5. 'There are persons who are constantly pursued by bad luck. To such I say—NEVER PLAY.

6. 'Stubborness at play is ruin.

7. 'Remember that Fortune does not like people to be overjoyed at her favours, and that she prepares bitter deceptions for the imprudent, who are intoxicated by success.'

Such are the chief axioms of a most experienced gamester, and M. Houdin sums up the whole into the following:—

8. 'Before risking your money at play, you must deeply study your "vein" and the different probabilities of the game—termed the maturity of the chances.'

M. Robert-Houdin got all this precious information from a gamester named Raymond. It appears that the first meeting between him and this man was at a subscription-ball, where the sharper managed to fleece him and others to a considerable amount, contriving a dexterous escape when detected. Houdin afterwards fell in with him at Spa, where he found him in the greatest poverty, and lent him a small sum—to practise his grand theories as just explained—but which he lost—whereupon Houdin advised him 'to take up a less dangerous occupation.' He then appears to have revealed to Houdin the entertaining particulars which form the bulk of his book, so dramatically written. A year afterwards Houdin unexpectedly fell in with him again; but this time the fellow was transformed into what he called 'a demi-millionnaire,' having succeeded to a large fortune by the death of his brother, who died intestate. According to Houdin the following was the man's declaration at the auspicious meeting:—'I have,' said Raymond, 'completely renounced gaming. I am rich enough, and care no longer for fortune. And yet,' he added proudly, 'if I now cared for the thing, how I could BREAK those bloated banks in their pride, and what a glorious vengeance I could take of BAD LUCK and its inflexible agents! But my heart is too full of my happiness to allow the smallest place for the desire of vengeance.'

A very proper speech, unquestionably, and rendered still more edifying by M. Houdin's assurance that Raymond, at his death three years after, bequeathed the whole of his fortune to various charitable institutions at Paris.

With regard to the man's gaming theories, however, it may be just as well to consider the fact, that very many clever people, after contriving fine systems and schemes for ruining gaming banks, have, as M. Houdin reminds us, only succeeded in ruining themselves and those who conformed to their precepts.

Et s'il est un joueur qui vive de son pain, On en voit tous les jours mille mourir de faim.

'If ONE player there be that can live by his gain, There are thousands that starve and strive ever in vain!'



CHAPTER IX. THE HISTORY OF DICE AND CARDS.

The knights of hazard and devotees of chance, who live in and by the rattle of the box, little know, or care, perhaps, to whom they are indebted for the invention of their favourite cube. They will solace themselves, no doubt, on being told that they are pursuing a diversion of the highest antiquity, and which has been handed down through all civilized as well as barbarous nations to our own times.

The term 'cube,' which is the figure of a die, comes originally from the Arabic word 'ca'b,' or 'ca'be,' whence the Greeks derived their cubos, and cubeia, which is used to signify any solid figure perfectly square every way—such as the geometrical cube, the die used in play, and the temple at Mecca, which is of the same figure. The Persic name for 'die' is 'dad,' and from this word is derived the name of the thing in Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian, namely, dado. In the old French it is det, in the plural dets; in modern French de and dez, whence our English name 'die,' and its plural 'dies,' or 'dice.'

Plato tells us that dice and gaming originated with a certain demon, whom he calls Theuth, which seems very much like the original patronymic of our Teutonic races, always famous for their gambling propensity. The Greeks generally, however, ascribed the invention of dice to one of their race, named Palamedes, a sort of universal genius, who hit upon many other contrivances, among the rest, weights and measures. But this worthy lived in the times of the Trojan war, and yet Homer makes no mention of dice—the astragaloi named by the poet being merely knuckle-bones. Dice, however, are mentioned by Aristophanes in his comedies, and so it seems that the invention must be placed between the times of the two poets, that is, about 2300 years ago. At any rate the cube or die has been in use as an instrument of play, at least, during that period of time.

The great antiquity, therefore, of the die as an instrument of pastime is unquestionable, and the general reason assigned for its invention was the amusement and relaxation of the mind from the pressure of difficulties, or from the fatigues and toils of protracted war. Indeed, one conjecture is, that gaming was invented by the Lydians when under the pressure of a great famine; to divert themselves from their sufferings they contrived dice, balls, tables, &c. This seems, however, rather a bad joke.

The afflicted Job asks—'Can a man fill his belly with the east wind?' And we can imagine that plenty of tobacco to smoke and 'chaw' would mitigate the pangs of starvation to an army in the field, as has been seriously suggested; but you might just as well present a soldier with a stone instead of bread, as invite him to amuse himself with dice, or anything else, to assuage the pangs of hunger.

Be that as it may, time soon matured this instrument of recreation into an engine of destruction; and the intended palliative of care and labour has proved the fostering nurse of innumerable evils. This diminutive cube has usurped a tyranny over mankind for more than two thousand years, and continues at this day to rule the world with despotic sway—levelling all distinctions of fortune in an instant by the fiat of its single turn.

The use of dice was probably brought into this island by the Romans, if not before known; it became more frequent in the times of our Saxon ancestry, and has prevailed with almost unimpaired vigour from those days to our own.

The Astragalos of the Greeks and Talus of the Romans were, as before stated, nothing but the knuckle-bones of sheep and goats, numbered, and used for gaming, being tossed up in the air and caught on the back of the hand. Two persons played together at this game, using four bones, which they threw up into the air or emptied out of a dice-box (fritillus), observing the numbers of the opposite sides. The numbers on the four sides of the four bones admitted of thirty-five different combinations. The lowest throw of all was four aces; but the value of the throw was not in all cases the sum of the four numbers turned up. The highest in value was that called Venus, in which the numbers cast up were all different; the sum of them being only fourteen. It was by obtaining this throw, hence called basilicus, that 'the King of the Feast' was appointed by the Romans. Certain other throws were called by particular names, taken from the gods, heroes, kings, courtesans, animals; altogether there were sixty-four such names. Thus, the throw consisting of two aces and two treys, making eight, was denominated Stesichorus. When the object was simply to throw the highest number, the game was called pleistobolinda, a Greek word of that meaning. When a person threw the tali, he often invoked either a god or his mistress.

Dice were also made of ivory, bone, or some close-grained wood, especially privet ligustris tesseris utilissima, (Plin. H. N.). They were numbered as at present.

Arsacides, King of the Parthians, presented Demetrius Nicator, among other presents, with golden dice—it is said, in contempt for his frivolous propensity to play—in exprobationem puerilis levitatis.'(58)

(58) Justini Hist., lib. xxxviii. 9. 9.

Dice are also mentioned in the New Testament, where occurs the word cubeia (Eph. iv. 14), ('the only word for "gambling" used in the Bible'), a word in very common use, among Paul's kith and kin, for 'cube,' 'dice,' 'dicery,' and it occurs frequently in the Talmud and Midrash. The Mishna declares unfit either as 'judge or witness,' 'a cubea-player, a usurer, a pigeon-flier (betting-man), a vendor of illegal (seventh-year) produce, and a slave.' A mitigating clause—proposed by one of the weightiest legal authorities, to the effect that the gambler and his kin should only be disqualified 'if they have but that one profession'—is distinctly negatived by the majority, and the rule remains absolute. The classical word for the gambler or dice-player, cubeutes, appears aramaized in the same sources into something like kubiustis, as the following curious instances may show: When the Angel, after having wrestled with Jacob all night, asks him to let him go, 'for the dawn has risen' (A. V., 'the day breaketh'), Jacob is made to reply to him, 'Art thou, then, a thief or a kubiustis, that thou art afraid of the day?' To which the Angel replies, 'No, I am not; but it is my turn to-day, and for the first time, to sing the Angelic Hymn of Praise in Heaven: let me go.' In another Tadmudical passage an early biblical critic is discussing certain arithmetical difficulties in the Pentateuch. Thus he finds the number of Levites (in Numbers) to differ, when summed up from the single items, from that given in the total. Worse than that, he finds that all the gold and silver contributed to the sanctuary is not accounted for, and, clinching his argument, he cries, 'Is, then, your master Moses a thief or a kubiustis? Or could he not make up his accounts properly?' The critic is then informed of a certain difference between 'sacred' and other coins; and he further gets a lesson in the matter of Levites and Firstborn, which silences him. Again, the Talmud decides that, if a man have bought a slave who turns out to be a thief or a kubiustis,—which has here been erroneously explained to mean a 'manstealer,'—he has no redress. He must keep him, as he bought him, or send him away; for he has bought him with all his vices.

