A lucky Spaniard--Miss Mitford’s prize--The
_Spectator_ on lucky numbers--Other anecdotes
on luck--“Gretna Green”--“A Prize for Poor Jack.”
1815, of course, had its State lottery, June 7 (55 Geo. III. c. 73), in
which £624,400 was given in prizes, and it resulted in a net profit of
£224,311 18_s._ 1_d._; but this may be partly owing to the fact that
there was one prize offered of £40,000, the only other instance of such
an enormous prize being in the lottery of 1807.
There is a curious story about this prize (1815). During the drawing of
the lottery, a Spaniard, Don Tomas Isturity, was walking near the Royal
Exchange, when the inclination to spend some twenty pounds in dabbling
in the lottery came strongly upon him. He entered the office of Martin
and Co., Cornhill, but was unable to make up his mind what numbered
ticket to choose. At last he settled on the number of days he had been
absent from Madrid, which, on reference to his pocket-book, he found
to be 261. He therefore asked for the ticket bearing that number, but
it was nearly half an hour before it could be obtained, and only after
a strict search among the lottery offices in the City. At length a
half-ticket of No. 261 was procured at two o’clock, and at five it was
drawn the £40,000 prize, so that the lucky don lay down that night a
richer man by £20,000 than he had risen in the morning.
This is not a solitary instance of luck attending the choosing a
lottery ticket. Miss Mitford, in her “Literary Recollections,” tells
a good story of the old lottery days. Speaking of her father, she
says, “In the intervals of his professional pursuits, he walked about
London with his little girl [herself] in hand; and one day--it was
my birthday, and I was ten years old--he took me into a not very
tempting-looking place, which was, as I speedily found, a lottery
office. An Irish lottery was upon the point of being drawn, and he
desired me to choose one out of several bits of printed paper (I did
not then know their significance) that lay upon the counter.
“'Choose which number you like best,’ said my dear papa; 'and that
shall be your birthday present.’
“I immediately selected one, and put it in his hand--No. 2224.
“'Ah!’ said my father, examining it, 'you must choose again. I want to
buy a whole ticket, and this is only a quarter. Choose again, my pet.’
“'No, dear papa; I like this one best.’
“'Here is the next number,’ interposed the lottery-office keeper--'No.
2223.’
“'Ay,’ said my father, 'that will do just as well. Will it not, Mary?
We’ll take that.’
“'No,’ returned I, obstinately, 'that won’t do. This is my birthday,
and you know, papa, I am ten years old. Cast up _my_ number, and you’ll
find that makes ten. The other is only nine.’
“My father, superstitious, like all speculators, struck with my
pertinacity, and with the reason I gave, which he liked none the less
because the ground of preference was tolerably unreasonable, resisted
the attempt of the office-keeper to tempt me by different tickets, and
we had nearly left the shop without a purchase, when the clerk, who had
been examining different desks and drawers, said to his principal--
“'I think, sir, the matter may be managed if the gentleman does
not mind paying a few shillings more. That ticket, 2224, only came
yesterday, and we have still all the shares--one-half, one-quarter,
one-eighth, and two-sixteenths. It will be just the same, if the young
lady is set upon it.’
“The young lady was set upon it, and the shares were purchased. The
whole affair was a secret between us, and my father, whenever he got me
to himself, talked over our future twenty thousand pounds--just like
Alnaschar over his basket of eggs. Meanwhile time passed on, and one
Sunday morning we were all preparing to go to church, when a face I
had forgotten, but my father had not, made his appearance. It was the
clerk of the lottery office. An express had just arrived from Dublin,
announcing that 2224 had been drawn a prize of twenty thousand pounds,
and he had hastened to communicate the good news.
“Ah, me! In less than twenty years, what was left of the produce of the
ticket so strangely chosen? What, except a Wedgwood dinner-service,
that my father had made to commemorate the event, with the Irish harp
within the border on one side, and his family crest on the other? That
fragile and perishable ware long outlasted the more perishable money.”
