CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.
ON GAMES AND GAMBLING.
The passion of gaming is universal amongst men. Every nation indulgesin it to a greater or less extent. Every nation, civilised or savage,has its game, from whist and cribbage at Almacks to "chuck-a-luck" and"poke-stick" upon the prairies.
Moral England fancies herself clear of the stain. Her gossipingtraveller rarely fails to fling a stone at the foreigner on this head.French, German, Spaniard, and Mexican, are in turn accused of an unduepropensity for this vice. Cant--all cant! There is more gambling inmoral England than in any country of my knowing. I do not speak ofcard-playing about the purlieus of Piccadilly. Go to Epsom races on a"Derby day," and there you may form an idea of the scale upon whichEnglish gaming is carried on--for gaming it is in the very lowest senseof the word. Talk of "noble sport,"--of an admiration for that fineanimal--the horse. Bah! Noble, indeed! Fancy those seedy scamps, whoin thousands and tens of thousands flock upon every race-course,--fancythem and their harlotic companions possessed with the idea of anythingfine or noble! Of all who crowd there the horse alone is noble--naughtcould be more ignoble than his _entourage_.
No, moral England! You are no pattern for the nations in this respect.You are not free from the stain, as you imagine yourself. You have alarger population of gamblers,--_horse-gamblers_ if you will, than anyother people; and, however noble be your game, I make bold to affirmthat your gamesters are the seediest, snobbiest, and most revolting ofthe tribe. There is something indescribably mean in the life and habitsof those hungry-looking vultures who hang about the corners of CoventryStreet and the Haymarket, out at elbows, out at heels, sneaking fromtavern to betting-house, and from betting-house to tavern. There is ameanness, a positive cowardice in the very nature of their game,--theirsmall ventures and timid "hedging" of bets. In comparison, the boldringer of dice has something _almost_ noble in him. Your apathetic Don,who stakes his gold onzas on a single throw of the ivory--your Mexicanmonte-player, who risks his doubloons on each turn of the cards,--are,to some extent, dignified by the very boldness of their venture. Withthem gambling is a passion--its excitement their lure; but Brown, andSmith, and Jones, cannot even plead _the passion_. Even _that_ wouldexalt them.
Of all gamblers by profession the "sportsman" of the Mississippi Valleyis perhaps the most picturesque. I have already alluded to theirelegant style of attire, but, independent of that, there is a dash ofthe gentleman--a certain _chivalresqueness_ of character whichdistinguishes them from all others of their calling. During the wilderepisodes of my life I have been _honoured_ with the acquaintance of morethan one of these _gentlemen_, and I cannot help bearing a somewhat hightestimony in their favour. Several have I met of excellent moralcharacter,--though, perhaps, not quite up to the standard of ExeterHall. Some I have known of noble and generous hearts--doers of nobleactions--who, though outcasts in society, were not outcasts to their ownnatures; men who would bravely resent the slightest insult that might beput upon them. Of course there were others, as the Chorleys andHatchers, who would scarce answer to this description of Western"sportsmen"--but I really believe that such are rather the exceptionthan the rule. A word about the "games of America." The true nationalgame of the United States is the "election." The local or stateelections afford so many opportunities of betting, just as the minorhorse-races do in England; while the great quadrennial, the Presidentialelection, is the "Derby day" of America. The enormous sums that changehands upon such occasions, and the enormous number of them, would beincredible. A statistic of these bets, could such be given, and theiramount, would surprise even the most "enlightened citizen" of the Statesthemselves. Foreigners cannot understand the intense excitement whichis felt during an election time throughout the United States. It wouldbe difficult to explain it, in a country where men generally know thatthe fate of the particular candidate has, after all, but a slightinfluence on their material interests. True, party spirit and the greatstake of all--the "spoils" of office--will account for some of theinterest taken in the result, but not for all. I am of opinion that the"balance" of the excitement may be set down to the credit of the gamingpassion. Nearly every second man you meet has a bet, or rather a"book," upon the Presidential election!
Election, therefore, is the true national game, indulged in by high,low, rich, and poor.
To bet upon an election, however, is not considered _infra dig_. It isnot _professional_ gambling.
The games for that purpose are of various kinds--in most of which cardsare relied upon to furnish the chances. Dice and billiards are also invogue--billiards to a considerable extent. It is a very mean village inthe United States--particularly in the South and West--that does notfurnish one or more public billiard-tables; and among Americans may befound some of the most expert (crack) players in the world. The"Creoles" of Louisiana are distinguished at this game.