Regarding the translation 'sleight' in the A.V., this seems a correct enough rendering of the term as far as the SENSE of the passage goes, and comes very near the many ancient translations—'nequitia,' 'versutia,' 'inanis labor,' 'vana et inepta (?) subtilitas,' &c., of the Fathers. Luther has 'Schalkheit,'—a word the meaning of which at his time differed considerably from our acceptation of the term. The Thesaurus takes Paul's cubeia (s.v.) more literally, to mean 'in alea hominum, i. e., in certis illis casibus quibus jactantur homines.'(59)

(59) E. Deutseh in the Athenaeum of Sept. 28, 1867.

The ancient tali, marked and thrown as above described, were also used in DIVINATION, just as dice are at the present day; and doubtless the interpretations were the same among the ancients—for all superstitions are handed down from generation to generation with wondrous fidelity. The procedure is curious enough, termed 'the art of telling fortunes by dice.'

Three dice are taken and well shaken in the box with the left hand, and then cast out on a board or table on which a circle is previously drawn with chalk; and the following are the supposed predictions of the throws:—

Three, a pleasing surprise; four, a disagreeable one; five, a stranger who will prove a friend; six, loss of property; seven, undeserved scandal; eight, merited reproach; nine, a wedding; ten, a christening, at which some important event will occur; eleven, a death that concerns you; twelve, a letter speedily; thirteen, tears and sighs; fourteen, beware that you are not drawn into some trouble or plot by a secret enemy; fifteen, immediate prosperity and happiness; sixteen, a pleasant journey; seventeen, you will either be on the water, or have dealings with those belonging to it, to your advantage; eighteen, a great profit, rise in life, or some desirable good will happen almost immediately, for the answers to the dice are said to be fulfilled within nine days. To throw the same number twice at one trial shows news from abroad, be the number what it may. If the dice roll over the circle, the number thrown goes for nothing, but the occurrence shows sharp words impending; and if they fall on the floor it is blows. In throwing the dice if one remain on the top of the other, 'it is a present of which you must take care,' namely, 'a little stranger' at hand.

Two singular facts throw light on the kind of dice used some 100 and 150 years ago. In an old cribbage card-box, curiously ornamented, supposed to have been made by an amateur in the reign of Queen Anne, and now in my possession, I found a die with one end fashioned to a point, evidently for the purpose of spinning—similar to the modern teetotum. With the same lot at the sale where it was bought, was a pack of cards made of ivory, about an inch and a half in length and one inch in width—in other respects exactly like the cards of the period.

Again, it is stated that in taking up the floors of the Middle Temple Hall, about the year 1764, nearly 100 pairs of dice were found, which had dropped, on different occasions, through the chinks or joints of the boards. They were very small, at least one-third less that those now in use. Certainly the benchers of those times did not keep the floor of their magnificent hall in a very decent condition.

A curious fact relating to dice may here be pointed out. Each of the six sides of a die is so dotted or numbered that the top and bottom of every die (taken together) make 7; for if the top or uppermost side is 5, the bottom or opposite side will be 2; and the same holds through every face; therefore, let the number of dice be what it may, their top and bottom faces, added together, must be equal to the number of dice multiplied by 7. In throwing three dice, if 2, 3, and 4 are thrown, making 9, their corresponding bottom faces will be 5, 4, and 3, making 12, which together are 21—equal to the three dice multiplied by 7.

CARDS.

The origin of cards is as doubtful as that of dice. All that we know for certain is that they were first used in the East. Some think that the figures at first used on them were of moral import: the Hindoo and Chinese cards are certainly emblematic in a very high degree; the former illustrate the ten avatars, or incarnations of the deity Vishnu; and the so-called 'paper-tickets' of the Chinese typify the stars, the human virtues, and, indeed, every variety of subject. Sir William Jones was convinced that the Hindoo game of Chaturaji—that is, 'the Four Rajahs or Kings'—a species of highly-complicated chess—was the first germ of that parti-coloured pasteboard, which has been the ruin of so many modern fortunes. A pack of Hindoostani cards, in the possession of the Royal Asiatic Society, and presented to Captain Cromline Smith in 1815, by a high caste Brahman, was declared by the donor to be actually 1000 years old: 'Nor,' said the Brahman, 'can any of us now play at them, for they are not like our modern cards at all.' Neither, indeed, do they bear any remarkable resemblance to our own—the pack consisting of no less than eight sorts of divers colours, the kings being mounted upon elephants, and viziers, or second honours, upon horses, tigers, and bulls. Moreover, there are other marks distinguishing the respective value of the common cards, which would puzzle our club-quidnuncs not a little—such as 'a pine-apple in a shallow cup,' and a something like a parasol without a handle, and with two broken ribs sticking through the top. The Chinese cards have the advantage over those of Hindoostan by being oblong instead of circular.

It was not before the end of the 14th century that cards became known in Europe; and it is a curious fact that the French clergy took greatly to card-playing about that time—their favourite game being the rather ungenteel 'All Fours,' as now reputed; for they were specially forbidden that pastime by the Synod of Langres in 1404.

The ancient cards of both Spain and France, particularly the 'court-cards,' exhibit strong marks of the age of chivalry; but here we may observe that the word is written by some ancient writers, 'coate-cards,' evidently signifying no more than figures in particular dresses. The giving pre-eminence or victory to a certain suit, by the name of 'trump,' which is only a corruption of the word 'triumph,' is a strong trait of the martial ideas of the inventors of these games. So that, if the Chinese started the idea, it seems clear that the French and Spanish improved upon it and gave it a plain significance; and there is no reason to doubt that cards were actually employed to amuse Charles VI. in his melancholy and dejection.

The four suits of cards are supposed to represent the four estates of a kingdom:—1. The nobility and gentry; 2. The ecclesiastics or priesthood; 3. The citizens or commercial men; 4. The peasantry or Husbandmen. The nobility are represented in the old Spanish cards by the espada, or sword, corrupted by us into 'spades,'—by the French with piques, 'pikes or spears.' The ecclesiastical order is pointed out by copas, or sacramental cups, which are painted in one of the suits of old Spanish cards, and by coeurs, or 'hearts,' on French cards, as in our own—thereby signifying choir-men, gens de choeur, or ecclesiastics—from choeur de l'eglise, 'the choir of the church,' that being esteemed the most important part or the HEART of the church.

The Spaniards depicted their citizens or commercial men under dineros, a small coin, an emblem very well adapted to the productive classes; the French by carreaux, squares or lozenges—importing, perhaps, unity of interest, equality of condition, regularity of manners, and the indispensable duty of this class of men to deal with one another 'on the square.' The Spaniards made bastos, or knotty clubs, the emblem of the 'bold peasantry,' taken probably from the custom that the plebeians were permitted to challenge or fight each other with sticks and quarter-staves only, but not with the sword, or any arms carried by a gentleman; while the French peasantry were pointed out under the ideas of husbandry, namely, by the trefles, trefoil or clover-grass. So much for the SUITS.

With regard to the depicted figures of cards, each nation likewise followed its own inventions, though grounded in both on those ideas of chivalry which then strongly prevailed. The Spanish cards were made to carry the insignia and accoutrements of the King of Spain, the ace of deneros being emblazoned with the royal arms, supported by an eagle. The French ornamented their cards with fleurs de lis, their royal emblem. The Spanish kings, in conformity to the martial spirit of the times when cards were introduced, were all mounted on horseback, as befitted generals and commanders-in-chief; but their next in command (among the cards) was el caballo, the knight-errant on horseback—for the old Spanish cards had no queens; and the third in order was the soto, or attendant, that is, the esquire, or armour-bearer of the knight—all which was exactly conformable to those ideas of chivalry which ruled the age. It is said that David (king of spades), tormented by a rebellious son, is the emblem of Charles VII., menaced by his son (Louis XI.), and that Argine (queen of clubs) is the anagram of Regina, and the emblem of Marie d'Anjou, the wife of that prince; that Pallas (queen of spades) represents Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans; that Rachel (queen of diamonds) is Agnes Sorel; lastly, that Judith (queen of hearts) is the Queen Isabeau. The French call the queens at cards dames.

The four knaves (called in French, valets or varlets) are four valiant captains—Ogier and Lancelot, the companions of Charlemagne, Hector de Gallard, and Lahire, the generals of Charles VII. The remainder of the pack equally presents a sort of martial allegory; the heart is bravery; the spade (espad, 'sword') and the diamond (carreau, that is, a square or shield) are the arms of war; the club (in French trefle, 'trefoil') is the emblem of provisions; and the ace (in French as, from the Latin aes, 'coin') is the emblem of money—the sinews of war.

