Blue coat boys tampered with—The two trials—Insuring tickets—Curious Lotteries—Lever Museum and Pigot diamond lotteries—Little goes—Stories of winning numbers—Decline of Lotteries—The last—Its epitaph—Modern lotteries.

Twice in the year 1775 were the blue coat boys, who drew the tickets from the lottery wheels, tampered with; and the following accounts are taken from the Annual Register of that year:

“1 June. A man was carried before the Lord Mayor, for attempting to bribe the two Blue Coat boys, who drew the Museum[57] lottery, to conceal a ticket, and bring it to him, promising he would, next day, let them have it again, when one of them was, it seems, to convey it back privately to the wheel, but without letting go his hold of it, and then produce it as if newly drawn; the man’s intention being to insure it in all the offices against being drawn that day. But the boys were honest, gave notice of the intended fraud, and pointed out the delinquent, who, however, was discharged, as there is no law in being, to punish the offence.”

“5 Dec. By virtue of a warrant from Sir Charles Asgill, was brought before the magistrate, at Guildhall, the clerk of an eminent hop factor in Goodman’s Fields, upon suspicion of being concerned with a person, not yet apprehended, in defrauding a lottery office keeper, near the ‘Change, of a large sum of money. This matter being undertaken by the Commissioners of the Lottery, the Solicitor of the Treasury appeared against the prisoner, and for him attended, as Counsel, Mr Cox.

“The first witness examined was the lottery office keeper, he said, that about a fortnight ago, the prisoner insured No. 21,481 six times over for the subsequent day of drawing; that the conversation he had with the prisoner at that time, and the seeming positiveness there appeared in the latter, that the ticket would come up, caused him to enquire at other lottery offices, when he found the same number insured, in the prisoner’s name, at all the principal offices about the ‘Change; that the ticket was drawn the first hour of drawing the subsequent day. This, with his former suspicion, alarmed him, and he immediately went to Christ’s Hospital, and saw the boy who drew the ticket; that he interrogated him, whether he had clandestinely taken that number out of the wheel, or whether he had been solicited to do so, which the boy positively denied; that, observing that he answered rather faintly, he importuned him to divulge the truth, which, after some hesitation, produced an acknowledgment of the fact.

“The next witness was the Blue Coat boy. He said that, about three weeks ago, the person who is not in custody, and whom he had known before he went to the Hospital, took him to a Coffee House, where they breakfasted together; that he wanted to know of the witness, whether it was possible to get a ticket out of the wheel; to which the latter answered, No. That being, afterwards, solicited for the same purpose, by him, to secrete a ticket, he, at length, promised to do so; that, accordingly, he took two at one time out of the wheel, gave one to the person who called it over, and put the other in his pocket; that the person who induced him to do it was then in the gallery, and nodded his head to the witness to signify when was a proper time; that, after the witness came out of the hall, he gave the ticket to the person who sat in the gallery, and who was then waiting for the witness in the Guildhall Yard; that the next time the witness drew the lottery, the person before mentioned returned him the ticket, which the witness put in the wheel, and drew out the same day; that he did this three several times, and received from the person for whom he did it, several half guineas; that he has heard the prisoner’s name mentioned by him, but never heard the latter acknowledge any connection between them in insurance; and, never before, saw the prisoner.

“The prisoner acknowledged he insured the ticket 79 times for one day. The mother of the person who was not apprehended, was next examined; she proved an acquaintance between her son and the prisoner; but denied any remembrance of ever hearing the latter mention anything relating to insurance. The prisoner was discharged.

“It is said that the person who absconded, got about £400 by the above fraud; and would have got £3000, had he been paid in all the offices where he insured.”

But, that such a fraud should not be perpetrated again, the Lords of the Treasury, on 12th Dec. 1775, issued an Order, of which the following is an extract:

“It is therefore ordered, for preventing the like wicked practices in future, that every boy, before he is suffered to put his hand into either wheel, be brought by the proclaimer to the managers on duty, for them to see that the bosoms and sleeves of his coat be closely buttoned, his pockets sewed up, and his hands examined; and that, during the time of his being on duty, he shall keep his left hand in his girdle behind him, and his right hand open, with his fingers extended: and the proclaimer is not to suffer him, at any time, to leave the wheel, without, first, being examined by the Manager nearest him.”

