'Yours most sincerely, 'R. F.'(119)

(119) Apud Selwyn and his Contemporaries by Jesse.

Selwyn is said to have been a loser on the whole, and often pillaged. Latterly he appears to have got the better of his propensity for play, if we may judge from the following wise sentiment:—'It was too great a consumer,' he said, 'of four things—time, health, fortune, and thinking.' But a writer in the Edinburgh Review seems to doubt Selwyn's reformation; for his initiation of Wilberforce occurred in 1782, when he was 63; and previously, in 1776, he underwent the process of dunning from Lord Derby, before-mentioned, and in 1779 from Mr Crawford ('Fish Crawford,' as he was called), each of whom, like Mr Shafto, 'had a sum to make up'—in the infernal style so horridly provoking, even when we are able and willing to pay. However, as Selwyn died comparatively rich, it may be presumed that his fortune suffered to no great extent by his indulgence in the vice of gaming.

The following are some of George Selwyn's jokes relating to gambling:—

One night, at White's, observing the Postmaster-General, Sir Everard Fawkener, losing a large sum of money at Piquet, Selwyn, pointing to the successful player, remarked—'See now, he is robbing the MAIL!'

On another occasion, in 1756, observing Mr Ponsonby, the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons, tossing about bank-bills at a Hazard table at Newmarket—'Look,' he said, 'how easily the Speaker passes the money-bills!'

A few months afterwards (when the public journals were daily containing an account of some fresh town which had conferred the freedom of its corporation in a gold box on Mr Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham, and the Right Honourable Henry Bilson Legge, his fellow-patriot and colleague), Selwyn, who neither admired their politics nor respected their principles, proposed to the old and new club at Arthur's, that he should be deputed to present to them the freedom of each club in a dice-box.

On one of the waiters at Arthur's club having been committed to prison for a felony—'What a horrid idea,' said Selwyn, 'he will give of us to the people in Newgate!'

When the affairs of Charles Fox were in a more than usually embarrassed state, chiefly through his gambling, his friends raised a subscription among themselves for his relief. One of them remarking that it would require some delicacy in breaking the matter to him, and adding that 'he wondered how Fox would take it.' 'Take it?' interrupted Selwyn, 'why, QUARTERLY, to be sure.'(120)

(120) Jesse, George Selwyn and his Contemporaries.

LORD CARLISLE.

This eminent statesman was regarded by his contemporaries as an able, an influential, and occasionally a powerful speaker.

Though married to a lady for whom in his letters he ever expresses the warmest feelings of admiration and esteem; and surrounded by a young and increasing family, who were evidently the objects of his deepest affection, Lord Carlisle, nevertheless, at times appears to have been unable to extricate himself from the dangerous enticements to play to which he was exposed. His fatal passion for play—the source of adventitious excitement at night, and of deep distress in the morning—seems to have led to frequent and inconvenient losses, and eventually to have plunged him into comparative distress.

'In recording these failings of a man of otherwise strong sense, of a high sense of honour, and of kindly affections, we have said the worst that can be adduced to his disadvantage. Attached, indeed, as Lord Carlisle may have been to the pleasures of society, and unfortunate as may have been his passion for the gaming table, it is difficult to peruse those passages in his letters in which he deeply reproaches himself for yielding to the fatal fascination of play, and accuses himself of having diminished the inheritance of his children, without a feeling of commiseration for the sensations of a man of strong sense and deep feeling, while reflecting on his moral degradation. It is sufficient, however, to observe of Lord Carlisle, that the deep sense which he entertained of his own folly; the almost maddening moments to which he refers in his letters of self-condemnation and bitter regret; and subsequently his noble victory over the siren enticements of pleasure, and his thorough emancipation from the trammels of a domineering passion, make adequate amends for his previous unhappy career.'(121)

(121) Jesse, George Selwyn and his Contemporaries, ii.

Brave conquerors, for so ye are, Who war against your own affections, And the huge army of the world's desires.

Lady Sarah Bunbury, writing to George Selwyn, in 1767, says:—'If you are now at Paris with poor C. (evidently Carlisle), who I dare say is now swearing at the French people, give my compliments to him. I call him poor C. because I hope he is only miserable at having been such a PIGEON to Colonel Scott. I never can pity him for losing at play, and I think of it as little as I can, because I cannot bear to be obliged to abate the least of the good opinion I have always had of him.'

Oddly enough the writer had no better account to give of her own husband; she says, in the letter:—'Sir Charles games from morning till night, but he has never yet lost L100 in one day.'(122)

(122) This Lady Sarah Bunbury was the wife of Sir Charles Bunbury, after having had a chance of being Queen of England, as the wife of George III., who was passionately in love with her, and would have married her had it not been for the constitutional opposition of his privy council. This charming and beautiful woman died in 1826, at the age of 82. She was probably the last surviving great-granddaughter of Charles II.—Jesse, Ubi supra.

About the year 1776 Lord Carlisle wrote the following letter to George Selwyn:—

'MY DEAR GEORGE, 'I have undone myself, and it is to no purpose to conceal from you my abominable madness and folly, though perhaps the particulars may not be known to the rest of the world. I never lost so much in five times as I have done to-night, and am in debt to the house for the whole. You may be sure I do not tell you this with an idea that you can be of the least assistance to me; it is a great deal more than your abilities are equal to. Let me see you—though I shall be ashamed to look at you after your goodness to me.'

This letter is endorsed by George Selwyn—'After the loss of L10,000.' He tells Selwyn of a set which, at one point of the game, stood to win L50,000.

'Lord Byron, it is almost needless to remark, was nearly related to Lord Carlisle. The mother of Lord Carlisle was sister to John, fourth Lord Byron, the grandfather of the poet; Lord Carlisle and Lord Byron were consequently first cousins once removed. Had they happened to have been contemporaries, it would be difficult to form an idea of two individuals who, alike from tastes, feelings, and habits of life, were more likely to form a lasting and suitable intimacy. Both were men of high rank; both united an intimate knowledge of society and the world with the ardent temperament of a poet; and both in youth mingled a love of frolic and pleasure with a graver taste for literary pursuits.'

CHARLES JAMES FOX.

In the midst of the infatuated votaries of the gaming god in England, towers the mighty intellectual giant Charles James Fox. Nature had fashioned him to be equally an object of admiration and love. In addition to powerful eloquence, he was distinguished by the refinement of his taste in all matters connected with literature and art; he was deeply read in history; had some claims to be regarded as a poet; and possessed a thorough knowledge of the classical authors of antiquity, a knowledge of which he so often and so happily availed himself in his seat in the House of Commons. To these qualities was added a good-humour which was seldom ruffled,—a peculiar fascination of manner and address,—the most delightful powers of conversation,—a heart perfectly free from vindictiveness, ostentation, and deceit,—a strong sense of justice,—a thorough detestation of tyranny and oppression,—and an almost feminine tenderness of feeling for the sufferings of others. Unfortunately, however, his great talents and delightful qualities in private life rendered his defects the more glaring and lamentable; indeed, it is difficult to think or speak with common patience of those injurious practices and habits—that abandonment to self-gratification, and that criminal waste of the most transcendent abilities which exhausted in social conviviality and the gaming table what were formed to confer blessings on mankind.

So much for the character of Fox, as I have gathered from Mr Jesse;(123) and I continue the extremely interesting subject by quoting from that delightful book, 'The Queens of Society.'(124) 'With a father who had made an enormous fortune, with little principle, out of a public office—for Lord Holland owed the bulk of his wealth to his appointment of paymaster to the forces,—and who spoiled him, in his boyhood, Charles James Fox had begun life AS A FOP OF THE FIRST WATER, and squandered L50,000 in debt before he became of age. Afterwards he indulged recklessly and extravagantly in every course of licentiousness which the profligate society of the day opened to him. At Brookes' and the Thatched House Fox ate and drank to excess, threw thousands upon the Faro table, mingled with blacklegs, and made himself notorious for his shameless vices. Newmarket supplied another excitement. His back room was so incessantly filled with Jew money-lenders that he called it his Jerusalem Chamber. It was impossible that such a life should not destroy every principle of honour; and there is nothing improbable in the story that he appropriated to himself money which belonged to his dear friend Mrs Crewe, as before related.

(123) George Selwyn and his Contemporaries, ii.

(124) By Grace and Philip Wharton.

'Of his talents, which were certainly great, he made an affected display. Of his learning he was proud—but rather as adding lustre to his celebrity for universal tastes. He was not at all ashamed, but rather gloried in being able to describe himself as a fool, as he does in his verses to Mrs Crewe:—

"Is't reason? No; that my whole life will belie; For, who so at variance as reason and I? Is't ambition that fills up each chink in my heart, Nor allows any softer sensation a part? Oh! no; for in this all the world must agree, ONE FOLLY WAS NEVER SUFFICIENT FOR ME."

'Sensual and self-indulgent—with a grossness that is even patent on his very portrait (and bust), Fox had nevertheless a manner which enchanted the sex, and he was the only politician of the day who thoroughly enlisted the personal sympathies of women of mind and character, as well as of those who might be captivated by his profusion. When he visited Paris in later days, even Madame Recamier, noted for her refinement, and of whom he himself said, with his usual coarse ideas of the sphere of woman, that "she was the only woman who united the attractions of pleasure to those of modesty," delighted to be seen with him! At the time of which we are speaking the most celebrated beauties of England were his most ardent supporters.

