Читать книгу Light Come, Light Go: Gambling—Gamesters—Wagers—The Turf - Ralph Nevill - Страница 5

Table of Contents

[1] A three.

II

The spirit of play in the eighteenth century—The Duke of Buckingham's toast—Subscription-Houses, Slaughter-Houses, and Hells—The staff of a gaming-house—Joseph Atkinson and Bellasis—Raids on King's Place and Grafton Mews—Methods employed by Bow Street officers—Speculative insurance—Increase of gaming in London owing to arrival of émigrés—Gambling amongst the prisoners of war—The Duc de Nivernois and the clergyman—Faro and E.O.—Crusade against West-End gamblers—The Duchess of Devonshire and "Old Nick"—Mr. Lookup—Tiger Roche—Dick England—Sad death of Mr. Damer—Plucking a pigeon.

During the last ten years of the reign of George II., "that destructive fury, the spirit of play" wrought great havoc in London. Gaming was declared to have become the business rather than the amusement of persons of quality, who were accused (probably with considerable truth) of being more concerned with speculation than with the proceedings of Parliament. Estates were almost as frequently made over by whist and hazard as by deeds and settlements, whilst the chariots of the nobility might be said to roll upon four aces. As a means of settling disputes, the wager was stated to have supplanted the sword, all differences of opinion being adjusted by betting.

In fashionable circles and at Court, gambling was especially prevalent. In January 1753 it was recorded that "His Majesty played at St. James's Palace on Twelfth Night for the benefit of the Groom-Porter." All the members of the Royal Family present on this occasion appear to have been winners, the Duke of Cumberland getting £3000. Amongst the losers were the Duke of Grafton and the Lords Huntingdon, Holdernesse, Ashburnham, and Hertford. The exact amount of benefit which accrued to the Groom-Porter from the evening's play does not transpire.

Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, had a house near the site of the present Buckingham Palace, which went by his name. It was afterwards purchased by John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, who, after obtaining an additional grant of land from the Crown, rebuilt it in a magnificent manner in 1703. During his residence here, the Duke was a constant visitor at the then noted gaming-house in Marylebone, the place of assemblage of all the infamous sharpers of the time. His Grace always gave them a dinner at the conclusion of the season, and his parting toast was, "May as many of us as remain unhanged next spring meet here again." Quin related this story at Bath, within the hearing of Lord Chesterfield, when his Lordship was surrounded by a crowd of worthies of the same stamp. Lady Mary Wortley alludes to the amusement in this line:—

Some Dukes at Marybone bowl time away.

As the century waned, play became more and more popular in London. So great indeed was the toleration accorded to gaming in the West End of the town that what were virtually public tables may be said to have existed. These were well-known under the names of Subscription-Houses, Slaughter-Houses, and Hells, and were frequented by less aristocratic gamesters than the Clubs, where whist, piquet, and other games were played for large sums. At the houses not inaptly called Hells, hazard was played every night, and faro on certain nights in each and every week, nearly all the year round. These Hells were the resort of gentlemen, merchants, tradesmen, clerks, and sharpers of all degrees and conditions, very expensive dinners being given twice or thrice a week to draw together a large company, who, if they meant to play, were abundantly supplied with wines and liquors gratis.

The advantage to the faro bank varied at different stages of the game: the least advantage to the proprietor of the bank, and against the punter, was about three and a half per cent and the greatest twenty-six per cent. It is said that the annual expense of maintaining one of these Hells exceeded £8000, which of course came out of the pockets of its frequenters.

Quite a large army of retainers were attached to every well-regulated gaming-house. The first, and of the greatest importance, was the commissioner, always a proprietor, who looked in at night, the week's account being audited by him and two other proprietors. Then followed the director, who superintended the rooms; the operator, who dealt the cards at faro, or any other game; the croupier, who watched the cards and gathered the money for the bank; a puff, handsomely paid to decoy others to play; a clerk, who acted as a check upon the puff, to see that he embezzled none of the money given him to play with; a squib, who was a puff of meaner rank, and received but a low salary, whilst learning to deal; a flasher, to swear how often the bank had been stripped; a dunner, who went about to recover money lost at play; a waiter, to fill out wine, snuff candles, and attend the gaming-room; an attorney, the sharper the better; a captain, ready to fight any gentleman who might be peevish at losing his money; an usher, to light gentlemen up and downstairs, and give the porter the word; a porter, who was generally a foot soldier; an orderly man, whose duty consisted in walking up and down on the outside of the door to give notice to the porter, and alarm the house at the approach of the constables; a runner, employed to obtain intelligence of the justices' meeting. Beside these, there were link-boys, coachmen, chairmen, drawers, and others, who might bring information of danger, at half a guinea each for every true alarm. Finally, there was a sort of affiliated irregular force, the members of which—affidavitmen, ruffians, and bravoes—were capable of becoming assassins upon occasion.

A celebrated sporting resort at the end of the eighteenth century was Mundy's Coffee-House, in Round Court, opposite York Buildings, in the Strand, then kept by Sporting Medley (the owner of Bacchus and some other horses of eminence upon the Turf). Here thousands were nightly transferred over the hazard and card tables by O'Kelly, Stroud, Tetherington, and a long list of adventurous followers.

