In this dilemma he sought the advice and active service of Guy, his

principal acting man in St James’s Street. This man accompanied

Crockford to the scene of trial, and, discovering the baron in the

precinct of the Court, contrived to get into friendly conversation

with him, a scheme which led to some judicious hints on the impolicy

of his longer holding out against the liberal offer which he (Guy)

had now the authority to make from Crockford. Fortunately for the

latter the indictment was low down in the list of the day’s business,

and this gave opportunity to Guy to proceed more leisurely in his

designs. He prevailed on the baron to accompany him to a tavern in

the neighbourhood, and there, under the influence of copious draughts

of wine, an arrangement was ultimately effected. The proposal, once

entertained by the baron, was not left to the chance of change, nor was

the baron permitted to consult with his adviser in the matter; time was

precious, the cause was approaching its hearing, and at this crisis Guy

called a coach, took from his pocket a tempting sum, hurried the baron

into the vehicle, gave him the money, and never left him until he had

seen him on board a vessel bound for a foreign country.

At the commencement of the season 1821-22, luck went against

Crockford’s gaming establishment, and night after night their capital

decreased, so that, at last, it was with difficulty they could supply

the funds requisite for the night’s bank. One night, their last £5000

was scraped together, and they were all on wires; for an hour after

play had commenced £3000 had flown away. Crockford could stand it no

longer; he left the house, meditating whether he should hang or drown

himself: but scarcely was his back turned than the run of luck changed,

and, within two hours, the bank had not only recovered their night’s

loss, but a good round sum besides. For the remainder of the season

Fortune was in their favour, and, at its close, the proprietors had

netted over £200,000.

Crockford began building his new club house in St James’s Street in

1827, and workmen were engaged on it day and night. A huge ice house

was dug which so affected the Guard’s club house, which adjoined the

northern end of Crockford’s premises, that one entire side of it fell

with a crash, leaving the entire interior completely exposed to the

public gaze. There are two _bon mots_ on the subject, preserved.

“‘What can the workmen be about?

Do, Crockford, let the secret out,

Why thus our houses fall.

Quoth he, ‘Since folks are out of town,

I find it better to pull down,

Than have no _pull at all_.’”

“See, passenger, at Crockford’s high behest,

_Red coats_ by _black legs_ ousted from their nest;

The arts of peace o’ermatching reckless war,

And gallant _rouge_ outdone by wily _noir_.”

The Club was opened in the latter part of 1827 with a great flourish

of trumpets, and cards to view, which were eagerly sought after by the

_élite_. _The Times_ of 1st Jan. 1828 gives an account of the royal

displeasure at this Club, which comes extremely _à propos_ from the

unsullied lips of George IV. “CROCKFORD’S HELL. The establishment of

the Pandemonium in St James’s, under the entire superintendence of the

fishmonger and his unblushing patronizers, lately called forth the

opinion of the highest personage in the kingdom, who expressed himself

in a manner which reflected the utmost credit on his head and heart.

A Nobleman of some standing at Court, in answer to a question from

his royal master, denied, in the most unequivocal way, having become

a subscriber to this splendid temple of vice. The monarch evinced his

satisfaction at the intelligence, and, in his usual nervous style,

denounced such infamous receptacles for plunder, as not only a disgrace

to the country at large, but the age in which we live.”

The number of members belonging to the Club was from 1000 to 1200,

exclusive of the privilege, or right of entrée permitted to ambassadors

and foreigners of distinction during their diplomatic sojourn, or

temporary visit, to this country, and the Duke of Wellington, although

he did not gamble, was one of the earliest members. The annual

subscription was twenty-five pounds, and, for this, the members had

the most luxurious club of its time, with wines and viands at a very

low rate, although the latter were presided over by the celebrated

_chef_, Ude, to whom Crockford paid a salary of £1200! The _Annual

Register_, for 1834, tells a very amusing story of Ude in connection

with Crockford’s Club.

“On July 25 M. Eustache Ude, the celebrated French cook, appeared at

Bow Street on a summons at the suit of the Marquess of Queensberry, for

unlawfully disposing of certain birds called ‘red game,’ between the

19th of March and the 1st of August, contrary to the provisions of the

Game Laws.

“Sir Roger Griesley deposed that he was a member of Crockford’s Club

House, and one of the managing committee of that establishment. The

defendant was cook there, and, on the 19th of June, witness dined at

the Club house, and saw grouse served in the room, but did not partake

of it.

“_M. Ude_: Vell, my dear Sare Rojer, vat is all dis to me? Certainement

you must know dat I don’t know vat de devil goes up into de dining

room. How de devil can I tell veder black game, or vite game, or red

game go up to de dining room? Dere is plenty of game always go on in

de house, but dat is nothing to me. My only business is to cook for de

palates of dose who like de game.

_Sir Roger Griesley_: I really don’t know what, in common justice, M.

Ude can have to do in this matter. He is the cook of the establishment,

certainly, but he only prepares what is ordered. The Committee order

the things, and he provides according to that order.

“_M. Ude_: Tank you, my dear Sare Rojer. I knew you vould get me out

of de scrape vot de noble marquis has got me into dis time.

“_Charles, Marquess of Queensberry, sworn_: I was a member of the

Committee at Crockford’s, but am not now. I was at Crockford’s on the

19th, and dined, and grouse was served at the table.

“_M. Ude_: But, my noble friend (great laughter), as I said to my

friend Sare Rojer, I know noting at all about vot vent into de room. I

never sawed it at all. De orders are given to me. I send my people to

de butcher, and to de poulterer, and to de fishmonger, and de tings are

brought, and I command dem to be cooked, and dey are cooked, and dat is

all I know about it.

“_Sir F. Roe_: Whether you know it, or not, the Act of Parliament makes

you liable.

“_M. Ude_: Upon my honour dat is very hard. Ven I got de summons I

remonstrated vid my Lord Alvanley, and he say, ‘Oh, never mind, Ude,

say dey vere pigeons, instead of grouse.’ ‘Ah, my lord,’ say I, ‘I can

not do better dan dem pigeons, because dat bird is so common in dis

house.’ (Loud Laughter).

“_Sir F. Roe_, who appeared greatly to enjoy the scene, said he must,

upon the oaths of the noble marquess and Sir Roger Griesley, convict

the defendant; but he should, certainly, put the lowest penalty, namely

5s.

“_M. Ude_: Vel, I shall pay de money, but it is dam hard. Ve have

always game in our house, and de poor devil of a cook have to pay de

penalty for it. (Great laughter).”

The following is a contemporary description of this palatial

establishment.

“On entering from the street, a magnificent vestibule and staircase

break upon the view; to the right and left of the hall are reading and

dining rooms. The staircase is of a sinuous form, sustained in its

landing by four columns of the Doric order, above which are a series

of examples of the Ionic order, forming a quadrangle with apertures

to the chief apartments. Above the pillars is a covered ceiling,

perforated with luminous panels of stained glass, from which springs a

dome of surpassing beauty: from the dome depends a lantern containing a

magnificent chandelier.

“_The State Drawing Room_ next attracts attention, a most noble

apartment, baffling perfect description of its beauty, but decorated in

the most florid style of Louis Quatorze. The room presents a series of

panels containing subjects, in the style of Watteau, from the pencil

of Mr Martin, a relative of the celebrated historical painter of that

name: these panels are alternated with splendid mirrors. A chandelier

of exquisite workmanship hangs from the centre of the ceiling, and

three large tables, beautifully carved and gilded, and covered with

rich blue and crimson velvet, are placed in different parts of the

room. The upholstery and decorative adjuncts are imitative of the

gorgeous taste of George the Fourth. Royalty can scarcely be conceived

to vie with the style and consummate splendour of this magnificent

chamber.

“_The lofty and capacious Dining Room_, supported by marble pillars,

and furnished in the most substantial and aristocratic style of

comfort, is equal to any arrangement of the kind in the most lordly

mansions.

“_The Drawing Room_ is allowed to be one of the most elegant apartments

in the kingdom.

“_The Sanctum Sanctorum_, or _Play Room_, is comparatively small,

but handsomely furnished. In the centre of the apartment stands the

_all attractive Hazard Table_, innocent and unpretending enough in

its form and appearance, but fatally mischievous and destructive in

its conjunctive influence with box and dice. On this table, it may,

with truth, be asserted that the greater portion, if not the whole of

Crockford’s immense wealth was achieved; and for this piece of plain,

unassuming mahogany, he had, doubtless, a more profound veneration

than for the most costly piece of furniture that ever graced a palace.

This bench of business is large, and of oval shape, well stuffed, and

covered with fine green cloth, marked with yellow lines, denoting the

different departments of speculation. Round these compartments are

double lines, similarly marked, for the odds, or proportions, between

what is technically known as the _main_ and _chance_. In the centre, on

each side, are indented positions for the croupiers, or persons engaged

at the table in calling the main and chance, regulating the stakes, and

paying and receiving money, as the events decisive of gain and loss

occur. Over the table is suspended a three light lamp, conveniently

shaded, so as to show its full luminous power on the cloth, and, at the

same time, to protect the eyes of the croupiers from the light’s too

strong effect. At another part of the room is fixed a writing table,

or desk, where the Pluto of the place was wont to preside, to mete

out loans on draft or other security, and to answer all demands by

successful players. Chairs of easy make, dice boxes, bowls for holding

counters representing sums from £1 to £200, with small hand rakes used

by players to draw their counters from any inconvenient distance on the

table, may be said to complete the furniture, machinery, and implements

of this _great workshop_.”

It is said that during the first two seasons Crockford must have netted

about £300,000, but his expenses were heavy, the item of dice alone

(at about a guinea a pair) was £2000 per annum; three new pairs being

provided for the opening play each night, and very often as many more

called for by players, or put down by Crockford himself with a view to

change a player’s luck.

Crockford was bound by his agreement with his committee to put

down a bank, or capital, of £5000, nightly, _during the sitting of

Parliament_, and he was not permitted to terminate the play until a

stated hour, as long as any of that £5000 remained.

He died at his mansion in Carlton House Terrace, on 25 May 1844, aged

69. He died a very wealthy man, although he experienced very heavy

losses in sundry speculations. A contemporary says of him:

“The entire property amassed by Mr Crockford must have been immense,

regard being had to the fact that, exclusively of a sum of money,

amounting to nearly half a million sterling, bequeathed to his widow,

he is confidently reported to have distributed amongst his children,

about two years ago, a sum nearly equalling, if not exceeding that

amount: a circumstance not at all improbable in a man of foresight,

like Mr Crockford, and one which will fully account, as well for the

bequest of the whole bulk of his remaining fortune to his widow, as for

such bequest being absolute, and free from all condition. In estimating

the wealth acquired by Mr Crockford through the medium and success of

his French hazard bank (for this was the never-failing source of gain),

there must be taken into account the heavy and extravagant expenditure

of the establishment in St James’s Street; his own expensive, though

by no means foolishly extravagant, mode of living; the maintenance and

education of a very numerous family, the advances of money from time

to time, made to fit them out and further their prospects in life; the

expense of a racing stud; a considerable outlay in suppressing various

indictments preferred against him for his former proprietorship in

King Street, and the heavy losses more recently sustained by other

venture and speculation. It may be fairly calculated that the certain

profits of the hazard table must have embraced millions! and some idea

may be formed of the extent of evil to others consequent on such an

accumulation of capital extracted from their means.”

Captain Gronow[43] gives us a very graphic description of this club,

drawn from the life, for he was a member thereof.

“I have alluded, in my first volume, to the high play which took

place at White’s and Brookes’s in the olden time, and at Wattier’s in

the days of Brummel and the dandies. Charles Fox, George Selwyn, Lord

Carlisle, Fitzpatrick, Horace Walpole, the Duke of Queensberry, and

others, lost whole fortunes at faro, macao and hazard; almost the only

winners, indeed, of that generation were General Scott, father-in-law

of Canning, the Duke of Portland, and Lord Robert Spencer; Lord Robert,

indeed, bought the beautiful estate of Woolbidding, in Sussex, with the

proceeds of his gains by keeping the bank at Brookes’s.