They also “requested of the Treasurer of Christ’s Hospital, not to make known who are the twelve boys nominated for drawing the lottery, till the morning before the drawing begins; which said boys are all to attend every day, and the two who are to go on duty at the wheels, are to be taken promiscuously from amongst the whole number, by either of the secretaries, without observing any regular course, or order; so that no boy shall know when it will be his turn to go to either wheel.”

À propos of insuring lottery tickets, Horace Walpole writes to the Countess of Ossory, 17th Dec. 1780: “As folks in the country love to hear of London fashions, know, Madam, that the reigning one amongst the quality, is to go, after the opera, to the lottery offices, where their Ladyships bet with the keepers. You choose any number you please; if it does not come up next day, you pay five guineas; if it does, receive forty, or in proportion to the age of the tirage. The Duchess of Devonshire, in one day, won nine hundred pounds. General Smith, as the luckiest of all mites, is of the most select parties, and chooses the numeros.”

On Jan. 6, 1777, two Jews were brought before the Lord Mayor, charged with counterfeiting a lottery ticket; but, as they brought plenty of false witnesses, they were acquitted. But one, Daniel Denny, was not so lucky on Feb. 24, the same year, for he was convicted of the same crime. The Annual Register for this year says:

“The following is a true state of the different methods of getting money by lottery office keepers, and other ingenious persons, who have struck out different plans of getting money by the State Lottery of 1777.

“First, His Majesty’s Royal Letters Patent for securing the Property of the purchasers.

“Secondly, A few office keepers who advertise ‘By authority of Parliament’ to secure your property in shares and chances.

“Thirdly, Several schemes for shares and chances, only entitling the purchasers to all prizes above twenty pounds.

“Fourthly, A bait for those who can only afford to venture a shilling.

“Then come the ingenious sett of lottery merchants, viz. Lottery magazine proprietors—Lottery tailors—Lottery stay makers—Lottery glovers—Lottery hat makers—Lottery tea merchants—Lottery snuff and tobacco merchants—Lottery handkerchiefs—Lottery bakers—Lottery barbers (where a man, for being shaved, and paying threepence, may stand a chance of getting ten pounds)—Lottery shoe blacks—Lottery eating houses; one in Wych Street, Temple-bar, where, if you call for six penny worth of roast, or boiled beef, you receive a note of hand, with a number, which, should it turn out fortunate, may entitle the eater of the beef to sixty guineas—Lottery oyster stalls, by which the fortunate may get five guineas for three penny worth of oysters. And, to complete this curious catalogue, an old woman, who keeps a sausage stall in one of the little alleys leading to Smithfield, wrote up, in chalk, Lottery sausages, or, five shillings to be gained for a farthing relish.”

In 1782 an Act was passed, whereby lottery office keepers were to pay a licence of £50, under a penalty of £100 if they did not do so.

Sir Ashton Lever disposed of his Museum by lottery in 1758 by Act of Parliament, and another Act was procured to dispose of, by lottery, a large diamond, the property of the deceased Lord Pigot, valued at £30,000. This lottery was drawn on Jan. 2, 1801, and the winner of the prize was a young man, name unknown. It was, afterwards, sold at Christie’s on May 10, 1802, for 9500 guineas. It was again sold, and is said to have passed into the possession of Messrs Rundell and Bridge, the Court jewellers, who are reported to have sold it to an Egyptian Pasha for £30,000.

