nineteenth century began; the "faro dames," as they were called, found
their occupation gone. Their game, at which few of them had "cut with
honours," was up, and their "odd tricks" were no longer of any avail in
London. One of the most notorious, Mrs. Concannon, migrated to Paris,
where her house continued for some time to be the meeting-place of
those fond of deep play.
Whist now began to be a good deal played at fashionable parties, but
in 1805 four-handed cribbage became the fashionable game in the West
End, and whist, during a temporary eclipse, as it declined in the West,
rose with increase of splendour in the East. At a city club the stakes
played for were ten pounds a game, and guineas were betted on the odd
trick. A select party of business men, well known on the city side of
Temple Bar, once played at whist from one Wednesday afternoon till the
next Friday night, and only left off then because two of the players
were unfortunately Jews.
At another whist party, a lady who had not been accustomed to move
in quite as good society as the other guests, won a rubber of twenty
guineas. The gentleman who was her opponent pulled out his pocket-book
and tendered £21 in bank-notes.[3] The fair gamester observed, with a
disdainful toss of her head: "In the great houses which I frequent,
sir, we always use gold." "That may be, madam," replied the gentleman,
"but in the little houses which I frequent we always use paper!"
At this time adventurers abounded, many of whom profited by the
speculative tendencies of the age. A character of the first magnitude
in the annals of gaming, for instance, was a Mr. Lookup, who lived
towards the close of the eighteenth century. A Scotchman by birth,
a gamester by profession, he accumulated a considerable fortune by
methods of none too reputable a kind.
Originally an apprentice to an apothecary in the north of England, he
acted in that profession as journeyman in the city of Bath. Soon after
the death of his master, he paid his addresses to his mistress, the
widow; and, having none of that bashful modesty about him which is
sometimes an obstacle to a man in such pursuits, and being a remarkably
tall stout man, with a tolerably good figure, he prevailed on the Bath
matron to favour him with her hand.
From his infancy Lookup manifested a strong propensity for play, and
as he grew up became very expert at several games. Till his marriage,
however, he was hampered by lack of funds, which prevented him from
exercising his skill and judgment to much advantage. Finding himself
master of five hundred pounds brought to him by his wife, he soon shut
up shop, and turned his application from pharmacy to speculation.
He became a first-rate piquet and whist player, and soon mastered
various other games of chance and skill; in a short time, by incessant
industry, greatly increasing his capital.
Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Lookup, for a long time, played constant
matches at piquet together, the former being something of an adept at
the game; but Mr. Lookup's superior skill at length prevailed, with the
result that very considerable gains passed into his pocket.
Lord Chesterfield would also sometimes amuse himself at billiards with
Mr. Lookup, and upon one of these occasions the peer had the laugh
turned against him by the sharp tactics of his antagonist. Mr. Lookup
had met with an accident by which he was deprived of the sight of one
of his eyes, though to any cursory observer it appeared as perfect
as the other. Having beaten the peer playing evens, Lookup asked how
many his lordship would give him, if he put a patch upon one eye.
Lord Chesterfield agreed to give him five, upon which Lookup beat
him several times successively. At length his lordship, with some
petulance, exclaimed, "Lookup, I think you play as well with one eye
as two." "I don't wonder at it, my lord," replied Lookup, "for I have
seen only out of one for these ten years." With the money he won of
Lord Chesterfield he bought some houses at Bath, and jocularly named
them Chesterfield Row.
After he had accumulated a considerable sum by play, Mr. Lookup went
to London, and, having buried his wife, married another widow with
a very large fortune. His plan of operations was now much enlarged;
and, though he played occasionally for his own amusement, or when
he met with what is termed a "good thing," he abandoned gaming as a
regular profession. He now struck out several schemes, some visionary
and others advantageous; among the former being a project for making
saltpetre. A foreigner having drawn up a specious plan, presented it
to Lookup, who, from his superficial knowledge of chemistry, thought
the scheme practicable. A considerable range of buildings was erected
for carrying on these works near Chelsea; salaries were appointed
for the directors and supervisors, and large sums expended to bring
this favourite scheme to perfection. So sanguine were Lookup's hopes
of success, that he persuaded a particular friend of his (Captain
Hamilton) to become a partner, with the result that the latter lost
many thousands. At length, tired with the fruitless expense and
repeated disappointments, he abandoned this project for others less
delusive.
