Dr. Johnson says that the gambler is no better than a robber, because he acquires property without an equivalent. The whole gist of the argument lies here. You strip a man of fortune, or tear from his hands the earnings of a long life, and give him in return—nothing! Mr. Freeman says, in answer to this—yes, you give him the chance of robbing you! And he goes so far in his sophistry, as to contend that if a man attempts to rob you on the highway, you have a right to rob him! Such is the language of the gambler, on the rule of right, who wanting a principle of virtue, resorts to every extravagant theory, to justify his violations of the first law of nature.
Justice is the foundation of all human institutions: and this ordains, that no man shall take from another, what is his own, without paying him an equivalent. The gambler pays no equivalent—and hence, he stands on the same platform with the robber.
The strong point in the logic of Mr. Freeman was, that other professions also acquire property without paying an equivalent, and therefore gamblers were not criminal! We marvelled that a man of his sagacity should venture on so gross a sophism. He alluded to speculators and stock-jobbers, who gained their thousands without an exchange of values, and exulted that the gambler was no worse. But could this make the gambler an honest man, because other men were rogues? How desperate the cause that could clutch at so frail a straw for support! Yet Mr. Freeman appeared perfectly unconscious of the imbecility of his reasoning. More perfect hallucination we never beheld!
Every man feels, when he gains property without an equivalent, that he has done a wrong. Every dollar so acquired plants a fang in his heart. Conscience goads him. He is miserable, restless, tortured, and for temporary relief flies to the transient oblivion of the bowl. When he wins, he drinks—and when he loses, he drinks to desperation. He feels that when he wins, he is a rogue—and that when he loses, he is a victim—no matter whether gambler, speculator or stock-jobber—he has violated the rule of right, by acquiring property without an equivalent; and he feels the degradation of the robber, who cries "stand!" to the passenger on the highway, and extorts his purse, with the pistol at his breast.
Of the fascinating charms of gambling, history has left us too many records to make us insensible of the importance of the safe-guards which society ought to erect, to defend itself from the poison of so infectious a contamination. Who would believe, that the great Wilberforce was once a gambler! That even Pitt once stood on the brink of a gambler's hell. But Wilberforce was cured by winning £2000 at Holland-house—and such was the pain he felt for those who had lost their money, that it prevented all "his future triumphs in the infernal regions." But in those regions, flourished the greatest statesmen and wits of the age—who fell victims to the prevailing fascination of the gaming-table. What destroyed Charles James Fox, as a statesman? Gambling! What brought the brilliant Sheridan to the grave? Intoxication, brought on by the ill-starred luck of the ruined gamester? "Holland-house!" immortalized as the resort of genius, as well as for its orgies of dissipation, is not less renowned to infamy, as having been the "hell" of respectable gamesters.
There is a kind of democracy of crime, contended for by Mr. Freeman, that has its charms to the ears of the groundlings. He is opposed to a law that punishes one class of gamblers only, instead of bringing all, within the focus of its penalties! There is much truth in this. Laws ought to be equal in their operation—but if they cannot be equal, this is no reason why there ought to be no laws at all. This conclusion is not warranted by any rule in logic or in government.
No man has a right to dispose of his property to the corruption of the public morals. Mr. Freeman adduced the instance of a father having a right to disinherit one son and prefer the other. This is not a parallel case. The parallel would be a rich man leaving his fortune to found an Institution of demoralizing tendency—say to teach you the art of cheating! The laws would annul such a bequest. Society has an original, inherent right to defend itself from all evil—and that gaming is an evil, whether played with cards, lotteries, dice, stocks, or betting, not even Mr. Freeman could seriously deny.
In the late debate between these celebrated speculators,—one reformed, the other confirmed in his vicious career—it was observed, what a tower of strength truth gives to the man who espouses the just cause. Mr. Green stood self-vindicated by his very position—while the labour of Sisiphus devolved on Mr. Freeman. But the stone would not stay rolled up hill. It was no sooner at midway from the summit, but back it rolled upon its unfortunate and panting labourer.
The fostering power which intemperance derives from the excitements of the gaming-table, would itself prove an effectual argument against this monstrous infatuation, if no other existed. But when we find intoxication, only one of a legion of vices that attend on it—and that fraud, cheating, forgery, swindling, robbery, murder, and suicide, are its unfailing companions—we may well marvel that it should find any man so reckless of public opinion, as to venture its championship. Mr. Freeman went so far in this mad advocacy of his darling pursuit, as to justify suicide! In this, however, he was perfectly consistent—for if gaming of any kind is right, so is murder, robbery, and suicide. In this, Mr. Freeman over-reached himself—and by attempting too much, exposed the futility and weakness of his case.
One fact, of a highly useful import, was established by this debate—and having received the concurrent attestation of Mr. Freeman, must now be considered as no longer open to doubt—that cheating is a necessary part of gaming, from which even honourable gamblers—(what a revolting solecism!)—do not shrink! But this is not the worst of the admissions made, in the course of this debate—which we here enumerate: