University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
LADY GAMESTRESSES.

THE passions of the two sexes are similar in the main; the distinctions between them result less from nature than from education. Often we meet with women, especially the literary sort, who seem veritable men, if not so, as the lawyers say, `to all intents and purposes;' and often we meet with men, especially town-dandies, who can only be compared to very ordinary women.

Almost all the ancients had the bad taste to speak ill of women; among the rest even that delightful old Father `of the golden mouth,' St Chrysostom.[94] So that, evidently, Dr Johnson's fierce dictum cannot apply universally — `Only scoundrels speak ill of women.'

Seneca took the part of women, exclaiming: —

`By no means believe that their souls are inferior to ours, or that they are less endowed with the virtues. As for honour, it is equally great and energetic among them.'

A foreign lady was surprised at beholding the equality established between the men and women at Sparta; whereupon the wife of Leonidas, the King of Sparta, said to her: — `Do you not know that it is we who bring forth the men? It is not the fathers, but the mothers, that effectually form the heart.'

Napoleon seems to have formed what may be called a professional estimate of women. When the demonstrative Madame de Staël asked him — evidently expecting him to pay her a compliment — `Whom do you think the greatest woman dead or alive?' Napoleon replied, `Her, Madame, *who has borne most sons.' Nettled by this sarcastic reply, she returned to the charge, observing, `It is said you are not friendly to the sex.' Napoleon was her match again; `Madame,' he exclaimed, `I am passionately fond of my wife;' and off he walked. Assuredly it would not mend matters in this world (or the next) if all men were Napoleons and all women de Staëls.

If we consider the question in other points of view, have there been, proportionally, fewer celebrated women than illustrious men? fewer great queens than truly great kings? Compare, on all sides, the means and the circumstances; count the reigns, and decide.

The fact is that this question has been argued only by tyrannical or very silly men, who found it difficult to get rid of the absurd prejudices which retain the finest half of human nature in slavery, and condemn it to obscurity under the pretext that it is essentially corrupted. Towards the end of the 15th century a certain demented writer attempted to prove that women do not even deserve the title of reasonable creatures, which in the original sounds oddly enough, namely, probare nititur mulieres non homines esse. Another, a very learned Jesuit, endeavoured to demonstrate that women have no souls! Some say that women surpass us in wickedness; others, that they are both worse and better than men.

That morbid wretch, Alexander Pope, said, `Every woman is at heart a rake;' and a recent writer in the Times puts more venom in the dictum by saying, `Every woman is (or likes) at heart a

rake.' Both these opinions may be set down as mere claptrap, witty, but vile.

But a truce to such insults against those who beautify the earth; *their vices cannot excuse ours. It is we who have depraved them by associating them with excesses which are repugnant to their delicacy. The contagion, however, has not affected all of them. Among our `plebeians,' and even among nobility, many women remind us of the modesty and courage of those ancient republican matrons, who, so to speak, founded, the manners and morals of their country; and among all classes of the community there are thousands who inspire their husbands with generous impulses in the battle of life, either by cheering words of comfort, or by that mute eloquence of duties well fulfilled, which nothing can resist if we are worthy of the name of men. How many a gambler has been reformed by the tender appeals of a good and devoted wife. `Venerable women!' one of them exclaims, `in whatever rank Heaven has placed you, receive my homage.' The gentleness of your souls smooths down the roughness of ours and checks its violence. Without your virtues what would we be? Without

*you, my dear wife, what would have become of me? You beheld the beginning and the end of the gaming fury in me, which I now detest; and it is not to me, but to you alone, that the victory must be ascribed.'[95]

A very pretty anecdote is told of such a wife and a gaming husband.

In order to simplify the signs of loss and gain, so as not to be overburdened with the weight of gold and silver, the French players used to carry the representation of their fortunes in small boxes, more or less elegant. A lady (who else could have thought of such a device?), trembling for the fate of her husband, made him a present of one of these dread boxes. This little master-piece of conjugal and maternal affection represented a wife in the attitude of supplication, and weeping children, seeming to say to their father — *Think of us! . . . .

It is, therefore, only with the view of avenging good and honourable women, that I now proceed to speak of those who have disgraced their sex.

