“Would you imagine it to be true that a grave gentleman well stricken in years, in so much that he cannot see the pips of the dice, is so infatuated with this witchery as to play here with other’s eyes, of whom this quibble was raised; ‘That Mr. Such-a-one plays at dice by the ear.’ Another gentleman, stark blind, I have seen play at hazard, and surely that must be by the ear, too.
“Late at night, when the company grows thin, and your eyes dim with watching, false dice are often put upon the ignorant, or they are otherwise cozened with topping, or slurring, and if you are not vigilant the book shall square you up double or treble books, and though you have lost your money, dun you as severely for it as if it was the justest debt in the world.
“There are yet some more genteel and subtle ‘crooks’ whom you shall not distinguish, by their outward demeanor, from persons of condition, and who will sit by a whole evening and observe who wins, and then if the winner be ‘bubbleable’ they will insinuate themselves into his acquaintance, and civilly invite him to drink a glass of wine, wheedle him into play, and win all his money either by false dice, as high fulhams, low fulhams, or by palming, topping, etc. Note by the way, that when they have you at a tavern, and think you are a sure ‘bubble,’ they will many times purposely lose some small sums to you the first time, to encourage you more freely to ‘bleed’ at the second meeting to which they will be sure to invite you. A gentleman whom ill fortune had hurried into a passion, took a box to a side table and then fell to throwing by himself. At length he swore with an emphasis—‘Now, I throw for nothing, I can win a thousand pounds, but when I play for money I lose my all.’”
In the time of Henry VIII., as stated heretofore, gambling pervaded every rank of society. Sir Miles Partridge threw dice with this king and won from him the celebrated “Jesus bells,” then the largest in England, which were in the tower of St. Paul’s. Partridge was hung for some criminal offense in the time of Edward VI. During the Protectorate of Cromwell, vigorous attempts were made to suppress gaming; but under Charles II., a dissolute monarch, the vice more than recovered the ground it had lost. The aristocracy of the period plunged into gaming as it did into other dissipation. After the death of this King the gambling mania again declined only to revive during the classic reign of Queen Anne. Parliament thereupon turned its attention to the subject, and passed stringent measures against the evil.
Under the first and second Georges, faro and hazard were subjected to heavy penalties and yet, these and other games continued to be played by all classes. In his correspondence with Horace Walpole, Lord Oxford makes pregnant and forcible reference to the absorbing passion for play that distinguished, or rather, disgraced, the times. December 13, 1754, Walpole wrote: “I met Dyke Edgecombe and asked him with great importance, if he knew whether Mr. Pitt was out?” “Yes,” replied Edgecombe, who was too much of a gamester not to have a sportsman’s conception of the meaning of “out,” “How do you know?” I asked, “Why, I called at his door, just now, and his footman told me so,” he replied.[replied.] Another incident, related in Lord Oxford’s correspondence, shows to what ruin the desperate play of that time sometimes led. After expressing his surprise at the extraordinary death of ——, a most accomplished man of the day, he says: “He himself, with all his judgment in debts, would have bet any man in England against himself for self murder. Yet, after having been supposed the sharpest genius in his time, he, by all that appears, shot himself in the distress of his circumstances. He lost £1,200 a year by Lord Albemarle’s death and more by Lord Gage’s, late Duke of Bedford. The same day he asked immediately for the government of Virginia, or the fox hounds, and pressed for an answer with the eagerness that surprised the Duke of N., who never had a notion of pinning down the relation of his own, or any man’s wants, to a day. Yet that seems to have been the case with ——, who determined to throw the die of life or death upon that answer from the court. Tuesday was the night for the answer, which did not prove to be favorable. He consulted, indirectly, and at last directly, several people of the easiest method of finishing life, and seems to have thought that he had been too explicit, and invited company to dinner on the day of his death, and ordered a supper at White’s, where he had supper but the day before. He played until it was one o’clock in the morning; it was New Year’s morning. Lord Bertie drank to him a happy New Year. He clapped his hands strangely to his eyes. In the morning he had a lawyer and three witnesses to execute his will, which he made them read twice very carefully, paragraph by paragraph, and then asking the lawyer if that would stand good though a man were to shoot himself, and being assured that it would, he said, “Pray be seated while I step into the next room,”—and shot himself. I feel for the distress this man must have felt before he decided on so desperate an action. He had the the most compendious understanding of any man I ever saw. He had effected a finesse in many matters beyond what he deserved, and aimed at reducing affections to a calculation like Demoirves.
Again Lord Oxford writes: “The great event is the catastrophe of Sir ——,[Sir ——,] who has frittered away his whole fortune at hazard, but that does not exceed what was lost by the Duke of Bedford, he having lost at one period of the night (though he recovered the greater part of it) 230,000 pounds. The citizens put on their double chameleoned pumps and trudged to St. James Street expecting to see judgment on White, angels with flaming swords and devils playing away with the dice box, etc., but there was nothing done.”[done.”]
In gambling, the reign of George III. was no improvement on those of his predecessors, but quite the contrary. The vice became more general among the nobility and, if possible more desperate. The most talented men of the day were heavy players at faro and hazard. Lord Lauderdale states that £5,000 ($25,000) were often staked on a single card at faro; and, on authority equally good, we learn that Mr. Fox played at hazard for twenty two consecutive hours and lost on an average £500 ($2,500) in cash each hour. Fox was an infatuated gamester, and he once declared that the greatest pleasure in life was to play and win, and the next greatest pleasure to play and lose.
Under this monarch, gambling invaded private mansions to an extent greater than ever before, or since. Many noblemen, enjoying public esteem and political confidence, permitted their homes to become virtual gambling dens. Lords, statesmen, and orators received from ten to twenty guineas per hour for dealing faro in the houses of eminent personages. At this time, women of the highest rank plunged into gaming and in their houses promoted the terrible evil.
Since the time of George IV. gambling among the aristocracy has decreased greatly. Gambling parties in the houses of the higher classes are now exceedingly rare. The English Lord or Baronet now gambles at his club, at Monte Carlo, or some other Continental resort. One sees many English women playing at Monte Carlo, but it is said with them to be a pastime mainly. Gambling is still largely indulged in by the lower classes of London, but is attended with much inconvenience and risk owing to the vigilance of the police. Turf betting, however, in which all classes join, goes on unchecked.
In gambling, as in all other occupations, the Englishman manifests his race characteristics. Cool and collected, he bets in a cold-blooded sort of way, impossible to an Italian or Frenchman. The Englishman knows generally what he is doing and rarely “loses his head,” whatever else he may lose. Although conservative, he will, at times, bet heavily and desperately. The gambling propensity in England now exhibits itself on the turf more than elsewhere. Gambling houses have flourished for 200 years at least. Formerly, gambling among the nobility was carried on at clubs or “coffee houses,” and was one of the understood features of club-life. It was also largely practiced in private mansions. In time, establishments, devoted solely to gambling, were started, and called “clubs,” that an air of importance and respectability might be thrown about them. The practice has continued to this day and the vilest gaming “hells” in London are known by the euphonious name of “clubs.” Some of the gaming resorts once noted in London were: “White’s”, “Brooks’”, “Crockford’s”, “Fishmongers’ Hall”, the “Berkely Club”, “St. James”, “Melton-Mowbray”, “Strangers”, “Cavendish”, “Leicester”, and “Hertford.”