Part 3

Though a most unsuccessful gambler. Fox played whist and piquet exceedingly well, it being generally agreed at Brooks's that he might have made about four thousand a year at these games had he but confined himself to them. His misfortunes arose from playing at games of chance, particularly at faro, of which he was very fond. As a rule after eating and drinking plentifully, he would repair to the faro table, almost invariably rising a loser. Once indeed, and only once, he won about eight thousand pounds in the course of a single evening; part of this money he paid away to his creditors, and the remainder he lost again almost immediately in the same manner. Mr. Boothby, also an irreclaimable gamester and an intimate friend of Fox, speaking of the latter said, "He was unquestionably a man of first-rate talents, but so deficient in judgment as never to have succeeded in any object during his whole life. He loved only three things: women, play, and politics. Yet at no period did he ever form a creditable connection with a woman; he lost his whole fortune at the gaming-table; and with the exception of about eleven months he remained always in opposition."

Before he attained his thirtieth year, Fox had completely dissipated every shilling that he could either command or procure by the most ruinous expedients. During his career he experienced, at times, many of the severest privations attached to the vicissitudes which mark a gamester's progress, and frequently lacked money to defray common expenses of the most pressing nature. Topham Beauclerk--himself a man of pleasure and of letters--who lived much in Fox's society at that period of his life, used to say that no man could form an idea of the extremities to which his friend had been driven in order to raise money, after losing his last guinea at the faro table. For days in succession he was reduced to such distress as to be under the necessity of having recourse to the waiters of Brooks's Club to lend him assistance--even sedan-chairmen, whom he was unable to pay, used to clamour at his door.

Notwithstanding the numerous petty claims which at times made Fox's life unbearable, he could never resist high play, which seems to have completely destroyed his judgment as to the value of money, and prided himself upon the largeness of his stakes. The Duke of Devonshire, who, much to his honour, made a point of never touching a card, went one day out of curiosity to the Thatched House Club to see the gambling. After some time, finding himself awkward at being the only person in the rooms who was not participating in the play, he proposed a bet of fifty pounds on the odd trick to Charles Fox. "You'll excuse me, my Lord Duke," replied Charles, "I never play for pence." "I assure you, sir," answered his Grace, "you do, as often as I play for fifty pounds."

Fox, whilst a gambler of the most hopeless description, and extravagant almost beyond words, had, as is well known, many good points. Amongst them was hatred of meanness, which was an abomination of the worst sort in his eyes.

Finding himself on one occasion in considerable funds owing to a run of luck at faro, he remembered an old gambling debt due to Sir John Lade, familiarly known at that time as Sir John Jehu, and accordingly wrote, desiring an appointment so that he might pay what he owed. When they met, Charles produced the money, which Sir John no sooner saw, than calling for a pen and ink, he very deliberately began to reckon up the interest.

"What are you doing now?" cried Charles.

"Only calculating what the interest amounts to," replied the other.

"Oh, indeed!" returned Fox with great coolness, at the same time pocketing the cash, which he had already thrown upon the table. "Why, I thought, Sir John, that my debt to you was a debt of honour; but as you seem to view it in another light, and seriously mean to make a trading debt of it, I must inform you that I make it an invariable rule to pay my Jew creditors last. You must therefore wait a little longer for your money, sir; and when I meet my money-lending Israelites for the payment of principal and interest, I shall certainly think of Sir John Jehu, and expect to have the honour of seeing him in the company of my worthy friends from Duke's Place"--a locality which at that time swarmed with usurers.

Though Fox rather excelled at card games of skill, horse-racing was his darling amusement, until, from prudential motives, he quitted the Turf and all other forms of speculation. He played at games of chance with indifference, and would throw for a thousand guineas with as much sang-froid as he would twirl a teetotum for a shilling. But when his horse ran he was all eagerness and anxiety, always placing himself where the animal was to make its effort, or where the race was likely to be most strongly contested. From this spot he would watch the early part of the race with an immovable look, merely breathing quicker as they accelerated their pace. But when the horses came opposite to him, he rode in with them at full speed, whipping, spurring, and blowing, as if he would have infused his whole soul into the courage, speed, and perseverance of his favourite racer. The race being over, the fact that he had won or lost seemed to be a matter of perfect indifference to him, for he immediately began to discuss the next event, whether he had a horse entered for it or not.