I have already described a remarkable gamestress — the Persian Queen Parysatis.[96]

There were no gamestresses among the Greeks; and the Roman women were always too much occupied with their domestic affairs to find time for play. What will our modern ladies think, when I state that the Emperor Augustus scarcely wore a garment which had not been woven by his wife, his sister, or grand-daughters.[97]

Although deeply corrupted under Nero and the sovereigns that resembled him, the Roman women never gambled among themselves except during the celebration of the festival of the Bona Dea. This ceremonial, so often profaned with licentiousness, was not attended by desperate gambling. The most depraved women abstained from it, even when that mania was at its height, not only around the Capitol, but even in the remainder of the Empire. Contemporary authors, who have not spared the Roman ladies, never reproached them with this vice, which, in modern times, has been desperately practised by women who in licentiousness vied with Messalina.

In France, women who wished to gamble were, at first, obliged to keep the thing secret; for if it

became known they lost caste. In the reign of Louis XIV., and still more in that of Louis XV., they became bolder, and the wives of the great engaged in the deepest play in their mansions; but still a gamestress was always denounced with horror. `Such women,' says La Bruyière, `make us chaste; they have nothing of the sex but its garments.'

By the end of the 18th century, gamestresses became so numerous that they excited no surprise, especially among the higher classes; and the majority of them were notorious for unfair play or downright cheating. A stranger once betted on the game of a lady at a gaming-table, who claimed a stake although on a losing card. Out of con-sideration for the distinguished trickstress, the banker wished to pay the stranger as well; but the latter with a blush, exclaimed — `Possibly madame won, but as for myself, I am quite sure that I lost.'

But if women cheated at play, they also frequently lost; and were often reduced to beggary, or to what is far viler, to sacrifice, not only their own honour, but that of their daughters.

Gaming sometimes led to other crimes. The

Countess of Schwiechelt, a young and beautiful lady from Hanover, was much given to gambling, and lost 50,000 livres at Paris. In order to repair this great loss, she planned and executed the robbery of a fine coronet of emeralds, the property of Madame Demidoff. She had made herself acquainted with the place where it was kept, and at a ball given by its owner the Hanoverian lady contrived to purloin it. Her youth and rank in life induced many persons to solicit her pardon; but Buonaparte left her to the punishment to which she was condemned. This occurred in 1804.

In England, too, the practice of gambling was fraught with the worst consequences to the finest feelings and best qualities of the sex. The chief danger is very plainly hinted at in the comedy of The Provoked Husband.

Lord Townley. — 'Tis not your ill hours that always distract me, but, as often, the ill company that occasions those hours.

Lady Townley. — Sure I don't understand you now, my lord. What ill company do I keep?

Lord Townley. — Why, at best, women that lose their money, and men that win it; or, perhaps, men that are voluntary bubbles at one game, in hopes a lady will give them fair play at another.

`The facts,' says Mr Massey,[98] `confirm the

theory. Walpole's Letters and Mr Jesse's volumes on George Selwyn and his Contemporaries, teem with allusions to proved or understood cases of matrimonial infidelity; and the manner in which notorious irregularities were brazened out, shows that the offenders did not always encounter the universal reprobation of society.

`Whist was not much in vogue until a later period, and was far too abstruse and slow to suit the depraved taste which required unadulterated stimulants.'

The ordinary stakes at these mixed assemblies would, at the present day, be considered high, even at the clubs where a rubber is still allowed.

`The consequences of such gaming were often still more lamentable than those which usually attended such practices. It would happen that a lady lost more than she could venture to confess to her husband or father. Her creditor was probably a fine gentleman, or she became indebted to some rich admirer for the means of discharging her liabilities. In either event, the result may be guessed. In the one case, the debt of honour was liquidated on the old principle of the law-mer-chant, according to which there was but one alter

native to payment in purse. In the other, there was likewise but one mode in which the acknowledgment of obligation by a fine woman would be acceptable to a man of the world.'

`The pernicious consequences of gambling to the nation at large,' says another writer, `would have been intolerable enough had they been confined to the stronger sex; but, unfortunately, the women of the day were equally carried away by this criminal infatuation. The disgusting influence of this sordid vice was so disastrous to female minds, that they lost their fairest distinction and privileges, together with the blushing honours of modesty. Their high gaming was necessarily accompanied with great losses. If all their resources, regular and irregular, honest and fraudulent, were dissipated, still, *game-debts must be paid! The cunning winner was no stranger to the necessities of the case. He hinted at commutations — which were not to be refused.

