“Chance, my dear Bob, chance is ten times a more intoxicating liquor than champagne, and, once take to ‘dramming’ with fortune, you may bid a long adieu to sobriety! I do not speak here of the terrible infatuation of play, and the almost utter impossibility of resisting it, but I allude to what is infinitely worse—the certainty of your applying play theories and play tactics to every event and circumstance of real life.”—James Dodd to Robert Doolan, Esq.—Lever.

If Mr. Dodd’s advice upon the subject of play, and his contention as to its worst results be correct, and I think no one can fairly contradict him, how much stronger is the position if the converse of the proposition be taken. The latter was the case, however, in the infancy of the diamond fields. There the daily work was one continual game at hazard with Dame Fortune. The “hard-up” and disconsolate digger of to-day might be Chance’s chosen favorite to-morrow. One blow of the pick, one turn of the shovel, might disclose for him a treasure exceeding his wildest imaginings, the difference between the precarious business of digging for diamonds and gambling at a faro table, in fact, being a moral difference only. Hence that hope which “springs eternal in the human breast” buoyed him up under all difficulties and prevented his ever yielding to absolute despair. But at the same time it tended to weaken the force of his moral character; he was compelled by circumstances to confront, and in a measure calculate upon, the chances, and probabilities of his daily avocations; he had to begin with that state of mind in which Mr. Dodd’s gambler is supposed to finish; and there is little ground, therefore, for surprise that, when turning from labor to leisure, the digger’s favorite recreations should be those of the gamester.

His surroundings, moreover, were depressing in the extreme. Even when mitigated by the company of a “chum,” tent life, upon mere bread and meat, with indifferent coffee, and no rational amusements at command, was not exhilarating. Is it wonderful, therefore, that the gregarious instinct of man should have led the diggers to while away the dreariness of their idle hours at the hotels or gambling saloons? Even of happy England did not Shenstone say:

And accordingly, in all mining camps, the two great social evils have always been drinking and gambling. The diamond fields were not singular in this respect, for the digger only followed the example of his Australian and Californian brother when he allowed his appetite for drink and his passion for play to run riot. The canteens and gambling saloons supplied the opportunities, and on the principle of “vires acquirit eundo”—reached such dire proportions as to call for legislative interference.

Of the evils of the drink traffic I may speak elsewhere. With regard to the other social evil I may mention that it first took firm hold of the community by the establishment of a saloon under the auspices of two partners, who had discarded the legitimate but slower processes of their ordinary digging operations for the more rapid if less regular method of making a fortune over “the board of green cloth.” There were many others, who all ran the game openly, engaged in this nefarious occupation, but I select these men, as they probably made the largest fortune in their business, if such it may be called, retiring in a few months with £40,000. The games most in vogue at this “hell” were “roulette,” “rouge-et-noir,” “trente-et-quarante” and “faro,” all of which, I must admit, were conducted in a perfectly honorable manner, and the legitimate odds invariably given the players. On the other hand the smaller fry of the hell-keepers descended to very low dodges indeed. One modest young man who kept a roulette table had four “zeros” and a “crown and feather” for himself, with thirty-six numbers for his patrons, whilst he would lay only thirty to one against any individual number, thus securing for himself in any event an advantage of some thirty-three per cent. upon each spin of the table, if luck were in other respects even. Another gentleman (?), by mechanical devices, as actually robbed his patrons as if he had knocked them down and rifled their pockets. This thief had the alternate divisions between the colors on his revolving ribbed wheel of fortune so contrived that he could direct the ball, by a right or left spin, on to such color as might suit his pocket best. I also heard of a still bolder spirit, who, becoming alarmed at the constancy with which one player persisted in backing the number 13, quietly called in the painter’s art to erase the dangerous figure and paint a second 31. He then allowed the player, who must have been strangely short-sighted, to continue backing his favorite number “13” for some nights afterward, no doubt looking upon this man’s infatuation as a certain annuity, before the fraud was discovered. This was “heads I win and tails you lose” with a vengeance for the banker. There were other devices which it is unnecessary for me to refer to here, but which all tended to increase the odds against the players.

Let me give a sketch of one eventful evening in a gambling saloon of the olden days: We approached a corrugated iron building of no great architectural pretensions, from whence came sounds of lively music and the hum of many voices alternating with an almost complete stillness, which was broken only by the ominous croak of the croupier or the reckless oaths of the losers. Upon entering we encountered an individual (technically called a “bonnet”) whose hateful duty it was to tempt men to play by the lavish way in which he staked money which to all appearance was his own, and to seduce the unwary into the meshes of his employer’s net. On this occasion I recollect the proprietor of the hell, no doubt urged on by an ardent thirst for gold, but who, however, was exceedingly anxious to preserve his incognito, passing himself off as an active business agent in claim matters, actually acting as a bonnet at his own “hell;” losing and winning hundreds with the greatest nonchalance. His manner was cheerful in the extreme, and as the night was yet young, the players scanty and the stakes small, he was free to inveigle our humble selves into play.

