CHAPTER XV.
A lucky Spaniard--Miss Mitford’s prize--The _Spectator_ on lucky numbers--Other anecdotes on luck--“Gretna Green”--“A Prize for Poor Jack.”
1815, of course, had its State lottery, June 7 (55 Geo. III. c. 73), in which £624,400 was given in prizes, and it resulted in a net profit of £224,311 18_s._ 1_d._; but this may be partly owing to the fact that there was one prize offered of £40,000, the only other instance of such an enormous prize being in the lottery of 1807.
There is a curious story about this prize (1815). During the drawing of the lottery, a Spaniard, Don Tomas Isturity, was walking near the Royal Exchange, when the inclination to spend some twenty pounds in dabbling in the lottery came strongly upon him. He entered the office of Martin and Co., Cornhill, but was unable to make up his mind what numbered ticket to choose. At last he settled on the number of days he had been absent from Madrid, which, on reference to his pocket-book, he found to be 261. He therefore asked for the ticket bearing that number, but it was nearly half an hour before it could be obtained, and only after a strict search among the lottery offices in the City. At length a half-ticket of No. 261 was procured at two o’clock, and at five it was drawn the £40,000 prize, so that the lucky don lay down that night a richer man by £20,000 than he had risen in the morning.
This is not a solitary instance of luck attending the choosing a lottery ticket. Miss Mitford, in her “Literary Recollections,” tells a good story of the old lottery days. Speaking of her father, she says, “In the intervals of his professional pursuits, he walked about London with his little girl [herself] in hand; and one day--it was my birthday, and I was ten years old--he took me into a not very tempting-looking place, which was, as I speedily found, a lottery office. An Irish lottery was upon the point of being drawn, and he desired me to choose one out of several bits of printed paper (I did not then know their significance) that lay upon the counter.
“'Choose which number you like best,’ said my dear papa; 'and that shall be your birthday present.’
“I immediately selected one, and put it in his hand--No. 2224.
“'Ah!’ said my father, examining it, 'you must choose again. I want to buy a whole ticket, and this is only a quarter. Choose again, my pet.’
“'No, dear papa; I like this one best.’
“'Here is the next number,’ interposed the lottery-office keeper--'No. 2223.’
“'Ay,’ said my father, 'that will do just as well. Will it not, Mary? We’ll take that.’
“'No,’ returned I, obstinately, 'that won’t do. This is my birthday, and you know, papa, I am ten years old. Cast up _my_ number, and you’ll find that makes ten. The other is only nine.’
“My father, superstitious, like all speculators, struck with my pertinacity, and with the reason I gave, which he liked none the less because the ground of preference was tolerably unreasonable, resisted the attempt of the office-keeper to tempt me by different tickets, and we had nearly left the shop without a purchase, when the clerk, who had been examining different desks and drawers, said to his principal--
“'I think, sir, the matter may be managed if the gentleman does not mind paying a few shillings more. That ticket, 2224, only came yesterday, and we have still all the shares--one-half, one-quarter, one-eighth, and two-sixteenths. It will be just the same, if the young lady is set upon it.’
“The young lady was set upon it, and the shares were purchased. The whole affair was a secret between us, and my father, whenever he got me to himself, talked over our future twenty thousand pounds--just like Alnaschar over his basket of eggs. Meanwhile time passed on, and one Sunday morning we were all preparing to go to church, when a face I had forgotten, but my father had not, made his appearance. It was the clerk of the lottery office. An express had just arrived from Dublin, announcing that 2224 had been drawn a prize of twenty thousand pounds, and he had hastened to communicate the good news.
“Ah, me! In less than twenty years, what was left of the produce of the ticket so strangely chosen? What, except a Wedgwood dinner-service, that my father had made to commemorate the event, with the Irish harp within the border on one side, and his family crest on the other? That fragile and perishable ware long outlasted the more perishable money.”
