life unbearable, he could never resist high play, which seems to have
completely destroyed his judgment as to the value of money, and prided
himself upon the largeness of his stakes. The Duke of Devonshire, who,
much to his honour, made a point of never touching a card, went one day
out of curiosity to the Thatched House Club to see the gambling. After
some time, finding himself awkward at being the only person in the
rooms who was not participating in the play, he proposed a bet of fifty
pounds on the odd trick to Charles Fox. "You'll excuse me, my Lord
Duke," replied Charles, "I never play for pence." "I assure you, sir,"
answered his Grace, "you do, as often as I play for fifty pounds."
Fox, whilst a gambler of the most hopeless description, and extravagant
almost beyond words, had, as is well known, many good points. Amongst
them was hatred of meanness, which was an abomination of the worst sort
in his eyes.
Finding himself on one occasion in considerable funds owing to a run of
luck at faro, he remembered an old gambling debt due to Sir John Lade,
familiarly known at that time as Sir John Jehu, and accordingly wrote,
desiring an appointment so that he might pay what he owed. When they
met, Charles produced the money, which Sir John no sooner saw, than
calling for a pen and ink, he very deliberately began to reckon up the
interest.
"What are you doing now?" cried Charles.
"Only calculating what the interest amounts to," replied the other.
"Oh, indeed!" returned Fox with great coolness, at the same time
pocketing the cash, which he had already thrown upon the table. "Why, I
thought, Sir John, that my debt to you was a debt of honour; but as you
seem to view it in another light, and seriously mean to make a trading
debt of it, I must inform you that I make it an invariable rule to pay
my Jew creditors last. You must therefore wait a little longer for your
money, sir; and when I meet my money-lending Israelites for the payment
of principal and interest, I shall certainly think of Sir John Jehu,
and expect to have the honour of seeing him in the company of my worthy
friends from Duke's Place"--a locality which at that time swarmed with
usurers.
Though Fox rather excelled at card games of skill, horse-racing was
his darling amusement, until, from prudential motives, he quitted the
Turf and all other forms of speculation. He played at games of chance
with indifference, and would throw for a thousand guineas with as much
sang-froid as he would twirl a teetotum for a shilling. But when his
horse ran he was all eagerness and anxiety, always placing himself
where the animal was to make its effort, or where the race was likely
to be most strongly contested. From this spot he would watch the early
part of the race with an immovable look, merely breathing quicker as
they accelerated their pace. But when the horses came opposite to him,
he rode in with them at full speed, whipping, spurring, and blowing, as
if he would have infused his whole soul into the courage, speed, and
perseverance of his favourite racer. The race being over, the fact that
he had won or lost seemed to be a matter of perfect indifference to
him, for he immediately began to discuss the next event, whether he had
a horse entered for it or not.
The fact that Fox was often in the most dire financial straits through
his reckless gambling does not seem to have excited any extraordinary
astonishment amongst his contemporaries. The men of the eighteenth
century were quite accustomed to the vicissitudes connected with
gaming, which seems to have been viewed with the greatest leniency in
every way.
The celebrated Beau Nash was sometimes in sore straits owing to a run
of ill luck at play, and on one occasion, at York, he lost all the
money he possessed. In these circumstances some of his companions
agreed to equip him with fifty guineas, upon condition that he should
stand at the great door of the Minster in a blanket as the people were
coming out of church; and to this proposal he readily agreed. The Dean
passing by unfortunately knew him. "What," cried the divine, "Mr.
Nash in masquerade?" "Only a Yorkshire penance, Mr. Dean, for keeping
bad company," said Nash, pointing to his companions. Some time after
this the Beau won a wager of still greater consequence by riding naked
through a village upon a cow, an escapade which was considered as a
harmless and natural frolic.
