The Goddess of fortune--Billiard-rooms--A professor--
Hells--A respectable banking company--"Black-legs"--
Faro described--Dealers--Bank--A novel mode of franking
--Roulette-table--A supper in Orcus--Pockets to let--
Dimly lighted streets--Some things not so bad as they
are represented.
My last letter left me on my way up to "the rooms" over the Exchange,
where the goddess of fortune sits enthroned, with a "cue" for her
sceptre, and a card pack for her "magna charta," dispensing alternate
happiness and misery to the infatuated votaries who crowd in multitudes
around her altars. Proceeding along the corridor, we left the
billiard-room on our left, in which no sound was heard (though every
richly-carved, green-covered table was surrounded by players, while
numerous spectators reclined on sofas or settees around the room) save
the sharp _teck! teck!_ of the balls as they came in contact with each
other, and the rattling occasioned by the "markers" as they noted the
progress of the game on the large parti-coloured "rosaries" extended
over the centre of the tables. Lingering here but a moment, we turned an
angle of the gallery, and at the farther extremity came to a glass door
curtained on the inner side, so as effectually to prevent all
observation of the interior. Entering this,--for New-Orleans,--so
carefully guarded room, we beheld a scene, which, to an uninitiated,
ultra city-bred northerner, would be both novel and interesting.
The first noise which struck our ears on entering, was the clear ringing
and clinking of silver, mingled with the technical cries of the
gamblers, of "all set"--"seven red"--"few cards"--"ten black," &c.--the
eager exclamations of joy or disappointment by the players, and the
incessant clattering of the little ivory ball racing its endless round
in the roulette-table. On one side of the room was a faro-table, and on
the opposite side a roulette. We approached the former, which was
thronged on three sides with players, while on the other, toward the
wall, was seated the dealer of the game--the "gentleman professeur." He
was a portly, respectable looking, jolly-faced Frenchman, with so little
of the "black-leg" character stamped upon his physiognomy, that one
would be far from suspecting him to be a gambler by profession. This is
a profession difficult to be conceived as the permanent and only pursuit
of an individual. Your conception of it has probably been taken, as in
my own case, from the fashionable novels of the day; and perhaps you
have regarded the character as merely the creation of an author's brain,
and "the profession" _as_ a profession, existing nowhere in the various
scenes and circumstances of life.
There are in this city a very great number of these _infernos_,
(_anglice_ "hells") all of which--with the exception of a few private
ones, resorted to by those gentlemen who may have some regard for
appearances--are open from twelve at noon till two in the morning, and
thronged by all classes, from the lowest blackguard upward. They are
situated in the most public streets, and in the most conspicuous
locations. Each house has a bank, as the amount of funds owned by it is
termed. Some of the houses have on hand twenty thousand dollars in
specie; and when likely to be hard run by heavy losses, can draw for
three or four times that amount upon the directors of the "bank
company." The establishing of one of these banks is effected much as
that of any other. Shares are sold, and many respectable moneyed men, I
am informed, become stockholders; though not ambitious, I believe, to
have their names made public. It is some of the best stock in the city,
often returning an enormous dividend. They are regularly licensed, and
pay into the state or city treasury, I forget which, annually more than
sixty thousand dollars. From six to twelve well-dressed, genteel looking
individuals, are always to be found in attendance, to whom salaries are
regularly paid by the directors; and to this salary, and this
occupation, they look for as permanent a support through life as do
members of any other profession. It is this class of men who are
emphatically denominated "gamblers and black legs." The majority of
them are Frenchmen, though they usually speak both French and English.
Individuals, allured by the hope of winning, are constantly passing in
and out of these houses, in "broad noon," with the same indifference to
what is termed "public opinion," as they would feel were they going into
or out of a store.
Those places which are situated in the vicinity of Canal-street and
along the Levee, are generally of a lower order, and thronged with the
_canaille_ of the city, sailors, Kentucky boatmen, crews of steamboats,
and poor Gallic gentlemen, in threadbare long-skirted coats and huge
whiskers. The room we were now visiting was of a somewhat higher order,
though not exclusively devoted to the more genteel adventurers, as, in
the very nature of the thing, such an exclusion would be impossible. But
if unruly persons intrude, and are disposed to be obstreperous, the
conductors of the rooms, of course, have the power of expelling them at
pleasure.
Being merely spectators of the game, we managed to obtain an
advantageous position for viewing it, from a vacant settee placed by the
side of the portly dealer, who occupied, as his exclusive right, one
side of the large table. Before him were placed in two rows thirteen
cards; the odd thirteenth capping the double file, like a militia
captain at the head of his company, when marching "two by two;" the
files of cards, however, unlike these martial files of men, are
_straight_. You will readily see by the number, that these cards
represent every variety in a pack. The dealer, in addition, has a
complete pack, fitting closely in a silver box, from which, by the
action of a sliding lid, he adroitly and accurately turns off the cards
in dealing. The players, or "betters," as they are termed, place their
money in various positions as it respects the thirteen cards upon the
table, putting it either on a single card or between two, as their
skill, judgment, or fancy may dictate.
As I took my station near the faro-board, the dealer was just shuffling
the cards for a new game. There were eleven persons clustered around the
table, and as the game was about to commence, arm after arm was reached
forth to the prostrate cards, depositing one, five, ten, twenty, or
fifty dollars, according to the faith or depth of purse of their owners.