This belief in lucky numbers in the lottery was of old standing; for in No. 191 of the _Spectator_, October 9, 1711, is the following:--
“... When a man has a mind to venture his money in a lottery, every figure of it appears equally alluring, and as likely to succeed as any of its fellows. They all of them have the same pretensions to good luck, stand upon the same foot of competition, and no manner of reason can be given why a man should prefer one to the other before the lottery is drawn. In this case, therefore, Caprice very often acts in the place of Reason, and forms to itself some groundless, imaginary motive where real and substantial ones are wanting. I know a well-meaning man that is very pleased to risk his good fortune upon the number 1711, because it is the year of our Lord. I am acquainted with a tacker that would give a good deal for the number 134.[26]
[26] “In the year 1704 a bill was brought into the House of Commons against occasional conformity; and, in order to make it pass through the House of Lords, it was proposed to tack it to a money bill. This occasioned warm debates, and at length it was put to the vote, when 134 were for tacking; but a large majority being against it, the motion was overruled, and the bill miscarried.
[Illustration]
“On the contrary, I have been told of a certain zealous Dissenter, who, being a great enemy to popery, and believing that bad men are the most fortunate in this world, will lay two to one on the number 666 against any other number, because, says he, it is the number of the Beast.[27] Several would prefer the number 12,000 before any others, as it is the number of the pounds in the great prize. In short, some are pleased to find their own age in their number; some, that have got a number which makes a pretty appearance in the cyphers; and others, because it is the same number that succeeded in the last lottery. Each of these, upon no other grounds, thinks he stands fairest for the great lot, and that he is possessed of what may not be improperly called 'the golden number.’
[27] Rev. xii. 18.
“These principles of election are the pastimes and extravagances of human reason, which is of so busy a nature, that it will be exerting itself in the meanest trifles, and working even when it wants materials. The wisest of men are sometimes acted[28] by such unaccountable motives, as the life of the fool and the superstitious is guided by nothing else.
[28] Actuated.
“I am surprised that none of the fortune-tellers, or, as the French call them, the _Diseurs de bonne Aventure_, who publish their bills in every quarter of the town, have turned our Lotteries to their advantage. Did any of them set up for a caster of fortunate figures, what might he not get by his pretended discoveries and predictions?
“I remember, among the advertisements of the _Post-Boy_ of September the 27th, I was surprised to see the following one:--
“'This is to give notice, that ten shillings over and above the market price will be given for the ticket in the £1,500,000 lottery, No. 132, by Nath. Cliff, at the Bible and Three Crowns, in Cheapside.’
“This advertisement has given great matter of speculation to coffee-house theorists. Mr. Cliff’s principles and conversation have been canvassed upon this occasion, and various conjectures made why he should thus set his heart upon No. 132. I have examined all the powers in those numbers, broken them into fractions, extracted the square and cube roots, divided and multiplied them all ways, but could not arrive at the secret, until about three days ago, when I received the following letter, from an unknown hand, by which I find that Mr. Nath. Cliff is only the agent, and not the principal, in this advertisement:--
“'Mr. SPECTATOR,
“'I am the person that lately advertised I would give ten shillings more than the current price for the ticket No. 132 in the lottery now drawing; which is a secret I have communicated to some friends, who rally me incessantly upon that account. You must know that I have but one ticket, for which reason, and for a certain dream I have lately had more than once, I resolved it should be the number I most approved. I am so positive that I have pitched upon the great lots, that I could almost lay all I am worth upon it. My visions are so frequent and so strong upon this occasion, that I have not only possessed the lot, but disposed of the money which in all probability it will sell for. This morning, in particular, I set up an equipage which I look upon to be the gayest in the town; the liveries are very rich, but not gaudy. I should be very glad to see a speculation or two upon lottery subjects, in which you would oblige all people concerned, and in particular,
“'Your most humble Servant, “'GEORGE GOSLING.
“'P.S.--Dear Spec., If I get the £12,000, I’ll make thee a handsome present.’