“But in the reign of George IV. a new star rose upon the horizon in the

person of Mr William Crockford; and the old-fashioned game of faro,

macao and lansquenet gave place to the all-devouring thirst for the

game of hazard. Crockey, when still a young man, had relinquished the

peaceful trade of a fishmonger for a share in a “hell,” where, with his

partner Gye, he managed to win, after a sitting of twenty-four hours,

the enormous sum of one hundred thousand pounds from Lords Thanet and

Granville, Mr Ball Hughes, and two other gentlemen whose names I do not

now remember. With this capital added to his former gains, he built the

well known palace in St James’s Street, where a club was established,

and play organised, on a scale of magnificence and liberality hitherto

unknown in Europe.

“One may safely say, without exaggeration, that Crockford won the

whole of the ready money of the then existing generation. As is often

the case at Lord’s cricket ground, the great match of the gentlemen

of England against the professional players was won by the latter.

It was a very hollow thing, and in a very few years twelve hundred

thousand pounds were swept away by the fortunate fishmonger. He did

not, however, die worth more than a sixth part of this vast sum; the

difference being swallowed up in various unlucky speculations.

“No one can describe the splendour and excitement of the early days

of Crockey. A supper of the most exquisite kind, prepared by the

famous Ude, and accompanied by the best wines in the world, together

with every luxury of the season, was furnished gratis. The members

of the club included all the celebrities of England, from the Duke

of Wellington, to the youngest Ensign of the Guards; and, at the gay

and festive board, which was constantly replenished from midnight to

early dawn, the most brilliant sallies of wit, the most agreeable

conversation, the most interesting anecdotes, interspersed with grave

political discussions and acute logical reasoning on every conceivable

subject, proceeded from the soldiers, scholars, statesmen, poets and

men of pleasure, who, when the ‘house was up,’ and balls and parties

at an end, delighted to finish their evening with a little supper, and

a good deal of hazard at old Crockey’s. The tone of the club was most

excellent. A most gentlemanlike feeling prevailed, and none of the

rudeness, familiarity and ill breeding which disgrace some of the minor

clubs of the present day, would have been tolerated for a moment.

“Though not many years have elapsed since the time of which I write,

the supper table had a very different appearance from what it would

present, did the club now exist. Beards were completely unknown,

and the rare mustachios were only worn by officers of the Household

Brigade, or hussar regiments. Stiff white neckcloths, blue coats and

brass buttons, rather short waisted white waistcoats, and tremendously

embroidered shirt fronts, with gorgeous studs of great value, were

considered the right thing. A late deservedly popular Colonel in the

Guards used to give Storr & Mortimer £25 a year, to furnish him with a

new set of studs every Saturday night during the London season.

“The great foreign diplomatists, Prince Talleyrand, Count Pozzo di

Borgo, General Alava, the Duke of Palmella, Prince Esterhazy, the

French, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Austrian ambassadors, and all

persons of distinction and eminence who arrived in England, belonged

to Crockford’s as a matter of course; but many rued the day when they

became members of that fascinating but dangerous _coterie_. The great

Duke himself, always rather a friend of the dandies, did not disdain to

appear now and then at this charming club; whilst the late Lord Raglan,

Lord Anglesey, Sir Hussey Vivian, and many more of our Peninsula and

Waterloo heroes, were constant visitors. The two great novelists of the

day, who have since become great statesmen, Disraeli and Bulwer Lytton,

displayed at that brilliant supper-table, the one his sable, the other

his auburn curls; there Horace Twiss made proof of an appetite, and

Edward Montague of a thirst, which astonished all beholders; whilst

the bitter jests of Sir Joseph Copley, Colonel Armstrong, and John

Wilson Croker, and the brilliant wit of Alvanley, were the delight of

all present, and their _bon mots_ were the next day retailed all over

England.

“In the play-room might be heard the clear ringing voice of that

agreeable reprobate, Tom Duncombe, as he cheerfully called ‘Seven,’ and

the powerful hand of the vigorous Sefton in throwing for a ten. There

might be noted the scientific dribbling of a four by ‘King’ Allen, the

tremendous backing of nines and fives by Ball Hughes and Auriol, the

enormous stakes played for by Lords Lichfield and Chesterfield, George

Payne, Sir St Vincent Cotton, D’Orsay, and George Anson, and, above

all, the gentlemanly bearing and calm and unmoved demeanour, under

losses or gains, of all the men of that generation.

“The old fishmonger himself, seated snug and sly at his desk in the

corner of the room, watchful as the dragon that guarded the golden

apples of the Hesperides, would only give credit to good and approved

signatures. Who that ever entered that dangerous little room can ever

forget the large green table, with the croupiers, Page, Darking, and

Bacon, with their suave manners, sleek appearance, stiff white neck

cloths, and the almost miraculous quickness and dexterity with which

they swept away the money of the unfortunate punters when the fatal

cry of ‘Deuce ace,’ ‘Aces,’ or ‘Sixes out,’ was heard in answer to the

caster’s bold cry of ‘Seven,’ or ‘Nine,’ or ‘Five’s the main.’

“_O noctes cœnæque deûm!_ but the brightest medal has its reverse,

and after all the wit and gaiety and excitement of the night, how

disagreeable the waking up, and how very unpleasant the sight of the

little card, with its numerous figures marked down on the debtor side

in the fine bold hand of Mr Page. Alas, poor Crockey’s! shorn of its

former glory, has become a sort of refuge for the destitute, a cheap

dining-house.[44] How are the mighty fallen! Irish buckeens, spring

captains, ‘welchers’ from Newmarket, and suspicious looking foreigners,

may be seen swaggering after dinner through the marble halls, and up

that gorgeous staircase where once the chivalry of England loved to

congregate; and those who remember Crockford’s in all its glory, cast,

as they pass, a look of unavailing regret at its dingy walls, with many

a sigh to the memory of the pleasant days they passed there, and the

gay companions and noble gentlemen who have long since gone to their

last home.”

One more story about Crockford’s, told by Sir George Chetwynd,[45]

and I have done with this subject. Speaking of Mr George Payne, he

says: “Many were the stories he told of his early life, of his hunting,

of the enormous sum he lost on the Leger before he came of age, of his

never seeing daylight for a whole week in one winter, owing to being

challenged by a friend to play a certain number of games at écarté,

which resulted in their playing every night for six days till seven

o’clock in the morning. Of course it was dark then at that season, and

he used not to get up till 3.30 to 4 o’clock. He was fond of describing

Crockford’s when the conversation turned on hazard or cards, and used

to speak of the lavish way in which the old fishmonger supplied his

guests (or victims) with the finest hot-house peaches, grapes, and

every conceivable delicacy that could be obtained for money, and all

this gratis. A number of men who did not care to play at hazard, used

purposely to lose a hundred or two a year at the tables, to have the

pleasure of dining and supping with their friends, who all flocked to

the magnificent rooms, which, at night, presented the appearance of a

luxurious club. Mr Payne used to narrate that, after dinner, he would

sometimes stroll round there early, and, finding hardly anyone there

except Crockford at his desk, used to sit down and play a game of

backgammon with him, both being fine players.”

CHAPTER IX

Hells in the Quadrant, 1833—Smith _v._ Bond—Police

powers—“Confessions of a Croupier.”

The West End of London literally swarmed with gambling houses, for the

most part of a very different description from Crockford’s, as may be

seen by the two following quotations from _The Times_, Jan. 24, 1833:—

“THE HELLS IN THE QUADRANT.

“Those seats of vice (the gaming-houses) which for some time past have

existed in the Quadrant, appear to be done up, as, since Saturday,

not one of them has been opened. Since the five persons have been

apprehended, the visitors have been extremely scarce; nor was their

confidence restored, even by the proprietors having the chain up at

the street door, coupled with a fellow’s being employed at each of the

hells, to patrol before the different establishments, for the purpose

of giving the requisite information as to who sought admission into

those dens of destruction. Although a very active search has been made

for the purpose of ascertaining what has become of Daly, the clerk

of the Athenæum Club-house, who left that establishment on the 8th

instant, no trace had been found of him—one of the many lamentable

cases of loss of character and ruin which overtake those who suffer

themselves to be lured into those houses. Daly, who enjoyed the

confidence of the whole of the members, was suddenly missed on the

above day. On looking over his papers, a diary was found, from which

it appeared that he had lost large sums of money at No. 60, and, as

it has since been ascertained he was there on the previous day, it is

supposed that he lost twenty-four £5 notes, at play, which belonged to

his employers. Upon this discovery being made, some gentlemen of the

Athenæum waited on the parish officers, to ascertain whether they could

not put a stop to the gaming-houses. It was, however, found that it

could not be done unless some person would come forward and identify

those at play; a relation of Daly accordingly went to the house and

supplied the necessary proof. It was at this establishment, a few

months since, the foreigners who had been fleeced made an attempt to

rob the bank; and, shortly after that, placards were posted on the

walls in the neighbourhood of the Quadrant, cautioning persons from

going into any of the hells, as drugged wine was invariably given to

those who were going to play.”

May 9th: “Three prisoners, out of six, answered to the indictment of

keeping and maintaining a common gaming-house, and pleaded guilty.

The prosecuting counsel, Mr Clarkson, said that the house in question

was situate No. 4 Regent’s Circus, six doors from the house which was

lately prosecuted. He should have been able to prove that on February

the 7th, 9th, 12th, and 14th last, the games of _rouge et noir_ and

_roulette_ were played for sums varying from one sovereign to one

shilling. He should also have proved that on some one, or on all those

occasions, the defendants acted in the capacities of doorkeeper,

banker, and waiter. He (Mr Clarkson) was informed by the officers of

St James’s parish, that, at the last Sessions there were twenty-seven

houses of this description situate therein, and out of that number

only two had been closed in the interval, but three new ones had been

opened, so that the number had been increased rather than otherwise.

“Mr Phillips, for the defence, said that those houses had nothing to

do with the present case. He would advise the parish officers to go to

Crockford’s, not far distant from the house in question, where they

would find lords and peers of the realm at play.

“The bench sentenced two of the prisoners to three months’, and one to

fourteen days’ imprisonment, in the House of Correction, whilst the

bail of one who did not appear was estreated.”

Of the hells in London in 1833, we get a very fair notion in a long

article in _Fraser’s Magazine_ for August of that year, from which I

take the following small portion:—

“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 speedily possessed of all the money

on the table: no man who plays hazard ever despairs of 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 ride in a newly-purchased Stanhope of their own, having

several thousand pounds in their possession. The few instances of such

successes 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 (if

it only be a few shillings) their all, 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 maddening infatuation, whilst 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 procured 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, immoveable to any

power of pressure against it by the company who go to play; a circle of

inlaid white holly wood 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 to 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 a

shilling to half-a-crown, according to the terms on which the house

is known to have been 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 higher ones, there is always a set of

men who are dependent on the keepers of the house, 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 and 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 number called 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 called; the throwing then

continues, during which bets are made by others on the event until it

is decided. If the caster throws deuce ace, 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 it.

Also, if he should call six or eight, and throws the double sixes 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 equalisation of all the chances of this game when

calling a main. The odds against any number being thrown against

another 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

stakes, ready to snatch it if successful. To prevent the noise being

heard in the streets, shutters, closely fitted to the window frames,

are affixed, which are padded and covered with green baize: there is,

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 noisy

voices at the table and prevents surprise by the officers of justice.

“The generality of the minor gambling 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, strip themselves, on the spot, of their clothes,

either to stake against money or to pledge to the table keeper for a

trifle to renew their play: and many instances occur of men going home

half naked, having lost their all.

“They assemble in parties of from forty to fifty persons, who probably

bring, on an average, each night, from one to twenty shillings to play

with. As the money is lost the players depart, if they cannot borrow or

beg more; and this goes on sometimes in the winter season, for fourteen

to sixteen hours in succession; so that from 100 to 140 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 shillings

may be procured 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 admission into houses of higher play, where 2s.