Another famous gaming-house was kept by a certain Joseph Atkinson and his wife at No. 15 under the Piazza, in Covent Garden. Here they daily gave elaborate dinners, cards of invitation being sent to the clerks of merchants, bankers, and brokers in the city. Atkinson used to say that he liked citizens—whom he called "flats"—better than any one else, for when they had dined they played freely, and after they had lost all their money they had credit to borrow more. It was his custom to send any pigeons who had been completely plucked to some of their solvent friends, who could generally be induced to arrange matters in a satisfactory way. The game generally played here was E.O.,[2] a sort of roulette.

Keepers of gaming-houses in London were very liable to be black-mailed by men whose principal means of livelihood was obtaining "hush money." A certain class of individuals existed who for a specific amount undertook to defend keepers of Hells against prosecutions. One of the most notorious of these was Theophilus Bellasis, sometimes clerk and sometimes client to a Bow Street attorney—John Shepherd by name—who would, when it was likely to be profitable, act as prosecutor of persons keeping gaming-houses. The magistrates at last realised the collusion which existed between Bellasis and Shepherd, and refused to move in cases where the two rogues were concerned.

The houses, called by sharpers Slaughter-Houses, were those where persons were employed by the proprietors to pretend to be playing at hazard for large sums of money, with a view to inducing some unthinking individual to join in the play. When the scheme succeeded, the pigeon, by means of loaded dice and other fraudulent methods, was eventually dispossessed of all his cash, and perhaps plunged into debt, for which a bond was given, the embarrassments of which he felt for some years after. If, however, he returned to play again with the hope of regaining what in such company was past redemption, his ruin was quickly and completely sealed.

At one time, the parish officers of St. Ann's, Soho, set up a number of lanterns and boards with the words "Beware of bad houses" painted upon them, for the purpose of ridding the neighbourhood of dissolute and abandoned women. In consequence of this having had the desired effect, it was proposed to put up similarly-worded notices near the Hells and Slaughter-Houses of St. James's, but the idea was never carried into effect.

Places where faro was played abounded about Pall Mall and St. James's Street, and from time to time exciting scenes were witnessed when the authorities decided upon making a raid.

In 1799 considerable uproar was caused in Pall Mall by a raid upon Nos. 1 and 3 King's Place, which were attacked by what were facetiously termed the "Bow Street troops" acting under a search warrant. These in a very short time carried the place by storm, and took ten prisoners, together with a great quantity of baggage, stores, which consisted mainly of tables for rouge-et-noir and hazard; cards, dice, counters, strong doors, bars and bolts. The attack began by a stratagem put into execution by "General Rivett," who was in supreme command of the attacking force. He sought to gain an entrance at the street door of No. 1; but this having failed, and all attempts to force it having proved ineffectual, one of the light troops mounted the counterscarp of the area, and descended into the kitchen, while another scaled a ladder affixed to a first floor of No. 3; and having each made good their footing, opposition being then abandoned by the besieged who had betaken themselves to flight, the attacking force without molestation opened the gates and let in the main body, after which a general search and pursuit ensued. Several gamblers retreated to the top of the houses adjoining, whither they were followed and taken prisoners; one poor devil, the supposed proprietor of No. 3, was smoked in a chimney, from whence he was dragged down—a black example to all gamesters! Three French émigrés were among the captured, one of whom had his retreat cut off just as he was issuing from a house in Pall Mall, through which he had descended unobserved, and by which way some others escaped. Mother Windsor and her nymphs, who were well-known residents in the locality, were much alarmed by the operations; and the old lady, who declared that the presence of gaming in the vicinity had long been a scandal, vociferously applauded to the skies the vigilance of the police in putting down such pests of society.

A Raid on a London Gaming-House.

From a Print in the possession of Messrs. Robson & Co., 23 Coventry Street, W.

About the same time No. 13 Grafton Mews, Fitzroy Square, obtained an unenviable reputation as being a veritable Temple of Fraud, an illegal lottery insurance business being carried on there, which impoverished the poorer class of people residing in the neighbourhood. The house in question, which it was said had been specially built, was to all appearance a square brick tower about fifty feet high—on three sides it presented not the slightest sign of habitation; towards Grafton Mews, however, it bore the usual semblance of a stable.

To this place flocked grooms, valets, and all the silly fry of the district, carrying with them as much money as they could scrape together. Business was generally over by the afternoon, when the proprietors, who never made their exit by the door, climbed up to the top of the tower, and got through a hole in the roof—from which, by a ladder, they descended to a slated roof of a back place about twenty feet lower; they then crawled along about twenty feet of wall, and by an aperture in another, like a gun-port, descended into a back yard, and completed their cat-like line of march through a house in Hertford Street. This, to the astonishment of the neighbours, was done regularly every morning.

The place having become a public scandal, Townshend, with several Bow Street runners and four carpenters, went to Warren Street one morning, three hackney coaches being posted at some distance from the scene of action.