“After having wished my correspondent good luck, and thanked him for his intended kindness, I shall for this time dismiss the subject of the lottery, and only observe that the greatest part of mankind are in some degree guilty of my friend Gosling’s extravagance.”
The “Percy Anecdotes” are responsible for the following story:--“A merchant, somewhat remarkable for absence of mind, had left his counting-house for the Bank, with a large sum of money which he intended to deposit there. On reaching Lombard Street, he found his pocket cut, and his pocket-book missing. He immediately suspected that his pocket had been picked of all his money, and, returning home, mentioned the circumstance to his clerk. What, however, was his astonishment in finding that he had left the money behind, and that, though his pocket-book had been taken from him, yet it contained nothing but a few papers of little consequence.
“Pleased with the integrity of his clerk, who gave him the money he thought he had lost, he promised him a handsome present; but, neglecting to fulfil his promise, was reminded of it. Unwilling to part with money, he gave the clerk one of two lottery tickets he had purchased. The young man would have preferred money, as he had parents far advanced in years, who depended upon him for support. He, however, was contented; and, as it afterwards proved, had cause to be so, for his ticket was drawn a prize for £20,000, which, enabling him to begin business for himself, he soon rose to great eminence and wealth as a merchant.”
Before closing this subject, I cannot help quoting from a newspaper cutting (_Daily News_, date unknown), which, although not belonging to English lotteries, shows how, even in modern times, superstition plays its part in the lottery. From a letter by a correspondent to this paper, it appears that, in Venice, it is believed that, in the event of a stranger dying in one of the hotels, the numbers of his rooms will be the lucky cyphers at the next drawing of the lottery. An illustration of this recently occurred on the death of the late Sir W. Stirling Maxwell at one of the best-known hotels, when, immediately on his decease, the _employés_ subscribed to take shares in the numbers of the two rooms occupied by the late Member for Perthshire, both of which numbers, strangely enough, were afterwards drawn prizes. In talking over the matter with the writer, a person connected with the hotel bitterly lamented that he had been prevented, by sudden illness, from taking the whole of the lucky numbers, and thus realizing a handsome fortune at one stroke.
On the opposite page we give a lottery handbill, but with no name of an office-keeper attached to it. It is called, “Gretna Green; or, The Elopement.”
“A PRIZE FOR POOR JACK.
By JACK JUNK.
TUNE--'_Poor Jack_.’
'Go, patter to lubbers’ of _Blanks_, do you see; Let them catch at Fortune who wish; The chance of a _Lottery Ticket_ give me, But, mind, I must buy it of BISH.
[Illustration]
I know very well it may come up a _Blank_, And then I’m but where I begun; But if it should happen to come up a _Prize_, Then 'hey for the fiddle’ and fun! The ocean of Fortune may quicksands conceal, But that never takes me aback: There’s a nice little Blue Coat Boy stands at the Wheel, To pull out a Prize for Poor Jack.
Last Lottery, BISH Twenty Capitals sold, And why mayn’t he sell Twenty more? Why not _one_ to _me_ (if I may be so bold), To pocket of _Thousands_ a score? You’ll say, as to that, it’s all twenty to one, About counting our losses and gains; _You advise_, and if chance I the _Twenty_ should get, I’ll give you the _One_ for your pains. On the ocean of Fortune my vessel may reel, But still I shall keep to my tack: For the nice little Blue Coat Boy stands at the Wheel, To pull out a Prize for Poor Jack.
Of a _new Packet_ launch’d too, moreover, they tell, Her lading a rare one, you’ll say; Four Hundred _Whole Tickets_, and that’s pretty well! And I’d like ’em to come in my way. If they were not _all Prizes_, why, I’d be content; For 'Enough is as good as a Feast;’ And a man, sure, might count on, and not be much out, _Half the Capitals_ getting, at least. Then the ocean of Fortune I’ll plough with Hope’s keel, BISH the Pilot shall be on each tack, While the nice little Blue Coat Boy fix’d at the Wheel Will pull out a Prize for Poor Jack.”