In the year 1725, a giddy youth who had just resigned his fellowship
at Oxford, brought his whole fortune to Bath; and without the smallest
degree of skill in play, won a sufficient sum to make any ordinary
man happy. His desire of gain, however, being increased by his good
fortune, he plunged more deeply in the following October, and added
four thousand pounds to his former capital. Hearing of this, Beau Nash,
who was a good-natured man, one night invited him to supper, and told
him there would come a time when he would repent having left the calm
of a college life for the turbulent profession of a gamester. "You are
a stranger to me," said he, "but to convince you of the part I take in
your welfare, I'll give you fifty guineas to forfeit twenty every time
you lose two hundred at one sitting." The young gentleman refused this
offer, and was eventually ruined.
This system of tying up was very usual. The Duke of Bedford, being
chagrined at losing a considerable sum, pressed Mr. Nash to tie him
up for the future from playing deep. With this view the Beau gave his
Grace one hundred guineas to forfeit ten thousand whenever he lost a
sum to the same amount at one sitting. The Duke, however, loved play
to distraction, and within a short time again lost eight thousand
guineas at hazard. As he was on the point of throwing for three
thousand more, Nash caught hold of the dice-box and entreated him to
reflect on the penalty he would incur should he loose. For that time
the Duke desisted, but so possessed was he by the love of play, that
shortly afterwards, having lost a considerable sum at Newmarket, he was
contented to pay the penalty.
On another occasion Nash undertook to cure a young peer of the gambling
fever. Conscious of his own superior skill he determined to engage the
Earl in single play for a very considerable sum. His Lordship lost his
estate, and the title-deeds were put into the winner's possession;
finally his very equipage was deposited as the last stake, and he lost
that also. Nash, however, who showed himself to be the most generous
of gamesters, returned all, only stipulating that he should be paid
five thousand pounds whenever he should think proper to make the
demand. He never did anything of the kind during the nobleman's life;
but some time after his decease, Mr. Nash's affairs being on the wane,
he demanded the money of his Lordship's heirs, who honourably paid it
without hesitation.
At the present day gambling is more or less confined to large towns,
but a different state of affairs prevailed in the eighteenth century,
when whole properties frequently changed hands at the card-table. The
owner of Warthall Hall, for instance, having lost all his money, in a
frenzy of excitement finally risked the whole of his estate upon a low
cut of the cards. He cut the deuce of diamonds, and in remembrance of
his good luck fixed a representation of the lucky card upon the front
of his house with the following inscription:--
Up now deuce and then a trey,[1]
Or Warthall's gone for ever and aye.
Shelley Hall in Suffolk, the remains of which still exist, was lost at
play by Thomas Kerridge, the last squire, who died in 1743. According
to tradition, he gambled away the house room by room; and when all
the contents were gone and the house gutted, he pulled down certain
portions and gambled away the bricks. Blo' Norton Hall, Norfolk, is
also said to have been lost at play by its owner, Gawdy Brampton,
who, when he was finally ruined, committed suicide in an attic,
from which his ghost is still said to emerge and haunt an adjoining
staircase--perhaps because his widow married the man who had won his
money and the old Hall.
Many of the small tradesmen in the country towns were eager devotees
of chance, and sharpers frequently reaped a rich harvest in provincial
centres. Indeed, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the eighteenth century
was very favourable to such gentry, who pillaged all ranks without
distinction.
About 1780 there resided at Canterbury a barber who was famous for
the way in which he made natty one-curled hunting wigs, but who was
also much given to making bets and to boasting of his discernment and
judgment. Two blacklegs, coming to Canterbury for the races, heard
of this barber and immediately formed a plan to shave him in his own
way. To accomplish the business, they went to one of the principal
inns, where, ordering a capital supper, they sent for the perruquier
to bespeak wigs for themselves and their servants. The knight of the
strop readily and cheerfully attended; and, having taken the external
dimensions of the gentlemen's heads, whilst totally ignorant of the
schemes which lay within them, was about to depart, but was prevented
by a pressing invitation from his new customers to take supper with
them. He was of a convivial turn and fond of company, which in his own
opinion afforded opportunities of displaying his great sagacity in the
mysteries of betting; and for this reason he politely accepted the
invitation.
