Lucrative
Gambling

Read about different gambling cheats:

A gambling house at the end of the last century was conducted by the following officials:

1. A Commissioner, who was always a proprietor, who looked in of a night, and audited the week's account with two other proprietors.

2. A Director, who superintended the room.

3. An Operator,--who dealt the cards at the cheating game called Faro.

4. Two Croupiers, or crow-pees, as they were vulgarly called, whose duty it was to watch the cards and gather or rake in the money for the bank.

5. Two Puffs,--who had money given to them to decoy others to play.

6. A Clerk,--who was a check on the Puffs, to see that they sank none of the money given to them to play with.

7. A Squib,--who was a puff of a lower rank, serving at half salary, whilst learning to deal.

8. A Flasher,--to swear how often the bank had been stripped by lucky players.

9. A Dunner,--who went about to recover money lost at play.

10. A Waiter,--to fill out wine, snuff candles, and attend the room.

11. An Attorney,--who was generally a Newgate solicitor.

12. A Captain,--who was to fight any gentleman who might be peevish at losing his money.

13. An Usher,--who lighted the gentlemen up and down stairs, and gave the word to the porter.

14. A Porter,--who was generally a soldier of the Foot Guards.

15. An Orderly-man,--who walked up and down the outside of the door, to give notice to the porter, and alarm the house at the approach of the constables.

16. A Runner,--who was to get intelligence of the Justices' meetings.

17. Link Boys, Coachmen, Chairmen, Drawers, and others, who brought the first intelligence of Justices' meetings, of constables going out, at half a guinea reward.

18. Common Bail, Affidavit Men, Ruffians, Bravos, Assassins, &c. &c.

It may be proper to remark that the above list of officials was only calculated for gambling houses of an inferior order. In these it is evident that the fear of interruption and the necessity for precaution presided over the arrangements. There were others, however, which seemed to defy law, to spurn at justice, and to remain secure, in every way, by the 'respectability' of their frequenters. These were houses supported at an amazing expense--within sight of the palace-- which were open every night and all night--where men of the first rank were to be found gambling away immense sums of money, such as no man, whatever his fortune might be, could sustain. 'What, then,' says a writer at the time, 'are the consequences? Why, that the undone part of them sell their votes for bread, and the successful give them for honours.

'He who has never seen the gamblers' apartments in some of the magnificent houses in the neighbourhood of St James's, has never seen the most horrid sight that the imagination of a thinking man can conceive.

'A new pack of cards is called for at every deal, and the "old" ones are then thrown upon the floor, and in such an immense quantity, that the writer of this letter has seen a very large room nearly ankle-deep, in the greatest part of it, by four o'clock in the morning! Judge, then, to what height they must have risen by daylight.'

It is a melancholy truth, but confirmed by the history of all nations, that the most polite and refined age of a kingdom is never the most virtuous; not, indeed, that any such compliment can be paid to that gross age, but still it was refined compared with the past. The distinctions of personal merit being but little regarded--in the low moral tone that prevailed--there needed but to support a certain 'figure' in life (managed by the fashionable tailor)[4], to be conversant with a few etiquettes of good breeding and sentiments of modern or current honour, in order to be received with affability and courteous attention in the highest circles. The vilest sharper, having once gained admission, was sure of constant entertainment, for nothing formed a greater cement of union than the spirit of high gambling. There being so little cognizance taken of the good qualities of the heart in fashionable assemblies, no wonder that amid the medley of characters to be found in these places the 'sharper' of polite address should gain too easy an admission.

[4] 'How shalt thou to Caesar's hall repair? For, ah! no damaged coat can enter there!'

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