The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28, February, 1860

V >> Various >> The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28, February, 1860

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Another favorite game in Rome and Tuscany is _Ruzzola_, so called from
the circular disk of wood with which it is played. Round this the player
winds tightly a cord, which, by a sudden cast and backward jerk of the
hand, he uncoils so as to send the disk whirling along the road. Outside
the walls, and along all the principal avenues leading to the city,
parties are constantly to be met playing at this game; and oftentimes
before the players are visible, the disk is seen bounding round some
curve, to the great danger of one's legs. He whose disk whirls the
farthest wins a point. It is an excellent walking game, and it requires
some knack to play the disk evenly along the road. Often the swiftest
disks, when not well-directed, bound over the hedges, knock themselves
down against the walls, or bury themselves in the tangled ditches; and
when well played, if they chance to hit a stone in the road, they will
leap like mad into the air, at the risk of serious injury to any
unfortunate passer. In the country, instead of wooden disks, the
_contadini_ often use _cacio di pecora_, a kind of hard goat's cheese,
whose rind will resist the roughest play. What, then, must be the
digestive powers of those who eat it, may be imagined. Like the peptic
countryman, they probably do not know they have a stomach, not having
ever felt it; and certainly they can say with Tony Lumpkin, "It never
hurts me, and I sleep like a hound after it."

In common with the French, the Romans have a passion for the game of
Dominos. Every _caffe_ is supplied with a number of boxes, and, in the
evening especially, it is played by young and old, with a seriousness
which strikes us Saxons with surprise. We generally have a contempt for
this game, and look upon it as childish. But I know not why. It is by no
means easy to play well, and requires a careful memory and quick powers
of combination and calculation. No _caffe_ in Rome or Marseilles would
be complete without its little black and white counters; and as it
interests at once the most mercurial and fidgety of people and the
laziest and languidest, it must have some hidden charm as yet unrevealed
to the Anglo-Saxon.

Beside Dominos, Chess (_Scacchi_) is often played in public in the
_caffes_; and there is one _caffe_ named _Dei Scacchi_, because it is
frequented by the best chess-players in Rome. Here matches are often
made, and admirable games are played.

Among the Roman boys the game of _Campana_ is also common. A
parallelogram is drawn upon the ground and subdivided into four squares,
which are numbered. At the top and bottom are two small semicircles, or
_bells_, thus:--

[Illustration]

Each of the players, having deposited his stake in the semicircle (_b_)
at the farthest end, takes his station at a short distance, and
endeavors to pitch some object, either a disk or a bit of _terracotta_,
or more generally a _baiocco_, into one of the compartments. If he lodge
it in the nearest bell, (_a_,) he pays a new stake into the pool; if
into the farthest bell, (_b_,) he takes the whole pool; if into either
of the other compartments, he takes one, two, three, or four of the
stakes, according to the number of the compartment. If he lodge on a
line, he is _abbrucciato_, as it is termed, and his play goes for
nothing. Among the boys, the pool is frequently filled with
buttons,--among the men, with _baiocchi_; but buttons or _baiocchi_ are
all the same to the players,--they are the representatives of luck or
skill.

But the game of games in Rome is the Lottery. This is under the
direction of the government, which, with a truly ecclesiastic regard for
its subjects, has organized it into a means of raising revenue. The
financial objection to this method of taxation is, that its hardest
pressure is upon the poorest classes; but the moral and political
objections are still stronger. The habit of gambling engendered by it
ruins the temper, depraves the morals, and keeps up a constant state of
excitement at variance with any settled and serious occupation. The
temptations to laziness which it offers are too great for any people
luxurious or idle by temperament; and the demon of Luck is set upon the
altar which should be dedicated to Industry. If one happy chance can
bring a fortune, who will spend laborious days to gain a competence? The
common classes in Rome are those who are most corrupted by the lottery;
and when they can neither earn nor borrow _baiocchi_ to play, they
strive to obtain them by beggary, cheating, and sometimes theft. The
fallacious hope that their ticket will some day bring a prize leads them
from step to step, until, having emptied their purses, they are tempted
to raise the necessary funds by any unjustifiable means. When you pay
them their wages or throw them a _buona-mano_, they instantly run to the
lottery-office to play it. Loss after loss does not discourage them. It
is always, "The next time they are to win,--there was a slight mistake
in their calculation before." Some good reason or other is always at
hand. If by chance one of them do happen to win a large sum, it is ten
to one that it will cost him his life,--that he will fall into a fit, or
drop in an apoplexy, on hearing the news. There is a most melancholy
instance of this in the very next house,--of a Jew made suddenly and
unexpectedly rich, who instantly became insane in consequence, and is
now the most wretched and melancholy spectacle that man can ever
become,--starving in the midst of abundance, and moving like a beast
about his house. But of all ill luck that can happen to the
lottery-gambler, the worst is to win a small prize. It is all over with
him from that time forward; into the great pit of the lottery everything
that he can lay his hands on is sure to go.