6d. or 3s. 4d. is demanded for the 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 Crown

houses, and associate with gamblers of respectable exterior; where, if

they show talents, 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.”

And so things went on for ten years longer, until the scandal was too

grievous to be borne, and a Select Committee sat in Parliament, in

1844, on the subject of gaming. This was principally brought about

by the revelations in the case of _Smith_ v. _Bond_, which was tried

before Lord Abinger and a special jury at the Middlesex Sittings after

Michaelmas Term, 1842. It was a common gaming-house case brought

under the statute of Anne (9th, c. 14), which was enacted to repress

excessive gaming.

The parish of St George’s, Hanover Square, swarmed with hells, and the

efforts of the parish officers had hitherto been unable to put them

down. The play at such houses was notoriously unfair, and the keepers

had thriven in proportion to the number and wealth of the victims they

had been able to fleece. It was therefore resolved to bring an action

under this statute, which not only prohibits excessive gaming, but

enables the loser of above £10 at a sitting, to recover treble the

amount of his losses; or, if he does not choose to take this course

himself, any informer is enabled to sue for and obtain the penalty, one

half of which is to benefit the poor of the parish in which the offence

was committed, and the other half is to go to the person bringing the

action.

In the case tried before Lord Abinger, the gaming-house went by the

name of the Minor St James’s Club-house; but there was not the least

pretence for calling it a club; anybody went there to play with hardly

the formality of a first introduction. The keepers did a thriving

trade, at French Hazard chiefly, and it was proved by the plaintiff,

who had been one of the coterie who kept the table, that Mr Bredell had

lost £200, Mr Fitzroy Stanhope £50, the Marquis of Conyngham £500 on

each of two separate occasions, Lord Cantalupe £400, and other noblemen

and gentlemen various sums.

An ingenious plea was put in by counsel on behalf of Bond, the keeper

of the so-called club, that the sums in question were paid by cheques,

and as a cheque is not held to be a payment in law until cashed, and

as the banks at which the cheques were payable were not in the parish

of St George’s, Hanover Square, the offence was not completed in that

parish, and the plaintiff could not recover. The Chief Baron overruled

the objection, and under his direction the jury returned a verdict

for the plaintiff for £3508, being treble the amount actually proved

to have been lost, thus teaching a very useful lesson to the keepers

of gaming-houses generally. Had Lords Conyngham and Cantalupe and Mr

Stanhope come forward as witnesses, and certified to their losses on

the two occasions mentioned, additional penalties would have accrued to

the amount of £5820.

The Act of 1822 (3 Geo. IV., c. 114) was still in force, by which

a gaming-house keeper might be imprisoned with hard labour, and the

Police Act of 1839 (2 and 3 Vic., c. 47, § 48) provided that “it shall

be lawful for the Commissioners, by Order in Writing, to authorize the

Superintendent to enter any such House, or Room, with such Constables

as shall be directed by the Commissioners to accompany him, and, if

necessary, to use Force for the Purpose of effecting such Entry,

whether by breaking open Doors, or otherwise, and to take into Custody

all Persons who shall be found therein, and to seize and destroy all

Tables and Instruments of gaming found in such House, or Premises; and,

also, to seize all Monies and Securities for Money found therein, and

the Owner, or Keeper of the said Gaming-House, or other person having

the Care and Management thereof; and, also, every Banker, Croupier,

and other Person who shall act in any manner in conducting the said

Gaming-House, shall be liable to a Penalty of not more than One Hundred

Pounds; or, in the discretion of the Magistrate before whom he shall be

convicted of the Offence, may be committed to the House of Correction,

with or without hard Labour, for a Time not more than Six Calendar

Months; and, upon Conviction of any such Offender, all the Monies and

Securities for Monies, which shall have been seized, as aforesaid,

shall be paid to the said Receiver, to be, by him, applied towards

defraying the Charge of the Police of the Metropolis; and every Person

found in such Premises, without lawful Excuse, shall be liable to a

Penalty of not more than Five Pounds.”

But all this legislation was of no use; the gaming-tables continued to

flourish until after the Report of the Select Committee. What they were

like at that time may best be learnt by the following extract from an

article in _Bentley’s Magazine_ for June 1844, entitled “A Fashionable

Gaming-house, Confessions of a Croupier.”

“The—— gaming-house,—— Street, some years ago, was kept by three

well-known individuals. After passing through two lobbies you entered

the play-room, which formed a _coup d’œil_ of no ordinary attraction.

It was a large room, richly carpeted. Two rich and massive chandeliers,

suspended from the ceiling, showed the dazzling gilt and colour of the

empanelled walls; from which, at alternate distances, extended elegant

mirror branches with lights. The chimney piece was furnished with a

plate of glass, which reached the ceiling, the sides were concealed

by falling drapery of crimson and gold, and supported by two gilt

full-length figures bearing lights. At the opposite end were placed

two _beaufets_, furnished with costly plate, glass, etc. In the middle

was fixed the hazard table, of a long oval form, having an adumbrated

lamp hanging over the centre. On the right stood the _rouge et noir_

and _roulette_ tables, idly placed, ‘to make up a show.’ Not so that on

the left, for, there, stood the supper table. This was laid out with

viands worthy the contemplation of an epicure, on whitest damask, in

costly china, and in forms delicate and _recherché_. Everything which

might court the most fastidious taste was there spread in luxuriant

profusion; game, poultry, ham, tongue, not forgetting the substantial

sirloin; lobster salads, oysters, _en outre les petites misères_;

confectionery and preserves; creams, jellies, and pine apples. Silver

candelabra lighted each end of this long and well supplied table,

while the middle was reserved for the display of one of still greater

magnificence, said to have been designed and executed for his Royal

Highness, the late Duke of——. It was composed of a large figure of

Hercules contending with the Hydra with seven heads. This gorgeous

piece of plate supported seven wax lights. Iolaus (who assisted

Hercules) was, also, represented, bearing the lighted brand wherewith

to staunch the blood, lest another head should spring from the wound.”

This is much; but when to this is added—

‘Something, still, which prompts the eternal sigh!’

ONE THOUSAND SOVEREIGNS! a shining golden heap! and TEN THOUSAND POUNDS

in notes! the reader may imagine the scene which every evening met the

eye. Yes! every evening, into a silver vase, which stood on the hazard

table, were emptied ten bags, each containing one hundred sovereigns!

On some evenings, there would, perhaps, be no play, and insufferably

tedious would have been the hours from eleven till three but for the

relief offered by some tragi-comic incident. The London season was

about to open; the Newmarket Spring Meeting had just closed, and

Tattersall’s, consequently, exhibited a slight gathering. The members

of Crockford’s, as yet, presented a meagre attendance; the Opera Bills

announced attractive novelties, and the minor theatres promised their

many marvels. In fact, the busy, bustling hive of human interests was

on the move. The dormant began to stir, the watchful to speculate; the

beauty to take her promenade in the yet pale sunshine; the invalid to

snatch his walk at the meridian hour; the gambler to devise his means

of expense, and the banker-hell-keeper how to frustrate them.

It was one evening, about this period, that a party entered to try

the fortune of an hour. The result of the evening’s play was against

the bank. One of the visitors won five hundred pounds, which, for a

whim, he took away in gold. He tied the sovereigns up in a white pocket

handkerchief, threw them over his shoulder, and, in that manner, walked

up St James’s Street. From that night, the same party continued to

visit us; and, with occasional droppers in of ex-colonels, majors,

captains, etc., we, generally, made up a table. What! enter again,

after having won five hundred pounds! ‘Oh! infatuated man,’ I hear the

reader exclaim. Yes! for of all things unfathomable and absorbing,

there is nothing so unfathomably deep as the desires of the human

heart, when stimulated by the excitement of speculation.

For some weeks the play had been constant, and, as the season advanced,

the company increased, and the money began to return to the bank.

Sometimes play began late, perhaps not till after one.

Among our very constant visitors was a gallant captain. He came early,

and was good to lose a hundred pounds, and satisfied to win fifty. His

entrance was always met by a ready welcome.

‘Here comes the gallant captain! How are you, captain?’

‘Hearty, thank ye!’ he replied. ‘I say, how was it that my cheque was

not paid this morning?’

‘Not paid! you’re joking, captain!’

‘Joking!’ replied the captain. ‘No, I’ll be d—d if it is a joke.’

The captain, on the previous evening, having won, had put up his

counters and wished for a fifty pound note.

‘Certainly,’ said one of the triumvirs, looking into the box. ‘A fifty,

did you say, captain? I am sorry to say I have not got a fifty. Make

it a hundred, captain. You will soon do it if you put it down a little

spicy.’

‘No,’ rejoined the captain, ‘I don’t want to play any more, for I must

leave town early to-morrow morning.’

‘Well; but what is to be done?’ said the manager. Then, calling to his

partner, he inquired if he had a fifty pound note for Captain——.

‘No, I have not; but I will write a cheque for him; that will be all

the same.’

Away went the captain, as light hearted as a cricket, to sleep away the

few remaining hours that intervened before another day wakes us all to

our divers duties. Who has not noticed the punctuality of the banker’s

clerks wending their way to their daily toil. Not quite so early as

these, yet not much later, did the captain doff his night gear; then

made his appearance at the banker’s, nothing doubting. He presents ‘the

bit o’ writin’’ ‘Two twenties and ten in gold.’ The clerk puts forward

his attenuated fingers, examines it: a pause ensues. How can it be? The

date is right, and the autograph is genuine; but there is no order to

pay it.

‘No order to pay it?’ echoed the captain, much annoyed.

Between ourselves, the private mark was wanting: which was, perhaps, a

pin hole, or not a pin hole.

On the evening I have referred to, he received counters for this

cheque, and was, already, deep in the game, when the _chef_ made his

appearance. The above _ruse_ was frequently resorted to.

It is customary to lend money to parties on cheque, or otherwise,

if the applicants are considered safe. One of the visitors, who was

passionately addicted to play and the turf, having lost his ready

money, borrowed three hundred pounds in counters, and, having lost

these also, gave a cheque for the amount; but with this condition,

that it should not be sent in to his banker’s in the country for some

few days. No sooner, however, was his back turned than an _employé_

was instructed to start off very early the following morning to get

the cheque cashed; the date, which was left open, being first clapped

in. The cheque was paid; and two or three nights afterwards the

young gentleman came for an explanation of the circumstance, and to

remonstrate. The poor _employé_, as usual, was made the scapegoat, and

was roundly abused for his stupidity in not understanding that he was

particularly ordered not to present it till further notice.

It was the practice, also, to present post-dated cheques, which had

been refused payment, and even to sue on them. Sometimes, after an

evening’s play, a gentleman would find himself the winner of a couple

of hundred pounds, when, all but folding up the notes, and preparing

to go, he would find, to his mortification, a small account against

him, of, perhaps, seventy or eighty pounds. ‘Eighty pounds! impossible!

there must be some mistake.’ Expostulation was vain. ‘It is down in the

book. It is perfectly correct, you may rest assured. I pledge you my

honour of this.’

Sometimes it happened that a gentleman would borrow one hundred pounds,

of course in counters, on a cheque or a short bill. Perhaps he might

win thirty or forty pounds, in which case, the one hundred pounds in

counters would be taken from him and his cheque returned, and he would

be left to do his best with the small capital remaining to him, with

the privilege of renewing the transaction, should he lose it. Counters,

so borrowed, were not allowed to be lent to a friend.

Nevertheless, it may seem not a bad ‘hedge,’ technically speaking, to

have the opportunity of borrowing hundred after hundred, as some people

would do, till a hand came off. I have known persons to come in without

a penny, and declare the Caster, in or out, ten pounds, and losing

the bet, would ask for a hundred pounds, would receive it and lose

it, and receive in the same way to the amount of six or seven hundred

pounds, and then would declare that they would not pay one farthing

unless accommodated with another hundred. I have known a man of high

rank lose to the amount of fourteen hundred pounds, on account, which,

under the circumstances, his lordship had more sense than to pay. But,

for the bold style, I will quote a city wine merchant. Having lost

his cash, he requested a hundred pounds, which he received; he then

asked for another, which he also received. He demanded another! After

a few words, and a reference to a friend then at the table, this, too,

was given to him, and a cheque for £300 was received for the advance

made. It so happened that the third hundred was lost also. He, then,

peremptorily demanded more, and, upon being refused, he requested to

see the cheque, disputing the amount, which being handed to him, he

immediately tore it to pieces, and left the room.

* * * * *

It may be thought that a gentleman who has lost above a thousand pounds

in a gaming-house may have the right of _entrée_ by prescription.

Nothing is more unlike the fact. From the height of his prosperity

to its declension, every occultation in his course is noted with the

nicest observation; for instance, playing for lower stakes, a more

febrile excitement when losing, occasionally borrowing of a friend, a

cheque not punctually paid; and, finally, a small sum borrowed of the

bank, to enable him to take up a bill under a very pressing emergency.

These are the little circumstances which lead to his ultimate

exclusion. On some fine evening during the ensuing season, he calls,

thinking to be admitted as heretofore; but he is stopped at the first

door with the ready excuse, that ‘there is nothing doing.’ On the next

call, he is told ‘there is no play going on.’

‘No play? So you said the last time I called; and I have since

understood from a friend that there was play. Let me in; I want to see

the manager.’

‘He is not in, sir.’

‘Oh, very well, I shall take some other opportunity of seeing him.’

When he does see the _chef_, the latter expresses most sincere regret

at the occurrence, and makes a most specious promise to have the

interdict removed. Thus assured, who is now to oppose his entrance? Not

the porter, surely! Yes; the very same person still insists that the

great man is not within; that he knows nothing about the explanation

given, and, therefore, cannot admit him. Thus repulsed, the applicant

murmurs a threat about not paying, and thus ends the matter.”

CHAPTER X

Select Committee on Gaming, 1844—Evidence.

Such, then, was gambling, when the Select Committee on gaming sat in

1844, and Mr (afterwards Sir) Richard Mayne, in his evidence, shows the

craftiness of the gaming-house keepers, and the difficulties of the

police in obtaining a conviction. He says:—

“Superintendent Baker was the Superintendent who entered all those

houses. With the permission of the Committee, I will read his report,

in which he states the difficulties he has met with: ‘I beg, most

respectfully, to lay before the Commissioners a few observations for

their consideration, being extremely anxious that something more

should be done respecting the gaming-houses, to put them down, which

are the cause of so many young men’s ruin, and, at the same time, show

to the Commissioners the difficulties I have to contend with, before

an entry can be effected; from the reluctance of the housekeepers to

make the required affidavits, from not wishing to have their names

brought forward in such matters; also, from the great difficulty in

gaining an entrance to a gaming-house, from their extreme caution and

watchfulness, besides the strength of their doors and fastenings,

which gives them ample time to remove any implement of gaming from the

premises: their vigilance is such that it is impossible to obtain an

entry for the purpose of seeing play, unless treachery is used with

some of the players, which is attended by danger and great expense. On

the slightest alarm, the cloths, which are thrown loose over a common

table, &c., are, in one moment, removed, and secreted about the persons

of the keepers, &c.; and, as the present law stands, the police are

not empowered to search them at all: there are no complaints from the

housekeepers respecting the gaming-houses, and, in every instance

of putting them down, the police have been obliged almost to compel

them to go to the police court to swear to the necessary affidavits;

such has been their reluctance. As the present law stands, before

I can enter a gaming-house with safety, I am obliged to go through

the following forms: 1st, to make such inquiry as to leave no doubt

that gaming is carried on in a house; 2nd, to make a report of the

circumstance to the Commissioners; 3rd, to show the said report to

the housekeepers residing in the parish and neighbourhood where the

house is situated, and the offence carried on, for them to make the

necessary affidavits; 4th, to prepare affidavits for the housekeepers

to sign, in the presence of the magistrates; 5th, to make a report

of the same to the Commissioners when sworn to; 6th, to make out the

Commissioners’ warrant for me and the police under my command to

enter; 7th, to endeavour, if possible, to get an officer in disguise

into the gaming-house to witness play being carried on, previous to

my entry, which is the most difficult task to encounter, as no one is

admitted unless brought there by a Bonnet or a play-man, as a pigeon

or freshman, commonly known as Punters or Flats. Since my entry into

No. 34 St James’s Street, kept by Isaiah Smart, whose son was killed

by a fall from the roof in endeavouring to escape from the police,

there is no doubt the gamblers have exercised the greatest ingenuity in

their power in order to entrap me into a false entry on their premises

by lighting up the rooms as if play was going on; employing persons

to watch, both outside and in, to give the alarm on the appearance of

any of the police passing; so that, if I was tempted to make an entry

without taking the precaution of having an officer inside to prove

gaming, there is not the least doubt but that they would instantly

catch at the opportunity of bringing an action against me for trespass,

&c., and thereby effect my ruin. I have received information that such

is the case in the event of my making one false step, and which I have

every reason to believe is true.’”

Crockford was examined, but the Committee got very little out of that

old fox, except the fact that he had given up all active connection

with the establishment in St James’s Street for over four years.

Mr Mayne was recalled on the 9th May 1844, and gave evidence that,

two nights previously, an entry was made into all houses, known to be

gaming-houses in town, seventeen in number, with the result of a fine

haul of men, money, and gaming implements.

The outcome of the Select Committees of both Houses of Parliament

was the passing, on 8th August 1845, of 8-9 Vic., c. 109, “An Act to

amend the Law against Games and Wagers”—and for many years afterwards

professional gaming-houses in London were a tradition of the past. Now,

however, they abound, thanks to the laxity of the law with regard to

so-called clubs.

* * * * *

Here, then, ends the account of this phase of gambling, as it has been

thought inexpedient to give any modern instances of play at so-called

Clubs, or Card-sharping.

CHAPTER XI

Wagers and Betting—Samson—Greek and Roman betting—In the 17th

Century—“Lusty Packington”—The rise of betting in the 18th

Century—Walpole’s story of White’s—Betting in the House of

Commons—Story by Voltaire—Anecdotes of betting—Law suit concerning

the Chevalier d’Eon.

Betting, or rather, that peculiar form of wager which consists in a

material pledge in corroboration of controverted assertions, is of very

ancient date, and we meet with it in one of the early books of the

Bible, see Judges xiv. where in vv. 12, 13, Samson makes a distinct

bet—owns he has lost in v. 18, and pays his bet, v. 19.

“12. And Samson said unto them, I will now put a riddle unto you: if

ye can certainly declare it me within the seven days of the feast, and

find it out, then I will give you thirty sheets and thirty changes of

garments.

“13. But, if ye cannot declare it me, then shall you give me thirty

sheets and thirty changes of garments. And they said unto him, put

forth thy riddle that we may hear it.

“14. And he said unto them, out of the eater came forth meat, and out

of the strong came forth sweetness. And they could not, in three days,

expound the riddle.

“15. And it came to pass, on the seventh day, that they said unto

Samson’s wife, Entice thy husband, that he may declare unto us the

riddle, lest we burn thee and thy father’s house with fire: have ye

called us to take that we have? is it not so?

“16. And Samson’s wife wept before him, and said, Thou dost but hate

me, and lovest me not: thou hast put forth a riddle unto the children

of my people, and hast not told it me. And he said unto her, I have not

told it my father, nor my mother, and shall I tell it thee?

“17. And she wept before him the seven days, while the feast lasted;

and it came to pass, on the seventh day, that he told her, because

she lay sore upon him: and she told the riddle to the children of her

people.

“18. And the men of the city said unto him, on the seventh day, before

the sun went down, what is sweeter than honey? and what is stronger

than a lion? And he said unto them, if ye had not plowed with my

heifer, ye had not found out my riddle.

“19. And the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, and he went down to

Ashkelon, and slew thirty men of them, and took their spoil, and gave

changes of raiment unto them which expounded the riddle. And his anger

was kindled, and he went up to his father’s house.

“20. But Samson’s wife was given to his companion, whom he had used as

his friend.”

Now, in this very ancient story, we find embodied as much roguery and

crime as in any modern turf episode. Samson bet without any means of

paying, if he lost: he lost, and was a defaulter. But, to pay this

“debt of honour,” he had recourse to wholesale murder and robbery—to

satisfy men, who to his own knowledge, had (to use a modern expression)

“tampered with the stable.”

The early Greeks betted, as we find in Homer’s _Iliad_, b. xxiii. 485-7

where Idomeneus offers a bet to the lesser Ajax to back his own opinion:

Δεῦρό νυν ή τρίποδος περιδώμεθον, ἠὲ λέβετος̓

Ἳστορα δ̓ Ἀτρείδην Ἀγαμέμνονα θείομεν ὕμφω.

Ὀππότεραι πρόθ̓ ἵπποἰ ἵνα γνοίης ὰποτίνων.

“Now, come on!

A wager stake we, of tripod, or of caldron;

And make we both Atreidès Agamemnon

Judge, whether foremost are those mares: and so

Learn shalt thou, to thy cost!”

In Homer’s _Odyssey_, xxiii. 78, Eurycleia wagers her life to Penelope

that Ulysses has returned: Aristophanes in his _Equites_, 791;

_Acharnes_, 772, 1115; and _Nebulæ_, 644, gives examples of wagers;

and, in the eighth idyll of Theocritus, Daphins proposes a bet to

Menalcas about a singing match.

Among the Romans, Virgil tells us of a wager in his third _Eclogue_ of

the _Bucolics_, 28-50, between Menalcas and Damœtas, which is virtually

the same as that of Theocritus, and Valerius Maximus tells us how a

triumph was awarded by the senate to Lutatius, the Consul, who had

defeated the Carthaginian fleet. The prætor Valerius, having also been

present in the action, asserted that the victory was his, and that a

triumph was due to him also. The question came before the judge; but

not until Valerius had first, in support of his assertion, deposited a

stake, against which Lutatius deposited another. But in classical time

they seem to have known little about odds.

The word wager is an English word—and was spelt in Middle English,

_Wageoure_, or _Wajour_, as in _The Babee’s Book_.

“No _waiour_ non with hym thou lay,

Ne at the dyce with hym to play.”

It was in early use, for we have the _Wager of Battel_, which was a

practical bet between two men as to the justice of their cause. This

ordeal was in force until 1819, when it was done away with by 59 Geo.

III., c. 46.

In Shakespeare’s time betting was common, and the practice of giving

and taking odds was well known, as we may see in _Hamlet_, Act v. s. 2,

where Osrick, speaking to Hamlet, says, “The King, sir, hath wagered

with him six Barbary horses; against which he hath imponed, as I take

it, six French Rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdles,

hangers and so.” In _Cymbeline_, Act i. s. 5, we have a bet, which is

so serious that it has to be recorded. Iachimo says, “I dare thereupon

pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which, in my opinion,

o’ervalues it something,” and, ultimately, ten thousand crowns are laid

against the ring, and Iachimo says, “I will fetch my gold, and have our

two wagers recorded.”

By the way, there was an epitaph on Combe, the usurer, which has been

attributed to Shakespeare, which intimates the laying of odds.

“Ten in the hundred lies here ingraved;

‘Tis a hundred to ten, his soul is not sav’d.”

It is recorded of Sir John Packington, called “Lusty Packington” (Queen

Elizabeth called him “her Temperance”), that he entered into articles

to swim against three noblemen for £3000 from Westminster Bridge to

Greenwich; but the queen, by her special command, prevented the bet

being carried out.

Howell in his _Epistolæ Ho-Elianæ_ says: “If one would try a petty

conclusion how much smoke there is in a pound of Tobacco, the ashes

will tell him: for, let a pound be exactly weighed, and the ashes kept

charily and weighed afterwards, what wants of a pound weight in the

ashes, cannot be denied to have been smoke which evaporated into air. I

have been told that Sir Walter Rawleigh won a wager of Queen Elizabeth

upon this nicety.”