'The election of 1784, in which he stood and was returned for Westminster, was one of the most famous of the old riotous political demonstrations..... Loving hazard of all kinds for its own sake, Fox had made party hostility a new sphere of gambling, had adopted the character of a demagogue, and at a time when the whole of Europe was undergoing, a great revolution in principles, was welcomed gladly as "The Man of the People." In the beginning, of the year he had been convicted of bribery, but in spite of this his popularity increased.... The election for Westminster, in which Fox was opposed by Sir Cecil Wray, was the most tempestuous of all. There were 20,000 votes to be polled, and the opposing parties resorted to any means of intimidation, or violence, or persuasion which political enthusiasm could suggest. On the eighth day the poll was against the popular member, and he called upon his friends to make a great effort on his behalf. It was then that the "ladies' canvass" began. Lady Duncannon, the Duchess of Devonshire, Mrs Crewe, and Mrs Damer dressed themselves in blue and buff—the colours of the American Independents, which Fox had adopted and wore in the House of Commons—and set out to visit the purlieus of Westminster. Here, in their enthusiasm, they shook the dirty hands of honest workmen, expressed the greatest interest in their wives and families, and even, as in the case of the Duchess of Devonshire and the butcher, submitted their fair cheeks to be kissed by the possessors of votes! At the butcher's shop, the owner, in his apron and sleeves, stoutly refused his vote, except on one condition—"Would her Grace give him a kiss?" The request was granted; and the vote thus purchased went to swell the majority which finally secured the return of "The Man of the People."

'The colouring of political friends, which concealed his vices, or rather which gave them a false hue, has long since faded away. We now know Fox as he WAS. In the latest journals of Horace Walpole his inveterate gambling, his open profligacy, his utter want of honour, is disclosed by one of his own opinion. Corrupted ere yet he had left his home, whilst in age a boy, there is, however, the comfort of reflecting that he outlived his vices which seem to have "cropped out" by his ancestral connection in the female line with the reprobate Charles II., whom he was thought to resemble in features. Fox, afterwards, with a green apron tied round his waist, pruning and nailing up his fruit trees at St Ann's Hill, or amusing himself innocently with a few friends, is a pleasing object to remember, even whilst his early career occurs forcibly to the mind.'

Peace, then, to the shade of Charles James Fox! The three last public acts which he performed were worthy of the man, and should suffice to prove that, in spite of his terrible failings, he was most useful in his generation. By one, he laboured to repair the outrages of war—to obtain a breathing time for our allies; and, by an extension of our commerce, to afford, if necessary, to his country all the advantages of a renovated contest, without the danger of drying up our resources. By another, he attempted to remove all legal disabilities arising out of religion—to unite more closely THE INTERESTS OF IRELAND WITH THOSE OF ENGLAND; and thus, by an extension of common rights, and a participation of common benefits, wisely to render that which has always been considered the weakest and most troublesome portion of our empire, at least a useful and valuable part of England's greatness among the nations. Queen Elizabeth's Minister, Lord Burleigh, in the presence of the 'Irish difficulty' in his day, wished Ireland at the bottom of the sea, and doubtless many at the present time wish the same; but Fox endeavoured to grapple with it manfully and honestly, and it was not his fault that he did not settle it. The vices of Fox were those of the age in which he lived; had he been reserved for the present epoch, what a different biography should we have to write of him! What a helmsman he might be at the present time, when the ship of Old England is at sea and in peril!

It appears from a letter addressed by Lord Carlisle to Lady Holland (Fox's mother) in 1773, that he had become security for Fox to the amount of fifteen or sixteen thousand pounds; and a letter to Selwyn in 1777, puts the ruinous character of their gaming transactions in the strongest light. Lord Ilchester (Fox's cousin) had lost thirteen thousand pounds at one sitting to Lord Carlisle, who offered to take three thousand pounds down. Nothing was paid. But ten years afterwards, when Lord Carlisle pressed for his money, he complained that an attempt was made to construe the offer into a remission of the ten thousand pounds:—'The only way, in honour, that Lord Ilchester could have accepted my offer, would have been by taking some steps to pay the L3000. I remained in a state of uncertainty, I think, for nearly three years; but his taking no notice of it during that time, convinced me that he had no intention of availing himself of it. Charles Fox was also at a much earlier period clear that he never meant to accept it. There is also great injustice in the behaviour of the family in passing by the instantaneous payment of, I believe, five thousand pounds, to Charles, won at the same sitting, without any observations. At one period of the play I remember there was a balance in favour of one of these gentlemen (but which I protest I do not remember) of about fifty thousand.'

At the time in question Fox was hardly eighteen. The following letter from Lord Carlisle, written in 1771, contains highly interesting information respecting the youthful habits and already vast intellectual pre-eminence of this memorable statesman:—'It gives me great pain to hear that Charles begins to be unreasonably impatient at losing. I fear it is the prologue to much fretfulness of temper, for disappointment in raising money, and any serious reflections upon his situation, will (in spite of his affected spirits and dissipation) occasion him many disagreeable moments.' Lord Carlisle's fears proved groundless in this respect. As before stated, Fox was always remarkable for his sweetness of temper, which remained with him to the last; but it is most painful to think how much mankind has lost through his recklessness.

Gibbon writes to Lord Sheffield in 1773, 'You know Lord Holland is paying Charles Fox's debts. They amount to L140,000.'(125)

(125) Timbs, Club Life in London.

His love of play was desperate. A few evenings before he moved the repeal of the Marriage Act, in February, 1772, he had been at Brompton on two errands,—one to consult Justice Fielding on the penal laws, the other to borrow L10,000, which he brought to town at the hazard of being robbed. He played admirably both at Whist and Piquet,—with such skill, indeed, that by the general admission of Brookes' Club, he might have made four thousand pounds a-year, as they calculated, at these games, if he could have confined himself to them. But his misfortune arose from playing games of chance, particularly at Faro.

After eating and drinking plentifully, he would sit down at the Faro table, and invariably rose a loser. Once, indeed, and once only, he won about eight thousand pounds in the course of a single evening. Part of the money he paid to his creditors, and the remainder he lost almost immediately.

Before he attained his thirtieth year he had completely dissipated everything that he could either command or could procure by the most ruinous expedients. He had even undergone, at times, many of the severest privations incidental to the vicissitudes that attend a gamester's progress; frequently wanting money to defray the common daily wants of the most pressing nature. Topham Beauclerc, who lived much in Fox's society, declared that no man could form an idea of the extremities to which he had been driven to raise money, often losing his last guinea at the Faro table. The very sedan-chairmen, whom he was unable to pay, used to dun him for arrears. In 1781, he might be considered as an extinct volcano,—for the pecuniary aliment that had fed the flame was long consumed. Yet he even then occupied a house or lodgings in St James's Street, close to Brookes', where he passed almost every hour which was not devoted to the House of Commons. Brookes' was then the rallying point or rendezvous of the Opposition, where Faro, Whist, and supper prolonged the night, the principal members of the minority in both Houses met, in order to compare their information, or to concert and mature their parliamentary measures. Great sums were then borrowed of Jews at exorbitant premiums.

His brother Stephen was enormously fat; George Selwyn said he was in the right to deal with Shylocks, as he could give them pounds of flesh.

Walpole, in 1781, walking up St James's Street, saw a cart at Fox's door, with copper and an old chest of drawers, loading. His success at Faro had awakened a host of creditors; but, unless his bank had swelled to the size of the Bank of England, it could not have yielded a half-penny apiece for each. Epsom too had been unpropitious; and one creditor had actually seized and carried off Fox's goods, which did not seem worth removing. Yet, shortly after this, whom should Walpole find sauntering by his own door but Fox, who came up and talked to him at the coach window, on the Marriage Bill, with as much sang-froid as if he knew nothing of what had happened. Doubtless this indifference was to be attributed quite as much to the callousness of the reckless gambler as to anything that might be called 'philosophy.'

It seems clear that the ruling passion of Fox was partly owing to the lax training of his father, who, by his lavish allowances, not only fostered his propensity to play, but had also been accustomed to give him, when a mere boy, money to amuse himself at the gaming table. According to Chesterfield, the first Lord Holland 'had no fixed principles in religion or morality,' and he censures him to his son for being 'too unwary in ridiculing and exposing them.' He gave full swing to Charles in his youth. 'Let nothing be done,' said his lordship, 'to break his spirit, the world will do that for him.' At his death, in 1774, he left him L154,000 to pay his debts; it was all 'bespoke,' and Fox soon became as deeply pledged as before.(126)

(126) Timbs, ubi supra. There is a mistake in the anecdote respecting Fox's duel with Mr Adam (not Adams), as related by Mr Timbs in his amusing book of the Clubs. The challenge was in consequence of some words uttered by Fox in parliament, and not on account of some remark on Government powder, to which Fox wittily alluded, after the duel, saying—'Egad, Adam, you would have killed me if it had not been Government powder.' See Gilchrist, Ordeals, Millingen, Hist. of Duelling, ii., and Steinmetz, Romance of Duelling, ii.

The following are authentic anecdotes of Fox, as a gambler.

Fox had a gambling debt to pay to Sir John Slade. Finding himself in cash, after a lucky run at Faro, he sent a complimentary card to the knight, desiring to discharge the claim. Sir John no sooner saw the money than he called for pen and ink, and began to figure. 'What now?' cried Fox. 'Only calculating the interest,' replied the other. 'Are you so?' coolly rejoined Charles James, and pocketed the cash, adding—'I thought it was a debt of honour. As you seem to consider it a trading debt, and as I make it an invariable rule to pay my Jew-creditors last, you must wait a little longer for your money.'