But, in the latter part of the eighteenth century, a system of private lotteries, called “little goes” had sprung up, and they are thus described in the Times of 22nd July 1795:

“Amongst the various species of Gaming that have ever been practised, we think none exceeds the mischiefs, and calamities that arise from the practice of private lotteries, which, at present, are carrying on, in various parts of the town, to very alarming extents, much to the discredit of those whose province it is to suppress such nefarious practices, as they cannot be ignorant of such transactions. ‘The little go,’ which is the technical term for a private lottery, is calculated only for the meridian of those understandings, who are unused to calculate and discriminate between right and wrong, and roguery and fair dealing; and, in this particular case, it is those who compose the lower order of society, whom it so seriously affects, and, on whom, it is chiefly designed to operate. No man of common sense can suppose that the lottery wheels are fair and honest, or that the proprietors act upon principles anything like honour, or honesty; for, by the art, and contrivance, of the wheels, they are so constructed, with secret springs, and the application of gum, glue, &c., in the internal part of them, that they can draw the numbers out, or keep them in, at pleasure, just as it suits their purposes; so that the ensurer, robbed and cajoled, by such unfair means, has not the most distant chance of ever winning; the whole being a gross fraud, and imposition, in the extreme. We understand the most notorious of these standards of imposition, are situated in Carnaby Market, Oxford Road, in the Borough, Islington, Clerkenwell, and various other places, most of which are under the very nose of Magistracy, in seeming security, bidding defiance to law, and preying upon the vitals of the poor and ignorant.

“We hope the Magistrates of each jurisdiction, and those who possess the same power, will perform their duty on behalf of the poor, over whom they preside, and put a stop to such a growing, and alarming evil, of such pernicious and dangerous tendency; particularly as the proprietors are well-known bad characters, consisting of needy beggars, desperate swindlers, gamblers, sharpers, notorious thieves, and common convicted felons; most of whose names stand recorded in the Newgate Calendar for various offences of different descriptions.”

11th Aug. 1795. “On Friday night last, in consequence of searching warrants from the parochial magistrates of St James’s Westminster, upwards of 30 persons were apprehended at the house of one M’Call, No. 2 Francis Street, near Golden Square, and in the house of J. Knight, King Street, where the most destructive practices to the poor were carrying on, that of Private Lotteries (called Little Goes). Two wheels, with the tickets, were seized on the premises. Upon examination of those persons, who proved to be the poor deluded objects who had been there plundered, they were reprimanded, and discharged.

“The wives of many industrious mechanics, by attending these nefarious houses, have not only been duped out of their earnings (which ought to have been applied to the providing bread for their families), but have even pawned their beds, wedding rings, and almost every article they were possessed of, for that purpose.”

Here are two anecdotes of the winners of the great prize, which was, usually, £20,000, from the Times:

27th Dec. 1797. “Dr B., a physician at Lime (Dorset), a few days since, being under pecuniary embarrassment, and his house surrounded by bailiffs, made his escape by a window, into a neighbour’s house, from whence he fled to London. The furniture was seized, and the sale actually commenced, when it was stopped by a letter, stating that the Doctor, upon his arrival in London, found himself the proprietor of the £20,000 prize. We guarantee the truth of this fact.”

19th Mar. 1798. “The £20,000 prize, drawn on Friday, is divided amongst a number of poor persons: a female servant in Brook Street, Holborn, had a sixteenth; a woman who keeps a fruit stall in Gray’s Inn Lane, another; a third is possessed by a servant of the Duke of Roxburghe; a fourth by a Chelsea carrier of vegetables to Covent Garden; one-eighth belongs to a poor family in Rutlandshire, and the remainder is similarly divided.”

In 1802, old Baron d’Aguilar, the Islington miser, was requested, by a relation, to purchase a particular ticket, No. 14,068; but it had been sold some few days previously. The baron died on the 16th of March following, and the number was the first drawn ticket on the 24th, and, as such, entitled to £20,000. The baron’s representatives, under these circumstance, published an advertisement, offering a reward of £1000 to any person who might have found the said ticket, and would deliver it up. Payment was stopped. A wholesale linen draper in Cornhill (who had ordered his broker to buy him ten tickets, which he deposited in a chest), on copying the numbers for the purpose of examining them, made a mistake in one figure, and called it 14,168 instead of 14,068, which was the £20,000 prize. The lottery being finished, he sent his tickets to be examined and marked. To his utter astonishment, he then found the error in the number copied on his paper. On his demanding payment at the lottery office, a caveat was entered by old d’Aguilar’s executors; but, an explanation taking place, the £20,000 was paid to the lucky linen draper.