On the arrival of the peace officers, the four proprietors of No. 13 came out through the roof, and planted their ladder; but it gave way, and they were obliged to jump upon the slated roof twenty feet below them. By some marvellous chance, however, they escaped uninjured, the slates only being broken. They then jumped upon an adjacent wall, and flung their books into the garden of a gentleman's house. No. 17 Warren Street, and followed themselves; their idea was to escape through his back door, but the owner was fortunately at home, and resisted this design. They then leaped the wall of the next house, Drover's, the hairdresser, with their books, and in this house they were secured. One of them fired a pistol at the officers, which fortunately did no harm. The runners had cutlasses and axes, with which they made their way into the house.

The inhabitants of the district, it may be added, did not exhibit any enthusiasm for the officers of the law—on the contrary, they showed considerable displeasure against those who had come there to preserve most of them from misery and ruin. The informer, never a popular character, was a lean, cadaverous old woman. She accompanied the swindlers in the first coach, with the hootings of the rabble in her ears, and the whole cavalcade moved off the ground, escorted by a very hostile crowd which accompanied it to Bow Street. Here the four men, who had been arrested with so much difficulty, were sentenced to six months' imprisonment each in the house of correction in Coldbath Fields.

It would appear that previous to 1778 gaming was never conducted upon the methodical system of partnership concerns, wherein considerable capital was embarked. After that period, the vast licence allowed to keepers of fraudulent E.O. tables, and the great length of time which elapsed before they met with any check from the police, afforded a number of dissolute and abandoned characters many excellent opportunities of acquiring property, which was afterwards increased in the low gaming-houses, by nefarious methods at Newmarket and other fashionable places of resort, and in the lottery. At length, though these individuals had started without any property, or any visible means of lawful support, a sum of money, little short of one million sterling, was said to have been acquired by a class originally (with some few exceptions) of the lowest and most depraved description. This enormous mass of wealth was employed as a great and an efficient capital for carrying on various illegal establishments, particularly gaming-houses, and houses for fraudulent insurances in the lottery.

Part of this capital was even said to be utilised in subsidising various faro banks kept by ladies of fashion, whilst a certain proportion was also devoted to fraudulent insurance in the lotteries, where the chances were calculated to yield about thirty per cent to the gambling syndicate, most of the members of which maintained a number of clerks, employed during the drawing of the lotteries, who conducted the business, without risk, in counting-houses where no insurances were taken, but to which books were carried, not only from the different offices in every part of the town, but also from the "Morocco-men," who went from door to door taking insurances, and enticing the poor and the middle ranks to become adventurers.

In calculating the chances upon the whole numbers in the wheels, and the premiums which were paid, there was generally about £33:1:3 per cent in favour of the lottery insurers: but when it is considered that the people generally, from not being able to understand or recollect high numbers, always fixed on low ones, the chance in favour of the insurer was greatly increased, and the deluded poor plundered.

In the early part of the eighteenth century, speculative insurance, which could be effected upon anything, including lives, was a favourite form of gambling in England. Any one's life could be insured, including that of the King, and, to such an extent was this carried, that daily quotations of the rates on the lives of eminent public personages were issued by members of Garraway's and Lloyd's. The highest premium ever paid is supposed to have been twenty-five per cent on the life of George II., when he fought at Dettingen. On the fall of the leaders of the Rebellion of 1745 very large sums changed hands; whilst a number of insurance brokers were absolutely ruined owing to the escape of Lord Nithsdale from the Tower—an exploit which this nobleman accomplished by the aid of his devoted wife. As time went on these speculative insurances became a public scandal, and they were finally made illegal by the Gambling Act of 1774.

At the time of the French Revolution hordes of émigrés of all classes took up their temporary or permanent residence in London, with the result that over thirty gaming-places were, more or less, publicly established in the Metropolis. Here, besides faro and hazard, the foreign games of roulette and rouge-et-noir flourished, a regular gradation of houses existing, suited to all ranks, from the man of fashion to the pickpocket.

The mania for gaming amongst the exiles was confined to no particular class—high and low alike being affected by it. Nothing, for instance, could exceed the rage for gambling which possessed the prisoners of war at Dartmoor. About two hundred of them, including a number of Italians, having lost all their clothes by gaming, were sent to the prison ships in the Hamoaze, to be clothed anew, many more being left in rags. These unfortunate men played even for their rations, living three or four days on offal, cabbage-stalks, or, indeed, anything which chance might throw in their way. They staked the clothes on their backs, and even their bedding. It was the custom at Dartmoor for those who had sported away the latter article to huddle very close together at night, in order to keep each other warm. One out of the number was elected boatswain for the time being, and at twelve o'clock at night would pipe all hands to turn, an operation which, from their proximity to each other, had to be simultaneous. At four o'clock in the morning the pipe was heard again, and the reverse turn taken.

