The Dandy Hell

• Posted by mgr on June 22nd, 2008 filed in Zeitdokumente
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THE house at the corner of B— Street, St. James’s, kept by — is generally denominated the dandy house. Here the most elegant suppers are gratuitously given to the infatuated punters, as an inducement to play; the most intoxicating wines are freely distributed, and every luxury provided that can lull suspicion, and promote the views of the experienced sharper. The stakes here are from five shillings to one hundred pounds, but, as at the G— H— , for any sum the punter pleases, by its being previously named to the banker. Many of the young officers of the guards, and some clerical associates, will remember their reverses in this house while they
live.

It was here that young — was first initiated into this dreadful vice, and afterwards ruined of all the property bequeathed to him by his lamented father; yet, such is the infatuation of this young man, that he still continues a constant visitant at all the notorious hells, being by far more attentive to the study of rouge et noir than to the honourable and lucrative profession which rendered his father one of the brightest ornaments of society. As a proof of the destructive effects of such associations, we shall here relate an anecdote of this young man, which, we are sorry to say, is by no means a singular occurrence among the dissipated and thoughtless, who, driven to desperation, seize on any circumstance to recover some portion of their losses. This young sprig of fashion, and student of Lincoln’s Inn, after losing in one night upwards of seven hundred pounds, went to a pawn-broker’s in Jermyn- street, disrobed himself of his shirt, pledged it for the paltry sum of eight shillings, then buttoned up sans linen, and returned to the table, where he won about one hundred pounds of his money back again; and, will it be believed, made his boast of the degrading circumstance which had enabled him to resume the same.

Next in destructive consequence to the Hell we last described is one in K— Street, St. James. The proprietors of this den of infamy have assisted in no small degree for some years to people the King’s Bench prison. The public cannot fail to be benefited by a full view of the internal mechanism by which this diabolical engine is kept in daily motion.

There are four croupiers, who alternately deal the cards. One formerly a commissariat clerk; a brother to the proprietor (and of slight-of-hand notoriety, having always at command a thirty-one apres, whenever the stakes are high); one a disciple of the famous Monsieur — ; ; and, last, Mr. —- .

These gentry are in perfect training, and move as regular as clock-work, receiving a stipend of from three to four pounds per week, and a per centage upon the winnings, or rather plunder. This is done with a view to keep them upon the alert, and to extinguish any spark of pity that might kindle in their bosom: in a few weeks they become as callous and hard-hearted as their employers.

There are also in the constant pay of the concern, a number of ruined gamesters, who are employed in the capacity of recruiting officers, who frequent the fashionable coffee-houses at the west-end, insinuate themselves into the society of young men of fashion, introduce them to the houses, and are paid a bonus by the proprietors, great, in proportion to the sum their victim has been robbed of.

When the company musters thick, and there is much play, — and his hoary-headed colleague — take their seats at the table opposite to each other, and deal the cards by turns. Their fame for slight of hand is too well known to require any comment; suffice it to say, that when they preside, the colour on which the most money is staked is sure to lose, or if stakes are nearly equal on both, a thirty-one apres is made, which gives them the half of both the stakes.

This is playing a sure game, and numberless are the victims whom these all-devouring monsters have thus destroyed; many are the instances of men, who, after having been ruined by them, have been brought to the gallows. They have caused more ruin than plague, pestilence, or famine, could have done; their system of play is founded on deceit of all sorts, and by such means they rise like mushrooms, become suddenly rich, owing their wealth to no qualities but such as are most despicable, and holding in utter contempt those who strive to gain an independence by slow and honest means. Fraud and villany are the deities worshipped by them, and at the shrine of their insatiate avarice, is immolated the victim, who, had he not been decoyed to this den of thieves, might still have continued to be happy.

Quoted from: John Thurtell, William Weare, William Probert, Joseph Hunt: The Fatal Effects of Gambling. London: Thomas Kelly, 1826.

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