A Timothy Barnard was examined, and said he speculated in race courses. At Egham he paid the Lord of the Manor £300 for the race course, and cleared £240 by the gambling booths. He gave £600 for Epsom course, but could not give £300 if he were deprived of the privilege of letting gaming booths, because they were the mainstay of the other booths, such as the publicans’ booths; many having their liquors and wines of them, and therefore the publicans would not give near as much for the ground, except for those booths. They made the thimble-riggers pay 5s. or 10s. to be allowed on the course; they were given a little ticket which they were obliged to wear in their hats, or their tables would be taken from them.
In Bentley’s Magazine for 1846 we get a good account of the working of the betting rooms at Doncaster. The subscription was a guinea, and the number of subscribers was from 1000 to 1200. “The rent paid by the proprietary for the premises is said to be £500 per an.; but this is reduced in its amount by the circumstance of the rooms being let off for trading, or warehouse purposes, during ten months of the year; and taking this reduction at the reasonable sum of £150, it would leave £350 as the rent from the estimated subscriptions of £1050, which would give a clear surplus of £700 per an., which alone would be a large return of profit. But other sources of income and annual return are open to the proprietary, by the sale of wine, spirits, soda water, and divers refreshments, which are in almost constant demand in the great room throughout each evening, and partially so in the day. The prices at which these articles are sold are by no means so moderate as they might be, even to secure a fair and liberal compensation for their outlay, and must, on the most moderate calculation, yield £100 clear at least in the week.
“But the El Dorado or grand source of income and wealth to the proprietors arises from the prolific revenue of the play or gaming tables, of which there are usually six in constant nightly operation during the racing week. The proprietors of the Subscription Betting Rooms are not ostensibly connected in the co-partnership of the banks, or in the business of the tables, but they are nevertheless largely interested in the successful issue of the week, as will be shown. In the first instance it should be stated that the sum of £350 or £400 is paid down to them by the party contracting for the tables and for the privilege of putting down the banks. This is all clear profit, paid in advance and without any contingency; and in addition to this apparently large sum, so paid for the mere privilege of finding capital, there is a stipulation also on the part of the proprietors of the rooms that they shall receive a considerable part or share of the whole clear profits, or gains, of the week accruing from the tables, and this without the risk of a single shilling by them under any unlooked-for reverse of fortune.
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“The play tables at the Betting Rooms, are, as before noted, six, or seven, in number, and of variety in the games played thereat. The roulette tables attract the crowd, as well as for the reason that the game opens to the player many modes of proportionate risk, as that it affords him opportunity to play smaller sums on any one event, than he can at hazard. At the former game, the lowest stake is half a crown; at the latter, nothing less than the regal coin of a sovereign is permitted. The pull, or percentage, of roulette against the player, being, however, nearly five times that of hazard, the small stakes played realise as large a result to the bankers. It requires all the vigilance of a player to guard his interests at this game; for, generally speaking, there is much confusion in the distribution of money staked by the many adventurers, on the numbers, and other points of speculation attaching to the game; and dispute, not infrequently, arises between two or three different claimants for the produce of some fortunate, or winning result. These contested claims often arise from inattention in the player to the exact position of his money on the board, but are, sometimes, occasioned by the attempt of some sharping knave to possess himself of something which does not belong to him. The officials at the table, too, are most dexterous in their practical avocations,—more particularly so in the principle of drawing the money from the losing points of the game, immediately the winning number, &c., is called. The rapidity with which this operation is performed, is most remarkable, and gives immense additional advantage to the bank; for, it very often happens that, in the general sweep, the adroit croupiers rake off much more than they are entitled to; while, on the other hand, they can never, under any circumstances, be called upon to pay more than the loss attaching to the event.”
Doncaster is now, I believe, very much purified, but Sir George Chetwynd describes the gambling that went on there in 1869. “How changed is Doncaster now, from what it was in those days! Then, after dinner, you would go to the subscription rooms and back horses for the Cesarewitch and Cambridgeshire at 100 to 1 to win large stakes, and even small bookmakers thought nothing of starting £20,000 books. After making their bets, people used to go into an inner room where hazard was being played. Hour after hour the game continued in full swing at a table crowded with punters, with green, black, red and white ivory counters before them denoting £10, £5, £25, and £1. There was an impressive stillness in the room, only broken by the voice of Mr F. Hall, one of the croupiers, who, rake in hand, gave vent to such utterances as, ‘The Castor is backing in at seven, gentlemen. I’ll take on the nick.’ Then came the rattle of the dice, the bang on the table of the box, the quick announcement of the point, and the raking in of the counters on the losing columns, by the two croupiers, one of whom looked like a respectable tradesman, or a magistrate’s clerk. Behind the players stood the proprietor, a tall, handsome man, with carefully trimmed white beard and moustache, more like a general than the keeper of a hell; his countenance immovable, except when it relaxed, as he replied courteously to any one who addressed him.
“He is dead, so is one of the croupiers, so are half the players, old and young, whom I first saw at the table twenty years ago, when, for the first time, I was initiated into the mysteries of hazard, how to dash down a ten, or dribble a four, as if, really, there was skill about a game which consists in rattling two dice in a box, and winning, or losing by the points they declare when rolled out on the table.”
We have seen how disreputable the Turf had become in 1844. If anything, it became worse. A class of men sprung up, called “tipsters,” men who pretended to have exclusive and particular stable information which they were willing to impart to their dupes, say (to quote the advertisement of one of the fraternity), Single events, 3s. 6d. Derby or Oaks, 5s. each: yearly subscription, 21s.; half yearly, 10s. 6d. That these men made a profitable business of it, there can be no doubt, for the sporting papers were full of their advertisements, some of them of great length: and, then, also began that curse attending horse racing, the betting shop—which afforded a fatal facility to all classes, to gamble, and which led to crime, and its attendant punishment.
In 1852, these houses had become such a crying scandal, that a public meeting was held on 18th June, at the Literary and Scientific Institution in Aldersgate Street, over which Sir Peter Laurie presided, to adopt measures for the suppression of betting houses in the City of London, and a resolution was moved, and carried unanimously, that a petition be presented to Parliament for their suppression. In the same year, at a meeting of the Aldermen at the Guildhall, the foreman of the Inquest of Farringdon Ward Without, handed in a presentment, which he said related to a subject of great importance in the City of London; the gambling and betting houses in the Ward, by which great mischief was done. Facilities were given at these houses, of which there were a great number in the Ward, for betting, from sums of threepence, or fourpence upwards; and by these means, many servants and boys, who certainly had no money of their own to bet with, were induced to lay wagers that too often led them into a career of crime.
The Druid says: “The great list era, and all its attendant Ripe-for-a-jails, as Punch termed them, began with Messrs Drummond and Greville, who ‘kept an account at the Westminster Bank’ in 1847. Up to that time ‘sweeps,’ where every subscriber drew a horse for his ticket, had been amply sufficient to satisfy the popular thirst for speculation on a Derby, or St Leger eve; and, although, in one instance, we ascertained that our ticket horse was a leader in a Shrewsbury coach, instead of being ‘prepared,’ it was satisfactory to know that there was, at least, fair play. Stimulated by the example of D. and G., the licensed victuallers took it up—and a nice mess they made of it—till the licensing magistrates stepped sternly in. From 1850 to the end of 1853, the listers were in their glory; and, at one period, about four hundred betting houses were open in London alone, of which, perhaps, ten were solvent.”