Men betted, but their wagers are not recorded until the eighteenth

century, and one of the earliest of these is told in _Malcolm’s

Anecdotes of the Manners and Customs of London during the eighteenth

century_. “Mrs Crackenthorpe, the Female Tatler of 1709, tells us ‘that

four worthy Senators lately threw their hats into a river, laid a crown

each whose hat should first swim to the mill, and ran hallooing after

them; and he that won the prize, was in a greater rapture than if he

had carried the most dangerous point in Parliament.’”

“There was an established Cock pit in Prescot Street, Goodman’s

Fields, 1712: there the Gentlemen of the East entertained themselves,

while the Nobles and others of the West were entertained by the

edifying exhibition of the agility of their running footmen. His

Grace of Grafton declared _his_ man was unrivalled in speed; and the

Lord Cholmondeley betted him that _his_ excelled even the unrivalled;

accordingly, the ground was prepared for a two mile heat, in Hyde Park;

the race was run, _and one of the parties was victor_, but _which_, my

informant does not say.”

“I have frequently observed, in the course of my researches, the

strange methods and customs peculiar to gaming, horse racing, dice and

wagers; the latter are generally governed by whim and extreme folly.

We have already noticed Noblemen running their Coaches and Footmen. In

1729, a Poulterer of Leadenhall Market betted £50, he would walk 202

times round the area of Upper Moorfields in 27 hours, and, accordingly,

proceeded at the rate of five miles an hour on the _amusing pursuit_,

to the infinite improvement of his business, and great edification of

hundreds of spectators. Wagers are now a favourite custom with too many

of the Londoners; they very frequently, however, originate over the

bottle, or the porter pot.”

“To characterise the follies of the day, it will be necessary to add

to the account of the _walking_ man, another, of a _hopping man_, who

engaged to hop 500 yards, in 50 hops, in St James’s Park, which he

performed in 46. This important event occurred in December 1731.”

In No. 145 of the _Spectator_ (16th Aug. 1711) is a letter about

the prevalence of laying wagers. “Among other things which your own

experience must suggest to you, it will be very obliging if you please

to take notice of wagerers.

* * * * *

“Not long ago, I was relating that I had read such a passage in

Tacitus; up starts my young gentleman, in a full company, and,

pulling out his purse, offered to lay me ten guineas, to be staked,

immediately, in that gentleman’s hands, pointing to one smoking at

another table, that I was utterly mistaken. I was dumb for want of ten

guineas; he went on unmercifully to triumph over my ignorance how to

take him up, and told the whole room he had read Tacitus twenty times

over, and such a remarkable incident as that, could not escape him. He

has, at this time, three considerable wagers depending between him and

some of his companions, who are rich enough to hold an argument with

him. He has five guineas upon questions in geography, two that the

Isle of Wight is a peninsula, and three guineas to one, that the world

is round. We have a gentleman comes to our coffee house, who deals

mightily in antique scandal; my disputant has laid him twenty pieces

upon a point of history.”

It was in the early part of the eighteenth century that betting

was made a part of professional gambling, as we read in Smollett’s

_Adventures of Ferdinand, Count Fathom_. On his return to England “he

perceived that gaming was now managed in such a manner, as rendered

skill and dexterity of no advantage; for the spirit of play having

overspread the land, like a pestilence, raged to such a degree of

madness and desperation, that the unhappy people who were infected,

laid aside all thoughts of amusement, economy, or caution, and risqued

their fortunes upon issues equally extravagant, childish and absurd.

“The whole mystery of the art was reduced to the simple exercise of

tossing up a guinea, and the lust of laying wagers, which they indulged

to a surprising pitch of ridiculous intemperance. In one corner of the

room might be heard a pair of lordlings running their grandmothers

against each other, that is, betting sums on the longest liver;

in another, the success of the wager depended upon the sex of the

landlady’s next child: one of the waiters happening to drop down in an

apoplectic fit, a certain noble peer exclaimed, ‘Dead, for a thousand

pounds.’ The challenge was immediately accepted; and when the master of

the house sent for a surgeon to attempt the cure, the nobleman, who set

the price upon the patient’s head, insisted upon his being left to the

efforts of nature alone, otherwise the wager should be void: nay, when

the landlord harped upon the loss he should sustain by the death of a

trusty servant, his lordship obviated the objection, by desiring that

the fellow might be charged in the bill.”

Horace Walpole in a letter to Sir H. Mann (1 Sep. 1750) tells a

similar tale. “They have put in the papers a good story made on

White’s; a man dropped down dead at the door, was carried in; the club

immediately made bets whether he was dead or not, and when they were

going to bleed him, the wagerers for his death interposed, and said

it would affect the fairness of the bet.” But there is no such bet

mentioned in White’s betting book.

They even betted in the House of Commons. In the course of a debate Mr

Pulteney charged Sir Robert Walpole with misquoting Horace; the prime

minister replied by offering to bet that he had not done so, and the

wager was accepted. The clerk of the House was called upon to decide

the question, and declared Pulteney right; upon which Sir Robert threw

a guinea across the House, to be picked up by his opponent, with the

remark that it was the first public money he had touched for a long

time.

Brookes’ betting book has C. J. Fox’s name frequently. In 1744 he bet

Lord Northington that he would be called to the Bar within four years

time. In 1755, he received one guinea from Lord Bolingbroke, upon

condition of paying him a thousand pounds when the debts of the country

amounted to a hundred and seventy-one millions; an event Fox lived to

see come to pass.

In the _Connoisseur_ of 9th May 1754 is an article on the prevalence

of wagers. It says: “Tho’ most of our follies are imported from France,

this had its rise and progress entirely in England. In the last illness

of Louis XIV. Lord Stair laid a wager on his death; and we may guess

what the French thought of it, from the manner in which Voltaire

mentions it, in his _Siècle de Louis XIV_. ‘Le roi fut attaqué vers

le milieu du mois d’Août. Le Comte de Stair, ambassadeur d’Angleterre

_paria, selon le génie de sa nation_, que le roi ne passeroit pas le

mois de Septembre.’ ‘The King,’ says he, ‘was taken ill about the

middle of August; when Lord Stair, the Ambassador from England, _betted

according to the custom of his nation_, that the king would not live

beyond September.’

I am in some pain lest this custom should get among the ladies. They

are, at present, very deep in cards and dice; and while my lord is

gaining abroad, her ladyship has her rout at home. I am inclined

to suspect that our women of fashion will, also, learn to divert

themselves with this polite practice of laying wagers. A birthday suit,

the age of a beauty, who invented a particular fashion, or who were

supposed to be together at the last masquerade, would, frequently give

occasion for bets. This would, also, afford them a new method for the

ready propagation of scandal, as the truth of several stories which are

continually flitting about the town, would, naturally, be brought to

the same test. Should they proceed further, to stake the lives of their

acquaintances against each other, they would, doubtless, bet with the

same fearless spirit, as they are known to do at _brag_; one husband

would, perhaps, be pitted against another, or a woman of the town

against a maid of honour. In a word, if this once becomes fashionable

among the ladies, we shall soon see the time, when an allowance for bet

money will be stipulated in the marriage articles.

As the vices and follies of persons of distinction are very apt to

spread, I am much afraid lest this branch of gaming should descend to

the common people. Indeed, it seems already to have got among them.

We have frequent accounts of tradesmen riding, walking, eating and

drinking for a wager. The contested election in the City has occasioned

several extraordinary bets. I know a butcher in Leadenhall Market, who

laid an ox to a shin of beef on the success of Sir John Barnard against

the field; and have been told of a publican in Thames Street, who

ventured a hogshead of entire beer on the candidate who serves him with

beer.”

Walpole tells one or two stories about betting in the course of

his chatty letters. “Dec. 19, 1750. There has been a droll cause in

Westminster Hall: a man laid another a wager that he produced a person

who should weigh as much again as the Duke.[46] When they had betted,

they recollected not knowing how to desire the Duke to step into a

scale. They agreed to establish his weight at twenty stone, which,

however, is supposed to be two more than he weighs. One Bright,[47] was

then produced, who is since dead, and who, actually, weighed forty-two

stone and a half. As soon as he was dead, the person who had lost,

objected that he had been weighed in his clothes, and though it was

impossible that his clothes could weigh above two stone, they went to

law. There were the Duke’s twenty stone bawled over a thousand times;

but the righteous law decided against the man who had won!”

“10th July 1774. One of them has committed a murder, and intends

to repeat it. He betted £1500 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 appeared since. Another man

and ship are to be tried for their lives, instead of Mr Blake, the

assassin.”

On 30 June 1765 a wager of 1000 guineas was decided between two

noblemen, one of whom had constructed a machine which was to work a

boat at the rate of 25 miles an hour: a canal was prepared near the

banks of the Thames, on which to try it, but the tackle breaking, the

bet was lost.

28 Feb. 1770. A bet was laid by a noble earl that he would procure

a man to ride to Edinburgh from London, and back, in less time than

another noble earl could make a million of scores, or distinct dots, in

the most expeditious manner that he could contrive.

On 12th June 1771 was tried before Lord Mansfield and a special jury,

in the Court of King’s Bench, a cause wherein Lord March was plaintiff,

and Mr Pigot, defendant. The action was brought to recover the sum

of 500 guineas for a wager which Lord March had laid with Mr Pigot,

whether Sir William Codrington or old Mr Pigot would die first. Mr

Pigot happened to die suddenly from gout in his head on the morning

previous to the laying of the wager, and the younger Mr Pigot thought,

from this circumstance, that it was no bet. The defendant’s counsel

said, that if you make a bet for two horses to run, and one of them

should die before the race came off, there could be no bet; and he

hoped that the jury would find for his client. After a short charge

from the judge, the jury brought in a verdict for the plaintiff of 500

guineas, and full costs of suit.

On 1st July 1777 a case came before the Lord Chief-Justice Mansfield,

which is one of the most extraordinary that ever was tried in a Court

of Justice, respecting the sex of the Chevalier d’Eon, formerly

ambassador to England from the Court of France.

The action was brought by Mr Hayes, surgeon, against one Jacques, a

broker and underwriter, for the recovery of £700, the said Jacques

having, about six years previously, received premiums of fifteen

guineas per cent., for every one of which he stood engaged to return

_one hundred guineas_, whenever it should be proved that the Chevalier

d’Eon was, actually, a woman.

Mr Buller opened the case as counsel for Mr Hayes. He stated the

fairness of the transaction, and the justifiable nature of the demand,

as Mr Hayes, the plaintiff, thought himself now to be in possession of

that proof which would determine the sex of the Chevalier d’Eon, and,

for ever, render the case indisputable.

In proof of the fact, M. de Goux, a surgeon, was the first witness

called, and gave his testimony to the following effect: That he had

been acquainted with the Chevalier d’Eon from the time when the Duc de

Nivernois resided in England in quality of ambassador from the Court of

France. That to his certain knowledge, the person called the Chevalier

d’Eon was a woman.

Being closely interrogated by the counsel for the defendant, as to the

mode of his acquiring such a degree of certainty relative to the sex

of the party, M. de Goux gave this account of the matter: That, about

five years ago, he was called in by the Chevalier d’Eon, to lend his

professional aid, as she, at that time, laboured under a disorder which

rendered an examination of the afflicted part absolutely necessary.

That this examination led, of course, to that discovery of the sex of

which M. de Goux was now enabled to give such testimony.

The second witness called on the part of the plaintiff was M. de

Morande. He swore that, so long ago as the 3rd of July 1774, the

Chevalier d’Eon made a free disclosure of her sex to the witness. That

she had even proceeded so far as to display her bosom on the occasion.

That, in consequence of this disclosure of sex, she, the Chevalier

d’Eon, had exhibited the contents of her female wardrobe, which

consisted of sacques, petticoats, and other habiliments calculated

for feminine use. That, on the said 3rd day of July 1774, the witness

paid a morning visit to the Chevalier d’Eon, and, finding her in bed,

accosted her in a style of gallantry respecting her sex. That, so far

from being offended with this freedom, the said Chevalier desired the

witness to approach nearer to her bed, and then permitted him to have

manual proof of her being, in very truth, a woman.