Fox once played cards with Fitzpatrick at Brookes' from ten o'clock at night till near six o'clock the next morning—a waiter standing by to tell them 'whose deal it was'—they being too sleepy to know.

On another occasion he won about L8000; and one of his bond-creditors, who soon heard of his good luck, presented himself and asked for payment. 'Impossible, sir,' replied Fox; 'I must first discharge my debts of honour.' The bond-creditor remonstrated, and finding Fox inflexible, tore the bond to pieces and flung it into the fire, exclaiming—'Now, sir, your debt to me is a debt of honour.' Struck by the creditor's witty rejoinder, Fox instantly paid the money.(127)

(127) The above is the version of this anecdote which I remember as being current in my young days. Mr Timbs and others before him relate the anecdote as follows:—'On another occasion he won about L8000; and one of his bond-creditors, who soon heard of his good luck, presented himself and asked for payment.'

'Impossible, sir,' replied Fox 'I must first discharge my debts of honour.' The bond-creditor remonstrated. 'Well, sir, give me your bond.' It was delivered to Fox, who tore it in pieces and threw it into the fire. 'Now, sir,' said Fox, 'my debt to you is a debt of honour;' and immediately paid him.

Now, it is evident that Fox could not destroy the document without rendering himself still more 'liable' in point of law. I submit that the version in the text is the true one, conforming with the legal requirement of the case and influencing the debtor by the originality of the performance of the creditor.

Amidst the wildest excesses of youth, even while the perpetual victim of his passion for play, Fox eagerly cultivated his taste for letters, especially the Greek and Roman historians and poets; and he found resources in their works under the most severe depressions occasioned by ill-successes at the gaming table. One morning, after Fox had passed the whole night in company with Topham Beauclerc at Faro, the two friends were about to separate.

Fox had lost throughout the night, and was in a frame of mind approaching to desperation. Beauclerc's anxiety for the consequences which might ensue led him to be early at Fox's lodgings; and on arriving he inquired, not without apprehension, whether he had risen. The servant replied that Mr Fox was in the drawing-room, when Beauclerc walked up-stairs and cautiously opened the door, expecting to behold a frantic gamester stretched on the floor, bewailing his losses, or plunged in moody despair; but he was astonished to find him reading a Greek Herodotus.

On perceiving his friend's surprise, Fox exclaimed, 'What would you have me do? I have lost my last shilling.'

Upon other occasions, after staking and losing all that he could raise at Faro, instead of exclaiming against fortune, or manifesting the agitation natural under such circumstances, he would lay his head on the table and retain his place, but, exhausted by mental and bodily fatigue, almost immediately fall into a profound sleep.

Fox's best friends are said to have been half ruined in annuities given by them as securities for him to the Jews. L500,000 a-year of such annuities of Fox and his 'society' were advertised to be sold at one time. Walpole wondered what Fox would do when he had sold the estates of his friends. Walpole further notes that in the debate on the Thirty-nine Articles, February 6, 1772, Fox did not shine; nor could it be wondered at. He had sat up playing at Hazard, at Almack's, from Tuesday evening, the 4th, till five in the afternoon of Wednesday, the 5th. An hour before he had recovered L12,000 that he had lost; and by dinner, which was at five o'clock, he had ended losing L11,000! On the Thursday he spoke in the above debate, went to dinner at past eleven at night; from thence to White's, where he drank till seven the next morning; thence to Almack's, where he won L6000; and between three and four in the afternoon he set out for Newmarket. His brother Stephen lost L11,000 two nights after, and Charles L10,000 more on the 13th; so that in three nights the two brothers—the eldest not twenty-five years of age—lost L32,000!(128)

(128) Timbs, ubi supra.

On one occasion Stephen Fox was dreadfully fleeced at a gaming house at the West End. He entered it with L13,000, and left without a farthing.

Assuredly these Foxes were misnamed. Pigeons—dupes of sharpers at play—would have been a more appropriate cognomen.

WILBERFORCE AND PITT.

These eminent statesmen were gamesters at one period of their lives. When Wilberforce came to London in 1780, after his return to Parliament, his great success signalized his entry into public life, and he was at once elected a member of the leading clubs—Miles' and Evans', Brookes', Boodle's, White's, and Goosetree's. The latter was Wilberforce's usual resort, where his friendship with Pitt—who played with characteristic and intense eagerness, and whom he had slightly known at Cambridge—greatly increased. He once lost L100 at the Faro table.

'We played a good deal at Goosetree's,' he states, and I well remember the intense earnestness which Pitt displayed when joining in these games of chance. He perceived their increasing fascination, and soon after abandoned them for ever.'

Wilberforce's own case is thus recorded by his biographers, on the authority of his private Journal:—'We can have no play to-night,' complained some of the party at the club, 'for St Andrew is not here to keep bank.' 'Wilberforce,' said Mr Bankes, who never joined himself, 'if you will keep it I will give you a guinea.' The playful challenge was accepted, but as the game grew deep he rose the winner of L600. Much of this was lost by those who were only heirs to fortunes, and therefore could not meet such a call without inconvenience. The pain he felt at their annoyance cured him of a taste which seemed but too likely to become predominant.

Goosetree's being then almost exclusively composed of incipient orators and embryo statesmen, the call for a gambling table there may be regarded as a decisive proof of the universal prevalence of the vice.

'The first time I was at Brookes',' says Wilberforce, 'scarcely knowing any one, I joined, from mere shyness, in play at the Faro tables, where George Selwyn kept bank. A friend, who knew my inexperience, and regarded me as a victim decked out for sacrifice, called to me—"What, Wilberforce, is that you?" Selwyn quite resented the interference, and, turning to him, said in his most expressive tone, "Oh, sir, don't interrupt Mr Wilberforce, he could not be better employed."

Again: 'The very first time I went to Boodle's I won twenty-five guineas of the Duke of Norfolk. I belonged at this time to five clubs—Miles' and Evans', Brookes', Boodle's, White's, and Goosetree's.'

SIR PHILIP FRANCIS.

Sir Philip Francis, the eminent politician and supposed author of the celebrated 'Letters of Junius,' was a gambler, and the convivial companion of Fox. During the short administration of that statesman he was made a Knight of the Bath. One evening, Roger Wilbraham came up to the Whist table, at Brookes', where Sir Philip, who for the first time wore the ribbon of the Order, was engaged in a rubber, and thus accosted him. Laying hold of the ribbon, and examining it for some time, he said:—'So, this is the way they have rewarded you at last; they have given you a little bit of red ribbon for your services, Sir Philip, have they? A pretty bit of red ribbon to hang about your neck; and that satisfies you, does it? Now, I wonder what I shall have. What do you think they will give me, Sir Philip?' The newly-made knight, who had twenty-five guineas depending on the rubber, and who was not very well pleased at the interruption, suddenly turned round, and looking at him fiercely, exclaimed, 'A halter, and be,' &c.

THE REV. CALEB C. COLTON.

Unquestionably this reverend gentleman was one of the most lucky of gamesters—having died in full possession of the gifts vouchsafed to him by the goddess of fortune.

He was educated at Eton, graduated at King's College, Cambridge, as Bachelor of Arts in 1801, and Master of Arts in 1804, and obtained a fellowship, having also a curacy at Tiverton, held conjointly. Some six years after he appeared in print as a denouncer of a 'ghost story,' and in 1812, as the author of 'Hypocrisy,' a satirical poem, and 'Napoleon,' a poem. In 1818 he was presented by his college to the vicarage of Kew with Petersham, in Surrey. Two years after he established a literary reputation—lasting to the present time—by the publication of a volume of aphorisms or maxims, under the title of 'LACON; or, Many Things in Few Words.' This work is very far from original, being founded mainly on Lord Bacon's celebrated Essays, and Burdon's 'Materials for Thinking,' La Bruyiere, and De la Rochefoucault; still it is highly creditable to the abilities of the writer. It has passed through several editions; and even at the present time its only rival is, 'The Guesses at Truth,' although we have numerous collections of apothegmatic extracts from authors, a class of works which is not without its fascination, if readers are inclined to THINK.(129)

(129) The first work I published was of this kind, and entitled, 'Gems of Genius; or, Words of the Wise, with extracts from the Diary of a Young Man,' in 1838.

Two years after he returned to his 'Napoleon,' which he republished, with extensive additions, under the new title of 'The Conflagration of Moscow.

It would appear that Colton at this period gave in to the fashionable gaming of the day; at any rate, he dabbled deeply in Spanish bonds, became involved in pecuniary difficulties, and, without investigating his affairs closely—which might have been easily arranged—he absconded.

He subsequently made appearance, in order to retain his living; but in 1828 he lost it, a successor being appointed by his college. He then went to the United States of America; what he did there is not on record; but he subsequently returned to Europe, went to Paris, took up his abode in the Palais Royal, and—devoted his talents to the mysteries of the gaming table, by which he was so successful that in the course of a year or two he won L25,000!

Oddly enough, one of his 'maxims' in his Lacon runs as follows: 'The gamester, if he die a martyr to his profession, is doubly ruined. He adds his soul to every other loss, and, by the act of suicide, renounces earth, to forfeit heaven.'