In accordance with this allegorical meaning, the function of the ace is most significant. It leads captive every other card, queen and king included—thus indicating the omnipotence of gold or mammon!

'To the mighty god of this nether world—To the spirit that roams with banner unfurl'd O'er the Earth and the rolling Sea—And hath conquer'd all to his thraldom Where his eye hath glanced or his footstep sped—Who hath power alike o'er the living and dead—Mammon!(59) I sing to thee!

(59) Steinmetz Ode to Mammon.

Some say that the four kings represent those famous champions of antiquity—David, Alexander, Julius Caesar, and Charlemagne; and that the four queens, Argine, Pallas, Esther, and Judith, are the respective symbols of majesty, wisdom, piety, and fortitude; and there can be no doubt, if you look attentively on the queens of a pack of cards, you will easily discern the appropriate expressions of all these attributes in the faces of the grotesque ladies therein depicted. The valets, or attendants, whom we call knaves, are not necessarily 'rascals,' but simply servants royal; at first they were knights, as appears from the names of some of the famous French knights being formerly painted on the cards.

Thus a pack of cards is truly a monument of the olden time—the days of chivalry and its numberless associations.

In addition to the details I have given in the previous chapter respecting the probability of holding certain cards, there are a few other curious facts concerning them, which it may be interesting to know.

There is a difference in the eyes of two of the knaves—those of diamonds and hearts, more apparent in the old patterns, suggesting the inference that they are blind. This has been made the basis of a card trick, as to which two of the four knaves presenting themselves would be selected as servants. Of course the blind ones would be rejected. A bet is sometimes proposed to the unwary, at Whist, but one of the party will have in his hand, after the deal, only one of a suit, or none of a suit. The bet should not be taken, as this result very frequently happens.

Lastly, there is an arithmetical puzzle of the most startling effect to be contrived with a pack of cards, as follows. Let a party make up parcels of cards, beginning with a number of pips on any card, and then counting up to twelve with individual cards. In the first part of the trick it must be understood that the court cards count as ten, all others according to the pips. Thus, a king put down will require only two cards to make up 12, whereas the ace will require 11, and so on. Now, when all the parcels are completed, the performer of the trick requires to know only the number of parcels thus made, and the remainder, if any, to declare after a momentary calculation, the exact number of pips on the first cards laid down—to the astonishment of those not in the secret. In fact, there is no possible arrangement of the cards, according to this method, which can prevent an adept from declaring the number of pips required, after being informed of the number of parcels, and the remainder, if any. This startling performance will be explained in a subsequent chapter—amusing card tricks.

Cards must soon have made their way among our countrymen, from the great intercourse that subsisted between England and France about the time of the first introduction of cards into the latter kingdom. If the din of arms in the reign of our fifth Henry should seem unfavourable to the imitation of an enemy's private diversions, it must be remembered that France was at that period under the dominion of England, that the English lived much in that country, and consequently joined in the amusements of the private hour, as well as in the public dangers of the field.

Very soon, however, the evil consequences of their introduction became apparent. One would have thought that in such a tumultuous reign at home as that of our sixth Henry, there could not have been so much use made of cards as to have rendered them an object of public apprehension and governmental solicitude; but a record appears in the beginning of the reign of Edward IV., after the deposition of the unfortunate Henry, by which playing cards, as well as dice, tennis-balls, and chessmen, were forbidden to be imported.

If this tended to check their use for a time, the subsequent Spanish connection with the court of England renewed an acquaintance with cards and a love for them. The marriage of Prince Arthur with the Infanta Catherine of Arragon, brought on an intimacy between the two nations, which probably increased card-playing in England,—it being a diversion to which the Spaniards were extremely addicted at that period.

Cards were certainly much in use, and all ideas concerning them very familiar to the minds of the English, during the reign of Henry VIII., as may be inferred from a remarkable sermon of the good bishop Latimer. This sermon was preached in St Edward's church, Cambridge, on the Sunday before Christmas day, 1527, and in this discourse he may be said to have 'dealt' out an exposition of the precepts of Christianity according to the terms of card-playing. 'Now ye have heard what is meant by this "first card," and how you ought to "play" with it, I purpose again to "deal" unto you "another card almost of the same suit," for they be of so nigh affinity that one cannot be well "played" without the other, &c.' 'It seems,' says Fuller, 'that he suited his sermon rather to the TIME—being about Christmas, when cards were much used—than to the text, which was the Baptist's question to our Lord—"Who art thou?"—taking thereby occasion to conform his discourse to the "playing at cards," making the "heart triumph."'

This blunt preaching was in those days admirably effectual, but it would be considered ridiculous in ours—except from the lips of such original geniuses as Mr Spurgeon, who hit upon this vein and made a fortune of souls as well as money. He is, however, inimitable, and any attempt at entering into his domain would probably have the same result as that which attended an imitation of Latimer by a country minister, mentioned by Fuller. 'I remember,' he says, 'in my time (about the middle of the seventeenth century), a country minister preached at St Mary's, from Rom. xii. 3,—"As God has DEALT to every man the measure of faith." In a fond imitation of Latimer's sermon he followed up the metaphor of DEALING,—that men should PLAY ABOVE-BOARD, that is, avoid all dissembling,—should not POCKET CARDS, but improve their gifts and graces,—should FOLLOW SUIT, that is, wear the surplice, &c.,—all which produced nothing but laughter in the audience. Thus the same actions by several persons at several times are made not the same actions, yea, differenced from commendable discretion to ridiculous absurdity. And thus he will make but bad music who hath the instruments and fiddlesticks, but none of the "resin" of Latimer.'

The habit of card-playing must have been much confirmed and extended by the marriage of Philip of Spain with our Queen Mary, whose numerous and splendid retinue could not but bring with them that passionate love of cards which prevailed in the Spanish court.

It seems also probable that the cards then used (whatever they might have been before) were of Spanish form and figure, in compliment to the imperious Philip; since even to this day the names of two Spanish suits are retained on English cards, though without any reference to their present figure. Thus, we call one suit spades, from the Spanish espada, 'sword,' although we retain no similitude of the sword in the figure,—and another clubs, in Spanish, bastos, but without regard to the figure also.

Old Roger Ascham, the tutor of Queen Elizabeth, gives us a picture of the gambling arts of his day, as follows:—How will they use these shiftes when they get a plaine man that cannot skill of them! How they will go about, if they perceive an honest man have moneye, which list not playe, to provoke him to playe! They will seek his companye; they will let him pay noughte, yea, and as I hearde a man once saye that he did, they will send for him to some house, and spend perchaunce a crowne on him, and, at last, will one begin to saye: "at, my masters, what shall we do? Shall every man playe his twelve-pence while an apple roste in the fire, and then we will drincke and departe?" "Naye" will another saye (as false as he), "you cannot leave when you begin, and therefore I will not playe: but if you will gage, that every man as he hath lost his twelve-pence, shall sit downe, I am contente, for surelye I would Winne no manne's moneye here, but even as much as woulde pay for my supper." Then speaketh the thirde to the honeste man that thought not to play:—"What? Will you play your twelve-pence?" If he excuse him—"Tush! man!" will the other saye, "sticke not in honeste company for twelve-pence; I will beare your halfe, and here is my moneye." Nowe all this is to make him to beginne, for they knowe if he be once in, and be a loser, that he will not sticke at his twelve-pence, but hopeth ever to get it againe, whiles perhappes he will lose all. Then every one of them setteth his shiftes abroache, some with false dyse, some with settling of dyse, some with having outlandish silver coynes guilded, to put awaye at a time for good golde. Then, if there come a thing in controversye, must you be judged by the table, and then farewell the honeste man's parte, for he is borne downe on every syde.'

It is evident from this graphic description of the process, that the villany of sharpers has been ever the same; for old Roger's account of the matter in his day exactly tallies with daily experience at the present time.

The love of card-playing was continued through the reign of Elizabeth and James I.,(60) and in the reign of the latter it had reached so high a pitch that the audiences used to amuse themselves with cards at the play-house, while they were waiting for the beginning of the play. The same practice existed at Florence. If the thing be not done at the present day, something analogous prevails in our railway carriages throughout the kingdom. It is said that professed card-sharpers take season-tickets on all the lines, and that a great DEAL of money is made by the gentry by duping unwary travellers into a game or by betting.

(60) King James, the British Solomon, although he could not 'abide' tobacco, and denounced it in a furious 'Counterblaste,' could not 'utterly condemn' play, or, as he calls it, 'fitting house-pastimes.' 'I will not,' he says, 'agree in forbidding cards, dice, and other like games of Hazard,' and enters into an argument for his opinion, which is scarcely worth quoting. See Basilicon Doron—a prodigy of royal fatuity—but the perfect 'exponent' of the characteristics of the Stuart royal race in England.