Mr. Lookup was concerned in many privateering ventures, several of
which proved successful; at any rate he was thought to be a substantial
gainer in these enterprises. At the close of the war he engaged in the
African trade, and had considerable dealings in that commerce to the
time of his decease.
As he grew old, however, his darling passion would at times
predominate; and within a few weeks of his death he was known to sit up
whole nights playing for very considerable sums. It was even averred
that he died with a pack of cards in his hand, at his favourite game
of humbug or two-handed whist; on which Sam Foote jocularly observed,
"that Lookup was _humbugged_ out of the world at last."
Some description of Mr. Lookup's favourite game, of which he is said to
have been the inventor, may not be out of place. Though now obsolete,
it was once very popular at the rooms in Bath, and in the West End of
London.
Humbug may properly be called two-handed whist, as only two persons
play. The cards are shuffled and cut; the lowest deals out all the
cards, and turns up the last for the trump. Each player has now
twenty-six cards in his hand, and the object is to make as many tricks
as they can, all the laws of whist prevailing, the cards being of
the same value as when four play. But the honours do not reckon any
further than they prevail in making tricks by their superiority over
inferior cards; the tricks reckon from one to as many as are gained;
for instance, if one player has twenty tricks, and the other only six,
the first wins fourteen, and if they play a guinea a trick of course
wins fourteen guineas. The game finishes every deal, when the balance
is settled, and they then commence another game. As each player knows,
at first, all the cards his adversary has in his hand, it is common,
in order to sort them, to lay them with their faces up; but after they
have ranged them, and begun to play, they are as careful of concealing
their cards as they are at the common game of whist, it then depending
upon memory to know what cards have been played and what remain in
hand. As it is allowed only to turn up the last trick to see what has
been played, a revoke is punished with the same rigour at this game as
at whist; and the forfeiting three tricks is often worth more at humbug
than at the former game.
The London of the past swarmed with sharpers of every description on
the look-out for rich young men. Billiard-rooms which are now quite
decorous resorts were favourite haunts of these gentry.
The noted Captain Roche, known as Tiger Roche, was once at the Bedford
billiard-table, when it was extremely crowded. As he was knocking the
balls about with a cue. Major Williamson, who wanted to talk to him
about some business, desired him to leave off, as he monopolised the
table and hindered gentlemen from playing. "Gentlemen!" exclaimed Roche
with a sneer. "Why, Major, except you and I, and two or three more,
there is not a gentleman in the room: the rest are all low blacklegs."
On leaving the place the Major expressed some astonishment at his
companion's rudeness, and wondered that, out of so numerous a company,
it was not resented. "Oh, d--n the scoundrels, sir," said Roche; "there
was no fear of that, as there was not a thief in the room that did not
suppose himself one of the two or three gentlemen I mentioned."
A particularly dangerous individual was the notorious Dick England,
an Irishman of obscure origin, who rose to comparative prosperity
through gaming and betting. A hard-headed man, England possessed great
control over his temper, which, however, when given a free run, could
be terrible. Having played at hazard one evening with a certain young
tradesman of his acquaintance, England lost some three or four score
pounds, for which he gave his draft upon Hankey, the banker. Having
persuaded his antagonist to give him his revenge, the luck turned, and
England not only won his money back, but as much more in addition. It
then being late, he desired to retire, and requested his antagonist to
pay in cash or to give a cheque upon his banker for the money which he
had lost. The tradesman resolutely refused to do either, on the plea
that he had been tricked, and that the money had not been fairly won.