It has been suggested that this was writing his own epitaph, and it would appear so from the notices of the man in most of the biographies; but nothing could be further from the fact. Caleb Colton managed to KEEP his gambling fortune, and what is more, devoted it to a worthy purpose. Part of his wealth he employed in forming a picture-gallery; and he printed at Paris, for private distribution, an ode on the death of Lord Byron. He certainly committed suicide, but the act was not the gamester's martyrdom. He was afflicted by a disease which necessitated some painful surgical operation, and rather than submit to it, he blew out his brains, at the house of a friend, at Fontainebleau, in 1832.(130)

(130) Gent. Mag. New Month. Mag. Gorton's Gen. Biograph. Dict.

BEAU BRUMMELL.

This singular man was an inveterate gambler, and for some time very 'lucky;' but the reaction came at last; the stakes were too high, and the purses of his companions too long for him to stand against any continued run of bad luck; indeed, the play at Wattier's, which was very deep, eventually ruined the club, as well as Brummell and several other members of it; a certain baronet now living, according to Captain Jesse, is asserted to have lost ten thousand pounds there at Ecarte at one sitting.(131)

(131) Life of Beau Brummell.

The season of 1814 saw Brummell a winner, and a loser likewise—and this time he lost not only his winnings, but 'an unfortunate ten thousand pounds,' which, when relating the circumstance to a friend many years afterwards, he said was all that remained at his banker's. One night—the fifth of a most relentless run of ill-luck—his friend Pemberton Mills heard him exclaim that he had lost every shilling, and only wished some one would bind him never to play again:—'I will,' said Mills; and taking out a ten-pound note he offered it to Brummell on condition that he should forfeit a thousand if he played at White's within a month from that evening. The Beau took it, and for a few days discontinued coming to the club; but about a fortnight after Mills, happening to go in, saw him hard at work. Of course the thousand pounds was forfeited; but his friend, instead of claiming it, merely went up to him and, touching him gently on the shoulder, said—'Well, Brummell, you may at least give me back the ten pounds you had the other night.'

Among the members who indulged in high play at Brookes' Club was Alderman Combe, the brewer, who is said to have made as much money in this way as he did by brewing. One evening whilst he filled the office of Lord Mayor, he was busy at a full Hazard table at Brookes', where the wit and the dice-box circulated together with great glee, and where Beau Brummell was one of the party. 'Come, Mash-tub,' said Brummell, who was the caster, 'what do you set?' 'Twenty-five guineas,' answered the Alderman. 'Well, then,' returned the Beau, 'have at the mare's pony' (a gaming term for 25 guineas). He continued to throw until he drove home the brewer's twelve ponies running; and then getting up, and making him a low bow, whilst pocketing the cash, he said—'Thank you, Alderman; for the future I shall never drink any porter but yours.' 'I wish, sir,' replied the brewer, 'that every other blackguard in London would tell me the same.'(132)

(132) Jesse, ubi supra.

The following occurrence must have caused a 'sensation' to poor Brummell.

Among the members of Wattier's Club was Bligh, a notorious madman, of whom Mr Raikes relates:—'One evening at the Macao table, when the play was very deep, Brummell, having lost a considerable stake, affected, in his farcical way, a very tragic air, and cried out—"Waiter, bring me a flat candlestick and a pistol." Upon which Bligh, who was sitting opposite to him, calmly produced two loaded pistols from his coat pocket, which he placed on the table, and said, "Mr Brummell, if you are really desirous to put a period to your existence, I am extremely happy to offer you the means without troubling the waiter." The effect upon those present may easily be imagined, at finding themselves in the company of a known madman who had loaded weapons about him.'

Brummell was at last completely beggared, though for some time he continued to hold on by the help of funds raised on the mutual security of himself and his friends, some of whom were not in a much more flourishing condition than himself; their names, however, and still more, their expectations, lent a charm to their bills, in the eyes of the usurers, and money was procured, of course at ruinous interest. It is said that some unpleasant circumstances, connected with the division of one of these loans, occasioned the Beau's expatriation, and that a personal altercation took place between Brummell and a certain Mr M—, when that gentleman accused him of taking the lion's share.

He died in utter poverty, and an idiot, at Caen, in the year 1840, aged 62 years. Brummell had a very odd way of accounting for the sad change which took place in his affairs. He said that up to a particular period of his life everything prospered with him, and that he attributed good luck to the possession of a certain silver sixpence with a hole in it, which somebody had given him years before, with an injunction to take good care of it, as everything would go well with him so long as he did, and the reverse if he happened to lose it. The promised prosperity attended him for many years, whilst he held the sixpence fast; but having at length, in an evil hour, unfortunately given it by mistake to a hackney-coachman, a complete reverse of his previous good fortune ensued, till actual ruin overtook him at last, and obliged him to expatriate himself. 'On my asking him,' says the narrator, 'why he did not advertise and offer a reward for the lost treasure; he said, "I did, and twenty people came with sixpences having holes in them to obtain the promised reward, but mine was not amongst them!" And you never afterwards,' said I, 'ascertained what became of it? "Oh yes," he replied, "no doubt that rascal Rothschild, or some of his set, got hold of it."' Whatever poor Brummell's supernatural tendencies may have generally been, he had unquestionably a superstitious veneration for his lost sixpence.

TOM DUNCOMBE.

Tom Duncombe graduated and took honours among the greatest gamblers of the day. Like Fox, he was heir to a good fortune—ten or twelve thousand a year—the whole of which he managed to anticipate before he was thirty. 'Tom Duncombe ran Charles Fox close. When Mr Duncombe, sen., of Copgrove, caused his prodigal son's debts to be estimated with a view to their settlement, they were found to exceed L135,000;(133) and the hopeful heir went on adding to them till all possibility of extrication was at an end. But he spent his money (or other people's money), so long as he had any, like a gentleman; his heart was open like his hand; he was generous, cordial, high-spirited; and his expectations—till they were known to be discounted to the uttermost farthing—kept up his credit, improved his social position, and gained friends. "Society" (says his son) "opened its arms to the possessor of a good name and the inheritor of a good estate. Paterfamiliases and Materfamiliases rivalled each other in endeavouring to make things pleasant in their households for his particular delectation, especially if they had grown-up daughters; hospitable hosts invited him to dinner, fashionable matrons to balls; political leaders sought to secure him as a partisan; DEBUTANTES of the season endeavoured to attract him as an admirer; TRADESMEN THRONGED TO HIS DOORSTEPS FOR HIS CUSTOM, and his table was daily covered with written applications for his patronage." Noblesse oblige; and so does fashion. The aspirant had confessedly a hard time of it. "He must be seen at Tattersall's as well as at Almack's; be more frequent in attendance in the green-room of the theatre than at a levee in the palace; show as much readiness to enter into a pigeon-match at Battersea Red House, as into a flirtation in May Fair; distinguish himself in the hunting-field as much as at the dinner-table; and make as effective an appearance in the park as in the senate; in short, he must be everything—not by turns, but all at once—sportsman, exquisite, gourmand, rake, senator, and at least a dozen other variations of the man of fashion,—his changes of character being often quicker than those attempted by certain actors who nightly undertake the performance of an entire dramatis personae."'

(133) It will be remembered that when Fox's debts were in like manner estimated they amounted to L140,000: the coincidence is curious. See ante.

Tommy Duncombe was not only indefatigable at Crockford's, but at every other rendezvous of the votaries of fortune; a skilful player withal, and not unfrequently a winner beyond expectation. One night at Crockford's he astonished the house by carrying off sixteen hundred pounds. He frequently played at cards with Count D'Orsay, from whom, it is said, he invariably managed to win—the Count persisting in playing with his pleasant companion, although warned by others that he would never be a match for 'Honest Tommy Duncombe.'

Tom Duncombe died poor, but, says his son, 'rich in the memory of those who esteemed him, as Honest Tom Duncombe.'

Perhaps the best thing the son could have done was to leave his father's memory at rest in the estimation of 'those who esteemed him;' but having dragged his name once more, and prominently, before a censorious world, he can scarcely resent the following estimate of Tom Duncombe, by a well-informed reviewer in the Times. Alluding to the concluding summary of the father's character and doings, this keen writer passes a sentence which is worth preserving:—

'Much of this would do for a patriot and philanthropist of the highest class—for a Pym, a Hampden, or a Wilberforce; or, we could fancy, a son of Andrew Marvell, vowing over his grave "to endeavour to imitate the virtues and emulate the self-sacrificing patriotism of so estimable a parent, and so good a man." But we can hardly fancy, we cannot leave, a son of Duncombe in such a frame of mind. We cannot say to HIM—

Macte nova virtute, puer; sic itur ad astra. "In virtue renewed go on; thus to the skies we go."

We are unfeignedly reluctant to check a filial effusion, or to tell disagreeable truths; but there are occasions when a sense of public duty imperatively requires them to be told.

'Why did this exemplary parent die poor? When did he abandon the allurements of a patrician circle? He died poor because he wasted a fine fortune. If he abandoned a patrician circle, it was because he was tired of it, or thought he could make a better thing of democracy. If he conquered his passions, it was, like St Evremond—by indulging them.