Such of the émigrés belonging to the upper classes as possessed funds could easily indulge their passion for play in the fashionable circles where many of them had made themselves popular during previous and more pleasant visits to England. Many, like the Duc de Nivernois, had intimate friends in high places. Before the Revolution he had been Ambassador in England. This nobleman was well known for his love of chess, which on one occasion led to a very pleasant incident. Staying with Lord Townshend, the Duc, when out for a ride was obliged by a heavy shower to seek shelter at a wayside house occupied by a clergyman, who to a poor curacy added the care of a few scholars in the neighbourhood. In all this might make his living about eighty pounds a year, on which he had to maintain a wife and six children. When the Duc rode up, the clergyman, not knowing his rank, begged him to come in and dry himself, which he was glad to do, borrowing a pair of old worsted stockings and slippers and warming himself by a good fire. After some conversation the Duc observed an old chess-board hanging up, and asked the clergyman whether he could play. The latter told him that he could play pretty tolerably, but found it difficult in that part of the country to get an antagonist. "I am your man," said the Duc. "With all my heart," answered the clergyman, "and if you will stay and take pot-luck, I will try if I cannot beat you." The day continuing rainy the Duc accepted the proffered hospitality, and found his antagonist a much better player than himself. Indeed, the clergyman won every game. This, however, in no way annoyed the Duc, who was delighted to meet with a man who could give him so much entertainment at his favourite game. He accordingly inquired into the state of his host's family affairs, and making a memorandum of his address, he thanked him and rode away without revealing who he was.

Some months elapsed and the clergyman never thought of the matter, when one evening a footman rode up to the door and delivered the following note—"The Duc de Nivernois presents his compliments to the Rev. Mr. Bentinck, and as a remembrance of the good drubbing he received at chess, begs that he will accept the living of X——, worth £400 per annum, and that he will wait upon his Grace the Duke of Newcastle on Friday next, to thank him for the same." The good clergyman was some time before he could imagine this missive to be more than a jest, and hesitated to obey the mandate; but as his wife insisted on his taking the chance, he went up to town, where to his unspeakable satisfaction he found that his nomination to the living had actually taken place.

The habits of dissipation which had prevailed at Versailles in some measure affected the English upper classes, many of whom were thoroughly versed in the amusements so popular in France.

For a time a positive rage for gaming seized fashionable London, and a number of ladies kept what were practically public gaming-tables to which any one with money could obtain comparatively easy admission.

Faro is supposed to have been invented by a noble Venetian, who gave it the name of bassetta; and for the evils resulting from it he was banished his country. In 1674 Signor Justiniani, Ambassador from Venice, introduced the game into France, where it was called bassette. Some of the princes of the blood, many of the noblesse, and several persons of the greatest fortune having been ruined by it, a severe law was enacted by Louis XIV. against its play. To elude this edict, it was disguised under the name of pour et contre, "for and against"; and this occasioning new and severe prohibitions, it was again changed to the name of le pharaon, in order to evade the arrêts of Parliament. From France this game soon found its way to England, where it was first called basset, but in the fashionable circles, where at that time it enjoyed a great vogue, it was invariably known by the name of faro.

Faro, pharo, or pharaoh, which was Fox's favourite game, was supposed to be easy to learn, fair in its rules, and pleasant to play. Two packs of cards were used, and any number of people could play, one pack being for the players whilst the banker had another. Fifty-two cards were spread out, and the players staked upon one or more which they might fancy. The banker dealt out his pack to the right, which was for himself, and to the left (called the carte anglaise) for the players, who instead of their pack often used a "livret," specially adapted for staking. The "livret" consisted of thirteen cards, with four others called "figures." The "little figure" had a blue cross on each side, and represented ace, deuce, and three. The "yellow figure"—yellow on both sides—signified 4, 5, and 6. The "third figure" had a black lozenge in the centre, and stood for 7, 8, and 9. The "great figure" was a red card, and indicated knave, queen, and king. The banker won all the money staked on any card corresponding with a card dealt by him to the right, and had to pay double stakes on any card dealt to the left which players had selected in their own pack. If he dealt two equal cards (called a doublet) he won half of all the money staked upon the card of that value, and on the last card of his pack, did the players win, he only paid even money. In reality the chances were very favourable to the holder of the bank.

Complaints were very rife as to the way in which these faro parties were conducted. An especial grievance was "card money," a small sum paid by each visitor into a pool for every new pack of cards used. This money was supposed to be a perquisite of the servants, though malicious rumours declared that it never reached them. The advent of French émigrés after the French Revolution was also the cause of considerable irritation, it being declared that many of the exiled noblesse completely monopolised some of the tables, round which they formed a circle, and excluded English ladies and gentlemen from taking part in the game.

The losses of many of those who played at faro were so heavy and constant that the banks contracted many bad debts; and in addition the fashionable parties in time became full of little tricks and artifices which were to the detriment of those holding the bank. Some of the latter found it advisable to employ eight croupiers instead of the four usually attached to each faro table, for the pigeons were all flown and those who remained were little better than hawks.

Faro, in the female circles of fashion, had given way to a more specious and alluring game called lottery, which, instead of wheels, consisted of two bags, from which prizes and blanks were drawn. The holder of the bank derived an advantage of upwards of thirty per cent.

About 1794 some of the ladies who gave gambling parties in St. James's Square began to add roulette as an increased attraction to those fond of gaming. It was remarked at the time that this was merely the old game of E.O. under a different name. As a matter of fact the two are somewhat alike, though roulette is a far more complicated and amusing method of losing money.