With a princely air, which ill became his vulgar exterior, he called for champagne, which we declined to drink, preferring to take a modest glass of spirits. He then politely offered other refreshments of a more solid nature, which we also refused, and finally suggested that we should “watch a game.” He declined to receive the payment that we offered, so led by curiosity we turned our attention to the tables, which by this time were surrounded by an eager throng of players. A motley crew they were, indeed. Old men and boys, the inveterate and apparently unmoved gambler and the nervous and manifestly excited tyro; the honest and dishonest, the mean and generous, the cowardly and brave; all classes were there. Some clad in decent clothes, but many in shirt sleeves and rough garb, just as they had come from the mine, had notes of large amounts in their hands, whilst bundles of them protruded from their pockets. Some again had but little money, and staked warily, frequently referring to the state of their finances; others had no funds at all, and simply looked on from sheer infatuation, having nothing, staking nothing, neither winning nor losing, but meddling and advising bystanders as to the best form and chance of play, until significantly warned by an attendant to keep silence. All, however, were beset by the “auri sacra fames,” and flocked like sheep round the croupier’s table, where it was not until after much crushing and grumbling that a new-comer who had evidently some considerable money to sacrifice at Dame Fortune’s shrine was admitted to the charmed circle. He was addressed as Captain H. by surrounding friends, and we watched his play with considerable interest, as despite a calm exterior his anxiety to win was evidently most intense. Play continued with varying success for some time, until his rolls having dwindled away, it seemed that H. had come down to his last £10 note. This he flung on the “red” with a look of sheer despair, and awaited the issue with an agony of expression that was painful to witness. “Red” would have proved his salvation, but alas! once more “black” was in the ascendant, and H. was “played out.” With a muttered oath, but without any words intelligible to the bystanders, he darted outside the saloon into the open. Those absorbed in play merely jeered at his sudden departure; their hearts had become hardened to such scenes, but even to their callous temperaments came a sudden sickening chill as the report of a pistol rang out clearly through the midnight air. Their unspoken thoughts found language as a chance passer-by excitedly rushed in, telling them that Captain H. had shot himself and was lying smothered in blood, dead in the road. It was too true. H. had solved life’s mysteries by one mad act, and had added another name to the long death-roll of fickle Fortune’s victims!

Shortly after this the laws against gambling were altered and rendered much more stringent by a government proclamation signed by Richard Southey and dated, 17th March 1873.

Prior to this, however, and whilst the gambling hells were in full swing, there had been rusting in the legal armory of the government a weapon which surely ought to have been sufficient to deal to some extent with the gambling nuisance. On June 2d, 1872, the government had already recognized the extent and growth of this evil, and with a view of lessening it, I find that the commissioners issued a notice, which was published in the Gazette, prohibiting lotteries and fining offenders twenty-five rix dollars over and above the forfeiture of the property played for, with an alternative of being severely flogged. Tavern keepers and publicans who had broken the act were also forever precluded from holding licenses. This latter notice caused the hell-keepers and their patrons to observe more caution, but it was merely an improvement on the surface, for the former speedily constituted so-called “clubs,” where gambling went on as freely as ever. A notice such as the following

was the next move of the “hell” keepers, and in spite of the government notice aforesaid of June 22d, they managed by means of this subterfuge to carry on their “little game” for a month or two longer, until the proclamation, on the arrival of Governor Southey, appeared in the Gazette on March 17th, 1873, which put an end to this disgraceful state of things.

No sooner had the governmental fiat against gambling gone forth than the sporting fraternity set their brains to work to devise some plan for rendering the new law abortive. The digging camps being close to the Orange Free State border, arrangements were made with the owner of Wessel’s farm, which is some six miles from Du Toit’s Pan, and in the Free State, to continue operations there. This is the locality which afterward became so notorious as a sort of harbor of refuge and base of operations for the illicit diamond trade of Griqualand West. To this rural retreat were transported roulette wheels and other gambling implements, and play was there recommenced, but without much success. Men who might succumb to temptation when it was thrust under their very noses were not weak or wicked enough to make active search for it; so the suburban “hell” died a natural death.

Your professional gamblers are, however, very pertinacious men, and whilst casting about for a new idea they decided to introduce “rondo en colo,” a game which combined the simplicity of “pitch and toss” with a capability for investing an unlimited amount of money. It had the further merit, moreover, of being an absolute certainty for the banker. In the other games which had previously been the fashion there was always a chance, though a tolerably remote one, of breaking the bank, or, at least, of winning greater or less sums from the establishment, but in “rondo en colo” all this was changed. The hawk had been forbidden to prey upon the doves, so he set the latter on to pluck each other, whilst he seized upon the feathers.