There has been some difference of opinion as to whether the lottery was
of later Italian invention, or dated back to the Roman Empire,--some
even contending that it was in existence in Egypt long before that
period; and several ingenious discussions may be found on this subject
in the journals and annals of the French _savans_. A strong claim has
been put forward for the ancient Romans, on the ground that Nero, Titus,
and Heliogabalus were in the habit of writing on bits of wood and shells
the names of various articles which they intended to distribute, and
then casting them to the crowd to be scrambled for.[A] On some of these
shells and billets were inscribed the names of slaves, precious vases,
costly dresses, articles of silver and gold, valuable beasts, etc.,
which became the property of the fortunate persons who secured the
billets and shells. On others were written absurd and useless articles,
which turned the laugh against the unfortunate finder. Some, for
instance, had inscribed upon them ten pieces of gold, and some ten
cabbages. Some were for one hundred bears, and some for one egg. Some
for five camels, and some for ten flies. In one sense, these were
lotteries, and the Emperors deserve all due credit for their invention.
But the lottery, according to its modern signification, is of Italian
origin, and had its birth in Upper Italy as early as the fourteenth or
fifteenth century. Here it was principally practised by the Venetians
and Genoese, under the name of _Borsa di Ventura_,--the prizes
consisting originally, not of money, but of merchandise of every
kind,--precious stones, pictures, gold and silver work, and similar
articles. The great difference between them and the ancient lotteries of
Heliogabalus and Nero was, that tickets were bought and prizes drawn.
The lottery soon came to be played, however, for money, and was
considered so admirable an invention, that it was early imported into
France, where Francis I., in 1539, granted letters-patent for the
establishment of one. In the seventeenth century, this "_infezione_," as
an old Italian writer calls it, was introduced into Holland and England,
and at a still later date into Germany. Those who invented it still
retain it; but those who adopted it have rejected it. After nearly three
centuries' existence in France, it was abolished on the 31st of
December, 1835. The last drawing was at Paris on the 27th of the same
month, when the number of players was so great that it became necessary
to close the offices before the appointed time, and one Englishman is
said to have gained a _quaterno_ of the sum of one million two hundred
thousand francs. When abolished in France, the government was drawing
from it a net revenue of twenty million francs.

In Italy the lottery was proscribed by Innocent XII., Benedict XIII.,
and Clement XII. But it was soon revived. It was not without vehement
opposers then as now, as may be seen by a little work published at Pisa
in the early part of the last century, entitled, "L'Inganno non
conosciuto, oppure non voluto conoscere, nell'Estrazione del Lotto."
Muratori, in 1696, calls it, in his "Annals of Italy," "_Inventione
dell' amara malizia per succiare il sangue dei malaccorti giuocatori_."
In a late number of the "Civilta Cattolica," published at Rome by the
Jesuits, (the motto of which is "_Beatus Populus cujus Dominus Deus
est_,") there is, on the other hand, an elaborate and most Jesuitical
article, in which the lottery is defended with amusing skill. What
Christendom in general has agreed to consider immoral and pernicious in
its effects on a people seems, on the contrary, to the writer of this
article, to be highly moral and commendable.

The numbers which can be played are from one to ninety. Of these only
five are now drawn. Originally the numbers drawn were eight,
(_otto_,)--and it is said that the Italian name of this game, _lotto_,
was derived from this circumstance. The player may stake upon one, two,
three, four, or five numbers,--but no ticket can be taken for more than
five; and he may stake upon his ticket any sum, from one _baiocco_ up to
five _scudi_,--but the latter sum only in case he play upon several
chances on the same ticket. If he play one number, he may either play it
_al posto assegnato_, according to its place in the drawing, as first,
second, third, etc.,--or he may play it _senza posto_, without place, in
which case he wins, if the number come anywhere among the five drawn. In
the latter case, however, the prize is much less in proportion to the
sum staked. Thus, for one _baiocco_ staked _al posto assegnato_, a
_scudo_ may be won; but to gain a _scudo_ on a number _senza posto_,
seven _baiocchi_ must be played. A sum staked upon two numbers is called
an _ambo_,--on three, a _terno_,--on four, a _quaterno_,--and on five, a
_cinquino_; and of course the prizes increase in rapid proportion to the
numbers played,--the sum gained multiplying very largely on each
additional number. For instance, if two _baiocchi_ be staked on an
_ambo_, the prize is one _scudo_; but if the same sum be staked on a
_terno_, the prize is a hundred _scudi_. When an _ambo_ is played for,
the same two numbers may be played as single numbers, either _al posto_
or _senza posto_, and in such case one of the numbers alone may win. So,
also, a _terno_ may be played so as to include an _ambo_, and a
_quaterno_ so as to include a _terno_ and _ambo_, and a _cinquino_ so as
to include all. But whenever more than one chance is played for, the
price is proportionally increased. For a simple _terno_ the limit of
price is thirty-five pauls. The ordinary rule is to play for every
chance within the numbers taken; but the common people rarely attempt
more than a _terno_. If four numbers are played with all their chances,
they are reckoned as four _terni_, and paid for accordingly. If five
numbers are taken, the price is for five _terni_.