England once more demanded the money, and when it was again refused,
he tripped up the young man's heels, rolled him up in the carpet,
and snatching a case-knife from the sideboard, cut off his long hair
close to the scalp. This violent action, coupled with the menacing
attitude of England still flourishing the knife, and uttering the most
deep-toned imprecations, had such an effect upon the young man in the
stillness of past three o'clock in the morning, that he arose, and with
the meekness of a lamb wrote a draft for the amount of his loss, took
his leave very civilly, wishing the Captain a good morning, and never
mentioned the circumstance again.
[Illustration: SHARPERS AND BUCKS IN A BILLIARD ROOM.]
Dick England was a constant frequenter of all places likely to afford
him pigeons worth plucking. At a tennis court he met the Honourable
Mr. Damer, who was in the habit of playing tennis for amusement and
exercise. One evil day, however, when no one was about, Mr. Damer
played a game with England, who was profuse in his admiration for his
opponent's skill. Though Mr. Damer knew England's reputation, and would
not have been seen at Ranelagh with him, or had him at his table for
a thousand pounds, he was not proof against the man's flattery, and
England soon became his habitual opponent at tennis.
The latter, in league with other sharpers, soon sent to Paris for the
best tennis player in the world, who on his arrival was instructed
to lose unless given signals--the display of a certain coloured
handkerchief, the raising of a bat, and similar signs--should be made.
England now proceeded to begin the stripping of his dupe by pretending
to back him for fifty or a hundred guineas a set, complaining bitterly
of his losses when unsuccessful. Mr. Damer meanwhile was losing three,
four, and sometimes five thousand guineas in a day; and with such blind
avidity did he pursue this destructive game, that he soon found himself
a loser of near forty thousand guineas. At last, he found it prudent to
resist the propensity to play with England and his band of sharpers,
some of whom were constantly at his house in Tilney Street, requesting
payment. Mr. Damer offered them post-obits, bonds, or in short the best
security he could then offer, his father, Lord Milton, afterwards Lord
Dorchester, being alive; no, they would have cash. Mr. Damer could not
find it; but, to his high sense of honour be it told, he threw himself
at his father's feet; the worthy parent weighed the matter well, and
sent his steward from Milton Abbey with power to pay every shilling,
though he knew his son had been cheated of every guinea. The steward,
however, arrived only in time to learn that his young master, having
sent for five girls and a blind fiddler, had blown out his brains after
a roystering carouse at a tavern in Covent Garden. According to Horace
Walpole it was Fox who, with infinite good nature, went to meet Mrs.
Damer on her way to town and prepared her for the dismal news. "Can,"
says Walpole, "the walls of Almack's help moralizing when £5000 a year
in present and £22,000 in reversion are not sufficient for happiness
and cannot check a pistol!"
England was very fertile in expedients in plucking his pigeons. On one
occasion, being with other blacklegs at Scarborough, and a rich dupe,
from whom a good deal was expected, refusing to play after dinner, the
party, having made the pigeon drunk and given the waiter five guineas
to answer any awkward questions which might be asked in the morning,
wrote out on slips of paper "D---- (the pigeon's name) owes me a
hundred guineas." "D---- owes me eighty guineas," and so on. England,
however, wrote "I owe D---- thirty guineas."
The next morning England, meeting the guest of the night before on the
cliff, said to him: "Well, we were all very merry last night." "We were
indeed," replied the pigeon, "and I only hope I did not offend any one,
for I must confess that I drank a good deal more than usual."
"You were in good spirits, my dear fellow," said England, "that was
all; and now, before I forget, let me pay you the thirty guineas I lost
to you last night--I am not very lucky at cards."
D---- stared, and positively denied having played for a shilling; but
England assured him upon his honour that he had. He added that he had
paid hundreds to men who having drunk deep remembered nothing till he
had shown them his account. Mr. D---- thus fell into the trap laid
for him, and, being a novice, put the notes in his pocket, thinking
England the most upright man he had ever met. Shortly after, Mr.
England's friends presented their cards. Mr. D----, thunderstruck at
their demands, swore that he had never played with them, and indeed
that he did not know of his having played at all, until Captain
England, very much to his credit, had paid him thirty guineas, though
he himself did not remember any cards or dice having been in the room.