An E.O. table was circular in form and as a rule four feet in diameter. The outside edge formed the counter on which the stakes were placed, the letters E.O. being marked all round it. In the centre was a stationary gallery in which the ball rolled, and an independent round table moving by means of handles on an axis. The ball was started in one direction and the table rotated in the other, there being forty compartments of equal size, twenty marked E and twenty marked O, the whole principle being that of roulette without a zero. This very necessary adjunct to a successful bank, was in time furnished by the adoption of "bar holes" into which two of the forty spaces were converted, the practice being that the banker won all the bets on the opposite letter whilst not paying over that into which the ball fell. With such a proportion of two in forty, or five per cent in its favour, the banks did very well.

Gaming raged throughout Society at this time, and it was even declared that young ladies were taught whist and casino at fashionable boarding-schools, where their "winning ways" were cultivated in this direction. One schoolmistress, it was averred, was in despair at the dullness of her pupils, who were quite unable to grasp the comparatively easy intricacies of faro. Gillray was quick to grasp the opportunity which such a state of affairs afforded to his powers of satire, and was pitiless in his caricatures of female gamblers. "Faro's Daughters, or the Kenyonian Blow-up to Gamblers," published in 1796, was one of the most striking of these. In this Lady Archer and Mrs. Concannon were shown in the pillory, upbraiding one another. Lord Kenyon had made some very scathing comments upon the vice of gaming during a recent trial to recover fifteen pounds won at play on a Sunday, and had declared that the highest society was setting the worst example to the lowest, being under the impression that it was too great for the law. He himself, he added, should the opportunity arise, would see that any gamblers brought before him, whatever their rank or station, should be severely dealt with if convicted, and though they might be the first ladies in the land they should certainly exhibit themselves in the pillory.

Gambling in the West End of London amongst ladies had indeed become a public scandal, and in due course the authorities found themselves bound to take action.

In 1797 a regular crusade was made against faro, and the Countess of Buckinghamshire, Lady Elizabeth Luttrell, Mrs. Mary Sturt, Mr. Concannon, and Mr. O'Burne, were charged at Marlborough Street with having "played at a certain fraudulent and unlawful game called faro, at the house of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, in St. James's Square."

With them was also charged Henry Martindale, who had financed the bank—the four or five people employed to run the table were each paid half a guinea a night by him, tenpence out of which was deducted for the use of the maids.

A witness, Joseph Evatt by name, deposed that he had seen Lady Buckinghamshire play every Monday and Friday, as regular as the days came. Her ladyship, said he, used to continue punting and betting, paying and receiving, from night till morning.

The lady's counsel, Mr. Onslow, endeavoured to invalidate this man's testimony by showing that he was a terrible democrat, and disaffected to His Majesty's person and government; and also by proving that he wanted to palm an old suit of livery on his master, and to persuade the tailor to charge for a new one, and give him part of the money. To prove the first charge Mr. Onslow examined the witness Evatt himself, and asked him if he had not declared that the Government was a bad one, and that he should like to cut the King's head off? The magistrate, Mr. Conant, would not suffer him to answer such a question. To prove the latter, the foreman of Mr. Blackmore, a tailor, said that Evatt having saved a suit of livery as good as new, wanted Mr. Blackmore to take it, allow him four guineas, and send it home as a new suit. The magistrate did not consider this such a notorious piece of fraud in a footman, as to prevent his being believed on his oath.

Joseph Burford swore to the fact of Lady Buckinghamshire playing repeatedly.

Mr. Onslow ended by saying that he trusted the magistrate would not, upon the evidence of such men as Evatt and Burford, convict Lady Buckinghamshire, and hold her up as an object for the finger of democratic scorn to point at.

Notwithstanding this defence, the lady was sentenced to pay a fine of fifty pounds, as were Lady Elizabeth Luttrell, Mrs. Mary Sturt, and Mr. O'Burne. The case against Mr. Concannon was quashed owing to his having been described as Lucas Concannon instead of Lucius.

Martindale was fined two hundred pounds, and in consequence of the scandal produced by the whole affair was eventually made a bankrupt, by which the ladies of the fashionable world were thrown into a state of considerable alarm. Martindale it was who supplied the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, and many other dashing women of distinction, with sums to support their gambling propensities. His assignees were said to have claims on some of the first families of England to the amount of £180,000, and the curious disclosures which were made engrossed much attention in all the sporting circles.

Many of the great ladies of that day lived only for pleasure, spending enormous sums in dress, and also in carriages and horseflesh, it being a point of honour amongst them to possess a superb turn-out. One lady, well known for the splendour of her equipage at race meetings where she cut a distinguished figure, once apologised to a friend for appearing at Doncaster with a humble four-in-hand and four out-riders, saying that her coachman wished to come with six horses as usual, but she thought it right, in such hard times, to come "incog."

The gambling ladies of that day came into contact with all sorts of shady characters, many of whom were very unpolished diamonds. Such a one was the man known as "Old Nick," whose principal revenue was drawn from a hazard table where strangers were treated with a hospitality which they generally had good cause to remember.

Old Nick also had a considerable interest in a number of lottery insurance offices, lent money, and gambled himself when able to get in contact with any unplucked pigeon. Having once stripped a young man at cards of about £100, with which he had been entrusted for the purpose of paying a bill for the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, her Grace applied in person to the winner to refund the whole, or, at least, a part of his booty. Old Nick's answer was: "Well, Madam, the best thing you can do is to sit down with me at cards, and play for all you have about you; after I win your smock, so far from refunding, I'll send you home bare—to your Duke, my dear."