There is no reason to suppose that the fondness for this diversion abated, except during the short 'trump or triumph of the fanatic suit'—in the hard times of Old Oliver—when undoubtedly cards were styled 'the devil's books.' But, indeed, by that time they had become an engine of much fraud and destruction; so that one of the early acts of Charles II.'s reign inflicted large penalties on those who should use cards for fraudulent purposes.

'Primero was the fashionable game at the court of England during the Tudor dynasty. Shakspeare represents Henry VIII. playing at it with the Duke of Suffolk; and Falstaff says, "I never prospered since I forswore myself at Primero." In the Earl of Northumberland's letters about the Gunpowder-plot, it is noticed that Joscelin Percy was playing at this game on Sunday, when his uncle, the conspirator, called on him at Essex House. In the Sidney papers, there is an account of a desperate quarrel between Lord Southampton, the patron of Shakspeare, and one Ambrose Willoughby. Lord Southampton was then "Squire of the Body" to Queen Elizabeth, and the quarrel was occasioned by Willoughby persisting to play with Sir Walter Raleigh and another at Primero, in the Presence Chamber, after the queen had retired to rest, a course of proceeding which Southampton would not permit. Primero, originally a Spanish game, is said to have been made fashionable in England by Philip of Spain, after his marriage with Queen Mary.

Maw succeeded Primero as the fashionable game at the English court, and was the favourite game of James I., who appears to have played at cards, just as he played with affairs of state, in an indolent manner; requiring in both cases some one to hold his cards, if not to prompt him what to play. Weldon, alluding to the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury, in his Court and Character of King James, says: 'The next that came on the stage was Sir Thomas Monson, but the night before he was to come to his trial, the king being at the game of Maw, said, "To-morrow comes Thomas Monson to his trial." "Yea," said the king's card-holder, "where, if he do not play his master's prize, your Majesty shall never trust me." This so ran in the king's mind, that at the next game he said he was sleepy, and would play out that set the next night.

'It is evident that Maw differed very slightly from Five Cards, the most popular game in Ireland at the present day. As early as 1674 this game was popular in Ireland, as we learn from Cotton's Compleat Gamester, which says: "Five Cards is an Irish game, and is much played in that kingdom for considerable sums of money, as All-fours is played in Kent, and Post-and-pair in the west of England."

'Noddy was one of the old English court games. This has been supposed to have been a children's game, and it was certainly nothing of the kind. Its nature is thus fully described in a curious satirical poem, entitled Batt upon Batt, published in 1694.

"Show me a man can turn up Noddy still, And deal himself three fives too, when he will; Conclude with one-and-thirty, and a pair, Never fail ten in Stock, and yet play fair, If Batt be not that wight, I lose my aim."

'From these lines, there can be no doubt that the ancient Noddy was the modern cribbage—the Nod of to-day, rejoicing in the name of Noddy, and the modern Crib, being termed the Stock.

'Ombre was most probably introduced into this country by Catherine of Portugal, the queen of Charles II.; Waller, the court poet, has a poem on a card torn at Ombre by the queen. This royal lady also introduced to the English court the reprehensible practice of playing cards on Sunday. Pepys, in 1667, writes: "This evening, going to the queen's side to see the ladies, I did find the queen, the Duchess of York, and another at cards, with the room full of ladies and great men; which I was amazed at to see on a Sunday, having not believed, but contrarily flatly denied the same, a little while since, to my cousin."(61)

(61) Hombre, or rather El Hombre, or 'The Man,' was so named as requiring thought and reflection, which are qualities peculiar to man; or rather, alluding to him who undertakes to play the game against the rest of the gamesters, emphatically called The Man. It requires very great application to play it well: and let a man be ever so expert, he will be apt to fall into mistakes if he thinks of anything else, or is disturbed by the conversation of those that look on. It is a game of three, with 40 cards, that is, rejecting the eights, nines, and tens of all the suits.

'In a passage from Evelyn's Memoirs, the writer impressively describes another Sunday-evening scene at Whitehall, a few days before the death of Charles II., in which a profligate assemblage of courtiers is represented as deeply engaged in the game of Basset. This was an Italian game, brought by Cardinal Mazarin to France; Louis XIV. is said to have lost large sums at it; and it was most likely brought to England by some of the French ladies of the court. It did not stand its ground, however, in this country; Ombre continuing the fashionable game in England, down till after the expiration of the first quarter of the last century.

'Quadrille succeeded Ombre, but for a curious reason did not reign so long as its predecessor. From the peculiar nature of Quadrille, an unfair confederacy might be readily established, by any two persons, by which the other players could be cheated.

'While the preceding games were in vogue the magnificent temple of Whist, destined to outshine and overshadow them, was in course of erection.

"Let India vaunt her children's vast address, Who first contrived the warlike sport of Chess; Let nice Piquette the boast of France remain, And studious Ombre be the pride of Spain; Invention's praise shall England yield to none, When she can call delightful Whist her own."

'All great inventions and discoveries are works of time, and Whist is no exception to the rule; it did not come into the world perfect at all points, as Minerva emerged from the head of Jupiter. Nor were its wonderful merits early recognized. Under the vulgar appellations of Whisk and Swobbers, it long lingered in the servants'-hall ere it could ascend to the drawing-room. At length, some gentlemen, who met at the Crown coffee-house, in Bedford Row, studied the game, gave it rules, established its principles, and then Edward Hoyle, in 1743, blazoned forth its fame to all the world.

'Many attempts have been made, at various times, to turn playing-cards to a very different use from that for which they were originally intended. Thus, in 1518, a learned Franciscan friar, named Murner, published a Logica Memorativa, a mode of teaching logic, by a pack of cards; and, subsequently, he attempted to teach a summary of civil law in the same manner. In 1656, an Englishman, named Jackson, published a work, entitled the Scholar's Sciential Cards, in which he proposed to teach reading, spelling, grammar, writing, and arithmetic, with various arts and sciences, by playing-cards; premising that the learner was well grounded in all the games played at the period. And later still, about the close of the seventeenth century, there was published the Genteel Housekeeper's Pastime; or the Mode of Carving at Table represented in a Pack of Playing-Cards, by which any one of ordinary Capacity may learn how to Carve, in Mode, all the most usual Dishes of Flesh, Fish, Fowl, and Baked Meats, with the several Sauces and Garnishes proper to Every Dish of Meat. In this system, flesh was represented by hearts, fish by clubs, fowl by diamonds, and baked-meat by spades. The king of hearts ruled a noble sirloin of roast-beef; the monarch of clubs presided over a pickled herring; and the king of diamonds reared his battle-axe over a turkey; while his brother of spades smiled benignantly on a well-baked venison-pasty.

'The kind of advertisements, now called circulars, were often, formerly, printed on the backs of playing-cards. Visiting-cards, too, were improvised, by writing the name on the back of playing-cards. About twenty years ago, when a house in Dean Street, Soho, was under repair, several visiting-cards of this description were found behind a marble chimney-piece, one of them bearing the name of Isaac Newton. Cards of invitation were written in a similar manner. In the fourth picture, in Hogarth's series of "Marriage a-la-Mode," several are seen lying on the floor, upon one of which is inscribed: "Count Basset begs to no how Lade Squander sleapt last nite." Hogarth, when he painted this inscription, was most probably thinking of Mrs Centlivre's play, The Basset Table, which a critic describes as containing a great deal of plot and business, without much sentiment or delicacy.

'A curious and undoubtedly authentic historical anecdote is told of a pack of cards. Towards the end of the persecuting reign of Queen Mary, a commission was granted to a Dr Cole to go over to Ireland, and commence a fiery crusade against the Protestants of that country. On coming to Chester, on his way, the doctor was waited on by the mayor, to whom he showed his commission, exclaiming, with premature triumph, "Here is what shall lash the heretics of Ireland." Mrs Edmonds, the landlady of the inn, having a brother in Dublin, was much disturbed by overhearing these words; so, when the doctor accompanied the mayor downstairs, she hastened into his room, opened his box, took out the commission, and put a pack of cards in its place. When the doctor returned to his apartment, he put the box into his portmanteau without suspicion, and the next morning sailed for Dublin. On his arrival he waited on the lord-lieutenant and privy council, to whom he made a speech on the subject of his mission, and then presented the box to his Lordship; but on opening it, there appeared only a pack of cards, with the knave of clubs uppermost. The doctor was petrified, and assured the council that he had had a commission, but what was become of it he could not tell. The lord-lieutenant answered, "Let us have another commission, and, in the mean while, we can shuffle the cards." Before the doctor could get his commission renewed Queen Mary died, and thus the persecution was prevented. We are further informed that, when Queen Elizabeth was made acquainted with the circumstances, she settled a pension of L40 per annum on Mrs Edmonds, for having saved her Protestant subjects in Ireland.'(62)

(62) The Book of Days, Dec. 28.