The leader of the band replied with great warmth, "Sir, it is the first
time my honour was ever doubted. Captain England, and the waiter, will
tell you I won a hundred guineas of you, though I was a great loser by
the night's play."
The victim of the plot, however, fortunately for himself, met
some friends who were men of the world, and one of them having
cross-examined the waiter, and promised him another five guineas if
he spoke the truth, the latter at last admitted that England and his
companions were notorious blacklegs, and that Mr. D---- did not play
at all, or, if he did, it could not have been for five minutes, as the
rest of the party were constantly ringing and making punch in their own
way.
On the advice of this friend D---- ended the matter by sending England
back his thirty guineas with five more to pay the cost of the supper;
and the blacklegs, finding that the affair was likely to do them no
good, left Scarborough the next morning.
A young Kingston brewer, Rolles by name, having publicly insulted
England by calling him a blackleg at Ascot, the latter, who could
snuff a candle with a pistol ball, called him out and shot him, after
which he fled to the Continent, remarking: "Well, as I have shot a man
I must be after making myself scarce." As an outlaw living in Paris,
England continued to make money by play till the outbreak of the French
Revolution, which for a time rather injured the avocation of sharpers
in France.
It is said, however, that he furnished the heads of our army with some
valuable intelligence in its celebrated campaign in Flanders; and that,
as a reward, his return to this country was facilitated, and an annuity
promised him.
On his arrival in London, he was tried and acquitted of the murder of
Mr. Rolles. For the remainder of his life he appears to have completely
abandoned gambling, and to have lived a very quiet existence near
Leicester Square.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: Described at page 55.]
[Footnote 3: £1 notes existed at this time.]
III
Former popularity of dice--The race game in Paris--Description
of hazard--Jack Mytton's success at it--Anecdotes--French
hazard--Major Baggs, a celebrated gamester of the past--Anecdotes
of his career--London gaming-houses--Ways and methods of
their proprietors--Ephraim Bond and his henchman Burge--"The
Athenæum"--West-End Hells--Crockford's--Opinion of Mr. Crockford
regarding play--The Act of 1845--Betting-houses--Nefarious tactics of
their owners--Suppression in 1853.
The most popular gambling game of the eighteenth century, at which
great sums were lost and won, was "hazard," which emptied the pockets
of multitudes in the West End, and proved the ruin of many a country
squire fresh to the allurements of town.
Before 1716 itinerant vendors usually carried dice with them, and
customers, even children, were encouraged to throw for fruit, nuts, or
sweets; and when the floors of the Middle Temple Hall were taken up
nearly a hundred sets of dice which had fallen through the chinks in
the flooring were found. Dice have been out of fashion for many years
in the modern world, though quite recently they have begun to enjoy
some slight popularity in France in connection with an elaborated
form of the race game which at one time was a favourite amusement in
English country houses. Two Clubs, the Racing Plomb Club and the Pur
Plomb Club, now exist in Paris, the members of which declare that the
movements of little leaden horses over a course, in accordance with
the throw of the dice, are more amusing and exciting than roulette
or baccarat. The little metal steeds used at this game are named
after prominent race-horses on the French Turf. The races, called
after events like the Grand Steeplechase and Grand Prix, are begun
with three or four dice, continued with two, and end with one, the
courses of Auteuil and Longchamps being realistically reproduced on
the race-boards. A leaden horse which wins a certain number of races
is accorded some advantage over the rest. For instance, a winner,
say of stakes amounting to one hundred francs, advances seven points
instead of six on the board when its owner throws a six, and so on in
proportion, whilst if it has won sixteen hundred points a throw of six
advances it eleven points. This racing game, which, however, is played
rather for amusement than mere gambling, was revived by M. Fernand
Vandéreux, who has brought it into popularity in Parisian literary and
artistic circles.
Hazard, which is now practically obsolete, seems to have made an
irresistible appeal to the gaming instincts of former generations, and
the financial ravages for which it was responsible eventually provoked
such scandals that the game was rendered illegal in 1845. It was a
somewhat complicated form of gambling, and in these days, when so many
easy forms of speculation exist, would in all probability have died a
natural death even without the intervention of the law.