'"Honest Tom Duncombe!" We never heard him so designated before except in pleasantry. "As honest as any man living, that is an old man, and not honester than I." We cannot go further than Verges; it is a stretch of charity to go so far when we call to mind the magnificent reversion and the French jobs. A ruined spendthrift, although he may have many good qualities, can never, strictly speaking, be termed honest. It is absurd to say of him that he is nobody's enemy but his own—with family, friends, and tradespeople paying the penalty for his self-indulgence. He must be satisfied to be called honourable—to be charged with no transgression of the law of honour; which Paley defines as "a system of rules constructed by people of fashion, and calculated to facilitate their intercourse with one another, AND FOR NO OTHER PURPOSE."

'There was one quality of honesty, however, which "honest Tom Duncombe" did possess. He was not a hypocrite. He was not devoid of right feeling. He had plenty of good sense; and it would have given him a sickening pang on his death-bed to think that his frailties were to be perpetuated by his descendants; that he was to be pointed out as a shining star to guide, instead of a beacon-fire to warn. "No," he would have said, if he could have anticipated this most ill-chosen, however well-intentioned, tribute, "spare me this terrible irony. Do not provoke the inevitable retort. Say of me, if you must say anything, that I was not a bad man, though an erring one; that I was kindly disposed towards my fellow-creatures; that I did some good in my generation, and was able and willing to do more, but that I heedlessly wasted time, money, health, intellect, personal gifts, social advantages and opportunities; that my career was a failure, and my whole scheme of life a melancholy mistake."'(134)

(134) Times, Jan. 7, 1868.

This is a terrible rejoinder to a son endeavouring to raise a monument to his beloved and respected parent. But, if we will rake up rottenness from the grave—rottenness in which we are interested—we must take our chance whether we shall find a Hamlet who will say, 'Alas! poor Yorick!' and say NO MORE than the musing Dane upon the occasion.

WAS THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON A GAMESTER?

A few years after the battle of Waterloo there appeared a French work entitled 'L'Academie des Jeux, par Philidor,' which was soon translated into English, and here published under the title of 'Rouge et Noir; or, the Academies.' It was a denunciation of gambling in all its varieties, and was, no doubt, well-intentioned. There was, however, in the publication the following astounding statement:—

'Not long ago the carriage of the heir-apparent to the T***** of England, in going to his B****'s levee, was arrested for debt in the open street. That great captain, who gained, if not laurels, an immense treasure, on the plains of Wa****oo, besides that fortune transmitted to him by the English people, was impoverished in a few months by this ignoble passion.'

There can be no doubt that the alleged gambling of the great warrior and statesman was the public scandal of the day, as appears by the duke's own letters on the subject, published in the last volume of his Dispatches. Even the eminent counsel, Mr Adolphus, thought proper to allude to the report in one of his speeches at the bar. This called forth the following letter from the duke to Mr Adolphus:—

'17 Sept., 1823. 'The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr Adolphus, and encloses him the "Morning Chronicle" of Friday, the 12th instant, to which the duke's attention has just been called, in which Mr Adolphus will observe that he is stated to have represented the duke as a person KNOWN SOMETIMES TO PLAY AT HAZARD, WHO MIGHT BE COMMITTED AS A ROGUE AND VAGABOND.

'The duke concludes that this paper contains a correct statement of what Mr Adolphus said upon the occasion, and he assures Mr Adolphus that he would not trouble him upon the subject if circumstances did not exist which rendered this communication desirable.

'Some years have elapsed since the public have been informed, FROM THE VERY BEST AUTHORITY, that the duke had totally ruined himself at play; and Mr Adolphus was present upon one occasion when a witness swore that he had heard the duke was constantly obliged to sell the offices in the Ordnance himself, instead of allowing them to be sold by others!! The duke has suffered some inconvenience from this report in a variety of ways, and he is anxious that at least it should not be repeated by a gentleman of such celebrity and authority as Mr Adolphus.

'He therefore assures Mr Adolphus that in the whole course of his life he never won or lost L20 at any game, and that he never played at Hazard, or any game of chance, in any public place or club, nor been for some years at all at any such place.

'From these circumstances, Mr Adolphus will see that there is no ground for making use of the duke's name as an example of a person KNOWN SOMETIMES TO PLAY AT HAZARD, WHO MIGHT BE COMMITTED AS A ROGUE AND VAGABOND.'

Mr Adolphus to Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington.

'Percy Street, 21st Sept., 1823.

'Mr Adolphus has the honour to acknowledge the receipt of a note from his Grace the Duke of Wellington, and would have done so yesterday, but was detained in court till a late hour in the evening. Mr Adolphus is extremely sorry that any expression used by him should have occasioned a moment's uneasiness to the Duke of Wellington. Mr Adolphus cannot deny that the report in the "Chronicle" is accurate, so far as it recites his mere words; but the scope of his argument, and the intended sense of his expression, was, that if the Vagrant Act were to receive the extensive construction contended for, the most illustrious subject of the realm might be degraded to the condition of the most abject and worthless, for an act in itself indifferent—and which, until the times had assumed a character of affected rigour, was considered rather as a proof of good society than as an offence against good order. Mr Adolphus is, however, perfectly sensible that his illustration in his Grace's person was in all respects improper, and, considering the matters to which his Grace has adverted, peculiarly unfortunate Mr Adolphus feels with regret that any public expression of his sentiments on this subject in the newspapers would not abate, but much increase, the evil. Should an opportunity ever present itself of doing it naturally and without affectation, Mr Adolphus would most readily explain, in speaking at the bar, the error he had committed; but it is very unlikely that there should exist an occasion of which he can avail himself with a due regard to delicacy. Mr Adolphus relies, however, on the Duke of Wellington's exalted mind for credit to his assurance that he never meant to treat his name but with the respect due to his Grace's exalted rank and infinitely higher renown.'

To Mr Adolphus.

'Woolford, 23rd Sept., 1823.

'The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr Adolphus, and assures Mr Adolphus that he is convinced that Mr Adolphus never intended to reflect injuriously upon him. If the duke had believed that Mr Adolphus could have entertained such an intention he would not have addressed him. The duke troubles Mr Adolphus again upon this subject, as, in consequence of the editor of the "Morning Chronicle" having thought proper to advert to this subject in a paragraph published on the 18th instant, the duke has referred the paper of that date and that of the 12th to the Attorney and Solicitor-general, his counsel, to consider whether the editor ought not to be prosecuted.

'The duke requests, therefore, that Mr Adolphus will not notice the subject in the way he proposes until the gentlemen above mentioned will have decided upon the advice which they will give the duke.'(135)

(135) 'Dispatches,' vol. ii. part i.

The result was, however, that the matter was allowed to drop, as the duke was advised by his counsel that the paragraph in the "Morning Chronicle," though vile, was not actionable. The positive declaration of the duke, 'that in the whole course of his life he never won or lost L20 at any game, and that he never played at Hazard, or any game of chance, in any public place or club, nor been for some years at all at any such place,' should set the matter at rest. Certainly the duke was afterwards an original member of Crockford's Club, founded in 1827, but, unlike Blucher, who repeatedly lost everything at play, 'The Great Captain,' as Mr Timbs puts it, 'was never known to play deep at any game but war or politics.'(136)

(136) Club Life in London.

This remarkable deference to private character and public opinion, on the part of the Duke of Wellington, is in wonderful contrast with the easy morality of the Old Bailey advocate, Mr Adolphus, who did not hesitate to declare gambling 'an act in itself indifferent—and which, until the times had assumed a character of AFFECTED rigour, was considered rather as a proof of good society than as an offence against good order.' This averment of so distinguished a man may, perhaps, mitigate the horror we now feel of the gambling propensities of our ancestors; and it is a proof of some sort of advancement in morals, or good taste, to know that no modern advocate would dare to utter such a sentiment.

Other great names have been associated with gambling; thus Mr T. H. Duncombe says, speaking of Crockford's soon after its foundation:—'Sir St Vincent Cotton (Lord Combermere), Lord Fitzroy Somerset (Raglan), the Marquis of Anglesey, Sir Hussey Vivian, Wilson Croker, Disraeli, Horace Twiss, Copley, George Anson, and George Payne WERE PRETTY SURE OF BEING PRESENT, many of them playing high.'

Respecting this statement the Times'(137) reviewer observes:—'We do not know what the Chancellor of the Exchequer will say to this. Mr Wilson Croker (who affected great strictness) would have fainted away. But the authority of a writer who does not know Sir St Vincent Cotton (the ex-driver of the Brighton coach) from Sir Stapleton Cotton (the Peninsular hero) will go for little in such matters; and as for Copley, Lord Lyndhurst (just then promoted from the Rolls to the Woolsack), why not say at once that he attended the nocturnal sittings at Crockford's in his robes.'

(137) Jan. 7, 1868.



CHAPTER XII. REMARKABLE GAMESTERS. ——MONSIEUR CHEVALIER.

Monsieur CHevalier, Captain of the Grenadiers in the first regiment of Foot Guards, in the time of Charles II. of England, was a native of Normandy. In his younger days he was page to the Duchess of Orleans; but growing too big for that service, he came to England to seek his fortune, and by some good luck and favour became an ensign in the first regiment of Foot Guards. His pay, however, being insufficient to maintain him, he felt compelled to become a gamester, or rather to resort to a practice in which doubtless he had been early initiated at the Court of France; and he managed so well that he was soon enabled to keep up an equipage much above his station.

