Monsieur Germain, born of low parentage in Holland in 1688, is celebrated for having introduced into the gambling circles of London a game called Spanish whist, by which those familiar[familiar] with the tricks of the game won great amounts. He was also noted for his expertness in playing ombre, which Pope describes entertainingly in his “Rape of the Lock.” Germain became intimate with Lady Mary Mordaunt, wife of the Duke of Norfolk, whom he first met at a private gambling party. The Duke obtained a divorce from her, in consequence, and thereafter she lived openly with Germain until her death.
Tom Hughes was a London gambler whose life well illustrated the ups and downs of the profession. He was born in Dublin and when a young man became a London sport. He played heavily and skill and good luck enabled him to win a great deal of money which he spent as fast as he made it, chiefly at a resort for frail females in the Piazza, Covent Garden. He was for a time proprietor of E. O. tables, in a house in Pall Mall, kept by a Dr. Graham, and was often to be found also at Carlisle House, in Soho Square. He once won £3,000 from a young man, just of age, who made over to him a landed estate for the amount. Being admitted a member of the Jockey Club, he was quite prosperous for a time but, his luck changing, he fell into the clutches of “Old Pope,” the money lender, and was obliged to give up to him the estate he had won. He fought several duels over disputes arising at the gaming table and finally died in a debtor’s cell leaving not enough to pay for his coffin.
It is narrated of Whig Middleton, who was wealthy, handsome and dressed in extreme fashion, that, after losing a thousand guineas one night, to Lord Montford, he was asked by the latter, in gambler’s parlance, what he would do, or would not do, to get home? “My Lord,” said he, “prescribe your own terms;” “Then” replied Lord Montford, “dress directly opposite to the fashion for ten years.” Middleton accepted the terms and lived up to them “dying nine years afterward,” as the narrator expresses it, “so unfashionably that he did not owe a tradesman a farthing, left some playing debts unliquidated; and his coat and wig were of the cut of Queen Anne’s reign.”
Wrothesly, Duke of Bedford, fell amongst a party of sharpers, including a manager of a theatre and Beau Nash, master of ceremonies, who had conspired to bleed him. After he had lost £70,000 the Duke rose in a passion and pocketed the dice, declaring that he intended to inspect them and see if they were crooked. He then threw himself on a sofa and fell asleep. The sharpers held a consultation, as to what they had best do, and it was finally decided that they would cast lots to see who should pick the Duke’s pocket of the loaded dice and put fair ones in their place. The lot fell on the theatre manager, and he performed the feat without being detected. The Duke examined the dice when he awoke and, being satisfied that they were all right, returned to playing and lost £30,000 more.
The sharpers had received £5,000 of the money they had won, and when they came to dividing it got to quarreling. Beau Nash was so dissatisfied that he went to the Duke and exposed the whole scheme of robbing him. The Duke believed this was done purely through friendship and, accordingly, made Nash a handsome present and patronized him ever afterward.
Beau Nash, as is well known, was an immense favorite with the aristocratic society of his time. He was both homely and clumsy, yet his wit, flattery and fine clothes made him a pet of the ladies. “Wit, flattery and fine clothes are enough to debauch a nunnery,” he was wont to say. Nash was a barrister and lived in Middle Temple, where, when still a young man, he organized and directed the grand “revel and pageant,”—the last of its sort—upon the accession of King William. This he did so successfully that the King offered to knight him, which Nash declined, saying: “Please your Majesty, if you intend to make me a knight, I wish it may be one of your poor knights of Windsor and then I shall have a fortune at least able to support my title.”
It is said of Nash, that when he submitted his accounts to the Masters of the Temple, this item was among them: “For making one man happy, £10.” Being asked to explain it, Nash said that he overheard a poor man declare to his wife and large family that £10 would make him happy, and that he could not resist the temptation to give him the sum. He offered to refund the money, if the item was not allowed. The Masters, struck with such good nature, not only allowed the bill but thanked him for his generosity and doubled the allowance.
Nash became subsequently Master of the Ceremonies, at Bath, then the popular fashionable summer resort, where he ruled with such undisputable authority that he was styled “King of Bath.” Gambling was deep and furious at Bath, and, in consequence of disputes over the table, swords were frequently resorted to in settling matters. Thereupon Nash commanded that no swords should be worn at Bath, and the order was obeyed. Nash’s later years were spent chiefly in gambling in a small way. He died at Bath, in 1761, and was buried with great ceremony in the Abbey Church, three clergymen preceding the coffin, aldermen acting as pall-bearers, the Masters of the Assembly Rooms following as chief mourners and the streets and housetops being thronged with people anxious to do honor to him, whom they regarded as “the venerable founder of the prosperity of the City of Bath.”
Richard Bennett is an example of a gambler, who, through a long life, enjoyed almost uninterrupted prosperity. He was of the unscrupulous sort, and rose from being a billiard sharper in Bell Alley, to be partner in several of the aristocratic “houses” or “clubs” in St. James street. He brought up and educated a large family. He was finally indicted for keeping several gaming houses, and sentenced to imprisonment until he should pay fines aggregating £4,000. He remained in prison for some time, but managed to effect his release without paying his fines.
A circumstance almost identical to the one related of the Duke of Bedford, is told of another noble duke. “The late Duke of Norfolk,” says the author of “Rouge et Noir,” writing in 1823, “one evening lost the sum of seventy thousand pounds in a gaming house, on the right side of St. James street, and, suspecting foul play, he put the dice in his pocket, and, as was his custom when up late, took a bed in the house. The blacklegs were all dismayed, until one of the worthies, who is believed to have been a principal in poisoning the horses at Newmarket, for which Dan Dawson was hanged, offered, for five thousand pounds, to go to the Duke’s room with a brace of pistols and a pair of dice, and if the Duke was awake to shoot him, if asleep to change the dice. Fortunately for the gang the Duke ‘snored,’ as the agent stated, ‘like a pig,’ and the dice were changed. His Grace had them broken in the morning, when, finding them good, he paid the money, and left off gambling.”