All the pursuits of life, all the trades and occupations of men, have, in all times, lent expressions to the languages of nations, and those resulting from the propensity of GAMING are among those which perpetually recur in daily conversation, and with the greatest emphasis. Thus we have:—'He has played his cards well or ill,'—applied to the management of fortune or one's interest; jacta est alea, 'the die is cast,' as exclaimed Julius Caesar before crossing the Rubicon; 'he has run his RACE—reached the GOAL' a turf adage applied to consummate success or disastrous failure; 'a lucky throw or hit;' 'within an ACE,' meaning one point of gaining a thing; 'he HAZARDS everything;' 'chances are for and against;' 'he was PIQUED,' from the game of piquet, meaning, angry at losing something; 'left in the lurch,' from the French game l'Ourche, wherein on certain points happening the stake is to be paid double, and meaning, 'under circumstances unexpected and peculiarly unfavourable;' 'to save your bacon or gamon,' from the game Back-gammon(63) a blot is hit,' from the same; 'checked in his career,' that is, stopped in his designs from the game of chess.

(63) The etymology of the word Back-gamon has been disputed. Hyde seems to have settled it. A certain portion of the hog is called in Italian gambone, whence our English word gambon or gammon. Confounding things that differ, many think that 'gamon' in the game has the same meaning, and therefore they say—'he saved his gamon or bacon,' which is absurd, although it is a proverbial phrase of sufficient emphasis. The word Backgamon seems to be derived from the very nature of the game itself, namely, back-game-on, that is, when one of your pieces is taken, you must go back—begin again—and then game on—'Back-game-on'.

The fabrication of cards is a most important manufacture of France; and Paris and Nancy are the two places where most cards are made. The annual consumption of cards in France amounts to 1,500,000 francs, or L62,500; but France also supplies foreigners with the article, especially the Spanish, American, Portuguese, and English colonies, to the value of 1,000,000 francs, or L41,666. The government derives from this branch of French industry not much less than L25,000 annual revenue, that is, from 20 to 25 per cent. of the product. The duty on cards is secured and enforced by severe penalties.

English cards are about a third larger than the French. The double-headed cards are an English invention, and they are being adopted by the French. Their advantage is obvious, in securing the secrecy of the hand, for by observing a party in arranging his cards after the deal, the act of turning up a card plainly shows that it must be at least a face card, and the oftener this is done the stronger the hand, in general. In Germany, a fourth face-card is sometimes added to the pack, called the Knight, or Chevalier. The Italians have also in use long cards, called tarots, which, however, must not be confounded with the French cards called tarotees, with odd figures on them, and used by fortune-tellers.

The method of making playing-cards seems to have given the first hint to the invention of printing, as appears from the first specimens of printing at Haerlem, and those in the Bodleian Library.

'The manufacture of playing-cards comprises many interesting processes. The cardboard employed for this purpose is formed of several thicknesses of paper pasted together; there are usually four such thicknesses; and the paper is so selected as to take paste, paint, and polish equally well. The sheets of paper are pasted with a brush, and are united by successive processes of cold-drying, hot-drying, and hydraulic pressure. Each sheet is large enough for forty cards. The outer surfaces of the outer sheets are prepared with a kind of flinty coating, which gives sharpness to the outline of the various coloured devices. Most packs of cards are now made with coloured backs. The ground-tint is laid on with a brush, and consists of dis-temper colour, or pigments mixed with warm melted size. The device impressed on this ground-tint is often very beautiful. Messrs De la Rue, the leading firm in the manufacture, employ tasteful artists, and invest a large amount of capital in the introduction of new patterns. On cards sold at moderate prices, the colours at the back are generally two—one for the ground, and one for the device; but some of the choicer specimens display several colours; and many of the designs are due to the pencil of Mr Owen Jones. The printing of the design is done on the sheets of paper, before the pasting to form cardboard. The pips or spots on the faces of playing-cards are now spades, clubs, hearts, and diamonds; but at different times, and in different countries, there have been leaves, acorns, bells, cups, swords, fruit, heads, parasols, and other objects similarly represented. In English cards the colours are red and black; Messrs De la Rue once introduced red, black, green, and blue for the four suits; but the novelty was not encouraged by card-players. The same makers have also endeavoured to supersede the clumsy devices of kings, queens, and knaves, by something more artistic; but this, too, failed commercially; for the old patterns, like the old willow-pattern dinner-plates, are still preferred—simply because the users have become accustomed to them. Until within the last few years the printing of cards was generally done by stencilling, the colour being applied through perforated devices in a stencil-plate. The colour employed for this purpose is mixed up with a kind of paste. When there is a device at the back, the outline of the device is printed from an engraved wood-block, and the rest filled in by stencilling. The stencilling of the front and back can be done either before or after the pasting of the sheets into cardboard. One great improvement in the manufacture has been the substitution of oil colour for paste or size colour; and another, the substitution of printing for stencilling. Messrs De la Rue have expended large sums of money on these novelties; for many experiments had to be made, to determine how best to employ oil colour so that the spots or pips may be equal-tinted, the outline clear and sharp, the pigment well adherent to the surface, and the drying such as to admit of polishing without stickiness. The plates for printing are engraved on copper or brass, or are produced by electrotype, or are built up with small pieces of metal or interlaced wire. The printing is done in the usual way of colour-printing, with as many plates as there are colours (usually five), and one for the outlines; it is executed on the sheets of paper, before being pasted into cardboard. When the printing, drying, and pasting are all completed, a careful polish is effected by means of brush-wheels, pasteboard wheels, heated plates, and heated rollers; in such a way that the polish on the back may differ from that on the face—since it is found that too equally polished surfaces do not slide quite so readily over each other. Formerly, every pack of cards made in England for home use paid a duty of one shilling, which duty was levied on the ace of spades.

The maker engraved a plate for twenty aces of spades; the printing was done by the government at Somerset House, and L1 was paid by the maker for every sheet of aces so printed. The law is now altered. Card sellers pay an annual license of 2s. 6d., and to each pack of cards is affixed a three-pence stamp, across which the seller must write or stamp his name, under a penalty of L5 for the omission.

The cardboard, when all the printing is finished, is cut up into cards; every card is minutely examined, and placed among the 'Moguls,' 'Harrys,' or 'Highlanders,' as they are technically called, according to the degree in which they may be faultless or slightly specked; and the cards are finally made up into packs.'(64)

(64) Chambers's Cyclopaedia.

Machinery has been called into requisition in card-playing. In 1815 a case was tried in which part of the debt claimed was for an instrument to cut cards so as to give an unfair advantage to the person using it. The alleged debtor had been most fortunate in play, winning at one time L11,000 from an officer in India. For an exactly opposite reason another machine was used in 1818 by the Bennet Street Club. It consisted of a box curiously constructed for dealing cards, and was invented by an American officer.

Another curious fact relating to cards is the duty derived from them. In the year 1775 the number of packs stamped was 167,000, amounting to between L3000 and L4000 duty. Lord North put on another sixpence. Of course, a vast number of packs were smuggled in, paying no duty, as in the case of tobacco, in all times since its fiscal regulations. In the time of Pitt, 1789, L9000 were to be raised by an additional duty of sixpence on cards and dice, consequently there must have been no less than 360,000 packs of cards and pairs of dice stamped in the year 1788, to justify the calculation—a proof that gaming in England was not on the decline. In the year 1790, the duty on cards was two shillings per pack, and on dice thirteen shillings per pair.

This duty on cards went on increasing its annual addition to the revenue, so that about the year 1820 the monthly payments of Mr Hunt alone, the card-maker of Picadilly, for the stamp-duty on cards, varied from L800 to L1000, that is, from L9600 to L12,000 per annum. In 1833 the stamp-duty on cards was 6d., and it yielded L15,922, showing a consumption of 640,000 packs per annum. Much of this, however, was sheer waste, on account of the rule of gamesters requiring a fresh pack at every game.