After supper, a game of whist was suggested, but as the barber did not
feel himself so great an adept at this as at his favourite game of
"done and done," the proposal fell to the ground. As the guest of the
evening was a great politician, and his companions were well informed
of his manners and character, the conversation turned upon politics,
from that unaccountably veering round till wagers became the general
topic. Highly delighted at the introduction of a subject of which he
deemed himself a perfect master, the barber listened with the greatest
attention to the conversation, and eagerly offered several bets
himself. As his two companions appeared rather shy, and hinted that it
would not be safe to bet with a man who calculated matters so shrewdly
as generally to win, he became very anxious to get the better of men
whom he considered as "pigeons"--though, unluckily for him, they turned
out to be "rooks."
After many propositions, they offered to bet him ten guineas that he
would not repeat one sentence, and that only, during the space of ten
minutes. Cunningly thinking that he had his men, the barber started
up and swore he could repeat any sentence for an hour. After having
blithely stepped home for a supply of cash, he returned, and a bet of
fifty guineas having been made, both stakes were deposited under a
hat on the table, the conditions being that the barber should without
intermission repeat the words "_There he goes_," for half an hour's
continuance. He accordingly took his station at the table, and, with
a watch before him to note the time, began his recital of _There he
goes_, _There he goes_, _There he goes_.
When he had kept on in a steady and unalterable tone for a quarter of
an hour, one of the gentlemen, with a view to lead the barber from his
stated subject, lifted up the hat, counted out half the money, and
saying "D--n me if I don't go," put the cash in his pocket and walked
off. This circumstance, however, had no effect upon the barber. A few
minutes later the man who remained coolly pocketed the residue of the
money, and added, as the barber repeated the words _There he goes_,
"And d--n me if I don't follow him." The barber was now left alone with
his eyes riveted on the watch, anxious for the expiration of the short
time which still remained to elapse before his bet was won, but more
confident than ever.
In the meantime, the departure of the two strangers without settling
the bill excited the notice of the landlord; he went into the room,
and the barber, looking him in the face, kept repeating _There he
goes_, "Yes, sir, I know it; they have both been gone some time; pray
are you to pay the bill?" No answer being given but _There he goes_,
the host immediately ran for the barber's wife and a doctor, supposing
him in a state of hopeless delirium. They arrived; his wife, taking
him round the neck, in vain endeavoured to make him deviate from his
purpose; the doctor, after feeling his pulse, pronounced him in a high
fever, and was getting ready his apparatus for opening a vein, when
the time expired, and the barber in a frenzy of excitement, jumped
upon the table and exclaimed, "Bravo, I have won fifty guineas of the
two gentlemen who are gone out!" The persons present now concluded,
beyond a doubt, that he had lost his senses; his wife screamed, and the
landlord called for assistance to have him secured.
When matters were explained, however, the landlord had a horse
saddled, and rode in pursuit of the gentlemen, to remind them of their
forgetfulness. After riding about ten miles, he overtook them in a
lonely part of the road. Here he reminded them that they had not paid
their bill, upon which they presented pistols to his head, robbed him
of between twenty and thirty guineas, and advised him not to travel
again upon such a foolish errand, but to look better after his inn, and
tell the barber to be careful how he made his bets in future.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: A three.]
II
The spirit of play in the eighteenth century--The Duke of Buckingham's
toast--Subscription-Houses, Slaughter-Houses, and Hells--The staff of
a gaming-house--Joseph Atkinson and Bellasis--Raids on King's Place
and Grafton Mews--Methods employed by Bow Street officers--Speculative
insurance--Increase of gaming in London owing to arrival of
_émigrés_--Gambling amongst the prisoners of war--The Duc de
Nivernois and the clergyman--Faro and E.O.--Crusade against West-End
gamblers--The Duchess of Devonshire and "Old Nick"--Mr. Lookup--Tiger
Roche--Dick England--Sad death of Mr. Damer--Plucking a pigeon.
During the last ten years of the reign of George II., "that destructive
fury, the spirit of play" wrought great havoc in London. Gaming was
declared to have become the business rather than the amusement of
persons of quality, who were accused (probably with considerable truth)
of being more concerned with speculation than with the proceedings of
Parliament. Estates were almost as frequently made over by whist and
hazard as by deeds and settlements, whilst the chariots of the nobility
might be said to roll upon four aces. As a means of settling disputes,
the wager was stated to have supplanted the sword, all differences of
opinion being adjusted by betting.