The fact that Fox was often in the most dire financial straits through his reckless gambling does not seem to have excited any extraordinary astonishment amongst his contemporaries. The men of the eighteenth century were quite accustomed to the vicissitudes connected with gaming, which seems to have been viewed with the greatest leniency in every way.

The celebrated Beau Nash was sometimes in sore straits owing to a run of ill luck at play, and on one occasion, at York, he lost all the money he possessed. In these circumstances some of his companions agreed to equip him with fifty guineas, upon condition that he should stand at the great door of the Minster in a blanket as the people were coming out of church; and to this proposal he readily agreed. The Dean passing by unfortunately knew him. "What," cried the divine, "Mr. Nash in masquerade?" "Only a Yorkshire penance, Mr. Dean, for keeping bad company," said Nash, pointing to his companions. Some time after this the Beau won a wager of still greater consequence by riding naked through a village upon a cow, an escapade which was considered as a harmless and natural frolic.

In the year 1725, a giddy youth who had just resigned his fellowship at Oxford, brought his whole fortune to Bath; and without the smallest degree of skill in play, won a sufficient sum to make any ordinary man happy. His desire of gain, however, being increased by his good fortune, he plunged more deeply in the following October, and added four thousand pounds to his former capital. Hearing of this, Beau Nash, who was a good-natured man, one night invited him to supper, and told him there would come a time when he would repent having left the calm of a college life for the turbulent profession of a gamester. "You are a stranger to me," said he, "but to convince you of the part I take in your welfare, I'll give you fifty guineas to forfeit twenty every time you lose two hundred at one sitting." The young gentleman refused this offer, and was eventually ruined.

This system of tying up was very usual. The Duke of Bedford, being chagrined at losing a considerable sum, pressed Mr. Nash to tie him up for the future from playing deep. With this view the Beau gave his Grace one hundred guineas to forfeit ten thousand whenever he lost a sum to the same amount at one sitting. The Duke, however, loved play to distraction, and within a short time again lost eight thousand guineas at hazard. As he was on the point of throwing for three thousand more, Nash caught hold of the dice-box and entreated him to reflect on the penalty he would incur should he loose. For that time the Duke desisted, but so possessed was he by the love of play, that shortly afterwards, having lost a considerable sum at Newmarket, he was contented to pay the penalty.

On another occasion Nash undertook to cure a young peer of the gambling fever. Conscious of his own superior skill he determined to engage the Earl in single play for a very considerable sum. His Lordship lost his estate, and the title-deeds were put into the winner's possession; finally his very equipage was deposited as the last stake, and he lost that also. Nash, however, who showed himself to be the most generous of gamesters, returned all, only stipulating that he should be paid five thousand pounds whenever he should think proper to make the demand. He never did anything of the kind during the nobleman's life; but some time after his decease, Mr. Nash's affairs being on the wane, he demanded the money of his Lordship's heirs, who honourably paid it without hesitation.

At the present day gambling is more or less confined to large towns, but a different state of affairs prevailed in the eighteenth century, when whole properties frequently changed hands at the card-table. The owner of Warthall Hall, for instance, having lost all his money, in a frenzy of excitement finally risked the whole of his estate upon a low cut of the cards. He cut the deuce of diamonds, and in remembrance of his good luck fixed a representation of the lucky card upon the front of his house with the following inscription:--

Up now deuce and then a trey,[1] Or Warthall's gone for ever and aye.

Shelley Hall in Suffolk, the remains of which still exist, was lost at play by Thomas Kerridge, the last squire, who died in 1743. According to tradition, he gambled away the house room by room; and when all the contents were gone and the house gutted, he pulled down certain portions and gambled away the bricks. Blo' Norton Hall, Norfolk, is also said to have been lost at play by its owner, Gawdy Brampton, who, when he was finally ruined, committed suicide in an attic, from which his ghost is still said to emerge and haunt an adjoining staircase--perhaps because his widow married the man who had won his money and the old Hall.