In the Harleian Miscellany(65) will be found a satirical poem entitled 'The Royal Gamesters; or, the Odd Cards new shuffled for a Conquering Game,' referring to the political events of the years from 1702 to 1706, and concluding with the following lines—

'Thus ends the game which Europe has in view, Which, by the stars, may happen to be true.'

(65) Vol. i. p. 177.

In vol. iv. of the same work there is another poem of the kind, entitled 'The State Gamesters; or, the Old Cards new packed and shuffled,' which characteristically concludes as follows—

'But we this resolution have laid down—Never to play so high as for a Crown.'

Finally, as to allusions to gaming, the reader may remember the famous sarcasm of the late Earl of Derby (as Lord Stanley) some thirty years ago, comparing the Government to Thimble-riggers in operation.



CHAPTER X. PIQUET, BASSET, FARO, HAZARD, PASSE-DIX, PUT, CROSS AND PILE, THIMBLE-RIG.

PIQUET

Piquet is said to have derived its name from that of its inventor, who contrived it to amuse Charles VI. of France. The game was played with thirty two cards, that is, discarding out of the pack all the deuces, treys, fours, fives, and sixes. Regular piquet-packs were sold. In reckoning up the points, every card counted for its value, as ten for ten, nine for nine, and so on down to seven, which was, of course, the lowest; but the ace reckoned for eleven. All court cards reckoned for ten. As in other games, the ace won the king, the king the queen, and so on, to the knave, which won the ten. The cards were dealt at option by fours, threes, or twos, to the number of twelve, which was the hand—'discarding' being allowed; but both the dealer and he that led were OBLIGED to discard at least one card, let their game be ever so good. When the cards were played out, each counted his tricks; and he that had most reckoned 10 for winning the cards; if the tricks were equal, neither reckoned at all. He who, without playing (that is, according to the various terms of the game), could reckon up 30 in hand, when his antagonist reckoned nothing, scored 90 for them; this was called a repic; and all above 30 counted so many,—32 counting 92, and so on. He who could make up 30, part in hand and part by play, before the other made anything, scored 60; this was called a pic.

The game was also played as pool precisely according to the rules briefly sketched as above, the penalty for losing being a guinea to the pool.

Piquet required much practice to play it well. It became so great a favourite that, by the middle of the 18th century, the meanest people were well acquainted with it, and 'let into all the tricks and secrets of it, in order to render them complete sharpers.' Such are the words of an old author, who adds that the game was liable to great imposition, and he explains the methods in use. Short cards were used for cutting, as in Whist, at the time. Of these cards there were two sorts, one longer than the rest; and the advantage gained by them was as the adversary managed it, by cutting the longer or broader, as best suited his purpose, or imposing on the dealer, when it was his turn, to cut those which made most against him. The aces, kings, queens, and knaves were marked with dots at the corners, and in the very old book from which I am quoting precise directions are given how this marking can be effected in such a manner 'as not to be discovered by your ADVERSARY, and at the same time appear plain to YOURSELF.' With a fine pointed pen and some clear spring water, players made dots upon the glazed card at the corners according to the above method; or they coloured the water with india ink, to make the marks more conspicuous. The work concludes as follows:—'There are but 32 cards made use of at Piquet, so that just half of them will be known to you; and in dealing you may have an opportunity to give yourself those you LIKE best; and if you cannot conveniently CHANGE the PACK according to your desire, you will commonly KNOW what YOU are to TAKE IN, which is a demonstrative advantage to win any one's money.'

Evidently they did not 'assume a virtue' in those days, 'if they had it not.'

BASSET.

The game of Basset (in French Wassette) was considered one of the most polite games with cards, and only fit for persons of the highest rank to play at, on account of the great losses or gains that might accrue on one side or the other.

The sums of money lost in France at this game were so considerable that the princes of the blood were in danger of being undone; and after many persons of distinction were ruined the court of France thought fit to forbid Basset. Then Faro was invented; and both were soon introduced into England, and after three or four years' play here, they impoverished so many families, that Parliament enacted a suppression of both games, with severe penalties. The two games are, therefore, of historical interest, and deserve an explanation.

Basset was a sort of lottery. The dealer who kept the bank at Basset, having the sole disposal of the first and last card, and other considerable privileges in dealing the cards, had a much greater prospect of gaining than those who played. This was a truth so acknowledged in France that the king, by public edict, ordered that the privilege of a talliere, or banker at Basset, should only be allowed to the 'chief cadets,' or sons of noblemen—supposing that whoever kept the bank must, in a very short time, acquire a considerable fortune.

In this game there was: 1. The Talliere, the banker, who laid down a sum of money to answer every winning card which might turn up. 2. The Croupiere, the assistant of the former, standing by to supervise the losing cards,—so that when there were many at play he might not lose by overlooking anything which might turn up to his profit. 3. The Punter, or every player. 4. The Fasse, that is, the first card turned up by the talliere, by which he gained half the value of the money laid upon every card of THAT SORT by the punters or players. 5. The Couch, which was the first stake that every punter laid upon each card—every player having a book of 13 cards before him, upon which he must lay his money, more or less, according to his fancy. 6. The Paroli: in this, whoever won the couch, and intended to go on for another advantage, crooked the corner of his card, letting his money lie, without being paid the value by the talliere. 7. The Masse, which was, when those who had won the couch, would venture more money on the SAME card. 8. The Pay, which was when the player had won the couch, and, being doubtful of making the paroli, left off; for by going the pay, if the card turned up wrong, he lost nothing, having won the couch before; but if by this adventure fortune favoured him, he won double the money he had staked. 9. The Alpieu was when the couch was won by turning up, or crooking, the corner of the winning card. 10. The Sept-et-le-va was the first great chance that showed the advantages of the game, namely, if the player had won the couch, and then made a paroli by crooking the corner of his card, and going on to a SECOND chance, if his winning card turned up again it became a sept-et-le-va, which was seven times as much as he had laid upon his card. 11. Quinze-et-le-va, was attending the player's humour, who, perhaps, was resolved to follow his fancy, and still lay his money upon the SAME card, which was done by crooking the third corner of his card: if this card came up by the dealing of the talliere, it made him win fifteen times as much money as he staked. 12. Trent-et-le-va was marked by the lucky player by crooking the end of the fourth corner of his card, which, coming up, made him win thirty-three times as much money as he staked. 13. Soissante-et-le-va was the highest chance that could happen in the game, for it paid sixty-seven times as much money as was staked. It was seldom won except by some player who resolved to push his good fortune to the utmost.

The players sat round a table, the talliere in the midst of them, with the bank of gold before him, and the punters or players each having a book of 13 cards, laying down one, two, three, or more, as they pleased, with money upon them, as stakes; then the talliere took the pack in his hand and turned them up—the bottom card appearing being called the fasse; he then paid half the value of the stakes laid down by the punters upon any card of THAT SORT.

After the fasse was turned up, and the talliere and croupiere had looked round the cards on the table, and taken advantage of the money laid on them, the former proceeded with his deal; and the next card appearing, whether the king, queen, ace, or whatever it might be, won for the player, the latter might receive it, or making paroli, as before said, go on to sept-et-le-va. The card after that won for the talliere, who took money from each player's card of that sort, and brought it into his bank—obviously a prodigious advantage in the talliere over the players.

The talliere, if the winning card was a king, and the next after it was a ten, said (showing the cards all round), 'King wins, ten loses,' paying the money to such cards as are of the winning sort, and taking the money from those who lost, added it to his bank. This done, he went on with the deal, it might be after this fashion—'Ace wins, five loses;' 'Knave wins, seven loses;' and so on, every other card alternately winning and losing, till all the pack was dealt but the last card.

The LAST card turned up was, by the rules of the game, for the advantage of the talliere; although a player might have one of the same sort, still it was allowed to him as one of the dues of his office, and he paid nothing on it.

The bold player who was lucky and adventurous, and could push on his couch with a considerable stake to sept-et-le-va, quinze-et-le-va, trente-et-le-va, &c., must in a wonderful manner have multiplied his couch, or first stake; but this was seldom done; and the loss of the players, by the very nature of the game, invariably exceeded that of the bank; in fact, this game was altogether in favour of the bank; and yet it is evident that—in spite of this obvious conviction—the game must have been one of the most tempting and fascinating that was ever invented.