Mr Mansfield, on the part of the defendant, pleaded that this was one

of those gambling, indecent and unnecessary cases, that ought never

to be permitted to come into a Court of Justice; that, besides the

inutility and indecency of the case, the plaintiff had taken advantage

of his client, being in possession of intelligence that enabled him

to lay with greater certainty, although with such great odds on his

side; that the plaintiff, at the time of laying the wager, knew that

the Court of France treated with the Chevalier, as a woman, to grant

her a pension; and that the French Court must have had some strong

circumstances to imbibe that idea; therefore, he hoped the jury would

reprobate such wagers. The defendant’s counsel did not attempt to

contradict the plaintiff’s’ evidence, by proving the masculine gender.

Lord Mansfield expressed his abhorrence of the whole transaction, and

the more so, for their bringing it into a Court of Justice, when it

might have been settled elsewhere; wishing it had been in his power,

in concurrence with the jury, to have made both parties lose; but, as

the law had not expressly prohibited it, and the wager was laid, the

question before them was, who had won? His Lordship remarked that the

indecency of the proceeding arose more from the unnecessary questions

asked, than from the case itself; that the witnesses had declared

they perfectly knew the Chevalier d’Eon to be a woman; if she is not

a woman, they are certainly perjured: there was, therefore, no need

of inquiring how, or by what methods they knew it, which was all the

indecency.

As to the fraud suggested, of the plaintiff’s knowing more than the

defendant, he seemed to think there was no foundation for it. His

Lordship then recited a wager entered into by two gentlemen, in his own

presence, about the dimensions of the Venus de Medicis, for £100. One

of the gentlemen said, “I will not deceive you; I tell you fairly, I

have been there, and measured it myself.” “Well,” says the other, “and

do you think I should be such a fool, as to lay if I had not measured

it?... I will lay for all that.”

His Lordship then went on to state to the jury, that this Chevalier

had publicly appeared as a man, had been employed by the Court of

France, as a man, as a military man, in a civil office, and as a

Minister of State here, and in Russia; there was all the presumption

against the plaintiff, and the _onus probandi_ lay upon him, which

might never been come at; for it appeared, the only proposition of a

discovery of sex that had been made to the Chevalier, by some gentlemen

on an excursion, had been resented by d’Eon, who had instantly quitted

their company on that account: it might, therefore, never have been in

his power to have proved his wager, but for some accidental quarrels

between d’Eon and some of her countrymen. His Lordship was, therefore,

of opinion that the jury should find a verdict for the plaintiff.

The jury, without hesitation, gave a verdict for the plaintiff, £700,

and 40s. Yet, when d’Eon died, in London, in 1810, _it was proved,

without a shadow of a doubt, that he was a man_.

CHAPTER XII

Gluttonous Wager—Walk to Constantinople and back—Sir John Lade

and Lord Cholmondeley—Other Wagers—Betting on Napoleon—Bet on a

Coat—Lord Brougham—Brunel and Stephenson—Captain Barclay—Story by

Mr Ross—The Earl of March’s Coach—Selby’s drive to Brighton—White’s

betting book.

A different kind of wager is recorded in _The World_, of 4th May

1787. “At the Wheel, at Hackington Fen, on Wednesday sen’night, a fen

farmer laid a wager he could eat _two dozen_ of penny mutton pies,

and drink a gallon of ale in half an hour, which he performed _with

ease_, in half the time, and said he had but a _scanty_ supper and

wished for something more; in less than half an hour after, he ate a

threepenny loaf and a pound of cheese, and still swore he was hungry.

The landlord, unwilling to starve his _delicate guest_, set before him

a leg of pork, which his voracious appetite gormandized with great

composure. He thanked the landlord for his civility, and said, ‘I hate

to go to bed with an empty stomach.’”

In the _Annual Register_ we read, September 1788. “A young Irish

gentleman, for a very considerable wager, set out on Monday the 22nd

instant, to walk to Constantinople and back again in one year. It is

said that the young gentleman has £20,000 depending on the performance

of this exploit. 1st June 1789, Mr Whaley arrived about this time in

Dublin from his journey to the Holy Land, considerably within the

limited time of twelve months. The above wager, however whimsical, is

not without a precedent. Some years ago, a baronet of some fortune, in

the north, laid a considerable wager that he would go to Lapland, bring

home two females of that country and two reindeer in a given time. He

performed his journey, and effected his purpose in every respect. The

Lapland women lived with him for about a year, but, having a wish to go

back to their own country, the baronet very generously furnished them

with means and money.”

In Trinity Term, 1790, was argued in the Court of King’s Bench,

whether all wagers, by the 14th George III., were not void, as gaming

contracts, and being contrary to the policy of the law? Lord Kenyon

and Justices Ashurst and Grose were of opinion, that the law had not

declared all wagers illegal, however desirable such a law might be.

Wagers that led to a breach of the peace, to immorality, the injury of

a third person, or that had a libellous tendency, were void; but some

wagers, between indifferent people, were, certainly legal, both by the

common law, and by statute. Mr Justice Buller differed from the rest of

the Court.

_Times_, October 2, 1795. “A curious circumstance occurred here

(Brighton) yesterday. Sir JOHN LADE, for a trifling wager, undertook

to carry Lord CHOLMONDELEY, on _his back_, from opposite the Pavilion,

twice round the Steine. Several ladies attended to be spectators of

this extraordinary feat of the dwarf carrying the giant. When his

Lordship declared himself ready, Sir John desired him to _strip_.

‘Strip!’ exclaimed the other, ‘why, surely, you promised to carry

me in my clothes!’ ‘By no means,’ replied the Baronet, I engaged to

carry _you_, but not an inch of clothes. So, therefore, my Lord, make

ready, and let us not _disappoint_ the ladies.’ After much laughable

altercation, it was, at length, decided that Sir JOHN had won his

wager, the Peer declining to exhibit _in puris naturalibus_.”

_Times_, September 11, 1797. “A _Mr Marston_, of the Borough, has laid

a bet of 2000 guineas, that he will, in the course of the ensuing week,

go into one of the great wheels of the water works at London Bridge,

while it is in its swiftest motion with an ebb tide, stay there five

minutes, and come out again with safety, though not without accident,

in a different part from that in which he went in: and, afterwards,

walk one mile within an hour, on condition that the lower bucket of the

wheel is two feet from the river bottom.”

A wager was made, in 1806, in the Castle Yard, York, between Thomas

Hodgson and Samuel Whitehead, as to which should succeed in assuming

the most singular character. Umpires were selected, whose duty it was

to decide upon the comparative absurdity of the costumes in which

the two men appeared. On the appointed day, Hodgson came before the

umpires, decorated with bank notes of various value on his coat and

waistcoat, a row of five guinea notes, and a long netted purse of gold

round his hat, whilst a piece of paper, bearing the words “John Bull,”

was attached to his back. Whitehead was dressed like a woman on one

side; one half of his face was painted, and he wore a silk stocking

and a slipper on one leg. The other half of his face was blacked, to

resemble a negro: on the corresponding side of his body he wore a

gaudy, long-tailed, linen coat; and his leg was cased in half a pair of

leather breeches, with a boot and spur. One would fancy that Whitehead

must have presented the most singular appearance, by far, but the

umpires thought differently, and awarded the stakes to Hodgson.

In the early part of this century sporting men were fond of betting on

the duration of the lives of celebrities. Napoleon I. was specially the

subject of these wagers. It is related that, at a dinner party in 1809,

Sir Mark Sykes offered to pay any one who would give him a hundred

guineas down, a guinea a day, so long as Napoleon lived. The offer was

taken by a clergyman present; and, for three years, Sir Mark Skyes paid

him three hundred and sixty-five guineas per annum. He, then, thought

he had thrown away enough money, and disputed further payment. The

recipient, who was not at all disposed to lose his comfortable annuity,

brought an action, which, after lengthy litigation, was decided in

favour of the baronet.

A gentleman made a bet of 1000 guineas that he would have a coat made

in the course of a single day, from the first process of shearing the

sheep to its completion by the tailor. The wager was decided at Newbury

on the 25th of June 1811, by Mr John Coxeter of Greenham Mills, near

that town. At five o’clock that morning, Sir John Throckmorton, Bart.,

presented two Southdown wether sheep to Mr Coxeter. Accordingly, the

sheep were shorn, the wool spun, the yarn spooled, warped, loomed

and wove, the cloth burred, milled, rowed, dyed, dried, sheared and

pressed, and put into the hands of the tailors by four o’clock that

afternoon; and, at twenty minutes past six, the coat entirely finished,

was presented by Mr Coxeter to Sir John Throckmorton, who appeared,

wearing it, before an assemblage of upwards of 5000 spectators, who

rent the air with their acclamations.

The religious impostor, Johanna Southcott, was the subject of at least

one wager, for, concerning that, an action was brought on a bet that

she would be delivered of a son, on or before 1st Nov. 1814. As she was

a single woman it was held that no action could be sustained, as the

wager involved the perpetration of an immorality.

I cannot give chapter and verse for the next two anecdotes, but they

are generally accepted as true. The first is about Lord Brougham, who,

in his college days, went one autumn to Dumfries in order to make one

at the Caledonian Hunt meeting. According to the then custom, everybody

dined at a _table d’hôte_, and, after dinner, betting set in. Brougham

offered to bet the whole company that none of them would write down

the manner in which he meant to go to the races next day. Those who

accepted his challenge wrote down their conjectures and Brougham wrote

down his intention of travelling in a sedan chair, a mode of conveyance

no one had hit upon. To the races he went, an immense crowd seeing

him safely chaired to the course. The bet was then renewed, as to the

manner of his return to Dumfries, the acceptors taxing their wits

to imagine the most improbable methods of travelling. Brougham had

calculated upon this, and won the double event by returning in a post

chaise and pair.

The other is a story of Brunel and Stephenson. They were travelling

together in a railway carriage, Stephenson being wrapped in a dark

plaid, on the exact disposition of the folds of which he rather plumed

himself. “You are looking at my plaid,” said he to Brunel; “I’ll bet

you ten pounds you cannot put it on, properly, the first time.” “I’ll

bet ten pounds against the plaid,” said Brunel. “If I put it on right

when we get out at the next station the plaid is mine; if I miss I pay

you ten pounds.” “Done,” said Stephenson. Brunel sat silent until the

train stopped; then, stepping on the platform, he asked for the plaid,

which was slowly unwound by its owner and handed over: not to be handed

back again, for Brunel wound it round his own shoulders as if he had

always worn it. He had never tried it before, but, when challenged, did

not like to be beaten, and, at once, set to work to study the folds of

the plaid. “I got the thing pretty clear in my head before we reached

the station, and when I saw him get out of it I knew I was right, so I

put it on at once.”

Wagers about walking and running are very numerous, still a few might

be mentioned, beginning with Foster Powell, who, on 29th Nov. 1773,

commenced a journey from London to York and back in six days. He walked

from London to Stamford, 88 miles, on the first day; to Doncaster,

72 miles, on the second; to York, 37 miles, and 22 miles back to

Ferrybridge on the third; to Grantham, 65 miles, on the fourth; to

Eaton, 54 miles, on the fifth; and the final spin of 56 miles on the

sixth—making a total of 394 miles between Monday morning and Saturday

night, and winning a wager of one hundred guineas.

Soon afterwards a reputed centenarian, and, admittedly, a _very_ aged

man, undertook to walk 10 miles on the Hammersmith Road in 2 hours and

30 minutes, for a wager of ten guineas, and he accomplished his task in

2 hours 23 minutes.