This belief in lucky numbers in the lottery was of old standing; for in
No. 191 of the _Spectator_, October 9, 1711, is the following:--
“... When a man has a mind to venture his money in a lottery, every
figure of it appears equally alluring, and as likely to succeed as
any of its fellows. They all of them have the same pretensions to
good luck, stand upon the same foot of competition, and no manner of
reason can be given why a man should prefer one to the other before
the lottery is drawn. In this case, therefore, Caprice very often
acts in the place of Reason, and forms to itself some groundless,
imaginary motive where real and substantial ones are wanting. I know a
well-meaning man that is very pleased to risk his good fortune upon the
number 1711, because it is the year of our Lord. I am acquainted with a
tacker that would give a good deal for the number 134.[26]
[26] “In the year 1704 a bill was brought into the House of Commons
against occasional conformity; and, in order to make it pass through
the House of Lords, it was proposed to tack it to a money bill. This
occasioned warm debates, and at length it was put to the vote, when 134
were for tacking; but a large majority being against it, the motion was
overruled, and the bill miscarried.
[Illustration]
“On the contrary, I have been told of a certain zealous Dissenter, who,
being a great enemy to popery, and believing that bad men are the most
fortunate in this world, will lay two to one on the number 666 against
any other number, because, says he, it is the number of the Beast.[27]
Several would prefer the number 12,000 before any others, as it is the
number of the pounds in the great prize. In short, some are pleased to
find their own age in their number; some, that have got a number which
makes a pretty appearance in the cyphers; and others, because it is the
same number that succeeded in the last lottery. Each of these, upon no
other grounds, thinks he stands fairest for the great lot, and that he
is possessed of what may not be improperly called 'the golden number.’
[27] Rev. xii. 18.
“These principles of election are the pastimes and extravagances
of human reason, which is of so busy a nature, that it will be
exerting itself in the meanest trifles, and working even when it
wants materials. The wisest of men are sometimes acted[28] by such
unaccountable motives, as the life of the fool and the superstitious is
guided by nothing else.
[28] Actuated.
“I am surprised that none of the fortune-tellers, or, as the French
call them, the _Diseurs de bonne Aventure_, who publish their bills
in every quarter of the town, have turned our Lotteries to their
advantage. Did any of them set up for a caster of fortunate figures,
what might he not get by his pretended discoveries and predictions?
“I remember, among the advertisements of the _Post-Boy_ of September
the 27th, I was surprised to see the following one:--
“'This is to give notice, that ten shillings over and above the market
price will be given for the ticket in the £1,500,000 lottery, No. 132,
by Nath. Cliff, at the Bible and Three Crowns, in Cheapside.’
“This advertisement has given great matter of speculation to
coffee-house theorists. Mr. Cliff’s principles and conversation have
been canvassed upon this occasion, and various conjectures made why he
should thus set his heart upon No. 132. I have examined all the powers
in those numbers, broken them into fractions, extracted the square
and cube roots, divided and multiplied them all ways, but could not
arrive at the secret, until about three days ago, when I received the
following letter, from an unknown hand, by which I find that Mr. Nath.
Cliff is only the agent, and not the principal, in this advertisement:--
“'Mr. SPECTATOR,
“'I am the person that lately advertised
I would give ten shillings more than the
current price for the ticket No. 132 in the lottery
now drawing; which is a secret I have communicated
to some friends, who rally me incessantly
upon that account. You must know that I have
but one ticket, for which reason, and for a certain
dream I have lately had more than once, I resolved
it should be the number I most approved. I am
so positive that I have pitched upon the great
lots, that I could almost lay all I am worth upon
it. My visions are so frequent and so strong upon
this occasion, that I have not only possessed the
lot, but disposed of the money which in all probability
it will sell for. This morning, in particular,
I set up an equipage which I look upon to be the
gayest in the town; the liveries are very rich, but
not gaudy. I should be very glad to see a speculation
or two upon lottery subjects, in which you would oblige
all people concerned, and in particular,
“'Your most humble Servant,
“'GEORGE GOSLING.
“'P.S.--Dear Spec., If I get the £12,000, I’ll
make thee a handsome present.’