Our English adventurers made this game very different to what it was in France, for there, by royal edict, the public at large were not allowed to play at more than a franc or ten-penny bank,—and the losses or gains could not bring desolation to a family; but in England our punters could do as they liked—staking from one guinea to one hundred guineas and more, upon a card, 'as was often seen at court,' says the old author, my informant. When the couch was alpieued, parolied, to sept-et-le-va, quinze-et-le-va, trente-et-le-va, &c., the punter's gains were prodigious, miraculous; and if fortune befriended him so as to bring his stake to soissante-et-le-va, he was very likely to break the bank, by gaining a sum which no talliere could pay after such tremendous multiplication. But this rarely happened. The general advantage was with the bank—as must be quite evident from the explanation of the game—besides the standing rule that no two cards of the same sort turning up could win for the players; the second always won for the bank. In addition to this there were other 'privileges' which operated vastly in favour of the banker.

However, it was 'of so bewitching a nature,' says our old writer, 'by reason of the several multiplications and advantages which it seemingly offered to the unwary punter, that a great many like it so well that they would play at small game rather than give out; and rather than not play at all would punt at six-penny, three-penny, nay, a twopenny bank,—so much did the hope of winning the quinze-et-le-va and the trente-et-le-va intoxicate them.'

Of course there were frauds practised at Basset by the talliere, or banker, in addition to his prescriptive advantages. The cards might be dealt so as not to allow the punter any winning throughout the pack; and it was in the power of the dealer to let the punter have as many winnings as he thought convenient, and no more!

It is said that Basset was invented by a noble Venetian, who was punished with exile for the contrivance. The game was prohibited by Louis XIV., in 1691, and soon after fell into oblivion in France, although flourishing in England. It was also called Barbacole and Hocca.

FARO, OR PHARAOH.

Although both Basset and Faro were forbidden in France, on severe penalties, yet these games still continued in great vogue in England during the 18th century, especially Faro; for the alleged reasons that it was easy to learn, that it appeared to be very fair, and, lastly, that it was a very quiet game. It was, however, the most dangerous game for the destruction of families ever invented. The Faro bankers seem to have employed some 'gentlemen' to give a very favourable report of the game to the town, and so every one took it upon trust without further inquiry. Faro was the daughter of Basset—both alike notorious frauds, there being no one, except professed gamblers, who could be said to understand the secrets of these games.

Faro was played with an entire pack of cards, and admitted of an indeterminate number of players, termed 'punters,' and a 'banker.' Each player laid his stake on one of the 52 cards. The banker held a similar pack, from which he drew cards, one for himself, placed on the right, and the other, called the carte anglaise, or English card, for the players, placed on the left. The banker won all the money staked on the card on the right, and had to pay double the sums staked on those on the left. Certain advantages were reserved to the banker:—if he drew a doublet, that is, two equal cards, he won half of the stakes upon the card which equalled the doublet; if he drew for the players the last card of the pack, he was exempt from doubling the stakes deposited on that card.

Suppose a person to put down 20s. upon a card when only eight are in hand; the last card was a cipher, so there were four places to lose, and only three to win, the odds against being as 4 to 3. If 10 cards only were in, then it was 5 to 4 against the player; in the former case it was the seventh part of the money, whatever it was, L1 or L100; in the latter case, a ninth. The odds from the beginning of the deal insensibly stole upon the player at every pull, till from the first supposed 4 per cent. it became about 15 per cent.

At the middle of the 18th century the expenses of a Faro bank, in all its items of servants, rent, puffs, and other incidental charges of candles, wine, arrack-punch, suppers, and safeguard money, &c., in Covent Garden, amounted to L1000 per annum. Throughout this century Faro was the favourite game. 'Our life here,' writes Gilly Williams to George Selwyn in 1752, 'would not displease you, for we eat and drink well, and the Earl of Coventry holds a Pharaoh-bank every night to us, which we have plundered considerably.' Charles James Fox preferred Faro to any other game.

HAZARD.

This game was properly so called; for it made a man or undid him in the twinkling of an eye.

It is played with only two dice; 20 persons may be engaged, or as many as will. The chief things in the game are the Main and the Chance. The chance is the caster's and the main is the setter's.

There can be no main thrown above 9, nor under 5; so that 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 are all the mains which are flung at Hazard. Chances and nicks are from 4 to 10. Thus 4 is a chance to 9, 5 to 8, 6 to 7, 7 to 6, 8 to 5, and 9 and 10 a chance to 5, 6, 7, and 8; in short, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 are chances to any main, if any of these 'nick' it not.

Nicks are either when the chance is the same with the main, as 5 and 5, 6 and 6, 7 and 7, and so on; or 6 and 12, 7 and 11, 8 and 12, where observe, that 12 is out to 9, 7, and 5, and 11 is out to 9, 8, 6, and 5.

The better to illustrate the game we shall give an example. Let 7 be the main named. The caster throws 5, and that is his chance; and so he has 5 to 7. If the caster throws his own chance he wins all the money set to him by the setter; but if he throws 7, which is the main, he must pay as much money as is on the table.

If, again, 7 be the main, and the caster throws 11, that is a nick, and sweeps away all the money on the table; but if he throws a chance he must wait which will come first.

The worst chances in the game are 4 to 10, and 7 is considered the best and easiest main to be thrown. It might be thought that 6 and 8 should admit of no difference in advantage to 7, but it is just the reverse, although 6, 7, and 8 have eight equal chances.

For 6, or sice, we have quatre-duce, cinque-ace, and two treys; for 8, we have sice-duce, cinque-trey, and two quatres; but the disadvantage is in the doublets required—two treys, two quatres; therefore sice-duce is easier thrown than two quatres, and so, consequently, cinque-ace or quatre-duce sooner than two treys.

'I saw an old rook (gambler),' says the writer before quoted, 'take up a young fellow in a tavern upon this very bet. The bargain was made that the rook should have seven always, and the young gentleman six, and throw continually. To play they went; the rook won the first day L10, and the next day the like sum; and so for six days together, in all L60. Notwithstanding the gentleman, I am confident, had fair dice, and threw them always himself. And further to confirm what I alleged before, not only this gamester, but many more have told me that they desired no greater advantage than this bet of 7 to 6. But it is the opinion of most that at the first throw the caster hath the worst of it.

'Hazard is certainly the most bewitching game that is played with dice; for when a man begins to play, he knows not when to leave off; and having once accustomed himself to it, he hardly ever after minds anything else.'(66)

(66) The Compleat Gamester, by Richard Seymour, Esq. 1739.

As this game is of a somewhat complicated character, another account of it, which appeared in the Pall Mall Gazette for Sept. 3, 1869, may not be unacceptable.

'The players assemble round a circular table, a space being reserved for the "groom-porter," who occupies a somewhat elevated position, and whose duty it is to call the odds and see that the game is played correctly. Whoever takes the box and dice places in the centre of the table as much money as he wishes to risk, which is at once covered with an equal amount either by some individual speculator, or by the contributions of several. The player (technically called the "caster") then proceeds to call a "main." There are five mains on the dice, namely, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9; of these he mentally selects that one which either chance or superstition may suggest, calls it aloud, shakes the box, and delivers the dice. If he throws the exact number he called, he "nicks" it and wins; if he throws any other number (with a few exceptions, which will be mentioned), he neither wins nor loses. The number, however, which he thus throws becomes his "chance," and if he can succeed in repeating it before he throws what was his main, he wins; if not, he loses. In other words, having completely failed to throw his main in the first instance, he should lose, but does not in consequence of the equitable interference of his newly-made acquaintance, which constitutes itself his chance. For example, suppose the caster "sets"—that is, places on the table—a stake of L10, and it is covered by an equal amount, and he then calls 7 as his main and throws 5; the groom-porter at once calls aloud, "5 to 7"—that means, 5 is the number to win and 7 the number to lose, and the player continues throwing until the event is determined by the turning up of either the main or the chance. During this time, however, a most important feature in the game comes into operation—the laying and taking of the odds caused by the relative proportions of the main and the chance. These, as has been said, are calculated with mathematical nicety, are proclaimed by the groom-porter, and are never varied. In the above instance, as the caster stands to win with 5 and to lose with 7, the odds are declared to be 3 to 2 against him, inasmuch as there are three ways of throwing 7, and only two of throwing 5. As soon as the odds are declared, the caster may increase his stake by any sum he wishes, and the other players may cover it by putting down (in this instance) two-thirds of the amount, the masse, or entire sum, to await the turning up of either main or chance. If a player "throws out" three times in succession, the box passes to the next person on his left, who at once takes up the play. He may, however, "throw in" without interruption, and if he can do so some half-dozen times and back his luck, the gains will be enormous.

'The choice of a main is quite optional: many prefer 7 because they may make a coup at once by throwing that number or by throwing 11, which is a "nick" to 7, but to 7 only. Shrewd players, however, prefer some other main, with the view of having a more favourable chance to depend upon of winning both stake and odds. For example, let us reverse what was mentioned above, and suppose the caster to call 5 and throw 7; he then will have 7 as his chance to win with odds of 3 to 2 IN HIS FAVOUR.