One of his friends being under trial for a very serious charge and having no defence left but his character, produced Old Nick in order to vouch for his respectability. The latter's ready eloquence represented him as the most amiable and innocent of the creation. The counsel for the prosecution having smelt a rat, began to ply the witness with such questions as he positively refused to answer. Being asked the reason, he answered honestly for once in his life: "My business here was to give the man a good character, and you, you flat, imagine that I'm come to give him a bad one."

The beautiful Duchess throwing a Main.

By Rowlandson.

In the early part of the year 1805 the West End was much excited by a statement in a morning paper referring to the supposed discovery by the Duke of Devonshire of immense losses at play, principally to gamesters of her own sex, incurred by his lovely Duchess. Her Grace's whole loss, chiefly at faro, was declared to amount to £176,000, of which a private gentlewoman and bosom friend, Mrs. ——was said to have won no less than £30,000. The discovery was made to the Duke one Sunday; the Duchess rushed into his library, and, in a flood of tears, told him she was ruined in fame and reputation, if these claims of honour were not instantly discharged. His Grace was thunderstruck when he learned the extent of her requisition, and the names of the friends who had contributed in so extraordinary a manner to such extreme embarrassments. Having soothed her in the best manner he was able, he sent for two confidential friends, imparted to them all the circumstances, and asked them how he should act. Their answer was promptly given—"Pay not one guinea of any such infamous demands!" and this advice, it was supposed, would be strictly adhered to by the Duke. Her Grace was said to have executed some bonds, to satisfy, for a moment, these gambling claimants; but, of course, they could be of no avail. Two gentlemen and five ladies formed the snug flock of rooks that had so unmercifully stripped this female pigeon of distinction.

A few days later, however, The Morning Herald, which was responsible for the startling news, declared that the fiction of the female gamblers of distinction in a house fitted up near St. James's Street for their ruinous orgies, began to die away; for it had been discovered that the supposed pigeoned Duchess, declared to have sacrificed half a million sterling of her lord's fortune, had never gambled at any game of chance, whilst her amiable companion, who was a pattern of domestic propriety, instead of having helped to pluck her Grace, had never played for a guinea in the course of her life. This denial was probably inspired from influential quarters.

The gambling ladies seem to have fallen into obscurity when the nineteenth century began; the "faro dames," as they were called, found their occupation gone. Their game, at which few of them had "cut with honours," was up, and their "odd tricks" were no longer of any avail in London. One of the most notorious, Mrs. Concannon, migrated to Paris, where her house continued for some time to be the meeting-place of those fond of deep play.

Whist now began to be a good deal played at fashionable parties, but in 1805 four-handed cribbage became the fashionable game in the West End, and whist, during a temporary eclipse, as it declined in the West, rose with increase of splendour in the East. At a city club the stakes played for were ten pounds a game, and guineas were betted on the odd trick. A select party of business men, well known on the city side of Temple Bar, once played at whist from one Wednesday afternoon till the next Friday night, and only left off then because two of the players were unfortunately Jews.

At another whist party, a lady who had not been accustomed to move in quite as good society as the other guests, won a rubber of twenty guineas. The gentleman who was her opponent pulled out his pocket-book and tendered £21 in bank-notes.[3] The fair gamester observed, with a disdainful toss of her head: "In the great houses which I frequent, sir, we always use gold." "That may be, madam," replied the gentleman, "but in the little houses which I frequent we always use paper!"

At this time adventurers abounded, many of whom profited by the speculative tendencies of the age. A character of the first magnitude in the annals of gaming, for instance, was a Mr. Lookup, who lived towards the close of the eighteenth century. A Scotchman by birth, a gamester by profession, he accumulated a considerable fortune by methods of none too reputable a kind.

Originally an apprentice to an apothecary in the north of England, he acted in that profession as journeyman in the city of Bath. Soon after the death of his master, he paid his addresses to his mistress, the widow; and, having none of that bashful modesty about him which is sometimes an obstacle to a man in such pursuits, and being a remarkably tall stout man, with a tolerably good figure, he prevailed on the Bath matron to favour him with her hand.

From his infancy Lookup manifested a strong propensity for play, and as he grew up became very expert at several games. Till his marriage, however, he was hampered by lack of funds, which prevented him from exercising his skill and judgment to much advantage. Finding himself master of five hundred pounds brought to him by his wife, he soon shut up shop, and turned his application from pharmacy to speculation. He became a first-rate piquet and whist player, and soon mastered various other games of chance and skill; in a short time, by incessant industry, greatly increasing his capital.

Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Lookup, for a long time, played constant matches at piquet together, the former being something of an adept at the game; but Mr. Lookup's superior skill at length prevailed, with the result that very considerable gains passed into his pocket.

