The History of Gambling in England. Ashton John
real and fictitious condolences, she robed herself in maiden white, and, tying a gold and silver girdle together, she hanged herself therewith, dying at the early age of twenty-three years.
Gossiping Horace Walpole gives us many anecdotes of gambling in his time, scattered among his letters to Sir Horace Mann, &c. In one of them (Dec. 26, 1748), he tells a story of Sir William Burdett, of whom he says; “in short, to give you his character at once, there is a wager entered in the bet book at White’s (a MS. of which I may, one day or other, give you an account), that the first baronet that will be hanged, is this Sir William Burdett.”
The Baronet casually met Lord Castledurrow (afterwards Viscount Ashbrook), and Captain (afterwards Lord) Rodney, “a young seaman, who has made a fortune by very gallant behaviour during the war,” and he asked them to dinner.
“When they came, he presented them to a lady, dressed foreign, as a princess of the house of Brandenburg: she had a toad eater, and there was another man, who gave himself for a count. After dinner, Sir William looked at his watch, and said ‘J – s! it is not so late as I thought, by an hour; Princess, will your Highness say how we shall divert ourselves till it is time to go to the play! ‘Oh!’ said she, ‘for my part, you know I abominate everything but Pharaoh.’ ‘I am very sorry, Madam,’ replied he, very gravely, ‘but I don’t know whom your Highness will get to tally to you; you know I am ruined by dealing.’ ‘Oh!’ says she, ‘the Count will deal to us.’ ‘I would, with all my soul,’ said the Count, ‘but I protest I have no money about me.’ She insisted: at last the Count said, ‘Since your Highness commands us peremptorily, I believe Sir William has four or five hundred pounds of mine, that I am to pay away in the city to-morrow; if he will be so good as to step to his bureau for that sum, I will make a bank of it.’ Mr Rodney owns he was a little astonished at seeing the Count shuffle with the faces of the cards upwards; but, concluding that Sir William Burdett, at whose house he was, was a relation, or particular friend of Lord Castledurrow, he was unwilling to affront my lord. In short, my lord and he lost about a hundred and fifty apiece, and it was settled that they should meet for payment, the next morning, at Ranelagh. In the meantime, Lord C. had the curiosity to inquire a little into the character of his new friend, the Baronet; and being au fait, he went up to him at Ranelagh, and apostrophised him; ‘Sir William, here is the sum I think I lost last night; since that, I have heard that you are a professed pickpocket, and, therefore, desire to have no farther acquaintance with you.’ Sir William bowed, took the money and no notice; but, as they were going away, he followed Lord Castledurrow, and said, ‘Good God! my lord, my equipage is not come; will you be so good as to set me down at Buckingham Gate?’ and, without waiting for an answer, whipped into the chariot, and came to town with him. If you don’t admire the coolness of this impudence, I shall wonder.”
“10 Jan. 1750. To make up for my long silence, and to make up a long letter, I will string another story, which I have just heard, to this. General Wade was at a low gaming house, and had a very fine snuff-box, which, on a sudden, he missed. Everybody denied having taken it: he insisted on searching the company. He did: there remained only one man, who had stood behind him, but refused to be searched, unless the General would go into another room, alone, with him. There the man told him, that he was born a gentleman, was reduced, and lived by what little bets he could pick up there, and by fragments which the waiters sometimes gave him. ‘At this moment I have half a fowl in my pocket; I was afraid of being exposed; here it is! Now, Sir, you may search me.’ Wade was so struck, that he gave the man a hundred pounds; and, immediately, the genius of generosity, whose province is almost a sinecure, was very glad of the opportunity of making him find his own snuff-box, or another very like it, in his own pocket again.”
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