Many of the small tradesmen in the country towns were eager devotees of chance, and sharpers frequently reaped a rich harvest in provincial centres. Indeed, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the eighteenth century was very favourable to such gentry, who pillaged all ranks without distinction.

About 1780 there resided at Canterbury a barber who was famous for the way in which he made natty one-curled hunting wigs, but who was also much given to making bets and to boasting of his discernment and judgment. Two blacklegs, coming to Canterbury for the races, heard of this barber and immediately formed a plan to shave him in his own way. To accomplish the business, they went to one of the principal inns, where, ordering a capital supper, they sent for the perruquier to bespeak wigs for themselves and their servants. The knight of the strop readily and cheerfully attended; and, having taken the external dimensions of the gentlemen's heads, whilst totally ignorant of the schemes which lay within them, was about to depart, but was prevented by a pressing invitation from his new customers to take supper with them. He was of a convivial turn and fond of company, which in his own opinion afforded opportunities of displaying his great sagacity in the mysteries of betting; and for this reason he politely accepted the invitation.

After supper, a game of whist was suggested, but as the barber did not feel himself so great an adept at this as at his favourite game of "done and done," the proposal fell to the ground. As the guest of the evening was a great politician, and his companions were well informed of his manners and character, the conversation turned upon politics, from that unaccountably veering round till wagers became the general topic. Highly delighted at the introduction of a subject of which he deemed himself a perfect master, the barber listened with the greatest attention to the conversation, and eagerly offered several bets himself. As his two companions appeared rather shy, and hinted that it would not be safe to bet with a man who calculated matters so shrewdly as generally to win, he became very anxious to get the better of men whom he considered as "pigeons"--though, unluckily for him, they turned out to be "rooks."

After many propositions, they offered to bet him ten guineas that he would not repeat one sentence, and that only, during the space of ten minutes. Cunningly thinking that he had his men, the barber started up and swore he could repeat any sentence for an hour. After having blithely stepped home for a supply of cash, he returned, and a bet of fifty guineas having been made, both stakes were deposited under a hat on the table, the conditions being that the barber should without intermission repeat the words "_There he goes_," for half an hour's continuance. He accordingly took his station at the table, and, with a watch before him to note the time, began his recital of _There he goes_, _There he goes_, _There he goes_.

When he had kept on in a steady and unalterable tone for a quarter of an hour, one of the gentlemen, with a view to lead the barber from his stated subject, lifted up the hat, counted out half the money, and saying "D--n me if I don't go," put the cash in his pocket and walked off. This circumstance, however, had no effect upon the barber. A few minutes later the man who remained coolly pocketed the residue of the money, and added, as the barber repeated the words _There he goes_, "And d--n me if I don't follow him." The barber was now left alone with his eyes riveted on the watch, anxious for the expiration of the short time which still remained to elapse before his bet was won, but more confident than ever.

In the meantime, the departure of the two strangers without settling the bill excited the notice of the landlord; he went into the room, and the barber, looking him in the face, kept repeating _There he goes_, "Yes, sir, I know it; they have both been gone some time; pray are you to pay the bill?" No answer being given but _There he goes_, the host immediately ran for the barber's wife and a doctor, supposing him in a state of hopeless delirium. They arrived; his wife, taking him round the neck, in vain endeavoured to make him deviate from his purpose; the doctor, after feeling his pulse, pronounced him in a high fever, and was getting ready his apparatus for opening a vein, when the time expired, and the barber in a frenzy of excitement, jumped upon the table and exclaimed, "Bravo, I have won fifty guineas of the two gentlemen who are gone out!" The persons present now concluded, beyond a doubt, that he had lost his senses; his wife screamed, and the landlord called for assistance to have him secured.

When matters were explained, however, the landlord had a horse saddled, and rode in pursuit of the gentlemen, to remind them of their forgetfulness. After riding about ten miles, he overtook them in a lonely part of the road. Here he reminded them that they had not paid their bill, upon which they presented pistols to his head, robbed him of between twenty and thirty guineas, and advised him not to travel again upon such a foolish errand, but to look better after his inn, and tell the barber to be careful how he made his bets in future.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 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.