Lord Chesterfield would also sometimes amuse himself at billiards with Mr. Lookup, and upon one of these occasions the peer had the laugh turned against him by the sharp tactics of his antagonist. Mr. Lookup had met with an accident by which he was deprived of the sight of one of his eyes, though to any cursory observer it appeared as perfect as the other. Having beaten the peer playing evens, Lookup asked how many his lordship would give him, if he put a patch upon one eye. Lord Chesterfield agreed to give him five, upon which Lookup beat him several times successively. At length his lordship, with some petulance, exclaimed, "Lookup, I think you play as well with one eye as two." "I don't wonder at it, my lord," replied Lookup, "for I have seen only out of one for these ten years." With the money he won of Lord Chesterfield he bought some houses at Bath, and jocularly named them Chesterfield Row.

After he had accumulated a considerable sum by play, Mr. Lookup went to London, and, having buried his wife, married another widow with a very large fortune. His plan of operations was now much enlarged; and, though he played occasionally for his own amusement, or when he met with what is termed a "good thing," he abandoned gaming as a regular profession. He now struck out several schemes, some visionary and others advantageous; among the former being a project for making saltpetre. A foreigner having drawn up a specious plan, presented it to Lookup, who, from his superficial knowledge of chemistry, thought the scheme practicable. A considerable range of buildings was erected for carrying on these works near Chelsea; salaries were appointed for the directors and supervisors, and large sums expended to bring this favourite scheme to perfection. So sanguine were Lookup's hopes of success, that he persuaded a particular friend of his (Captain Hamilton) to become a partner, with the result that the latter lost many thousands. At length, tired with the fruitless expense and repeated disappointments, he abandoned this project for others less delusive.

Mr. Lookup was concerned in many privateering ventures, several of which proved successful; at any rate he was thought to be a substantial gainer in these enterprises. At the close of the war he engaged in the African trade, and had considerable dealings in that commerce to the time of his decease.

As he grew old, however, his darling passion would at times predominate; and within a few weeks of his death he was known to sit up whole nights playing for very considerable sums. It was even averred that he died with a pack of cards in his hand, at his favourite game of humbug or two-handed whist; on which Sam Foote jocularly observed, "that Lookup was humbugged out of the world at last."

Some description of Mr. Lookup's favourite game, of which he is said to have been the inventor, may not be out of place. Though now obsolete, it was once very popular at the rooms in Bath, and in the West End of London.

Humbug may properly be called two-handed whist, as only two persons play. The cards are shuffled and cut; the lowest deals out all the cards, and turns up the last for the trump. Each player has now twenty-six cards in his hand, and the object is to make as many tricks as they can, all the laws of whist prevailing, the cards being of the same value as when four play. But the honours do not reckon any further than they prevail in making tricks by their superiority over inferior cards; the tricks reckon from one to as many as are gained; for instance, if one player has twenty tricks, and the other only six, the first wins fourteen, and if they play a guinea a trick of course wins fourteen guineas. The game finishes every deal, when the balance is settled, and they then commence another game. As each player knows, at first, all the cards his adversary has in his hand, it is common, in order to sort them, to lay them with their faces up; but after they have ranged them, and begun to play, they are as careful of concealing their cards as they are at the common game of whist, it then depending upon memory to know what cards have been played and what remain in hand. As it is allowed only to turn up the last trick to see what has been played, a revoke is punished with the same rigour at this game as at whist; and the forfeiting three tricks is often worth more at humbug than at the former game.

The London of the past swarmed with sharpers of every description on the look-out for rich young men. Billiard-rooms which are now quite decorous resorts were favourite haunts of these gentry.

The noted Captain Roche, known as Tiger Roche, was once at the Bedford billiard-table, when it was extremely crowded. As he was knocking the balls about with a cue. Major Williamson, who wanted to talk to him about some business, desired him to leave off, as he monopolised the table and hindered gentlemen from playing. "Gentlemen!" exclaimed Roche with a sneer. "Why, Major, except you and I, and two or three more, there is not a gentleman in the room: the rest are all low blacklegs." On leaving the place the Major expressed some astonishment at his companion's rudeness, and wondered that, out of so numerous a company, it was not resented. "Oh, d—n the scoundrels, sir," said Roche; "there was no fear of that, as there was not a thief in the room that did not suppose himself one of the two or three gentlemen I mentioned."

A particularly dangerous individual was the notorious Dick England, an Irishman of obscure origin, who rose to comparative prosperity through gaming and betting. A hard-headed man, England possessed great control over his temper, which, however, when given a free run, could be terrible. Having played at hazard one evening with a certain young tradesman of his acquaintance, England lost some three or four score pounds, for which he gave his draft upon Hankey, the banker. Having persuaded his antagonist to give him his revenge, the luck turned, and England not only won his money back, but as much more in addition. It then being late, he desired to retire, and requested his antagonist to pay in cash or to give a cheque upon his banker for the money which he had lost. The tradesman resolutely refused to do either, on the plea that he had been tricked, and that the money had not been fairly won. England once more demanded the money, and when it was again refused, he tripped up the young man's heels, rolled him up in the carpet, and snatching a case-knife from the sideboard, cut off his long hair close to the scalp. This violent action, coupled with the menacing attitude of England still flourishing the knife, and uttering the most deep-toned imprecations, had such an effect upon the young man in the stillness of past three o'clock in the morning, that he arose, and with the meekness of a lamb wrote a draft for the amount of his loss, took his leave very civilly, wishing the Captain a good morning, and never mentioned the circumstance again.

