At the time of the French Revolution hordes of émigrés of all classes took up their temporary or permanent residence in London, with the result that over thirty gaming-places were, more or less, publicly established in the Metropolis. Here, besides faro and hazard, the foreign games of roulette and rouge-et-noir flourished, a regular gradation of houses existing, suited to all ranks, from the man of fashion to the pickpocket.
The mania for gaming amongst the exiles was confined to no particular class—high and low alike being affected by it. Nothing, for instance, could exceed the rage for gambling which possessed the prisoners of war at Dartmoor. About two hundred of them, including a number of Italians, having lost all their clothes by gaming, were sent to the prison ships in the Hamoaze, to be clothed anew, many more being left in rags. These unfortunate men played even for their rations, living three or four days on offal, cabbage-stalks, or, indeed, anything which chance might throw in their way. They staked the clothes on their backs, and even their bedding. It was the custom at Dartmoor for those who had sported away the latter article to huddle very close together at night, in order to keep each other warm. One out of the number was elected boatswain for the time being, and at twelve o'clock at night would pipe all hands to turn, an operation which, from their proximity to each other, had to be simultaneous. At four o'clock in the morning the pipe was heard again, and the reverse turn taken.
Such of the émigrés belonging to the upper classes as possessed funds could easily indulge their passion for play in the fashionable circles where many of them had made themselves popular during previous and more pleasant visits to England. Many, like the Duc de Nivernois, had intimate friends in high places. Before the Revolution he had been Ambassador in England. This nobleman was well known for his love of chess, which on one occasion led to a very pleasant incident. Staying with Lord Townshend, the Duc, when out for a ride was obliged by a heavy shower to seek shelter at a wayside house occupied by a clergyman, who to a poor curacy added the care of a few scholars in the neighbourhood. In all this might make his living about eighty pounds a year, on which he had to maintain a wife and six children. When the Duc rode up, the clergyman, not knowing his rank, begged him to come in and dry himself, which he was glad to do, borrowing a pair of old worsted stockings and slippers and warming himself by a good fire. After some conversation the Duc observed an old chess-board hanging up, and asked the clergyman whether he could play. The latter told him that he could play pretty tolerably, but found it difficult in that part of the country to get an antagonist. "I am your man," said the Duc. "With all my heart," answered the clergyman, "and if you will stay and take pot-luck, I will try if I cannot beat you." The day continuing rainy the Duc accepted the proffered hospitality, and found his antagonist a much better player than himself. Indeed, the clergyman won every game. This, however, in no way annoyed the Duc, who was delighted to meet with a man who could give him so much entertainment at his favourite game. He accordingly inquired into the state of his host's family affairs, and making a memorandum of his address, he thanked him and rode away without revealing who he was.
Some months elapsed and the clergyman never thought of the matter, when one evening a footman rode up to the door and delivered the following note—"The Duc de Nivernois presents his compliments to the Rev. Mr. Bentinck, and as a remembrance of the good drubbing he received at chess, begs that he will accept the living of X——, worth £400 per annum, and that he will wait upon his Grace the Duke of Newcastle on Friday next, to thank him for the same." The good clergyman was some time before he could imagine this missive to be more than a jest, and hesitated to obey the mandate; but as his wife insisted on his taking the chance, he went up to town, where to his unspeakable satisfaction he found that his nomination to the living had actually taken place.
The habits of dissipation which had prevailed at Versailles in some measure affected the English upper classes, many of whom were thoroughly versed in the amusements so popular in France.
For a time a positive rage for gaming seized fashionable London, and a number of ladies kept what were practically public gaming-tables to which any one with money could obtain comparatively easy admission.
Faro is supposed to have been invented by a noble Venetian, who gave it the name of bassetta; and for the evils resulting from it he was banished his country. In 1674 Signor Justiniani, Ambassador from Venice, introduced the game into France, where it was called bassette. Some of the princes of the blood, many of the noblesse, and several persons of the greatest fortune having been ruined by it, a severe law was enacted by Louis XIV. against its play. To elude this edict, it was disguised under the name of pour et contre, "for and against"; and this occasioning new and severe prohibitions, it was again changed to the name of le pharaon, in order to evade the arrêts of Parliament. From France this game soon found its way to England, where it was first called basset, but in the fashionable circles, where at that time it enjoyed a great vogue, it was invariably known by the name of faro.
Faro, pharo, or pharaoh, which was Fox's favourite game, was supposed to be easy to learn, fair in its rules, and pleasant to play. Two packs of cards were used, and any number of people could play, one pack being for the players whilst the banker had another. Fifty-two cards were spread out, and the players staked upon one or more which they might fancy. The banker dealt out his pack to the right, which was for himself, and to the left (called the carte anglaise) for the players, who instead of their pack often used a "livret," specially adapted for staking. The "livret" consisted of thirteen cards, with four others called "figures." The "little figure" had a blue cross on each side, and represented ace, deuce, and three. The "yellow figure"—yellow on both sides—signified 4, 5, and 6. The "third figure" had a black lozenge in the centre, and stood for 7, 8, and 9. The "great figure" was a red card, and indicated knave, queen, and king. The banker won all the money staked on any card corresponding with a card dealt by him to the right, and had to pay double stakes on any card dealt to the left which players had selected in their own pack. If he dealt two equal cards (called a doublet) he won half of all the money staked upon the card of that value, and on the last card of his pack, did the players win, he only paid even money. In reality the chances were very favourable to the holder of the bank.
Complaints were very rife as to the way in which these faro parties were conducted. An especial grievance was "card money," a small sum paid by each visitor into a pool for every new pack of cards used. This money was supposed to be a perquisite of the servants, though malicious rumours declared that it never reached them. The advent of French émigrés after the French Revolution was also the cause of considerable irritation, it being declared that many of the exiled noblesse completely monopolised some of the tables, round which they formed a circle, and excluded English ladies and gentlemen from taking part in the game.
The losses of many of those who played at faro were so heavy and constant that the banks contracted many bad debts; and in addition the fashionable parties in time became full of little tricks and artifices which were to the detriment of those holding the bank. Some of the latter found it advisable to employ eight croupiers instead of the four usually attached to each faro table, for the pigeons were all flown and those who remained were little better than hawks.