Although these lotteries were a great source of revenue to Government, and, consequently, relieved the taxpayer to the amount of their profit, it began to dawn upon the public that this legalised gambling was somewhat immoral; and, in 1808, a Committee of the House of Commons was appointed, to inquire how far the evil attending lotteries had been remedied by the laws passed respecting the same; and, in their Report, they said that “the foundation of the lottery system is so radically vicious, that your Committee feel convinced that under no system of regulations, which can be devised, will it be possible for Parliament to adopt it as an efficacious source of revenue, and, at the same time, divest it of all the evils which it has, hitherto, proved so baneful a source.”

Yet they continued to be held; but, when the Lottery Act of 1818 was passing through the House of Commons, Mr Parnell protested against it, and, in the course of his speech, suggested that the following epitaph should be inscribed on the tomb of the Chancellor of the Exchequer: “Here lies the Right Hon. Nicholas Vansittart, once Chancellor of the Exchequer; the patron of Bible Societies, the builder of Churches, a friend to the education of the poor, an encourager of Savings’ banks, and—a supporter of Lotteries!”

And, in 1819, when the lottery for that year was being discussed, Mr Lyttleton moved:

1. That by the establishment of State lotteries, a spirit of gambling, injurious, in the highest degree, to the morals of the people, is encouraged and provoked.

2. That such a habit, manifestly weakening the habits of industry, must diminish the permanent sources of the public revenue.

3. That the said lotteries have given rise to other systems of gambling, which have been but partially repressed by laws, whose provisions are extremely arbitrary, and their enforcement liable to the greatest abuse.

4. That this House, therefore, will no longer authorise the establishment of State lotteries under any system of regulations whatever.

Needless to say, these resolutions were not passed, but the Lottery was on its last legs, for, in the Lottery Act of 1823, provision was made for its discontinuance after the drawing of the lottery sanctioned in that Act. Yet this was not adhered to, and a “last lottery” was decreed to be drawn in 1826. Its date was originally fixed for the 18th of July, but the public did not subscribe readily, and it was postponed until the 18th of October, and, on that day it was drawn at Cooper’s Hall, Basinghall Street. Here is an epitaph which was written on it:

In Memory of
The State of Lottery,
the last of a long line
whose origin in England commenced
in the year 1569,
which, after a series of tedious complaints,
Expired
on the
18th day of October 1826.
During a period of 257 years, the family
flourished under the powerful protection
of the
British Parliament;
the Minister of the day continuing to
give them his support for the improvement
of the revenue.
As they increased, it was found that their
continuance corrupted the morals,
and encouraged a spirit
of Speculation and Gambling among the lower
classes of the people;
thousands of whom fell victims to their
insinuating and tempting allurements.
Many philanthropic individuals
in the Senate,
at various times, for a series of years,
pointed out their baneful influence,
without effect;
His Majesty’s Ministers
still affording them their countenance
and protection.
The British Parliament
being, at length, convinced of their
mischievous tendency,
His Majesty GEORGE IV.
on the 9th of July 1823,
pronounced sentence of condemnation
on the whole race;
from which time they were almost
Neglected by the British Public.
Very great efforts were made by the
Partisans and friends of the family to
excite
the public feeling in favour of the last
of the race, in vain:
It continued to linger out the few
remaining
moments of its existence without attention,
or sympathy, and finally terminated
its career unregretted by any
virtuous mind.

In 1836 an Act was passed “to prevent the advertising of Foreign and illegal lotteries,” but circulars still come from Hamburg and other places. In 1844 an Act was passed “to indemnify persons connected with Art Unions, and others, against certain penalties.” Still there were minor lotteries and raffles, and the law was seldom set in force against them, any more than it is now when applied to charitable purposes; yet in 1860 one Louis Dethier, was haled up at Bow Street for holding a lottery for £10,000 worth of Twelfth Cakes, and was only let off on consenting to stop it at once, and nowadays the lottery is practically dead, except when some petty rogue is taken up for deluding children with prize sweets.