University of Virginia Library

ACCOUNT OF A GAME AT HAZARD.

The following account of a game at Hazard was given by a young man, who, in the year 1820, was decoyed into one of the gambling houses in the city, kept by one John Morley, who was convicted by the Lord Mayor, in the penalty of £200, `for keeping Hazard;' but who, it is stated, left this country for Ireland the moment proceedings were instituted.

`The house in question was to all appearance dovoted {sic} to the game of billiards, and most of those who frequented it engaged merely in that game. Through the agency of professed gamesters, who shared in the profits of the concern, those who

appeared to be proper objects of plunder were soon introduced to the Hazard table, which was kept in a retired and private part of the house.

`The evidence of the young man was to the following effect: — He had been in Morley's house; the game of Hazard was played in the front room on the second floor; a door led into it from the landing-place, and another from the public billiard — room, which was the back room on the same floor; both these doors were during the time of play kept barred and locked, and never opened except to the voice of some person known to the master of the house. During the play the door was seldom or never opened, but before the play commenced there was an understanding given that proceedings were about to begin.

`In the centre of the room was a large circular table, over which a lamp was suspended, and round the table the players sat, in number, generally, from six to ten.

`The play commenced by one of the players taking the dice-box with two dice in it; two other dice were covered on the table, and might be substituted for those in the box, upon application to Morley, who acted as "groom porter.'' The person

who held the box was called the caster, and he called a main, that is, he mentioned aloud any number on the dice from five to nine; and throwing the dice on the table, counted the number on the two dice as his chance, the number which he called being the chance of his setter. Before the main is called, the caster throws down his stake, which any person present has the option of covering, or, as it is called, "setting,'' by placing a similar sum on the table. For instance, if the caster, after being "set,'' call five the main, and throws immediately four and one, or three and two, he "nicks'' it, that is, wins his money at once. If he throws six and one, five and two, or four and three, each of which two numbers makes seven, he bets the odds, which are three to two in his favour — inasmuch as there are three ways of throwing seven, and only two of throwing five; and he continues throwing until either five or seven come off. By the former he loses, by the latter he wins.

`If he calls seven the main, and throws three and one, or six and four, the odds are two to one against him — inasmuch as there are only three ways each of throwing, the four and the ten and six wins, throwing the seven, that is, three on each

die.[48] If the caster wishes, he calls a main, and continues to do so till he loses, which, in the technical phraseology, is "throwing out.'' He then passes the bow to the person next on the left hand, who, in like manner, passes it to his neighbour. Morley is remunerated for his table very handsomely. When the caster throws in three mains successively, he pays to Morley what is called a box (one of the pieces of the house with which the game is played). The prices are eighteen-pence each, and he gives them in exchange for notes, and retakes them. The caster pays nothing unless he wins. The players generally leave off play at eleven or twelve o'clock. On Saturday there is most play, as Morley on that day always gives a dinner at four o'clock, immediately after which the play commences. On other days tea and coffee are given.' [48] I confess I do not understand the above passage.

A number of young men, most of whom were clerks, were called to confirm the evidence as to the system, but none of them appeared.

In a letter published in the Times of July 22, 1824, we read as follows: —

`The action against the keepers of a certain

notorious "hell,'' which was noticed in the different journals as "coming on,'' is withdrawn, or, more properly speaking, is "compromised.'' Thus it will always be; and the different hells still flourish with impunity, to the enrichment of a few knaves, and the ruin of many thousands, till more effectual laws are framed to meet the evil. As they net thousands a night, a few hundreds or even thousands can be well spared to smother a few actions and prosecutions, which are very rarely instituted against them, and never but by ruined men, who are easily quieted by a small consideration, which, from recent judgments, will not be withheld; therefore we shall see recorded but very few convictions if any at all. At the head of these in-famous establishments is one yclept "Fishmollgers' Hall,''[49] which sacks more plunder than all the others put together, though they consist of about a dozen. This place has been fitted up at an expense of £40,000, and is the most splendid house, interiorly and exteriorly, in all the neighbourhood. It is established as a bait for the fortunes of the great, many of whom have already been severe sufferers. Invitations to dinner are sent to noblemen and gentlemen, at which they are treated with every delicacy, and the most intoxicating wines. [49] Otherwise called Crock-odile Hall.

`After such "liberal'' entertainment, a visit to the French Hazard table, in the adjoining room, is a matter of course, when the consequences are easily divined. A man thus allured to the den may determine not to lose more than the few pounds he has about him; but in the intoxication of the moment, and the delirium of play, it frequently happens that, notwithstanding the best resolves, he borrows money on his cheques, which are known to be good, and are readily cashed to very considerable amounts. In this manner £10,000, £20,000, £30,000, or more, have been often swept away!

They left King Street about three years ago, when, in conjunction with T — — (a man who a few years ago took the benefit of the act, and subsequently took one or two "hells'' in Pall Mall, but has amassed full £150,000 of plunder) and A — — , who has £70,000 of plunder, they opened a club-house in Piccadilly, with a French Hazard bank of £10,000, when in a short time they divided between the four — after all their heavy expenses were covered — upwards of £200,000. In

proportion to the extent of the bank and the stakes, so do they collect the plunder.'