In fashionable circles and at Court, gambling was especially prevalent.
In January 1753 it was recorded that "His Majesty played at St.
James's Palace on Twelfth Night for the benefit of the Groom-Porter."
All the members of the Royal Family present on this occasion appear to
have been winners, the Duke of Cumberland getting £3000. Amongst the
losers were the Duke of Grafton and the Lords Huntingdon, Holdernesse,
Ashburnham, and Hertford. The exact amount of benefit which accrued to
the Groom-Porter from the evening's play does not transpire.
Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, had a house near the site of the
present Buckingham Palace, which went by his name. It was afterwards
purchased by John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, who, after obtaining
an additional grant of land from the Crown, rebuilt it in a magnificent
manner in 1703. During his residence here, the Duke was a constant
visitor at the then noted gaming-house in Marylebone, the place of
assemblage of all the infamous sharpers of the time. His Grace always
gave them a dinner at the conclusion of the season, and his parting
toast was, "May as many of us as remain unhanged next spring meet here
again." Quin related this story at Bath, within the hearing of Lord
Chesterfield, when his Lordship was surrounded by a crowd of worthies
of the same stamp. Lady Mary Wortley alludes to the amusement in this
line:--
Some Dukes at Marybone bowl time away.
As the century waned, play became more and more popular in London. So
great indeed was the toleration accorded to gaming in the West End of
the town that what were virtually public tables may be said to have
existed. These were well-known under the names of Subscription-Houses,
Slaughter-Houses, and Hells, and were frequented by less aristocratic
gamesters than the Clubs, where whist, piquet, and other games were
played for large sums. At the houses not inaptly called Hells, hazard
was played every night, and faro on certain nights in each and every
week, nearly all the year round. These Hells were the resort of
gentlemen, merchants, tradesmen, clerks, and sharpers of all degrees
and conditions, very expensive dinners being given twice or thrice a
week to draw together a large company, who, if they meant to play, were
abundantly supplied with wines and liquors gratis.
The advantage to the faro bank varied at different stages of the game:
the least advantage to the proprietor of the bank, and against the
punter, was about three and a half per cent and the greatest twenty-six
per cent. It is said that the annual expense of maintaining one of
these Hells exceeded £8000, which of course came out of the pockets of
its frequenters.
Quite a large army of retainers were attached to every well-regulated
gaming-house. The first, and of the greatest importance, was the
commissioner, always a proprietor, who looked in at night, the week's
account being audited by him and two other proprietors. Then followed
the director, who superintended the rooms; the operator, who dealt
the cards at faro, or any other game; the croupier, who watched the
cards and gathered the money for the bank; a puff, handsomely paid to
decoy others to play; a clerk, who acted as a check upon the puff,
to see that he embezzled none of the money given him to play with; a
squib, who was a puff of meaner rank, and received but a low salary,
whilst learning to deal; a flasher, to swear how often the bank had
been stripped; a dunner, who went about to recover money lost at play;
a waiter, to fill out wine, snuff candles, and attend the gaming-room;
an attorney, the sharper the better; a captain, ready to fight any
gentleman who might be peevish at losing his money; an usher, to light
gentlemen up and downstairs, and give the porter the word; a porter,
who was generally a foot soldier; an orderly man, whose duty consisted
in walking up and down on the outside of the door to give notice to
the porter, and alarm the house at the approach of the constables;
a runner, employed to obtain intelligence of the justices' meeting.
Beside these, there were link-boys, coachmen, chairmen, drawers, and
others, who might bring information of danger, at half a guinea each
for every true alarm. Finally, there was a sort of affiliated irregular
force, the members of which--affidavitmen, ruffians, and bravoes--were
capable of becoming assassins upon occasion.
A celebrated sporting resort at the end of the eighteenth century was
Mundy's Coffee-House, in Round Court, opposite York Buildings, in
the Strand, then kept by Sporting Medley (the owner of Bacchus and
some other horses of eminence upon the Turf). Here thousands were
nightly transferred over the hazard and card tables by O'Kelly, Stroud,
Tetherington, and a long list of adventurous followers.