Among the 'bubbles' who had the misfortune to fall into Chevalier's hands, was a certain nobleman, who lost a larger sum to him than he could conveniently pay down, and asked for time, to which Chevalier assented, and in terms so courteous and obliging that the former, a fortnight after, in order to let him see that he remembered his civility, came one morning and told Chevalier that he had a company of Foot to dispose of, and if it was worth his while, it should be at his service. Nothing could be more acceptable to Chevalier, who at once closed for the bargain, and got his commission signed the same day. Besides the fact that it was a time of peace, Chevalier knew well that the military title of Captain was a very good cloak to shelter under.

He knew that a man of no employment or any visible income, who appears and lives like a gentleman, and makes gaming his constant business, is always suspected of not playing for diversion only; and, in short, of knowing and practising more than he should do.

Chevalier once won 20 guineas from mad Ogle, the Life-guardsman, who, understanding that the former had bit him, called him to account, demanding either his money back, or satisfaction in the field. Chevalier, having always courage enough to maintain what he did, chose the latter. Ogle fought him in Hyde Park, and wounded him through the sword arm, and got back his money. After this they were always good friends, playing several comical tricks, one of which is as follows, strikingly illustrating the manners of the times.

Chevalier and Ogle meeting one day in Fleet Street jostled for the wall, which they strove to take of each other, whereupon words arising between them, they drew swords, and pushed very hard at one another; but were prevented, by the great crowd which gathered about them, from doing any mischief. Ogle, seeming still to resent the affront, cried to Chevalier, 'If you are a gentleman, pray follow me.' The French hero accepted the challenge; so going together up Bell Yard and through Lincoln's Inn, with some hundreds of the mob at their heels, as soon as the seeming adversaries were got into Lincoln's Inn Fields, they both fell a running as fast as they could, with their swords drawn, up towards Lord Powis's house, which was then building, and leaped into a saw-pit. The rabble presently ran after them, to part them again, and feared mischief would be done before they could get up to them, but when they arrived at the saw-pit, they saw Chevalier at one side of it and Ogle at the other, sitting together as lovingly as if they had never fallen out at all. And then the mob was so incensed at this trick put upon them, that had not some gentlemen accidentally come by, they would have knocked them both on the head with brickbats.

Chevalier had an excellent knack at cogging a die, and such command in the throwing, that, chalking a circle on a table, with its circumference no bigger than a shilling, he would, at above the distance of one foot, throw a die exactly into it, which should be either ace, deuce, trey, or what he pleased.

Aubrey de Vere, Earl of Oxford, was a great gambler of the time, and often practised dice-throwing in his shirt during the morning until he fancied himself in luck, when he would proceed to try his fortune with Chevalier; but the dexterity of the latter always convinced the earl that no certainty lies on the good success which may be fancied as likely to result from play in jest. Chevalier won a great deal of money from that peer, 'who lost most of his estate at gaming before he died, and which ought to be a warning to all noblemen.'

Chevalier was a skilful sharper, and thoroughly up in the art and mystery of loading dice with quicksilver; but having been sometimes detected in his sharping tricks, he was obliged 'to look on the point of the sword, with which being often wounded, latterly he declined fighting, if there were any way of escape.' Having once 'choused,' or cheated, a Mr Levingstone, page of honour to King James II., out of 50 guineas, the latter gave the captain a challenge to fight him next day behind Montague House—a locality long used for the purpose of duelling. Chevalier seemingly accepted the challenge, and next morning, Levingstone going to Chevalier's lodging, whom he found in bed, put him in mind of what he was come about. Chevalier, with the greatest air of courage imaginable, rose, and having dressed himself, said to Levingstone—'Me must beg de favour of you to stay a few minutes, sir, while I step into my closet dere, for as me be going about one desperate piece of work, it is very requisite for me to say a small prayer or two.' Accordingly Mr Levingstone consented to wait whilst Chevalier retired to his closet to pray; but hearing the conclusion of his prayer to end with these words—'Me verily believe spilling man's blood is one ver' great sin, wherefore I hope all de saints will interced vid de Virgin for my once killing Monsieur de Blotieres at Rochelle,—my killing Chevalier de Cominge at Brest,—killing Major de Tierceville at Lyons,—killing Lieutenant du Marche Falliere at Paris, with half a dozen other men in France; so, being also sure of killing him I'm now going to fight, me hope his forcing me to shed his blood will not be laid to my charge;'—quoth Levingstone to himself—'And are you then so sure of me? But I'll engage you shan't—for if you are such a devil at killing men, you shall go and fight yourself and be ——.' Whereupon he made what haste he could away, and shortly Chevalier coming out of the closet and finding Levingstone not in the room, was very glad of his absence.'

Some time after, Chevalier was called to account by another gentleman. They met at the appointed hour in Chelsea Fields, when Chevalier said to his adversary—'Pray, sir, for what do we fight?' The gentleman replied—'For honour and reputation.' Thereupon Chevalier pulling a halter out of his pocket, and throwing it between him and his antagonist, exclaimed—'Begar, sir, we only fight for dis one piece of rope—so e'en WIN IT AND WEAR IT.' The effect of this jest was so great on his adversary that swords were put up, and they went home together good friends.

Chevalier continued his sharping courses for about fourteen years, running a reckless race, 'sometimes with much money, sometimes with little, but always as lavish in spending as he was covetous in getting it; until at last King James ascending the throne, the Duke of Monmouth raised a rebellion in the West of England, where, in a skirmish between the Royalists and Rebels, he was shot in the back, and the wound thought to be given by one of his own men, to whom he had always been a most cruel, harsh officer, whilst a captain of the Grenadiers of the Foot Guards. He was sensible himself how he came by this misfortune; for when he was carried to his tent mortally wounded, and the Duke of Albemarle came to visit him, he said to his Grace—'Dis was none of my foe dat shot me in the back.' 'He was none of your friend that shot you,' the duke replied.

So dying within a few hours after, he was interred in a field near Philip Norton Lane, as the old chronicler says—'much UNlamented by all who knew him.'(138)

(138) Lucas, Memoirs of Gamesters and Sharpers.

JOHN HIGDEN.

This gambler, who flourished towards the end of the 17th century, was descended from a very good family in the West of England. In his younger days he was a member of the Honourable Society of the Middle Temple, but his inclinations being incompatible with close study of the law, he soon quitted the inns of court and went into the army. He obtained not only a commission in the first regiment of Boot Guards, but a commission of the peace for the county of Middlesex, in which he continued for three or four years as Justice Higden. He was very great at dice; and one night he and another of his fraternity going to a gaming house, Higden drew a chair and sat down, but as often as the box came to him he passed it, and remained only as a spectator; but at last one of the players said to him pertly, 'Sir, if you won't play, what do you sit there for?' Upon which Higden snatched up the dice-box and said, 'Set me what you will and I'll throw at it.' One of the gentlemen set him two guineas, which he won, and then set him four, which he 'nicked' also. The rest of the gentlemen took the part of the loser, and set to Higden, who, by some art and some good luck, won 120 guineas; and presently, after throwing out, rose from the table and went to his companion by the fireside, who asked him how he durst be so audacious as to play, knowing he had not a shilling in his pocket? One of the losers overhearing what was said, exclaimed, 'How's that—you had no money when you began to play?' 'That's no matter,' replied Higden, 'I have enough NOW; and if you had won of me, you must have been contented to have kicked, buffeted, or pumped me, and you would have done it as long as you liked. Besides, sir, I am a soldier, and have often faced the mouths of thundering cannons for EIGHT SHILLINGS A DAY, and do you think I would not hazard the tossing of a blanket for the money I have won to-night?'

'All the parties wondered at his confidence, but he laughed heartily at their folly and his good fortune, and so marched off with a light heart and a heavy purse.' Afterwards, 'to make himself as miserable as he could, he turned poet, went to Ireland, published a play or two, and shortly after he died very poor, in 1703.'(139)

(139) ubi supra.

MONSIEUR GERMAIN.

This gambler was of low birth, his parents keeping an ordinary in Holland, where he was born, as stated by the old chronicler, 'in the happy Revolution of 1688.'

His career is remarkable on account of his connection with Lady Mary Mordaunt, wife of 'the Duke of Norfolk, who, proving her guilty of adultery, was divorced from her. She then lived publicly with Germain.'

This Germain was the first to introduce what was called the Spanish Whist, stated to be 'a mere bite, performed after this manner:—Having a pack of cards, the four treys are privately laid on the top of them, under them an ace, and next to that a deuce; then, letting your adversary cut the cards, you do not pack them, but deal all of them that are cut off, one at a time, between you; then, taking up the other parcel of cards, you deal more cards, giving yourself two treys and a deuce, and to the other persons two treys and an ace, when, laying the remainder of the cards down—wherein are allowed no trumps, but only the highest cards win—so they are but of the same suit, whilst you are playing, giving your antagonist all you can, as though it is not in your power to prevent him. You seem to fret, and cry you have good put-cards; he, having two treys and an ace, will be apt to lay a wager with you that you cannot have better than he; then you binding the wager, he soon sees his mistake. But in this trick you must observe to put the other three deuces under yours when you deal.'

It seems that this Monsieur Germain is not only remarkable for the above precious addition to human knowledge, but also on account of his expertness at the game of Ombre, celebrated and so elegantly described by Pope in his 'Rape of the Lock.'

He appears to have lived with the Duchess of Norfolk ever after the divorce; and he died a little after Lady Mary, in 1712, aged 46 years.(140)

(140) ubi supra.

TOM HUGHES.