On, around, and between the cards, dollars were strewed singly or in
piles, while the eyes of every better were fixed immoveably, and, as the
game went on, with a painful intensity, upon his own deposit, perhaps
his last stake. When the stakes were all laid, the dealer announced it
by drawling out in bad English, "all saat." Then, damping his forefinger
and thumb, by a summary process--not quite so elegant as common--he
began drawing off the cards in succession. The card taken off does not
count in the game; the betters all looking to the one turned up in the
box to read the fate of their stakes. As the cards are turned, the
winners are paid, the money won by the bank swept off with a long wand
into the reservoir by the side of the banker, and down go new stakes,
doubled or lessened according to the success of the winners--again is
drawled out the mechanical "all set," and the same routine is repeated
until long past midnight, while the dealers are relieved every two or
three hours by their fellow-partners in the house.
At the right hand of the dealer, upon the table, is placed what is
denominated "the bank," though it is merely its representative. This is
a shallow, yet heavy metal box, about twenty inches long, half as many
wide, and two deep, with a strong network of wire, so constructed as to
cover the box like a lid, and be secured by a lock. Casting my eye into
this receptacle through its latticed top, I noticed several layers of
U.S. bank notes, from five to five hundred dollars, which were kept down
by pieces of gold laid upon each pile. About one-fifth of the case was
parted off from the rest, in which were a very large number of gold
ounces and rouleaus of guineas. The whole amount contained in it, so far
as I could judge, was about six thousand dollars, while there was more
than three thousand dollars in silver, piled openly and most temptingly
upon the table around the case, in dollars, halves, and quarters, ready
for immediate use. From policy, five franc pieces are substituted for
dollars in playing; but the winner of any number of them can, when he
ceases playing, immediately exchange them at the bank for an equal
number of dollars. It often happens that players, either from ignorance
or carelessness, leave the rooms with the five franc pieces; but should
they, five minutes afterward, discover their neglect and return to
exchange them, the dealer exclaims with an air of surprise--
"Saar! it will be one mistake, saar. I nevair look you in de fas before,
saar!" Thousands of dollars are got off annually in this manner, and a
very pretty interest the banks derive from their ingenious method of
_franking_.
Having seen some thousands of dollars change hands in the course of an
hour, and, with feelings somewhat allied to pity, marked the expression
of despair, darkening the features of the unfortunate loser, as he
rushed from the room with clenched hands and bent brow, muttering
indistinctly within his teeth fierce curses upon his luck; and observed,
with no sympathizing sensations of pleasure, the satisfaction with which
the winners hugged within their arms their piles of silver, we turned
from the faro, and crossed the room to the roulette table. These two
tables are as inseparable as the shark and the pilot fish, being always
found together in every gambling room, ready to make prey of all who
come within their influence. At faro there is no betting less than a
dollar; here, stakes as low as a quarter are permitted. The players were
more numerous at this table than at the former, and generally less
genteel in their appearance. The roulette table is a large, long,
green-covered board or platform, in the centre of which, placed
horizontally upon a pivot, is a richly plated round mahogany table, or
wheel, often inlaid with ivory and pearl, and elaborately carved, about
two feet in diameter, with the bottom closed like an inverted box cover.
Around this wheel, on the inner border, on alternate little black and
red squares, are marked numbers as high as thirty-six, with two squares
additional, in one a single cipher, in the other two ciphers; while on
the green cloth-covered board, the same numbers are marked in squares.
The dealer, who occupies one side of the table, with his metal, latticed
case of bank notes and gold at his right hand, and piles of silver
before him, sets the wheel revolving rapidly, and adroitly spins into it
from the end of his thumb, as a boy would snap a marble, an ivory ball,
one quarter the size of a billiard ball. The betters, at the same
instant, place their money upon such one of the figures drawn upon the
cloth as they fancy the most likely to favour them, and intently watch
the ball as it races round within the revolving wheel. When the wheel
stops, the ball necessarily rests upon some one of the figures in the
wheel, and the fortunate player, whose stake is upon the corresponding
number on the cloth, is immediately paid his winning, while the stakes
of the losers are coolly transferred by the dealer to the constantly
accumulating heap before him; again the wheel is set revolving, the
little ball rattles around it, and purses are again made lighter and the
bank increased.
As we were about to depart, I noticed in an interior room a table spread
for nearly a dozen persons, and loaded with all the substantials for a
hearty supper. The dealers, or conductors of the bank, are almost all
bachelors, I believe, or ought to be, and keep "hall" accordingly, in
the same building where lies their theatre of action, in the most
independent and uproarious style. After the rooms are closed, which is
at about two in the morning, they retire to their supper table, inviting
all the betters, both winners and losers, who are present when the
playing breaks up, to partake with them. The invitations are generally
accepted; and those poor devils who in the course of the evening have
been so unfortunate as to have "pockets to let," have at least the
satisfaction of enjoying a good repast, _gratis_, before they go home
and hang themselves.[5]
Having satisfied our curiosity with a visit to this notable place, we
descended into the Exchange, which was now nearly deserted; a few
gentlemen only were taking their "night caps" at the bar, and here and
there, through the vast room, a solitary individual was pacing backward
and forward with echoing footsteps.
Leaving the now deserted hall, which at an earlier hour had resounded
with the loud and confused murmur of a hundred tongues, and the tramping
of a busy multitude, we proceeded to our hotel through the silent and
dimly lighted streets,[6] without being assassinated, robbed, seized by
the "_gens d'armes_," and locked up in the guard-house, or meeting any
other adventure or misadventure whatever; whereat we were almost tempted
to be surprised, remembering the frightful descriptions given by
veracious letter-writers, of this "terrible city" of New-Orleans.