'Such is the game of English Hazard, at which large fortunes have been won and lost. It is exceedingly simple, and at times can become painfully interesting. Cheating is impossible, unless with loaded dice, which have been used and detected by their splitting in two, but never, perhaps, unless at some disreputable silver hell. The mode of remunerating the owner of the rooms was a popular one. The loser never paid, and the winner only when he succeeded in throwing three mains in succession; and even then the "box fee," as it was called, was limited to 5s.—a mere trifle from what he must have gained. In French Hazard a bank is constituted at a board of green cloth, and the proceedings are carried on in a more subdued and regular mode than is the case in the rough-and-ready English game. Every stake that is "set" is covered by the bank, so that the player runs no risk of losing a large amount, when, if successful, he may win but a trifling one; but en revanche, the scale of odds is so altered as to put the double zero of roulette and the "aprez" of Rouge et Noir to the blush, and to operate most predjudicially to the player. In no case is an equal rate of odds between main and chance laid by the French "banquier," as is insisted on by the English groomporter; while again "direct nicks" alone are recognized by the former. Very extraordinary runs of luck have occurred at Hazard, one player sometimes throwing five, seven, and even eleven mains in a single hand. In such cases as these the peculiar feature in the French game becomes valuable, the bank being prepared to pay all winnings, while, generally speaking, a hand of six or seven mains at English Hazard would exhaust all the funds of the players, and leave the caster in the position of "setting the table" and finding the stakes totally unnoticed or only partially covered.

'In addition to the fixed rules of English Hazard, there are several regulations which require to be observed. The round table on which it is played has a deeply bevelled edge, which is intended to prevent the dice from landing on the floor, which would be no throw. Again, if either die after having left the box should strike any object on the table (such as a man's elbow or stick) except MONEY, it would be called no throw. Again, each player has the privilege of "calling dice," even when the dice are in transitu, which, if done, renders the throw void, and causes another set to be handed to the caster by the groom-porter. Many a lucky coup has become manque by some captious player exercising this privilege, and many an angry rencontre has ensued between the officious meddler and the disappointed caster, who finds that he has nicked his main to no advantage. Sometimes one die remains in the box after the other has been landed; then the caster may either throw it quickly, or may tantalize those interested in the event by gently coaxing it from the bow. If one die lands on the top of another, it is removed by the groom-porter and declared a throw.

'Some thirty years ago English Hazard was a favourite game in Ireland, and Dublin could boast of three or four hells doing a brisk trade. The most frequented and longest established was called "The Coal Hole," being situated on the coal quay. Here, at any hour after midnight, a motley company might be seen, each individual, however, well known to the porter, who jealously scanned his features before drawing back the noiseless bolts which secured the door. The professional gambler trying to live by his winnings, the fashionable swell finishing his round of excitement, the struggling tradesman hoping to avert impending bankruptcy, the prize-fighter, and, more conspicuous than any, the keen-eyed usurer with his roll of notes and sheaf of bill stamps, were to be found there. Many strange scenes have occurred in this house, some followed by tragic consequences too painful to relate, others ridiculous and amusing. Here it was that an angry caster, having lost his last sovereign and his temper, also placed his black hat in the centre of the table, swore that it was white, and finding no one disposed to dispute his accuracy, flung himself from the room, and enabled the next player who had won so largely and smiled so good-humouredly to take the box in turn. But fortune deserted him also, and left him penniless, when, glaring savagely round the room, and striking the table violently, he thundered forth the inquiry, "Where was the rascal who said his hat was white?" It was here also (although the venue has been changed by story-mongers) that a well-known frequenter of the house, a sporting M.P., on one occasion dropped on the 'door or in the passage a bank-note without discovering his loss till he had reached home. On the next evening he returned to inquire for it in a forlorn-hope spirit, when the following conversation took place between him and the porter:—

"M.P. I think, Simpson, I dropped a note here last night—did you see it?

"Porter. Shure, then, mony a note was dropped here beside yours.

"M. P. Ah! but I mean out of my pocket. I did not lose it at play. It was for L20, one of Ball's Bank, and very old."

'Hereupon the porter brought the senator into a corner, fumbled the note out of his fob, and, placing it in his hands, whispered, "Shure, I know it's yours, and here it is; but (looking cautiously round) wasn't it lucky that none of the jintlemin found it?"

'Another establishment much patronized in those days was in Nassau Street, where early in the evening unlimited Loo, never under "three and three," sometimes "six and six," might be indulged in, while a little later Roulette formed the attraction of an adjacent room, and still later at night all flocked down-stairs to the hot supper and rattling English Hazard. For one or two seasons St Stephen's Green lent one of its lordly mansions, formerly the residence of a cruel and witty Lord Chief Justice, to the votaries of fortune; here everything was done in grand style, with gilded saloons, obsequious waiters, and champagne suppers. All this has long since become matter of the past, and it would now puzzle the keenest detective to find the trace even of a silver hell in the Irish capital. No one will be hardy enough to defend the vice of gambling, but some have argued, and not without truth, that if a man will play it is far better for him to indulge the propensity at Hombourg or Baden, where he cannot lose more money than he has with him, than to do so in the cozy club-room of a private "salon," where indulgent friends may tempt him to become bankrupt not only in fortune but in reputation.'

Passing over other less important games, called Biribi, and Kraps (played with dice), we come to Passe-Dix, which seems to demand some notice.

PASSE-DIX.

This game, considered the most ancient of all games of chance, is said to have actually been made use of by the executioners at the crucifixion of our Saviour, when they 'parted his garments, casting lots,' Matt. xxvii. 35.

It is played with three dice. There is always a banker, and the number of players is unlimited. Each gamester holds the box by turns, and the other players follow his chance; every time he throws a point UNDER ten he, as well as the other players, loses the entire stakes, which go to the banker. Every time he throws a point ABOVE ten (or PASSES TEN—whence the name of the game), the banker must double the player's stakes and the stakes of all those who have risked their money on the same chance. When the game is played by many together, each gamester is banker in his turn.

PUT.

This was and doubtless still is the special card-game of our London sharpers. Many of these are men who have run through a fortune in the early part of their lives, by associating with gamblers and sharpers, set up for themselves, set honour and conscience at defiance, become blacklegs, and are scouted out of even the gambler's company; and, as a last resource, are obliged to resort to low pot-houses, robbing the poorest and most ignorant of society.

Behind the dupe there stood a confederate sharper, looking over the novice's hand, and telling his opponent, by his fingers, what cards he holds—hence he was said to work the telegraph, of which more in the sequel. Another confederate plied the novice with drink.

'The game of Put is played with an entire pack of cards, generally by two, and sometimes by four persons. At this game the cards rank differently from all others; a trey being the best, then a two, then an ace, then the king, queen, &c. The game consists of five points. The parties cut for deal, as in Whist. The deal is made by giving three cards, one at a time, to each player. The non-dealer then examines his cards, and if he thinks them bad, he is at liberty to PUT them upon the pack, and his adversary scores one point to his game. This, however, should never be done. Either party saying—"I put," that is, I play, cannot retract, but must abide the event of the game, or pay the stakes.

'The THREE being the best card, if the sharper can make certain of having a three every time his opponent deals, he must have considerably the best of the game; and this is effected as follows:—the sharper places a three underneath an old gentleman (a card somewhat larger and thicker than the rest of the pack), and it does not signify how much his opponent shuffles the pack, it is about five to one that he does not disturb the OLD GENTLEMAN or the three. The sharper then cuts the cards, which he does by feeling for the old gentleman; the three being then the top card, it is dealt to the sharper by his opponent. That is one way of securing a three, and this alone is quite sufficient to make a certainty of winning.'(67)

(67) Doings in London.

CROSS AND PILE.

Cross and Pile, so called because anciently English coins were stamped on one side with a cross, now bears the names, Head and Tail, and is a pastime well known among the lowest and most vulgar classes of the community, and to whom it is now confined; formerly, however, it held a higher rank and was introduced at Court. Edward II. was partial to this and other frivolous diversions, and spent much of his time in the pursuit of them. In one of his wardrobe 'rolls,' or accounts, we find the following entries—'Item, paid to Henry, the king's barber, for money which he lent to the king to play at Cross and Pile, five shillings. Item, paid to Pires Bernard, usher of the king's chamber, money which he lent the king, and which he lost at Cross and Pile; to Monsieur Robert Wartewille, eight-pence.'