Thus, the last invaluable jewel of female possession was unavoidably resigned. That was indeed the

forest of all evils, hut an evil to which every deep gamestress was inevitably exposed.'

Hogarth strikingly illustrated this phase of womanhood in England, in his small picture painted for the Earl of Charlemont, and entitled `Picquet, or Virtue in Danger.' It shows a young lady, who, during a tête-à-tête, had just lost all her money to a handsome officer of her own age. He is represented in the act of returning her a handful of bank-bills, with the hope of exchanging them for another acquisition and more delicate plunder. On the chimney-piece are a watch-case and a figure of Time, over it this motto --Nunc, `Now!' Hogarth has caught his heroine during this moment of hesitation — this struggle with herself — and has expressed her feelings with uncommon success.

But, indeed, the thing was perfectly understood. In the Guardian (No. 120) we read: — `All play-debts must be paid in specie or by equivalent. The “man&” that plays beyond his income pawns his estate; the “woman&” must find out something else to mortgage when her pin-money is gone. The husband has his lands to dispose of; the wife her person. Now when the female body is once dipped,

if the creditor be very importunate, I leave my reader to consider the consequences.' . . . .

A lady was married when very young to a noble lord, the honour and ornament of his country, who hoped to preserve her from the contagion of the times by his own example, and, to say the truth, she had every good quality that could recommend her to the bosom of a man of discernment and worth. But, alas! how frail and short are the joys of mortals! One unfortunate hour ruined his darling visionary scheme of happiness: she was introduced to an infamous woman, was drawn into play, liked it, and, as the unavoidable consequence, she was ruined, — having lost more in one night than would have maintained a hundred useful families for a twelvemonth; and, dismal to tell, she felt compelled to sacrifice her virtue to the wretch who had won her money, in order to recover the loss! From this moment she might well exclaim —

`Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!'

The affectionate wife, the agreeable companion, the indulgent mistress, were now no more. In vain she flattered herself that the injury she had done her husband would for ever remain one of

those secrets which can only be disclosed at the last day. Vengeance pursued her steps, she was lost; the villain to whom she had sacrificed herself boasted of the favours he had received. The fatal report was conveyed to her injured husband. He refused to believe what he thought impossible, but honour obliged him to call the boaster to the field. The wretch received the challenge with much more contentment than concern; as he had resolution enough to murder any man whom he had injured, so he was certain, if he had the good fortune to conquer his antagonist, he should be looked upon as the head of all modern bucks and bloods — esteemed by the men as a brave fellow, and admired by the ladies as a fine gentleman and an agreeable rake. The meeting took place — the profligate gambler not content with declaring, actually exulted in his guilt. But his triumph was of short date — a bullet through the head settled his account with this world.

The husband, after a long conflict in his bosom, between justice and mercy, tenderness and rage, resolved — on what is very seldom practised by an English husband — to pardon his wife, conceal her crime, and preserve her, if possible, from utter de

struction. But the gates of mercy were opened in vain — the offender refused to receive forgiveness because she had offended. The lust of gambling had absorbed all her other desires. She gave herself up entirely to the infamous pursuit and its concomitants, whilst her husband sank by a quick decay, and died the victim of grief and anguish.[99]

Of other English gamestresses, however, nothing but the ordinary success or inconveniences of gambling are recorded. In the year 1776, a lady at the West End lost one night, at a sitting, 3000 guineas at Loo.[100] Again, a lady having won a rubber of 20 guineas from a city merchant, the latter pulled out his pocket-book, and tendered £21 in bank notes. The fair gamestress, with a disdainful toss of the head, observed — `In the great houses which I frequent, sir, we always use gold.' `That may be, madam,' said the gentleman, `but, in the *little houses which I frequent, we always use paper.'

Goldsmith mentions an old lady in the country who, having been given over by her physician, played with the curate of the parish to pass the

time away. Having won all his money, she next proposed playing for the funeral charges to which she would be liable. Unfortunately, the lady expired just as she had taken up the game!

A lady who was desperately fond of play was confessing herself. The priest represented, among other arguments against gaming, the great loss of time it occasioned. `Ah!' said the lady, `that is what vexes me — so much time lost in shuffling the cards!'