This Irishman was born in Dublin, and was the son of a respectable tradesman. Falling into dissipated company, he soon left the city to try his fortune in London, where he played very deep and very successfully.

He threw away his gains as fast as he made them, chiefly among the frail sisterhood, at a notorious house in those days, in the Piazza, Covent Garden. He frequented Carlisle House in Soho Square, and was a proprietor of E O tables kept by a Dr Graham in Pall Mall.

He had a rencontre, in consequence of a dispute at play, and was wounded. The meeting took place under the Piazza, and his antagonist's sword struck a rib, which counteracted its dangerous effect.

Soon afterwards he won L3000 from a young man just of age, who made over to him a landed estate for the amount, and he was shortly after admitted a member of the Jockey Club.

His fortune now changed, and falling into the hands of Old Pope, the money-lender, he was not long before he had to transfer his estate to him.

After many ups and downs he became an inmate of the spunging-house of the infamous Scoldwell, who was afterwards transported. He actually used his prison as a gaming house, to which his infatuated friends resorted; but his means failed, his friends cooled, and he was removed 'over the water,' from which he was only released by the Insolvent Act, with a broken constitution. Arrest soon restored him to his old habitation, a lock-up house, where he died so poor, a victim to grief, misery, and disease, that he did not leave enough to pay for a coffin, which was procured by his quondam friend, Mr Thornton, at whose cost he was buried. Perhaps more than half a million of money had 'passed through his hands.'

ANDREWS, THE GREAT BILLIARD-PLAYER.

Andrews was reckoned so theoretically and practically perfect at the game of Billiards that he had no equal except Abraham Carter, who kept the tables at the corner of the Piazza, Russell Street, Covent Garden.

He one night won of Colonel W——e about a thousand pounds; and the Colonel appointed to meet him next day to transact for stock accordingly. Going in a hackney-coach to the Bank of England for this purpose, they tossed up who should pay for the coach. Andrews lost—and positively on this small beginning he was excited to continue betting, until he lost the whole sum he had won the night before! When the coachman stopped he was ordered to drive them back again, as they had no occasion to get out!

Thus, in a few years, Hazard and other games of chance stripped him of his immense winnings at Billiards, and he had nothing left but a small annuity, fortunately for him so settled that he could not dispose of it—though he made every effort to do so!

He afterwards retired in the county of Kent, and was heard to declare that he never knew contentment when wallowing in riches; but that since he was compelled to live on a scanty pittance, he was one of the happiest men in the world.

WHIG MIDDLETON.

Whig Middleton was a tall, handsome, fashionable man, with an adequate fortune. He one night had a run of ill-luck at Arthur's, and lost about a thousand guineas. Lord Montford, in the gaming phrase, asked him what he would do or what he would not do, to get home? 'My lord,' said he, 'prescribe your own terms.'

'Then,' resumed Lord Montford, 'dress directly opposite to the fashion for ten years. Will you agree to it?' Middleton said that he would, and kept his word. Nay, he died nine years afterwards 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.

Lord Montford is said to have died in a very different but quite fashionable manner.

CAPTAIN CAMPBELL.

Captain Campbell, of the Guards, was a natural son of the Duke of ——. He lost a thousand guineas to a Shark, which he could not pay. Being questioned by the duke one day at dinner as to the cause of his dejection, he reluctantly confessed the fact. 'Sir,' said his Grace, 'you do not owe a farthing to the blackguard. My steward settled with him this morning for TEN guineas, and he was glad to take them, only saying—"I was damned far North, and it was well it was no worse."'

WROTHESLY, DUKE OF BEDFORD.

Wrothesly, Duke of Bedford, was the subject of a conspiracy at Bath, formed by several first-rate sharpers, among whom were the manager of a theatre, and Beau Nash, master of the ceremonies. After being plundered of above L70,000 at Hazard, his Grace rose in a passion, put the dice in his pocket, and intimated his resolution to inspect them. He then retired into another room, and, flinging himself upon a sofa, fell asleep.

The winners, to escape disgrace, and obtain their money, cast lots who should pick his pockets of the loaded dice, and introduce fair ones in their place. The lot fell on the manager of the theatre, who performed his part without discovery. The duke inspected the dice when he awoke, and finding them correct, renewed his party, and lost L30,000 more.

The conspirators had received L5000, but disagreed on its division, and Beau Nash, thinking himself ill-used, divulged the fact to his Grace, who saved thereby the remainder of the money. He made Nash a handsome present, and ever after gave him his countenance, supposing that the secret had been divulged through pure friendship.

THE DUKE OF NORFOLK.

A similar anecdote is told of another gamester. 'The late Duke of Norfolk,' says the author of 'Rouge et Noir,' writing in 1823, 'in one evening lost the sum of L70,000 in a gaming house on the right side of St James's Street: 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, till 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 L5000 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;" the dice were changed. His Grace had them broken in the morning, when, finding them good, he paid the money, and left off gambling.'(141)

(141) Rouge et Noir; the Academicians of 1823.

GENERAL OGLE: A BOLD STROKE.

A few weeks before General Ogle was to sail for India, he constantly attended Paine's, in Charles Street, St James's Square. One evening there were before him two wooden bowls full of gold, which held L1500 guineas each, and L4000 in rouleaus, which he had won.

When the box came to him, he shook the dice and with great coolness and pleasantry said—'Come, I'll either win or lose seven thousand upon this hand. Will any gentleman set on the whole? SEVEN is the main.' Then rattling the dice once more, cast the box from him and quitted it, the dice remaining uncovered.

Although the General did not think this too large a sum for one man to risk at a single throw, the rest of the gentlemen did, and for some time the bold gamester remained unset.

He then said—'Well, gentlemen, will you make it up amongst you?'

One set him 500 guineas, another 500. 'Come,' said he, 'whilst you are making up the money I'll tell you a story.' Here he began—but perceiving that he was at last completely set for the cast, stopt short—laid his hand on the box, saying—'I believe I am completely set, gentlemen?' 'Yes, sir, and Seven is the main,' was the reply. The General threw out, and lost! Seven thousand guineas!

Then with astonishing coolness he took up his snuff-box and smiling exclaimed—'Now, gentlemen, if you please, I'll finish my story.'

HORACE WALPOLE.

There can be no doubt that Horace Walpole was an inveterate gambler, although he managed to keep always afloat and merrily sailing—for he says himself:—'A good lady last year was delighted at my becoming peer, and said—"I hope you will get an Act of Parliament for putting down Faro." As if I could make Acts of Parliament! and could I, it would be very consistent too in me, who for some years played more at Faro than anybody.'(142)

(142) Letters, IX.

THE EARL OF MARCH.

This extraordinary and still famous personage, better known as the Duke of Queensberry, was the 'observed of all observers' almost from his boyhood to extreme old age. His passions were for women and the turf; and the sensual devotedness with which he pursued the one, and the eccentricity which he displayed in the enjoyment of both, added to the observation which he attracted from his position as a man of high rank and princely fortune, rendered him an object of unceasing curiosity. He was deeply versed in the mysteries of the turf, and in all practical and theoretical knowledge connected with the race-course was acknowledged to be the most accomplished adept of his own time. He seems also to have been a skilful gamester and player of billiards. Writing to George Selwyn from Paris in 1763, he says:—'I won the first day about L2000, of which I brought off about L1500. All things are exaggerated, I am supposed to have won at least twice as much.' In 1765 he is said to have won two thousand louis of a German at billiards. Writing to Selwyn, Gilly Williams says of him: 'I did not know he was more an adept at that game than you are at any other, but I think you are both said to be losers on the whole, at least Betty says that her letters mention you as pillaged.'

Among the numerous occasions on which the name of the Duke of Queensberry came before the public in connection with sporting matters, may be mentioned the circumstance of the following curious trial, which took place before Lord Mansfield in the Court of King's Bench, in 1771. The Duke of Queensberry, then Lord March, was the plaintiff, and a Mr Pigot the defendant. The object of this trial was to recover the sum of five hundred guineas, being the amount of a wager laid by the duke With Mr Pigot—whether Sir William Codrington or OLD Mr Pigot should die first. It had singularly happened that Mr Pigot died suddenly the SAME MORNING, of the gout in his head, but before either of the parties interested in the result of the wager could by any possibility have been made acquainted with the fact. In the contemporary accounts of the trial, the Duke of Queensberry is mentioned as having been accommodated with a seat on the bench; while Lord Ossory, and several other noblemen, were examined on the merits of the case. By the counsel for the defendant it was argued that (as in the case of a horse dying before the day on which he was to be run) the wager was invalid and annulled. Lord Mansfield, however, was of a different opinion; and after a brief charge from that great lawyer, the jury brought in a verdict for the plaintiff for five hundred guineas, and he sentenced the defendant to defray the costs of the suit.(143)

(143) Jesse, George Selwyn and his Contemporaries, vol. i. p. 194.