Captain Barclay, a famous pedestrian, in the early part of the present

century, began his exploits at the early age of fifteen by walking

six miles in an hour, fair toe and heel. His next feat was to walk

from Ury, in Kincardineshire, to Boroughbridge, in Yorkshire, about

300 miles, in five very hot days. He hazarded the large sum of 5000

guineas, that he would walk 90 miles in 20 hours 30 minutes, and he

accomplished this arduous task in 19 hours 22 minutes. But his greatest

pedestrian feat was performed in July 1809, and is thus described in

the _Annual Register_:

“July 13. _Captain Barclay._ This gentleman, on Wednesday, completed

his arduous pedestrian undertaking to walk a thousand miles in a

thousand successive hours, at the rate of a mile in each and every

hour. He had until four o’clock P.M. to finish his task, but he

performed his last mile in the quarter of an hour after three,

with perfect ease and great spirit, amidst an immense concourse of

spectators. For the last two days he appeared in higher spirits, and

performed his mile with more ease, and in shorter time, than he had

done for some days past. With the change of the weather he had thrown

off his loose greatcoat, which he wore during the rainy period, and,

on Wednesday, performed in a flannel jacket. He also put on shoes

remarkably thicker than any which he had used in any previous part of

his performance. When asked how he meant to act after he had finished

his feat, he said he should, that night, take a good sound sleep,

but that he must have himself awaked twice, or thrice, in the night

to avoid the danger of a too sudden transition from almost constant

exertion, to a state of long repose.

“One hundred to one, and, indeed, any odds, were offered on Wednesday

morning; but so strong was the confidence in his success that no bets

could be obtained. The multitude of people who resorted to the scene of

action, in the course of the concluding days, was unprecedented. Not a

bed could be procured, on Tuesday night, at Newmarket, Cambridge, or

any of the towns and villages in the vicinity, and every horse, and

every species of vehicle was engaged.

“Captain Barclay had £16,000 depending upon his undertaking. The

aggregate of the bets is supposed to amount to £100,000.”

In those days there were sportsmen like Osbaldeston and Ross, who were

ready for any wager. Let the latter tell a little story.

“A large party were assembled at Black Hall, in Kincardineshire, time,

the end of July, or beginning of August. We had all been shooting snipe

and flapper-ducks, in a large morass on the estate called Lumphannon.

We had been wading amongst bulrushes, up to our middles, for seven or

eight hours, and had had a capital dinner. After the ladies had gone to

the drawing room, I fell asleep; and, about nine o’clock, was awakened

by the late Sir Andrew Keith Hay, who said, ‘Ross, old fellow! I want

you to jump up, and go as my umpire with Lord Kennedy, to Inverness.

I have made a bet of twenty-five hundred pounds a side, that I get

there, on foot, before him!’ Nothing came amiss to the men of that day.

My answer was, ‘All right, I’m ready’; and off we started, there and

then, in morning costume, with thin shoes and silk stockings on our

feet. We went straight across the mountains, and it was a longish walk.

I called to my servant to follow with my walking shoes and worsted

stockings, and Lord Kennedy did the same. They overtook us after we

had gone seven or eight miles. Fancy my disgust! My idiot bought me,

certainly, worsted stockings, but, instead of shoes, a pair of tight

Wellington boots! The sole of one boot vanished twenty-five miles from

Inverness, and I had, now, to finish the walk barefooted. We walked all

night, next day, and the next night—raining in torrents all the way.

We crossed the Grampians, making a perfectly straight line, and got to

Inverness at one P.M. We never saw, or heard, anything of Sir A. L.

Hay, (he went by the coach road, viâ Huntly and Elgin, thirty-six miles

further than we, but a good road) who appeared at ten A.M. much cast

down at finding he had been beaten.”

There have been divers wagers about coaching, and also about horses,

which have nothing to do with horse racing, and a few may be chronicled

here.

On 29th August 1750, at seven in the morning, was decided, at

Newmarket, a remarkable wager for 1000 guineas, laid by Count Taaf

against the Earl of March and Lord Eglinton, who were to provide a four

wheeled carriage, with a man in it, to be drawn by four horses at a

speed of 19 miles an hour; which was performed in 53 min. 27 sec. It

was rather an imposing affair. A groom, dressed in crimson velvet, rode

before to clear the way: the boy who sat in the vehicle was dressed in

a white satin jacket, black velvet cap, and red silk stockings, whilst

the four postillions were clothed in blue satin waistcoats, buckskin

breeches, with white silk stockings, and black velvet caps. The

carriage is thus described: “The pole was small, but lapp’d with fine

wire; the perch had a plate underneath, two cords went on each side,

from the back carriage to the fore carriage, fastened to springs. The

harness was of thin leather, covered with silk; the seat for the man

to sit on, was of leather straps, and covered with velvet; the boxes

of the wheels were brass, and had tins of oil to drop slowly for an

hour: the breechings for the horses were of whale bone; the bars were

small wood, strengthened with steel springs, as were most parts of the

carriage; but all so light that a man could carry the whole, with the

harness; being but 2 cwt. and a half.” Two or three other carriages had

been made previously, but had been disapproved of, and several horses

had been killed in trials—costing between £600 and £700.

In April and finishing on 3rd May 1758, at Newmarket, Miss Pond,

daughter of Mr Pond, the compiler and publisher of the _Racing

Calendar_, bearing his name, laid a wager of 200 guineas that she

could ride 1000 miles in a 1000 hours, and finished her match in a

little more than two-thirds of the time. At the conclusion, the country

people strewed flowers in her path. It has been said that this feat was

performed on _one horse_.

In the beginning of June 1800, a naval officer undertook, for a wager,

to ride a blind horse round Sheerness racecourse without guiding the

reins with his hands; this he performed to the no small amusement of

the spectators, by cutting the reins asunder, and fastening the several

parts to his feet in his stirrups.

Perhaps the best known match of modern times was one made at the Ascot

meeting of 1888, of £1000 to £500 that a coach could not be driven to

Brighton and back in eight hours. James Selby, a professional whip,

started from the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, punctually at 10 A.M.

on July 13, and arrived at Brighton, at the Old Ship, at 1.56 P.M. The

coach was turned round and the return journey instantly started; White

Horse Cellar being reached at 5.50 P.M.: thus winning the match by ten

minutes. Selby died at the end of the year.

The betting book of White’s Club, dates from the year 1743—the older

book and all the other records of the Club having been destroyed in the

fire of 1743. The following are some of the wagers therein recorded.

The early ones are principally pitting lives against one another.

_Feb. y^e 3, 1743/4._ Lord Montford betts Mr Wardour twenty Guineas on

each, that Mr Shephard outlives Sir Hans Sloan, the Dutchess Dowager of

Marlborough, and Duke of Somerset.—Voide.

Mr J^[no] Jeffreys betts Mr Stephen Jansen Fifty Guineas, that thirteen

Members of Parliament don’t Die from the first of Jan^y 1744/5 to the

first of Jan^y 1745/6 exclusive of what may be killed in battle.

Ld Leicester betts Lord Montfort One Hundred Guineas that Six or more

Peers of the British Parliament, including Catholics, Minors, Bishops,

and Sixteen Scotch Lords, shall Die between the 2 of Decem^r 1744, and

the First of Decem^r 1745 inclusive.

_16 July 1746._ Mr Heath wagers Mr Fanshawe five guineas that the

eldest son of the Pretender is dead, on, or before this day. To be

returned if the Pretender was dead.—pd. Nov^r 28.

_Oct^r 20th 1746._ Mr Heath gave Col. Perry Twenty Pounds, for which

Col. Perry is to pay Mr Heath one hundred pounds if ever he loses more

than one hundred pounds in any four and twenty hours.

_Nov^r y^e 14, 1746._ Mr Fox betts Mr John Jeffreys five guineas on

Number Two against Number One in the present Lottery.

Lord Montfort wagers S^r Wm. Stanhope 20 guineas that Lady Mary Coke

has a child beford Ly Kildare, and 20 guineas more that L^y Mary Coke

has a child before L^y Fawkener.

_January the 14th, 1747/8._ Mr Fanshawe wagers Lord Dalkeith one

guinea, that his peruke is better than his Lordship’s, to be judged of

by the majority of members the next time they both shall meet.

These are fair specimens, and, after this date, the bets begin to be

political and personal, and devoid of interest.

CHAPTER XIII

Horse Racing—Early mention—Thirteenth Century—Racing for

bells—Racing in Hyde Park—Newmarket—Oliver Cromwell and

Running horses—Charles II.—James II.—Anne—Her fondness for

racing—Sporting in her reign—Epsom—Tregonwell Frampton—The three

Georges—A duel—Turf anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century.

But this style of betting is harmless compared to that curse of the

England of our time, betting upon horse racing, which can be compared

to nothing but a social cancer, eating into the very vitals of the

nation; and it is especially a pity that so noble an animal as the

horse should be made the unconscious medium of such a degrading

passion as gambling—still, the fact exists, and horse racing from its

commencement must be treated in a history of gambling in England.

Horses must have been introduced into this country at a very early

age, for, when Cæsar invaded Britain, he was opposed by vast numbers

of horsemen, and many centuries had not elapsed before there was

competition, as to speed, among the animals. William of Malmesbury

tells us that running horses were sent from France by Stugh, the

founder of the house of Capet, as a present to King Athelstan. We

never hear of any races being run, and Fitzstephen, who was secretary

to Sir Thomas à Becket, and lived in the reign of Henry II., scarcely

describes what we should term a horse race. Speaking of a certain

Smoothfield, outside London (Smithfield), he says:

“There, every Friday, unless it be one of the more solemn festivals,

is a noted show of well bred horses for sale. The earls, barons and

knights, who are, at the time resident in the City, as well as most of

the Citizens, flock thither, either to look on, or buy. It is pleasant

to see the nags, with their sleek and shining coats, smoothly ambling

along, raising and setting down, alternatively, as it were, their feet

on either side: in one part are horses better adapted to esquires;

these, whose pace is rougher, but yet expeditious, lift up and set

down, as it were, the two opposite fore and hind feet together: in

another, the young blood colts not yet accustomed to the bridle. In

a third, are the horses for burden, strong and stout limbed; and, in

a fourth, the more valuable chargers, of an elegant shape and noble

height, with nimbly moving ears, erect necks, and plump haunches. In

the movement of these, the purchasers observe, first, their easy pace,

and, then, their gallop, which is when their fore feet are raised from

the ground, and set down together, and the hind ones in like manner

alternately. When a race is to be run by such horses as these, and,

perhaps, by others, which, in like manner, according to their breed,

are strong for carriage and vigorous for the course, the people raise

a shout, and order the common horses to be withdrawn to another part

of the field. The jockeys, who are boys expert in the management of

horses, which they regulate by means of curb bridles, sometimes by

threes, and sometimes by twos, according as the match is made, prepare

themselves for the Contest. Their chief aim is to prevent a competitor

getting before them. The horses, too, after their manner, are eager for

the race; their limbs tremble, and, impatient of delay, they cannot

stand still; upon the signal being given, they stretch out their limbs,

hurry over the course, and are borne along with unremitting speed. The

riders, inspired with the love of praise, and the hope of victory,

clap spurs to their flying horses, lashing them with their whips, and

inciting them with their shouts.”

In a metrical romance of the thirteenth century, “Syr Beuys of

Hampton,” printed by W. Copland in 1550, there is mention of a race

“In somer in whitsontyde

whan knights most on horsbacke ride

a cours let they make on a daye

Stedes and palfraye for to assaye

whiche horse that best may ren

thre myles the cours was then

who that might ryd should

have £ LI. of redy golde.”

Edward III. bought some running horses at £13, 6s. 8d. each; and in the

ninth year of his reign the King of Navarre made him a present of two

running horses. Still, very little is heard of race horses until the

time of Elizabeth and James I. Bishop Hall, of Exeter and Norwich, in

one of his Satires, writes:

“Dost thou prize

Thy brute beasts’ worth by their dam’s qualities?

Say’st thou, this colt shall prove a swift-paced steed,

Only because a jennet did him breed?

Or say’st thou, this same horse shall win the prize,

Because his dam was swiftest Trunchifice,[48]

Or Runcevall his syre; himself a galloway?