The celebrated Mrs Crewe seems to have been fond of gaming. Charles James Fox ranked among her admirers. A gentleman lost a considerable sum to this lady at play; and being obliged to leave town suddenly, he gave Fox the money to pay her, begging him to apologize to the lady for his not having paid the debt of honour in person. Fox unfortunately lost every shilling of it before morning. Mrs Crewe often met the supposed debtor afterwards, and, surprised that he never noticed the circumstance, at length delicately hinted the matter to him. `Bless me,' said he, `I paid the money to Mr Fox three months ago!' `Oh, you did, sir?' said Mrs Crewe good-naturedly, `then probably he paid me and I forgot it.'

This famous Mrs Crewe was the wife of Mr Crewe, who was created, in 1806, Lord Crewe. She was as remarkable for her accomplishments and her worth as for her beauty; nevertheless she permitted the admiration of the profligate Fox, who was in the rank of her admirers, and she was a gamestress, as were most of the grand ladies in those days. The lines Fox wrote on her were not exaggerated. They began thus: —

`Nearly eight years after the famous election at Westminster, when she personally canvassed for Fox, Mrs Crewe was still in perfection, with a son one-and-twenty, who looked like her brother. The form of her face was exquisitely lovely, her complexion radiant. “I know not,&” Miss Burney writes, “any female in her first youth who could bear the comparison. She *uglifies every one near her.&”

`This charming partisan of Fox had been active in his cause; and her originality of character, her good-humour, her recklessness of consequences, made her a capital canvasser.'[101]

THE GAMBLING BARROW-WOMEN.

In 1776 the barrow-women of London used generally to carry dice with them, and children were induced to throw for fruit and nuts. How-ever, the pernicious consequences of the practice beginning to be felt, the Lord Mayor issued an order to apprehend all such offenders, which speedily put an end to such street-gambling. At the present day a sort of roulette is used for the same purpose by the itinerant caterers to the sweetmeat and fruit-loving little ones. GAMESTRESSES AT BADEN-BADEN.

Mrs Trollope has described two specimens of the modern gamestresses at the German watering-places, one of whom seems to have specially attracted her notice: —

`There was one of this set,' she says, `whom I watched, day after day, during the whole period of

our stay, with more interest than, I believe, was reasonable; for had I studied any other as attentively I might have found less to lament.

`She was young — certainly not more than twenty-five — and, though not regularly nor brilliantly handsome, most singularly winning both in person and demeanour. Her dress was elegant, but peculiarly plain and simple, — a close white silk bonnet and gauze veil; a quiet-coloured silk gown, with less of flourish and frill, by half, than any other person; a delicate little hand which, when ungloved, displayed some handsome rings; a jewelled watch, of peculiar splendour; and a countenance expressive of anxious thoughtfulness — must be remembered by many who were at Baden in August, 1833. They must remember, too, that, enter the rooms when they would, morning, noon, or night, still they found her nearly at the same place at the Rouge et Noir table.

`Her husband, who had as unquestionably the air of a gentleman as she had of a lady, though not always close to her, was never very distant. He did not play himself, and I fancied, as he hovered near her, that his countenance expressed anxiety. But he returned her sweet smile, with which she

always met his eye, with an answering smile; and I saw not the slightest indication that he wished to withdraw her from the table.

`There was an expression in the upper part of her face that my blundering science would have construed into something very foreign to the propensity she showed; but there she sat, hour after hour, day after day, not even allowing the blessed sabbath, that gives rest to all, to bring it to her; — there she sat, constantly throwing down handfuls of five-franc pieces, and sometimes drawing them back again, till her young face grew rigid from weariness, and all the lustre of her eye faded into a glare of vexed inanity. Alas! alas! is that fair woman a mother? God forbid!

`Another figure at the gaming table, which daily drew our attention, was a pale, anxious old woman, who seemed no longer to have strength to conceal her eager agitation under the air of callous indifference, which all practised players endeavour to assume. She trembled, till her shaking hand could hardly grasp the instrument with which she pushed or withdrew her pieces; the dew of agony stood upon her wrinkled brow; yet, hour after hour, and day after day, she too sat in the en

chanted chair. I never saw age and station in a position so utterly beyond the pale of respect. I was assured she was a person of rank; and my informant added, but I trust she was mistaken, that she was an *English woman.'[102]

GAMING HOUSES KEPT BY LADIES.