The following is an account of the game as played some fifty years ago,
when it still enjoyed some popularity amongst racing men.
The players assembled round a circular table, a space being reserved
for the "groom-porter" (the term applied to the croupier), who occupied
a somewhat elevated position, and whose duty it was to call the odds
and see that the game was played according to rule. Two dice were used
and the player who took the box placed as much money as he wished to
risk in the centre of the table, where it was covered with an equal
amount, either by some individual speculator, or by the contributions
of several. The player (technically called the "caster") then proceeded
to call a "main," that is to say, any number from 5 to 9; of these
he would mentally select the one which either chance or superstition
might suggest, call it aloud, then shake the box, and deliver the dice.
If he threw the exact number he called, he "nicked" it, as the term
went, and won; if he threw any other number (with a few exceptions,
which will be mentioned), he neither won nor lost. The number,
however, which he threw became his "chance," and if he could succeed
in repeating it before he threw what was his main, he won; if not, he
lost. In other words, having completely failed to throw his main in
the first instance, he should have lost, but did not in consequence
of the equitable interference of his newly-made acquaintance, which
constituted itself his chance. If a player threw two aces (commonly
called "crabs") he lost his stake. For example, suppose the caster
"set"--that is, placed on the table--a stake of £10, and it was covered
by an equal amount, and he then called 7 in as his main and threw 5;
the groom-porter would at once call out "5 to 7"--meaning that 5 was
the number to win and 7 the number to lose. The player then continued
throwing until the event was determined by the turning up of either the
main or the chance. Meanwhile, however, a most important feature in the
game came into operation--the laying and taking of the odds caused by
the relative proportions of the main and the chance. These, as has been
said, were calculated with mathematical nicety, never varied, and were
proclaimed by the groom-porter. In the instance given, as the caster
stood to win with 5 and to lose with 7, the odds were declared to be 3
to 2 against him, inasmuch as there are three ways of throwing 7, and
only two of throwing 5. If a player should "throw out" once, the box
passed on to the next person on his left, who at once took up the play.
He could, however, "throw in" without interruption, and if he was able
to do this half a dozen times and back his luck, his gains would amount
to a large sum, sixty to one being the odds against it.
The choice of a main was quite optional: many preferred 7 in because
they might make a coup at once by throwing that number, or by throwing
11, which is a "nick" to 7, but to 7 only. Many shrewd players,
however, preferred some other main, with the view of having a more
favourable chance to depend upon of winning both stake and odds. For
example, let us reverse the case given above, and suppose the caster
called 5 and threw 7; he would then have 7 as his chance to win odds of
3 to 2 in his favour.
Such was the game of English hazard, at which large fortunes were
lost. Cheating could only be effected by the use of loaded dice, which
were called "dispatches," or by high and low dice having only certain
numbers. Sharpers often carried these and also "cramped" boxes to
make the dice fall in a particular way. So popular were dice with the
gamesters of old that one of them left an injunction in his will that
his bones should be made into dice and his skin into coverings for
dice-boxes.
The round table on which English hazard was played had a deeply
bevelled edge, intended to prevent the dice from landing on the floor,
which rendered a throw void. If either of the dice, after having left
the box, should strike any object on the table, such as a man's elbow
or stick, except money, it was also no throw. Every player had the
right of "calling dice," even when the dice were being thrown. This, of
course, nullified the throw, another set being handed to the caster
by the groom-porter. Many a lucky coup was destroyed by some captious
player having exercised this privilege--with most irritating effects to
the disappointed caster on finding that he had "nicked" his main. When
one of the dice remained in the box after the other had been landed,
the caster might either throw it quickly, or gently coax it from the
box. If one die landed on the top of another, it was removed by the
groom-porter and declared a throw. Dice were known as the "ivories."
At a Westminster election, the keeper of a notorious gambling-house
in St. Anne's parish, on being about to give his vote, was asked in
the usual way what his trade was; when after a little hesitation, he
replied, "I am an ivory turner."