistance to the

officers of the law by disclosing the habits, haunts, and sometimes the

whereabouts of criminals who are being sought for by the authorities.

Not that they are anxious to serve the ends of justice, but that they

look upon the rendering of such assistance in the light of a _quid pro

quo_ for the “protection,” otherwise immunity, which they enjoy. The

reader who will thoughtfully peruse chapter X of this part of the book

will gather much interesting information on this point which will afford

him food for no little serious reflection.

Another pronounced feature of American gaming is the number of itinerant

gamblers who wander about the country, infesting railway trains and

steamboats, invading the summer resorts, and coming down upon country

towns after the manner of a wolf upon the sheep fold. These peripatetic

sporting men are adepts at all card games and thoroughly versed in every

fraudulent device. They combine the arts of the card sharp and the

confidence man. For them honor is a by-word and virtue a mockery. They

are destitute alike of conscience and of pity, and ill fares the

luckless wight who falls a victim to their blandishments.

Hitherto, except in a few comparatively isolated localities, legislation

has proved powerless to repress gambling in the United States. The

“Johnson law,” so called from the name of its author, the Hon. Charles

P. Johnson, of Missouri, making gambling a felony, operated to check it

in that State and brought about a positive hegira of the men who had

been thriving upon the gullibility of a too confiding public. Similar

results have followed its adoption and enforcement in other States. But

it is idle to encumber the statute book of any commonwealth with laws

whose enforcement is not demanded by public sentiment. The vice of

gaming, like its twin relic of barbarism, drunkenness, will be

suppressed only when an outraged nation rises in its righteous wrath and

forever stamps out of existence the viper which has buried its fangs

deep in the very vitals of the body politic.