There is no doubt that during the last half of the last century many titled ladies not only gambled, but kept gaming houses. There is even evidence that one of them actually appealed to the House of Lords for protection against the intrusion of the peace officers into her establishment in Covent Garden, on the plea of her Peerage! All this is proved by a curious record found in the Journals of the House of Lords, by the editor of the Athenæum. It is as follows: —

`Die Lunæ, 29° Aprilis, 1745. — Gaming. A Bill for preventing the excessive and deceitful use of it having been brought from the Commons, and proceeded on so far as to be agreed to in a Committee of the whole House with amendments, — information was given to the House that Mr Burdus, Chairman of the Quarter Sessions for the city and

liberty of Westminster, Sir Thomas de Veil, and Mr Lane, Chairman of the Quarter Sessions for the county of Middlesex, were at the door; they were called in, and at the Bar severally gave an account that claims of privilege of Peerage were made and insisted on by the Ladies Mordington and Casselis, in order to intimidate the peace officers from doing their duty in suppressing the public gaming houses kept by the said ladies. And the said Burdus thereupon delivered in an instrument in writing under the hand of the said Lady Mordington, containing the claim she made of privilege for her officers and servants employed by her in her said gaming house. And then they were directed to withdraw. And the said instrument was read as follows: — “I, Dame Mary, Baroness of Mordington, do hold a house in the Great Piazza, Covent Garden, for and as an Assembly, where all persons of credit are at liberty to frequent and play at such diversions as are used at other Assemblys. And I have hired Joseph Dewberry, William Horsely, Ham Cropper, and George Sanders as my servants or managers (under me) thereof. I have given them orders to direct the management of the other inferior servants (namely): John Bright, Richard Davis, John Hill, John Vandenvoren, as box-keepers, — Gilbert Richardson, housekeeper, John Chaplain, regulator, William Stanley and Henry Huggins, servants that wait on the company at the said Assembly, William Penny and Joseph Penny as porters thereof. And all the above-mentioned persons I claim as my domestick servants, and demand all those privileges that belong to me as a peeress of Great Britain appertaining to my said Assembly. M. MORDINGTON. Dated 8th Jan., 1744.&”

`Resolved and declared that no person is entitled to privilege of Peerage against any prosecution or proceeding for keeping any public or common gaming house, or any house, room, or place for playing at any game or games prohibited by any law now in force.'

That such practice continued in vogue is evident from the police proceedings subsequently taken against THE FAMOUS LADY BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.

This notorious gamestress of St James's Square, at the close of the last century, actually slept with a blunderbuss and a pair of pistols at her side, to protect her Faro bank.

On the 11th of March, 1797, her Ladyship, together with Lady E. Lutterell and a Mrs Sturt, were convicted at the Marlborough Street Police-court, in the penalty of £50, for playing at the game of Faro; and Henry Martindale was convicted in the sum of £200, for keeping the Faro table at Lady Buckinghamshire's. The witnesses had been servants of her Ladyship, recently discharged on account of a late extraordinary loss of 500 guineas from her Ladyship's house, belonging to the Faro bank.[103]

In the same year, the croupier at the Countess of Buckinghamshire's one night announced the unaccountable disappearance of the cash-box of the Faro bank. All eyes were turned towards her Ladyship. Mrs Concannon said she once lost a gold snuff-box from the table, while she went to speak to Lord C — . Another lady said she lost her purse there last winter. And a story was told that a certain lady had taken, *by mistake, a cloak

which did not belong to her, at a rout given by the Countess of — — . Unfortunately a discovery of the cloak was made, and when the servant knocked at the door to demand it, some very valuable lace which it was trimmed with had been taken off. Some surmised that the lady who stole the cloak might also have stolen the Faro bank cash-box.

Soon after, the same Martindale, who had kept the Faro bank at Lady Buckinghamshire's, became a bankrupt, and his debts amounted to £328,000, besides `debts of honour,' which were struck off to the amount of £150,000. His failure is said to have been owing to misplaced confidence in a subordinate, who robbed him of thousands. The first suspicion was occasioned by his purchasing an estate of £500 a year; but other purchases followed to a considerable extent; and it was soon discovered that the Faro bank had been robbed sometimes of 2000 guineas a week! On the 14th of April, 1798, other arrears, to a large amount, were submitted to, and rejected by, the Commissioners in Bankruptcy, who declared a first dividend of one shilling and five-pence in the pound.[104]

This chapter cannot be better concluded than

with quoting the Epilogue of `The Oxonian in Town,' 1767, humorously painting some of the mischiefs of gambling, and expressly addressed to the ladies: —