“After having wished my correspondent good luck, and thanked him for
his intended kindness, I shall for this time dismiss the subject of the
lottery, and only observe that the greatest part of mankind are in some
degree guilty of my friend Gosling’s extravagance.”
The “Percy Anecdotes” are responsible for the following story:--“A
merchant, somewhat remarkable for absence of mind, had left his
counting-house for the Bank, with a large sum of money which he
intended to deposit there. On reaching Lombard Street, he found his
pocket cut, and his pocket-book missing. He immediately suspected
that his pocket had been picked of all his money, and, returning
home, mentioned the circumstance to his clerk. What, however, was
his astonishment in finding that he had left the money behind, and
that, though his pocket-book had been taken from him, yet it contained
nothing but a few papers of little consequence.
“Pleased with the integrity of his clerk, who gave him the money
he thought he had lost, he promised him a handsome present; but,
neglecting to fulfil his promise, was reminded of it. Unwilling to
part with money, he gave the clerk one of two lottery tickets he had
purchased. The young man would have preferred money, as he had parents
far advanced in years, who depended upon him for support. He, however,
was contented; and, as it afterwards proved, had cause to be so, for
his ticket was drawn a prize for £20,000, which, enabling him to begin
business for himself, he soon rose to great eminence and wealth as a
merchant.”
Before closing this subject, I cannot help quoting from a newspaper
cutting (_Daily News_, date unknown), which, although not belonging
to English lotteries, shows how, even in modern times, superstition
plays its part in the lottery. From a letter by a correspondent to
this paper, it appears that, in Venice, it is believed that, in the
event of a stranger dying in one of the hotels, the numbers of his
rooms will be the lucky cyphers at the next drawing of the lottery. An
illustration of this recently occurred on the death of the late Sir W.
Stirling Maxwell at one of the best-known hotels, when, immediately on
his decease, the _employés_ subscribed to take shares in the numbers of
the two rooms occupied by the late Member for Perthshire, both of which
numbers, strangely enough, were afterwards drawn prizes. In talking
over the matter with the writer, a person connected with the hotel
bitterly lamented that he had been prevented, by sudden illness, from
taking the whole of the lucky numbers, and thus realizing a handsome
fortune at one stroke.
On the opposite page we give a lottery handbill, but with no name of
an office-keeper attached to it. It is called, “Gretna Green; or, The
Elopement.”
“A PRIZE FOR POOR JACK.
By JACK JUNK.
TUNE--'_Poor Jack_.’
'Go, patter to lubbers’ of _Blanks_, do you see;
Let them catch at Fortune who wish;
The chance of a _Lottery Ticket_ give me,
But, mind, I must buy it of BISH.
[Illustration]
I know very well it may come up a _Blank_,
And then I’m but where I begun;
But if it should happen to come up a _Prize_,
Then 'hey for the fiddle’ and fun!
The ocean of Fortune may quicksands conceal,
But that never takes me aback:
There’s a nice little Blue Coat Boy stands at the Wheel,
To pull out a Prize for Poor Jack.
Last Lottery, BISH Twenty Capitals sold,
And why mayn’t he sell Twenty more?
Why not _one_ to _me_ (if I may be so bold),
To pocket of _Thousands_ a score?
You’ll say, as to that, it’s all twenty to one,
About counting our losses and gains;
_You advise_, and if chance I the _Twenty_ should get,
I’ll give you the _One_ for your pains.
On the ocean of Fortune my vessel may reel,
But still I shall keep to my tack:
For the nice little Blue Coat Boy stands at the Wheel,
To pull out a Prize for Poor Jack.
Of a _new Packet_ launch’d too, moreover, they tell,
Her lading a rare one, you’ll say;
Four Hundred _Whole Tickets_, and that’s pretty well!
And I’d like ’em to come in my way.
If they were not _all Prizes_, why, I’d be content;
For 'Enough is as good as a Feast;’
And a man, sure, might count on, and not be much out,
_Half the Capitals_ getting, at least.
Then the ocean of Fortune I’ll plough with Hope’s keel,
BISH the Pilot shall be on each tack,
While the nice little Blue Coat Boy fix’d at the Wheel
Will pull out a Prize for Poor Jack.”