This prince of debauchees seems to have surpassed every model of the kind, ancient or modern. In his prime he reproduced in his own drawing-room the scene of Paris and the Goddesses, exactly as we see it in classic pictures, three of the most beautiful women of London representing the divinities as they appeared to Paris on Mount Ida, while he himself, dressed as the Dardan shepherd holding a GILDED apple (it should have been really golden) in his hand, conferred the prize on her whom he deemed the fairest. In his decrepit old age it was his custom, in fine sunny weather, to seat himself in his balcony in Piccadilly, where his figure was familiar to every person who was in the habit of passing through that great thoroughfare. Here (his emaciated figure rendered the more conspicuous from his custom of holding a parasol over his head) he was in the habit of watching every attractive female form, and ogling every pretty face that met his eye. He is said, indeed, to have kept a pony and a servant in constant readiness, in order to follow and ascertain the residence of any fair girl whose attractions particularly caught his fancy! At this period the old man was deaf with one ear, blind with one eye, nearly toothless, and labouring under multiplied infirmities. But the hideous propensities of his prime still pursued him when all enjoyment was impossible. Can there be a greater penalty for unbridled licentiousness?

MR LUMSDEN.

Mr Lumsden, whose inveterate love of gambling eventually caused his ruin, was to be seen every day at Frascati's, the celebrated gambling house kept by Mme Dunan, where some of the most celebrated women of the demi-monde usually congregated. He was a martyr to the gout, and his hands and knuckles were a mass of chalk-stones. He stuck to the Rouge et Noir table until everybody had left; and while playing would take from his pocket a small slate, upon which he would rub his chalk-stones until blood flowed. 'Having on one occasion been placed near him at the Rouge et Noir table, I ventured,' says Captain Gronow, 'to expostulate with him for rubbing his knuckles against his slate. He coolly answered, "I feel relieved when I see the blood ooze out."'

Mr Lumsden was remarkable for his courtly manners; but his absence of mind was astonishing, for he would frequently ask his neighbour WHERE HE WAS! Crowds of men and women would congregate behind his chair, to look at 'the mad Englishman,' as he was called; and his eccentricities used to amuse even the croupiers. After losing a large fortune at this den of iniquity, Mr Lumsden encountered every evil of poverty, and died in a wretched lodging in the Rue St Marc.(144)

(144) Gronow, Last Recollections.

GENERAL SCOTT, THE HONEST WINNER OF L200,000.

General Scott, the father-in-law of George Canning and the Duke of Portland, was known to have won at White's L200,000, thanks to his notorious sobriety and knowledge of the game of Whist. The general possessed a great advantage over his companions by avoiding those indulgences at the table which used to muddle other men's brains. He confined himself to dining off something like a boiled chicken, with toast and water; by such a regimen he came to the Whist table with a clear head; and possessing as he did a remarkable memory, with great coolness of judgment, he was able honestly to win the enormous sum of L200,000.

RICHARD BENNET.

Richard Bennet had gone through every walk of a blackleg, from being a billiard sharper at a table in Bell Alley until he became a keeper or partner in all the 'hells' in St James's. In each stage of his journey he had contrived to have so much the better of his competitors, that he was enabled to live well, to bring up and educate a large legitimate family, and to gratify all his passions and sensuality. But besides all this, he accumulated an ample fortune, which this inveterate gamester did actually possess when the terriers of justice overtook and hunted him into the custody of the Marshal of the Court of Queen's Bench. Here he was sentenced to be imprisoned a certain time, on distinct indictments, for keeping different gaming houses, and was ordered to be kept in custody until he had also paid fines to the amount, we believe, of L4000. Bennet, however, after undergoing the imprisonment, managed to get himself discharged without paying the fines.

DENNIS O'KELLY.

Dennis O'Kelly was the Napoleon of the turf and the gaming table. Ascot was his elysium. His horses occupied him by day and the Hazard table by night. At the latter one night he was seen repeatedly turning over a QUIRE OF BANK NOTES, and a gentleman asked him what he was looking for, when he replied, 'I am looking for a LITTLE ONE.' The inquirer said he could accommodate him, and desired to know for what sum. Dennis O'Kelly answered, 'I want a FIFTY, or something of THAT SORT, just to set the CASTER. At this moment it was supposed he had seven or eight THOUSAND pounds in notes in his hand, but not one for less than a HUNDRED!

Dennis O'Kelly always threw with great success; and when he held the box he was seldom known to refuse throwing for ANY SUM that the company chose to set him. He was always liberal in SETTING THE CASTER, and preventing a stagnation of trade at the TABLE, which, from the great property always about him, it was his good fortune very frequently to deprive of its last floating guinea, when the box of course became dormant for want of a single adventurer.

It was his custom to carry a great number of bank notes in his waistcoat pocket, twisted up together, with the greatest indifference; and on one occasion, in his attendance at a Hazard table at Windsor, during the races, being a STANDING better and every chair full, a person's hand was observed, by those on the opposite side of the table, just in the act of drawing two notes out of his pocket. The alarm was given, and the hand, from the person behind, was instantly withdrawn, and the notes left sticking out. The company became clamorous for taking the offender before a magistrate, and many attempted to secure him for the purpose; but Captain Dennis O'Kelly very philosophically seized him by the collar, kicked him down-stairs, and exultingly exclaimed, ''Twas a SUFFICIENT PUNISHMENT to be deprived of the pleasure of keeping company with JONTLEMEN.'

A bet for a large sum was once proposed to this 'Admirable Crichton' of the turf and the gaming table, and accepted. The proposer asked O'Kelly where lay his ESTATES to answer for the amount if he lost?' 'My estates!' cried O'Kelly. 'Oh, if that's what you MANE, I've a MAP of them here'—and opening his pocket-book he exhibited bank notes to TEN TIMES the sum in question, and ultimately added the INQUIRER'S contribution to them.

Such was the wonderful son of Erin, 'Captain' or 'Colonel' Dennis O'Kelly. One would like to know what ultimately became of him.

DICK ENGLAND.

Jack Tether, Bob W—r, Tom H—ll, Captain O'Kelly, and others, spent with Dick England a great part of the plunder of poor Clutterbuck, a clerk of the Bank of England, who not only lost his all, but robbed the Bank of an immense sum to pay his 'debts of honour.'

A Mr B—, a Yorkshire gentleman, proposed to his brother-in-law, who was with him, to put down ten pounds each and try their luck at the 'Hell' kept by 'the Clerks of the Minster,' in the Minster Yard, next the Church. It was the race-week. There were about thirteen Greeks there, Dick England at their head. Mr B— put down L10. England then called 'Seven the main—if seven or eleven is thrown next, the Caster wins.' Of course Dick intended to win; but he blundered in his operation; he LANDED at six and the other did not answer his hopes. Yet, with matchless effrontery, he swore he had called SIX and not seven; and as it was referred to the majority of the goodly company, thirteen HONEST GENTLEMEN gave it in Dick England's favour, and with him divided the spoil.

A Mr D—, a gentleman of considerable landed property in the North, proposed passing a few days at Scarborough. Dick England saw his carriage enter the town, and contrived to get into his company and go with him to the rooms. When the assembly was over, he prevailed on Mr D— to sup with him. After supper Mr D— was completely intoxicated, and every effort to make him play was tried in vain.

This was, of course, very provoking; but still something must be done, and a very clever scheme they hit upon to try and 'do' this 'young man from the country.' Dick England and two of his associates played for five minutes, and then each of them marked a card as follows:—'D— owes me one hundred guineas,' 'D— owes me eighty guineas;' but Dick marked HIS card—'I owe D—thirty guineas.'

The next day, Mr D— met Dick England on the cliff and apologized for his excess the night before, hoping he had given no offence 'when drunk and incapable.' Having satisfied the gentleman on this point, Dick England presented him with a thirty-guinea note, which, in spite of contradiction, remonstrance, and denial of any play having taken place, he forced on Mr D— as his FAIR WINNING—adding that he had paid hundreds to gentlemen in liquor, who knew nothing of it till he had produced the account. Of course Mr D— could not help congratulating himself at having fallen in with a perfect gentleman, as well as consoling himself for any head-ache or other inconvenience resulting from his night's potation. They parted with gushing civilities between them.

Soon afterwards, however, two other gentlemen came up to Mr D—, whom the latter had some vague recollection of having seen the evening before, in company with Dick England; and at length, from what the two gentlemen said, he had no doubt of the fact, and thought it a fit opportunity to make a due acknowledgment of the gentlemanly conduct of their friend, who had paid him a bet which he had no remembrance of having made.

No mood could be better for the purpose of the meeting; so the two gentlemen not only approved of the conduct of Dick, and descanted on the propriety of paying drunken men what they won, but also declared that no GENTLEMAN would refuse to pay a debt of honour won from him when drunk; and at once begged leave to 'remind' Mr D— that he had lost to them 180 guineas! In vain the astounded Mr D— denied all knowledge of the transaction; the gentlemen affected to be highly indignant, and talked loudly of injured honour. Besides, had he not received 30 guineas from their friend? So he assented, and appointed the next morning to settle the matter.

Fortunately for Mr D—, however, some intelligent friends of his arrived in the mean time, and having heard his statement about the whole affair, they 'smelt a rat,' and determined to ferret it out. They examined the waiter—previously handing him over five guineas—and this man declared the truth that Mr D— did not play at all—in fact, that he was in such a condition that there could not be any real play. Dick England was therefore 'blown' on this occasion. Mr D— returned him his thirty guineas, and paid five guineas for his share of the supper; and well he might, considering that it very nearly cost him 150 guineas—that is, having to receive 30 guineas and to pay 180 guineas to the Greeks—profit and loss with a vengeance.

Being thus 'blown' at Scarborough, Dick England and his associates decamped on the following morning.

He next formed a connection with a lieutenant on half pay, nephew to an Irish earl. With this lieutenant he went to Spa, and realized something considerable; but not without suspicion—for a few dice were missed.