University of Virginia Library

MILLER'S GAMING HOUSE.

In 1796, one Thomas Miller was indicted for keeping a gaming house; and wished to have the matter settled summarily by admitting conviction; but Lord Kenyon, the presiding judge, chose to have evidence brought forward. John Shepherd, an attorney of the King's Bench, who had himself been plundered, stated that he was at the defendant's, Leicester Street, on a certain night, and saw Hazard played. Sometimes £20 or £30 depended on a throw. One morning between three and four o'clock, a gentleman came in much intoxicated. He had a great deal of money about him. Miller said — `I did not mean to play; but now I'll set to with this fellow.' Miller scraped a little wax with his finger off one of the candles, and put the dice together, so that they came seven every way. Seven was the main, and he could not throw anything but seven. A dispute arose, and the persons at the table gave it in Miller's favour. The young man said he had lost about £70.

Miller observed — `We have cleaned him.' If the attorney had remarked on this at the time, they would have broken his head, or thrown him out of the window.

He had often seen men pawn their watches and rings to Miller, and once a man actually pawned his coat, and went away without it! When articles were offered to be pawned, Liston, who was a partner in the concern, said — `I don't understand the value of these things well,' and he would then call Miller.[44] [44] Even at the present day it is said that other `articles' besides `valuables' are `left' with the marker at billiards `for a consideration.' A fine umbrella, very little used, was lately shown to me as having been sold for five shillings, by a marker; it probably cost twenty-five.

Miller said there was no disgrace in standing in the pillory for gaming. He could spare £500 out of his coffers without missing it. His gaming table was once broken up by a warrant from Bow Street, when he said it was too good a thing to relinquish, and he set up another, one large enough for 20 or 30 persons to sit at. They played at it all night, and on one or two occasions all the next day too, so that Miller said to witness on his return in the evening — `Some of the people are still here

who came last night. They stick to it rarely.' Sunday was the grand day. He had seen more than 40 persons at a time there, and they frequently offered half-a-crown for a seat. Wine and suppers were furnished gratis. Some looked over the backs of others and betted. A Mr Smith, the very man who had pawned his coat, confirmed the above evidence. Miller was convicted, and the judge, Lord Kenyon, made the following solemn observations before passing sentence: —

`Gaming is a crime of greater enormity, and of more destructive consequences to society, than many which the laws of the country have made capital. What is the crime of stealing a sheep, or picking a pocket of a handkerchief, when placed in comparison with this crime, traced through all its consequences?

`With regard to those in the higher walks of life, experience tells us it often leads to self-murder and duelling, about gambling debts, which terminate in the total ruin of families once opulent, and reduce to beggary their innocent and helpless children; and as for those in a lower sphere of life, when they have lost their money, they often betake themselves to housebreaking and the high

way, in order to replenish their coffers, and at last end their lives by the hand of justice.'

With many other most excellent observations on the tendency of this selfish and avaricious vice, he concluded by sentencing Miller to a fine of £500, one year's imprisonment, and security for his good behaviour for seven years, himself in £500 and two others in £250 each, adding: — `It appeared that you played with loaded dice. The Court has not taken that into consideration, because it was not charged in the indictment.'