Sharpers and Bucks in a Billiard Room.

Dick England was a constant frequenter of all places likely to afford him pigeons worth plucking. At a tennis court he met the Honourable Mr. Damer, who was in the habit of playing tennis for amusement and exercise. One evil day, however, when no one was about, Mr. Damer played a game with England, who was profuse in his admiration for his opponent's skill. Though Mr. Damer knew England's reputation, and would not have been seen at Ranelagh with him, or had him at his table for a thousand pounds, he was not proof against the man's flattery, and England soon became his habitual opponent at tennis.

The latter, in league with other sharpers, soon sent to Paris for the best tennis player in the world, who on his arrival was instructed to lose unless given signals—the display of a certain coloured handkerchief, the raising of a bat, and similar signs—should be made.

England now proceeded to begin the stripping of his dupe by pretending to back him for fifty or a hundred guineas a set, complaining bitterly of his losses when unsuccessful. Mr. Damer meanwhile was losing three, four, and sometimes five thousand guineas in a day; and with such blind avidity did he pursue this destructive game, that he soon found himself a loser of near forty thousand guineas. At last, he found it prudent to resist the propensity to play with England and his band of sharpers, some of whom were constantly at his house in Tilney Street, requesting payment. Mr. Damer offered them post-obits, bonds, or in short the best security he could then offer, his father, Lord Milton, afterwards Lord Dorchester, being alive; no, they would have cash. Mr. Damer could not find it; but, to his high sense of honour be it told, he threw himself at his father's feet; the worthy parent weighed the matter well, and sent his steward from Milton Abbey with power to pay every shilling, though he knew his son had been cheated of every guinea. The steward, however, arrived only in time to learn that his young master, having sent for five girls and a blind fiddler, had blown out his brains after a roystering carouse at a tavern in Covent Garden. According to Horace Walpole it was Fox who, with infinite good nature, went to meet Mrs. Damer on her way to town and prepared her for the dismal news. "Can," says Walpole, "the walls of Almack's help moralizing when £5000 a year in present and £22,000 in reversion are not sufficient for happiness and cannot check a pistol!"

England was very fertile in expedients in plucking his pigeons. On one occasion, being with other blacklegs at Scarborough, and a rich dupe, from whom a good deal was expected, refusing to play after dinner, the party, having made the pigeon drunk and given the waiter five guineas to answer any awkward questions which might be asked in the morning, wrote out on slips of paper "D—— (the pigeon's name) owes me a hundred guineas." "D—— owes me eighty guineas," and so on. England, however, wrote "I owe D—— thirty guineas."

The next morning England, meeting the guest of the night before on the cliff, said to him: "Well, we were all very merry last night." "We were indeed," replied the pigeon, "and I only hope I did not offend any one, for I must confess that I drank a good deal more than usual."

"You were in good spirits, my dear fellow," said England, "that was all; and now, before I forget, let me pay you the thirty guineas I lost to you last night—I am not very lucky at cards."

D—— stared, and positively denied having played for a shilling; but England assured him upon his honour that he had. He added that he had paid hundreds to men who having drunk deep remembered nothing till he had shown them his account. Mr. D—— thus fell into the trap laid for him, and, being a novice, put the notes in his pocket, thinking England the most upright man he had ever met. Shortly after, Mr. England's friends presented their cards. Mr. D——, thunderstruck at their demands, swore that he had never played with them, and indeed that he did not know of his having played at all, until Captain England, very much to his credit, had paid him thirty guineas, though he himself did not remember any cards or dice having been in the room. The leader of the band replied with great warmth, "Sir, it is the first time my honour was ever doubted. Captain England, and the waiter, will tell you I won a hundred guineas of you, though I was a great loser by the night's play."

The victim of the plot, however, fortunately for himself, met some friends who were men of the world, and one of them having cross-examined the waiter, and promised him another five guineas if he spoke the truth, the latter at last admitted that England and his companions were notorious blacklegs, and that Mr. D—— did not play at all, or, if he did, it could not have been for five minutes, as the rest of the party were constantly ringing and making punch in their own way.

On the advice of this friend D—— ended the matter by sending England back his thirty guineas with five more to pay the cost of the supper; and the blacklegs, finding that the affair was likely to do them no good, left Scarborough the next morning.

A young Kingston brewer, Rolles by name, having publicly insulted England by calling him a blackleg at Ascot, the latter, who could snuff a candle with a pistol ball, called him out and shot him, after which he fled to the Continent, remarking: "Well, as I have shot a man I must be after making myself scarce." As an outlaw living in Paris, England continued to make money by play till the outbreak of the French Revolution, which for a time rather injured the avocation of sharpers in France.

It is said, however, that he furnished the heads of our army with some valuable intelligence in its celebrated campaign in Flanders; and that, as a reward, his return to this country was facilitated, and an annuity promised him.

On his arrival in London, he was tried and acquitted of the murder of Mr. Rolles. For the remainder of his life he appears to have completely abandoned gambling, and to have lived a very quiet existence near Leicester Square.