The Gaming Table. Andrew Steinmetz
his contemporaries. Henry III. played at tennis and was very fond of the game—not, however, through cupidity or avarice, for he distributed all his winnings among his companions. When he lost he paid the wager, nay, he even paid the losses of all engaged in the game. The bets were not higher than two, three, or four hundred crowns—never, as subsequently, four thousand, six thousand, or twelve thousand—when, however, payment was not as readily made, but rather frequently compounded for.(46)
(46) Henry III. was also passionately fond of the childish toy Bilboquet, or 'Cup and Ball,' which he used to play even whilst walking in the street. Journal de Henri III., i.
There was, indeed, at that time a French captain named La Roue, who played high stakes, up to six thousand crowns, which was then deemed exorbitant. This intrepid gamester proposed a bet of twenty thousand crowns against one of Andrew Doria's war-galleys.
Doria took the bet, but he immediately declared it off, in apprehension of the ridiculous position in which he would be placed if he lost, saying—'I don't wish that this young adventurer, who has nothing worth naming to lose, should win my galley to go and triumph in France over my fortune and my honour.'
Soon, however, high stakes became in vogue, and to such an extent that the natural son of the Duc de Bellegarde was enabled to pay, out of his winnings, the large sum of fifty thousand crowns to get himself legitimated. Curiously enough, it is said that the greater part of this sum had been won in England.(47)
(47) Amelot de la Houss. Mem. Hist. iii.
HENRY IV.—Henry IV. early evinced his passion for gaming. When very young and stinted in fortune, he contrived the means of satisfying this growing propensity. When in want of money he used to send a promissory note, written and signed by himself, to his friends, requesting them to return the note or cash it—an expedient which could not but succeed, as every man was only too glad to have the prince's note of hand.(48)
(48) Mem. de Nevers. ii.
There can be no doubt that the example of Henry IV. was, in the matter of gaming, as in other vices, most pernicious. 'Henry IV.,' says Perefixe, 'was not a skilful player, but greedy of gain, timid in high stakes, and ill-tempered when he lost.' He adds rather naively, 'This great king was not without spots any more than the sun.'(49)
(49) Hist. de Henri le Grand.
Under him gambling became the rage. Many distinguished families were utterly ruined by it. The Duc de Biron lost in a single year more than five hundred thousand crowns (about £250,000). 'My son Constant,' says D'Aubigne, 'lost twenty times more than he was worth; so that, finding himself without resources, he abjured his religion.'
It was at the court of Henry IV. that was invented the method of speedy ruin by means of written vouchers for loss and gain—which simplified the thing in all subsequent times. It was then also that certain Italian masters of the gaming art displayed their talents, their suppleness, and dexterity. One of them, named Pimentello, having, in the presence of the Duc de Sully, appealed to the honour which he enjoyed in having often played with Henry IV., the duke exclaimed—'By heavens! So you are the Italian blood-sucker who is every day winning the king's money! You have fallen into the wrong box, for I neither like nor wish to have anything to do with such fellows.' Pimentello got warm. 'Go about your business,' said Sully, giving him a shove; 'your infernal gibberish will not alter my resolve. Go!'(50)
(50) Mem. de Sully.
The French nation, for a long time agitated by civil war, settled down at last in peace and abundance—the fruits of which prosperity are often poisoned. They were so by the gambling propensity of the people at large, now first manifested. The warrior, the lawyer, the artisan, in a word, almost all professions and trades, were carried away by the fury of gaming. Magistrates sold for a price the permission to gamble—in the face of the enacted laws against the practice.
We can scarcely form an idea of the extent of the gaming at this period. Bassompierre declares, in his Memoirs, that he won more than five hundred thousand livres (£25,000) in the course of a year. 'I won them,' he says, 'although I was led away by a thousand follies of youth; and my friend Pimentello won more than two hundred thousand crowns (£100,000). Evidently this Pimentello might well be called a blood-sucker by Sully.(51) He is even said to have got all the dice-sellers in Paris to substitute loaded dice instead of fair ones, in order to aid his operations.
(51) In the original, however, the word is piffre, (vulgo) 'greedy-guts.'
Nothing more forcibly shows the danger of consorting with such bad characters than the calumny circulated respecting the connection between Henry IV. and this infamous Italian:—it was said that Henry was well aware of Pimentello's manoeuvres, and that he encouraged them with the view of impoverishing his courtiers, hoping thereby to render them more submissive! Nero himself would have blushed at such a connivance. Doubtless the calumny was as false as it was stupid.
The winnings of the courtier Bassompierre were enormous. He won at the Duc d'Epernon's sufficient to pay his debts, to dress magnificently, to purchase all sorts of extravagant finery, a sword ornamented with diamonds—'and after all these expenses,' he says, 'I had still five or six thousand crowns (two to three thousand pounds) left, TO KILL TIME WITH, pour tuer le temps.'
On another occasion, and at a more advanced age, he won one hundred thousand crowns (£50,000) at a single sitting, from M. De Guise, Joinville, and the Marechal d'Ancre.
In reading his Memoirs we are apt to get indignant at the fellow's successes; but at last we are tempted to laugh at his misery. He died so poor that he did not leave enough to pay the twentieth part of his debts! Such, doubtless, is the end of most gamblers.
But to return to Henry IV., the great gambling exemplar of the nation. The account given of him at the gaming table is most afflicting, when we remember his royal greatness, his sublime qualities. His only object was to WIN, and those who played with him were thus always placed in a dreadful dilemma—either to lose their money or offend the king by beating him! The Duke of Savoy once played with him, and in order to suit his humour, dissimulated his game—thus sacrificing or giving up forty thousand pistoles (about £28,000).
When the king lost he was most exacting for his 'revanche,' or revenge, as it is termed at play. After winning considerably from the king, on one occasion, Bassompierre, under the pretext of his official engagements, furtively decamped: the king immediately sent after him; he was stopped, brought back, and allowed to depart only after giving the 'revanche' to his Majesty. This 'good Henri,' who was incapable of the least dissimulation either in good or in evil, often betrayed a degree of cupidity which made his minister, Sully, ashamed of him;—in order to pay his gaming debts, the king one day deducted seventy-two thousand livres from the proceeds of a confiscation on which he had no claim whatever.
On another occasion he was wonderfully struck with some gold-pieces which Bassompierre brought to Fontainebleau, called Portugalloises. He could not rest without having them. Play was necessary to win them, but the king was also anxious to be in time for a hunt. In order to conciliate the two passions, he ordered a gaming party at the Palace, left a representative of his game during his absence, and returned sooner than usual, to try and win the so much coveted Portugalloises.
Even love—if that name can be applied to the grovelling passion of Henry IV., intensely violent as it was—could not, with its sensuous enticements, drag the king from the gaming table or stifle his despicable covetousness. On one occasion, whilst at play, it was whispered to him that a certain princess whom he loved was likely to fall into other arms:—'Take care of my money,' said he to Bassompierre, 'and keep up the game whilst I am absent on particular business.'
During this reign gamesters were in high favour, as may well be imagined. One of them received an honour never conceded even to princes and dukes. 'The latter,' says Amelot de la Houssaie, 'did not enter the court-yard of the royal mansions in a carriage before the year 1607, and they are indebted for the privilege to the first Duc d'Epernon, the favourite of the late king, Henry III., who being wont to go every day to play with the queen, Marie de Medicis, took it into his head to have his carriage driven into the court-yard of the Louvre, and had himself carried bodily by his