Another famous gaming-house was kept by a certain Joseph Atkinson and
his wife at No. 15 under the Piazza, in Covent Garden. Here they daily
gave elaborate dinners, cards of invitation being sent to the clerks
of merchants, bankers, and brokers in the city. Atkinson used to say
that he liked citizens--whom he called "flats"--better than any one
else, for when they had dined they played freely, and after they had
lost all their money they had credit to borrow more. It was his custom
to send any pigeons who had been completely plucked to some of their
solvent friends, who could generally be induced to arrange matters in a
satisfactory way. The game generally played here was E.O.,[2] a sort of
roulette.
Keepers of gaming-houses in London were very liable to be black-mailed
by men whose principal means of livelihood was obtaining "hush money."
A certain class of individuals existed who for a specific amount
undertook to defend keepers of Hells against prosecutions. One of the
most notorious of these was Theophilus Bellasis, sometimes clerk and
sometimes client to a Bow Street attorney--John Shepherd by name--who
would, when it was likely to be profitable, act as prosecutor of
persons keeping gaming-houses. The magistrates at last realised the
collusion which existed between Bellasis and Shepherd, and refused to
move in cases where the two rogues were concerned.
The houses, called by sharpers Slaughter-Houses, were those where
persons were employed by the proprietors to pretend to be playing at
hazard for large sums of money, with a view to inducing some unthinking
individual to join in the play. When the scheme succeeded, the pigeon,
by means of loaded dice and other fraudulent methods, was eventually
dispossessed of all his cash, and perhaps plunged into debt, for
which a bond was given, the embarrassments of which he felt for some
years after. If, however, he returned to play again with the hope
of regaining what in such company was past redemption, his ruin was
quickly and completely sealed.
At one time, the parish officers of St. Ann's, Soho, set up a number
of lanterns and boards with the words "_Beware of bad houses_" painted
upon them, for the purpose of ridding the neighbourhood of dissolute
and abandoned women. In consequence of this having had the desired
effect, it was proposed to put up similarly-worded notices near the
Hells and Slaughter-Houses of St. James's, but the idea was never
carried into effect.
Places where faro was played abounded about Pall Mall and St. James's
Street, and from time to time exciting scenes were witnessed when the
authorities decided upon making a raid.
In 1799 considerable uproar was caused in Pall Mall by a raid upon Nos.
1 and 3 King's Place, which were attacked by what were facetiously
termed the "Bow Street troops" acting under a search warrant. These in
a very short time carried the place by storm, and took ten prisoners,
together with a great quantity of baggage, stores, which consisted
mainly of tables for rouge-et-noir and hazard; cards, dice, counters,
strong doors, bars and bolts. The attack began by a stratagem put
into execution by "General Rivett," who was in supreme command of the
attacking force. He sought to gain an entrance at the street door of
No. 1; but this having failed, and all attempts to force it having
proved ineffectual, one of the light troops mounted the counterscarp
of the area, and descended into the kitchen, while another scaled a
ladder affixed to a first floor of No. 3; and having each made good
their footing, opposition being then abandoned by the besieged who had
betaken themselves to flight, the attacking force without molestation
opened the gates and let in the main body, after which a general search
and pursuit ensued. Several gamblers retreated to the top of the houses
adjoining, whither they were followed and taken prisoners; one poor
devil, the supposed proprietor of No. 3, was smoked in a chimney, from
whence he was dragged down--a black example to all gamesters! Three
French _émigrés_ were among the captured, one of whom had his retreat
cut off just as he was issuing from a house in Pall Mall, through which
he had descended unobserved, and by which way some others escaped.
Mother Windsor and her nymphs, who were well-known residents in the
locality, were much alarmed by the operations; and the old lady, who
declared that the presence of gaming in the vicinity had long been
a scandal, vociferously applauded to the skies the vigilance of the
police in putting down such pests of society.
[Illustration: A RAID ON A LONDON GAMING-HOUSE.
From a Print in the possession of Messrs. Robson & Co., 23 Coventry
Street, W.]