The modus operandi was as follows: The banker or croupier, who at this game required little or no capital, having secured the use of a billiard table, seated himself opposite to one of the middle pockets, and spread out upon the table in front of himself a semicircular piece of oil-cloth, upon the edge of which were painted the numbers one to eight, and certain other marks and combinations peculiar to the game. A round stick like a large ruler was provided, by which eight glass balls were propelled in an even line from one of the end pockets to its diagonal opposite at the other end of the table, and the stakes were won or lost according to the manner in which the balls were deposited in or near to the object pocket. One of the bystanders would stake say five pounds on the oil-cloth with a view of betting either on the number of balls that would run into the object pocket, or as to whether that number would be odd or even. If another bystander felt inclined to take up the bet he covered the stakes by placing an equal amount on the billiard cloth opposite to the sum already deposited upon the board. If the money were not covered there was no bet made. When a sufficient number of couples had backed their opinions the balls were rolled to the object pocket, the stakes were awarded according to the event, and last, but not least of all, the stakes were handed over to the winner by the banker, who, however, carefully deducted his five per cent, on the cast.

Of science there was none, the bank was sure to win. In fact if some unfortunate wight had the good fortune to win £100 for say twenty times, and then had ill-luck enough to back a losing event for £100 for twenty times following, the banker’s commissions of five per cent. would have swallowed up an amount exceeding the capital with which he commenced. This combination of safety and simplicity for the banker, however, failed to convince the authorities as to either the fairness or the legality of the game, and accordingly one busy evening when the game was in full blast, a tall, gaunt figure, with eagle eye and Roman nose, well known to all old residents on the Fields at the time, although since dead, suddenly came down upon the gamblers like “a wolf on the fold,” seizing all the money and dispersing the men, taking the proprietor into custody.

Curses both loud and deep greeted this summary proceeding, but it was all of no avail. The law took its course, a prosecution followed, at which divers ingenious arguments were raised for the defence by the late Mr. T. Mortimer Siddall, a most able lawyer, but all to no purpose. The new proclamation was so stringently worded as to preclude all loopholes of escape; every possible legal presumption was evidently to be construed against the accused; and a conviction and the heavy fine of £300 followed. This tolled the death-knell of public gambling at the Diamond Fields.

The prosecution could not, however, stop private gambling, nor in fact is such a desirable result practicable, for since the publication of the new law I have heard of very high play taking place. But though I have since known hundreds and occasionally thousands of pounds to change hands in private houses, the gambling nuisance is no longer flaunted before sober and respectable citizens, or what is of more importance, under the very eyes of those feebly pliant mortals who yield to the slightest solicitations of the gambling ogre.

The class of “wasters” which public gambling bred and fostered were a distinct outrage upon society. How could an honest and industrious but unlucky digger fail to draw invidious comparisons between his own hard lot and the “purple and fine linen” style of life which apparently marked the “rake’s progress” of the professed gambler? Had not some such proclamation been issued, I feel confident that episodes like that related in Bret Harte’s “Outcasts of Poker Flat” might have marked the progress of the fields, though I doubt whether any of the gamblers of that time would have compared very favorably with “John Oakhurst, gentleman.” The legitimate diamond industry afforded ample scope for the most enthusiastic speculator, and there was no need of any adventitious aid to add to the uncertainties of digging life.

In closing this chapter I may just draw attention to the fact that a new scheme, the “totalisator,” inciting and encouraging gambling on the South African race-courses has been introduced (1885). This, though it protects backers of horses from levanting bookmakers, and affords the current and proper odds on each race, ought at once to be stopped.^[22] Its very existence proves the truth of the old saying that “one man may steal a horse, while another dare not look in at the stable door.”

I may further relate, in order to show the harm which legalized lotteries do to the moral tone of a community, that at the spring meeting, 1885, of the Griqualand West Turf Club, a thousand pound lottery was so rapidly subscribed that a second was started and filled almost at once, the club receiving 10 per cent. of the winner’s money. At the Capetown autumn meeting in 1886 a somewhat similar lottery was started, when a well-known Kimberley gentleman chanced to draw the favorite, and the news of his luck soon spread. Judge of his surprise on receiving a telegram from the horse’s owner, a supposed honorable man, to the following effect: “My horse sure of a place, will you give a third of prize? Otherwise I shall scratch him.” The Kimberley gentleman did not see his way to accede to this modest request, and preferred, much to the disgust of the too astute owner, to publish his telegram in both the Kimberley and Capetown newspapers. This course of action caused the question of the legality of these race lotteries to be raised in parliament, but the premier’s reply at the time was considered to be vague, and was severely commented upon by the press of the colony.