While, like a tireling jade, he lags half way.”

In 1599, private matches by gentlemen, who were their own riders,

were very common, and, in the reign of James I., public races were

established at various places, where the discipline and mode of

preparing the horses for running, etc., were much the same as they

are now. The most celebrated races of that time were called the “Bell

Courses,” the prize of the winner being a bell—hence the saying of “to

bear the bell”; and a tradition of it still remains in the couplet with

which children’s races are started.

“Bell horses! Bell horses! what time of day?

One o’clock, two o’clock, three, and away!”

Perhaps the oldest record that we have of these silver bells is those

of Paisley, which date from 1620, or 1608, as on that date there is

an entry in the town books showing the purchase of a silver bell. The

silver bells are now run for, but there are 100 guineas attached to

them. Silver bells were also run for in this reign, at Gatherly, in

Yorkshire, Croydon, Chester, and Theobalds, the King’s hunting lodge.

Mr J. C. Whyte, in his _History of the British Turf_, says that in

Harl. MS. 2150, fol. 235, is an account of a ceremony performed with

the race for a bell at Chester, in the presence of the Mayor, at the

Cross, in the Rodhi, or Roody, an open place near the City. I have

examined the MS. but cannot find the passage, so extract from his work

the following:

“A silver bell, valued at about three shillings and sixpence, placed on

the point of a lance, shall be given to him, who shall run the best and

furthest on horseback before them on Shrove Tuesday. These bells went

by the name of St George’s bells, and the younger Randel Holme tells us

that, in the last year of this reign (1624) John Brereton, innkeeper,

Mayor of Chester, first caused the horses entered for this race,

then called St George’s Race, to start from the point beyond the new

Tower, and appointed them to run five times round the Roody; and, he

continues, he, who won the last course, or trayne, received the bell,

of a good value, £8 or £10, and to have it for ever, which moneyes were

collected of the citizens for that purpose. By the use of the term,

for ever, it would appear that the bell had been used, formerly, as a

mark of temporary distinction only, by the successful horsemen, and,

afterwards, returned to the Corporation.”

On fol. 354 of this MS. we find “What y^e companys gave toward S.

George’s Rase for the contynuance of a bell or cup.” To this there is

no date, but it amounted to £36, 8s. 4d. The 3s. 6d. silver bell was

substituted for a wooden ball, which used to be raced for, as a prize,

in the 31st year of King Henry VIII.

We see how simple, and for what small prizes they ran in the early

days of horse racing in England—it is sad to record that betting,

almost immediately, attended the popularity of the sport. This we see

in Shirley’s play of _Hide Parke_, acted at Drury Lane in 1637.

“_Confused noyse of betting within, after that a shoute._

_Mistress Caroll._ They are started.

_Enter Bonvile, Rider, Bonavent, Tryer, Fairefield._

_Rider._ Twenty pounds to fifteene.

_Lord Bonvile._ ‘Tis done we’e.

_Fairefield._ Forty pounds to thirty.

_Lord Bonvile._ Done, done. Ile take all oddes.

_Tryer._ My Lord, I hold as much.

_Lord Bonvile._ Not so.

_Tryer._ Forty pounds to twenty.

_Lord Bonvile._ Done, done.

_Mistress Bonavent._ You ha lost all, my Lord, and it were a Million.

_Lord Bonvile._ In your imagination, who can helpe it?

_Mistress Bonavent._ _Venture_ hath the start and keepes it.

_Lord Bonvile._ Gentlemen, you have a fine time to triumph,

‘Tis not your oddes that makes you win.

_Within._ Venture! Venture! [_Exeunt Men._

_Julietta._ Shall we venture nothing o’ th’ horses?

What oddes against my Lord?

_Mistress Caroll._ Silke stockings.

_Julietta._ To a paire of perfum’d gloves I take it.

_Mistress Caroll._ Done!

_Mistress Bonavent._ And I as much.

_Julietta._ Done with you both.

_Mistress Caroll._ Ile have ‘em Spanish sent.

_Julietta._ The Stockings shal be Scarlet: if you choose

Your sent, Ile choose my colour.

_Mistress Caroll._ ‘Tis done; if _Venture_

Knew but my lay, it would halfe breake his necke now,

And crying a _Jockey_ hay. [_A shoute within._

_Julietta._ Is the wind in that coast? harke the noyse.

Is _Jockey_ now?

_Mistress Caroll._ ‘Tis but a paire of gloves.

_Julietta._ Still it holds. [_Enter my Lord._

How ha you sped, my Lord?

_Lord Bonvile._ Won! won! I knew by instinct,

The mare would put some tricke upon him.

_Mistress Bonavent._ Then we ha lost; but, good my Lord, the

circumstance.

_Lord Bonvile._ Great _John_ at all adventure, and grave _Jockey_

Mounted their severall Mares, I sha’ not tell

The story out for laughing, ha! ha! ha!

But this in briefe, _Jockey_ was left behind,

The pitty and the scorne of all the oddes,

Plaid ‘bout my eares like Cannon, but lesse dangerous.

I tooke all, still; the acclamation was

For _Venture_, whose disdainefull Mare threw durt

In my old _Jockey’s_ face, all hopes forsaking us;

Two hundred pieces desperate, and two thousand

Oathes sent after them; upon the suddaine,

When we expected no such tricke, we saw

My rider, that was domineering ripe,

Vault ore his Mare into a tender slough.

Where he was much beholding to one shoulder,

For saving of his necke, his beast recovered,

And he, by this time, somewhat mortified,

Besides mortified, hath left the triumph

To his Olympick Adversary, who shall

Ride hither in full pompe on his _Bucephalus_,

With his victorious bagpipe.”

Newmarket, hitherto, a royal hunting place, was made into a race course

in 1640, and we get a peep of what it was like in an old ballad (said

to be of about this time) called “Newmarket,” published by D’Urfey, in

his _Pills to purge Melancholy_.

“Let cullies that lose at a race,

Go venture at hazard to win,

Or he, that is bubbl’d at dice,

Recover at cocking again.

Let jades that are foundered, be brought;

Let jockeys play crimp to make sport;

Another makes racing a trade,

And dreams of his projects to come,

And many a crimp match has made

By bubbing[49] another man’s groom.”

Oliver Cromwell kept “running horses,” but there is no mention of

his having used them in racing: It is more probable that he bred from

them. With the Restoration, horse racing was revived, and was much

encouraged by Charles II. who appointed races for his own amusement at

Datchet Mead, when he resided at Windsor. Newmarket, however, became

the principal locality for this sport, and the round course was made in

1666. The King attended the races in person, established a house for

his own accommodation, and kept and entered horses in his own name.

Instead of bells, he gave a silver bowl or cup, value 100 guineas, on

which prize the exploits and pedigree of the successful horse were

generally engraved.

The times of James II. were too troubled for him to amuse himself with

horse racing, and William III. had no leisure for the sport, although

he added to the plates, and founded an academy for riding, but, under

Anne, the turf was again under royal patronage.

The Queen was fond of racing, and gave £100 gold cups to be raced for;

nay, more, she not only kept race horses, but ran them in her own

name. Her six year old grey gelding Pepper, ran for her gold cup, at

York (over Clifton and Rawcliffe Ing’s), on July 28, 1712. Over the

same course, and for the same stake, on Aug. 3, 1714, ran her grey

horse Mustard, which in 1714 was entered to run in Whitsun Week, at

Guildford, in Surrey, for the £50 plate; and, sad to tell, her brown

horse Star, ran at York, for a plate value £14, and won it, on July

30, 1714, the very day on which the Queen was struck with apoplexy,

expiring the next day.

She paid a visit to Newmarket, in April 1705, going to Cambridge once

or twice during her stay. Narcissus Luttrell tells us: “Aprill 26,

1705. The queen has ordered her house at Newmarket to be rebuilt, and

gave a thousand pounds towards paving the town; and bought a running

horse of Mr Holloway, which cost a 1000 guineas, and gave it to the

Prince.” Prince George of Denmark shared his royal consort’s love of

horse racing, and gave, at least, two gold plates to be raced for,

worth 100 guineas each. This seems to have been a very horsey year for

the Queen, for Luttrell tells us that “the queen has appointed horse

races to be at Datchet, after her return from Winchester to Windsor.”

A few racing mems of this time will illustrate to what an extent

the passion for the turf was carried. 1702: “They write from

Newmarket, That the Lord Godolphin’s and Mr Harvy’s Horses ran for

£3000. His Lordship won: As, also, the Earl of Argile, and the Duke

of Devonshire’s; the latter’s Horse won, by which Mr Pheasant got

a considerable sum.” 1703: “The great horse race at Newmarket, run

for 1000 guineas between the Lord Treasurer and the Duke of Argyle,

was won by the latter.” Perhaps the earliest Sporting Paper is “News

from _Newmarket_, or, An Account of the Horses Match’d to Run there

in _March_, _April_, and May, 1704. The Weight, Miles, Wagers and

Forfeits. Printed for _John Nutt_ near Stationer’s Hall, price 2d.”

1707: “Last Monday was a horse race at Newmarket, between Lord Granby’s

Grantham, and Mr Young’s Blundel, for £3000—the latter won.” On April

10, 1708, at Newmarket, the Duke of Bedford’s bay horse (9 stone) had

a match with Mr Minchall’s bay colt (8-1/2 stone) for 1000 guineas,

but there is no record of which won. These were the highest stakes

mentioned during the reign: they were, generally, for 200 or 300

guineas.

The first mention I can find of Epsom Races, is in this reign, and is

in the _London Gazette_, April and May 26/3, 1703, when three small

plates were to be run for, of £30, £10 and £5 value. On May 25, 1704,

there was only one to be competed for, and that for £20. They had very

early “Epsom Spring Meetings”; for, in the _Daily Courant_, Feb. 15,

1709, it says: “On Epsom Downes, in Surrey, on the first Monday after

the Frost, a plate of £20 will be run for,” &c. Races on these downs

have been held continuously since 1730.

The most famous sporting man of his time was Tregonwell Frampton,

Esq. of Moreton, Dorsetshire, “The Father of the Turf,” who was keeper

of her Majesty’s running horses at Newmarket—a post which he had

filled in the time of William III., and which he continued to hold

under Georges I. and II. He is described as being “the oldest, and

as they say, the cunningest jockey in England: one day he lost 1000

guineas, the next he won 2000, and so, alternately. He made as light of

throwing away £500 or £1000, at a time, as other men do of their pocket

money, and was perfectly calm, cheerful and unconcerned when he lost a

thousand pounds, as when he won it.”

George I. is said to have been at Newmarket in 1716, 1717, and 1718,

but neither he nor his successor cared for horse racing, although they

still kept “running horses.” George III. used to attend Ascot Races,

and his uncle the “butcher,” Duke of Cumberland, was a great patron

of the turf, and was the breeder of the celebrated horse Eclipse. As

Walpole says of him, 29th Dec. 1763: “The beginning of October, one is

certain that everybody will be at Newmarket, and the Duke of Cumberland

will lose, and Shafto[50] win, two or three thousand pounds.” It was

about this time that the betting ring started, and roguery was not

uncommon, as we may see by the following:

At the Kingston Lent Assizes, 1767, a case was tried between an unnamed

gentleman, as plaintiff, and Mr Wm. Courtney, defendant; the action

was upon a wager of 100 guineas, which was reduced to writing, that

plaintiff procured three horses that should go ninety miles in three

hours, which defendant laid he did not. The plaintiff proved his

case very well; but, it appearing to the court and jury that it was

an unfair bet, the jury gave a verdict for the defendant. It seems

that the way in which the plaintiff performed his undertaking, was by

starting all the three horses together, so that they had but thirty

miles apiece to run in the three hours, which, of course, was easily

done.

In chronological order comes a story of a duel in which the notorious

black leg, Dick England, was concerned.

“Mr Richard England was put to the Bar, at the Old Bailey (1796)

charged with the ‘wilful murder’ of Mr Rowlls, brewer, of Kingston, in

a duel at Crauford 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.