"Ten-pins" is also a very general game, and every town has its "ten-pinalley." But "billiards" and "ten-pins" are not true "gambling games."The first is patronised rather as an elegant amusement, and the latteras an excellent exercise. Cards and dice are the real weapons of the"sportsman," but particularly the former. Besides the English games ofwhist and cribbage, and the French games of "vingt-un", "rouge-et-noir,"etcetera, the American gambler plays "poker", "euchre", "seven-up," anda variety of others. In New Orleans there is a favourite of the Creolescalled "craps," a dice game, and "keno," and "loto," and "roulette,"played with balls and a revolving wheel. Farther to the South, amongthe Spano-Mexicans, you meet the game of "monte,"--a card game, distinctfrom all the others. Monte is the national game of Mexico.
To all other modes of getting at your money, the South-Western sportsmanprefers "faro." It is a game of Spanish origin, as its name imports;indeed, it differs but little from monte, and was no doubt obtained fromthe Spaniards of New Orleans. Whether native or exotic to the towns ofthe Mississippi Valley, in all of them it has become perfectlynaturalised; and there is no sportsman of the West who does notunderstand and practise it.
The game of faro is simple enough. The following are its leadingfeatures:--
A green cloth or baize covers the table. Upon this the thirteen cardsof a suite are laid out in two rows, with their faces turned up. Theyare usually attached to the cloth by gum, to prevent them from gettingout of place.
A square box, like an overgrown snuff-box, is next produced. It is ofthe exact size and shape to hold two packs of cards. It is of solidsilver. Any other metal would serve as well; but a professed "farodealer" would scorn to carry a mean implement of his calling. Theobject of this box is to hold the cards to be dealt, and to assist indealing them. I cannot explain the internal mechanism of thismysterious box; but I can say that it is without a lid, open at oneedge--where the cards are pressed in--and contains an interior spring,which, touched by the finger of the dealer, pushes out the cards one byone as they lie in the pack. This contrivance is not at all essentialto the game, which may be played without the box. Its object is toinsure a fair deal, as no card can be recognised by any mark on itsback, since up to the moment of drawing they are all invisible withinthe box. A stylish "faro box" is the ambition of every "faro dealer"--the specific title of all "sportsmen" whose game is faro.
Two packs of cards, well shuffled, are first put into the box; and thedealer, resting the left hand upon it, and holding the right inreadiness, with the thumb extended, pauses a moment until some bets aremade. The "dealer" is in reality your antagonist in the game; he is the"banker" who pays all your gains, and pockets all your losses. As manymay bet as can sit or stand around the table; but all are bettingagainst the dealer himself. Of course, in this case, the faro dealermust be something of a proprietor to play the game at all; and the "farobank" has usually a capital of several thousands of dollars--oftenhundreds of thousands to back it! Not unfrequently, after an unluckyrun, the bank gets "broke;" and the proprietor of it may be years beforehe can establish another. An assistant
or "croupier" usually sitsbeside the dealer. His business is to exchange the "cheques" for money,to pay the bets lost, and gather in those which the bank has won.
The cheques used in the game are pieces of ivory of circular form, ofthe diameter of dollars: they are white, red, or blue, with the valueengraved upon them, and they are used as being more convenient than themoney itself. When any one wishes to leave off playing, he can demandfrom the bank to the amount specified on the cheques he may then hold.
The simplest method of betting "against faro" is by placing the money onthe face of any particular one of the cards that lie on the table. Youmay choose which you will of the thirteen. Say you have selected theace, and placed your money upon the face of that card. The dealer thencommences, and "draws" the cards out of the box one by one. Afterdrawing each two he makes a pause. Until two aces follow each other,with no other card between, there is no decision. When two aces cometogether the bet is declared. If both appear in the drawing of the twocards, then the dealer takes your money; if only one is pulled out, andthe other follows in the next drawing, you have won. You may then renewyour bet upon the ace--double it if you will, or remove it to any othercard--and these changes you may make at any period of the deal--providedit is not done after the first of the two cards has been drawn.
Of course the game goes on, whether you play or not. The table issurrounded by betters; some on one card, some on another; some by"paralee," on two or more cards at a time; so that there is a constant"falling due" of bets, a constant rattling of cheques and chinking ofdollars.
It is all a game of chance. "Skill" has naught to do with the game offaro; and you might suppose, as many do, that the chances are exactlyequal for the dealer and his opponents. Such, however, is not the case;a peculiar arrangement of the cards produces a percentage in favour ofthe former, else there would be no faro bank; and although a rare run ofill-fortune may go against the dealer for a time, if he can only holdout long enough, he is "bound to beat you" in the end.
A similar percentage will be against you in all games of chance--"faro,""monte," or "craps," wherever you bet against a "banker." Of course thebanker will not deny this, but answers you, that that _small_ percentageis to "pay for the game." It usually does, and well.
Such is faro--the game at which I had resolved to empty my purse, or winthe price of my betrothed.