Where two numbers are played, there is always an augment to the nominal
prize of twenty per cent.; where three numbers are played, the augment
is of eighty per cent.; and from every prize is deducted ten per cent.,
to be devoted to the hospitals and the poor. The rule creating the
augments was decreed by Innocent XIII. Such is the rage for the lottery
in Rome, as well as in all the Italian States, and so great is the
number of tickets bought within the year, that this tax on the prizes
brings in a very considerable revenue for eleemosynary purposes.

The lottery is a branch of the department of finance, and is under the
direction of a Monsignore. The tickets originally issue from one grand
central office in the Palazzo Madama; but there is scarcely a street in
Rome without some subsidiary and distributing office, which is easily
recognized, not only by its great sign of "_Prenditoria di Lotti_" over
the door, but by scores of boards set round the windows and doorway, on
which are displayed, in large figures, hundreds of combinations of
numbers for sale. The tickets sold here are merely purchased on
speculation for resale, and though it is rare that all are sold, yet, as
a small advance of price is asked on each ticket beyond what was given
at the original office, there is enough profit to support these shops.
The large show of placards would to a stranger indicate a very
considerable investment; yet, in point of fact, as the tickets rarely
cost more than a few _baioicchi_, the amount risked is small. No ticket
is available for a prize, unless it bear the stamp and signature of the
central office, as well as of the distributing shop, if bought in the
latter.

Every Saturday, at noon, the lottery is drawn in Rome, in the Piazza
Madama. Half an hour before the appointed time, the Piazza begins to be
thronged with ticket-holders, who eagerly watch a large balcony of the
sombre old Palazzo Madama, (built by the infamous Catharine de' Medici,)
where the drawing is to take place. This is covered by an awning and
colored draperies. In front, and fastened to the balustrade, is a glass
barrel, standing on thin brass legs and turned by a handle. Five or six
persons are in the balcony, making arrangements for the drawing. These
are the officials,--one of them being the government officer, and the
others persons taken at random, to supervise the proceedings. The chief
official first takes from the table beside him a slip of paper on which
a number is inscribed. He names it aloud, passes it to the next, who
verifies it and passes it on, until it has been subjected to the
examination of all. The last person then proclaims the number in a loud
voice to the populace below, folds it up, and drops it into the glass
barrel. This operation is repeated until every number from one to ninety
is passed, verified by all, proclaimed, folded, and dropped into the
barrel. The last number is rather sung than called, and with more
ceremony than all the rest. The crowd shout back from below. The bell
strikes noon. A blast of trumpets sounds from the balcony, and a boy
dressed in white robes advances from within, ascends the steps, and
stands high up before the people, facing the Piazza. The barrel is then
whirled rapidly round and round, so as to mix in inextricable confusion
all the tickets. This over, the boy lifts high his right hand, makes the
sign of the cross on his breast, then, waving his open hand in the air,
to show that nothing is concealed, plunges it into the barrel, and draws
out a number. This he hands to the official, who names it, and passes it
along the line of his companions. There is dead silence below, all
listening eagerly. Then, in a loud voice, the number is sung out by the
last official, "_Primo estratto, numero 14_," or whatever the number may
be. Then sound the trumpets again, and there is a rustle and buzz among
the crowd. All the five numbers are drawn with like ceremony, and all is
over. Within a surprisingly short space of time, these numbers are
exhibited in the long frames which are to be seen over the door of every
_Prenditoria di Lotti_ in Rome, and there they remain until the next
drawing takes place. The boy who does the drawing belongs to a college
of orphans, an admirable institution, at which children who have lost
both parents and are left helpless are lodged, cared for, and educated,
and the members of which are employed to perform this office in
rotation, receiving therefor a few _scudi_.

It will be seen from the manner in which the drawing of the lottery is
conducted, that no precaution is spared by the government to assure the
public of the perfect good faith and fairness observed in it. This is,
in fact, absolutely necessary in order to establish that confidence
without which its very object would be frustrated. But the Italians are
a very suspicious and jealous people, and I fear that there is less
faith in the uprightness of the government than in their own
watchfulness and the difficulty of deception. There can be little doubt
that no deceit is practised by the government, so far as the drawing is
concerned,--for it would be nearly impossible to employ it. Still there
are not wanting stories of fortunate coincidences which are singular and
interesting; one case, which I have every reason to believe authentic,
was related to me by a most trustworthy person, as being within his own
knowledge. A few years ago, the Monsignore who was at the head of the
lottery had occasion to diminish his household, and accordingly
dismissed an old servant who had been long in his palace. Often the old
man returned and asked for relief, and as often was charitably received.
But his visits at last became importunate, and the Monsignore
remonstrated. The answer of the servant was, "I have given my best years
to the service of your Eminence,--I am too old to labor,--what shall I
do?" The case was a hard one. His Eminence paused and reflected;--at
last he said, "Why not buy a ticket in the lottery?" "Ah!" was the
answer, "I have not even money to supply my daily needs. What you now
give me is all I have. If I risk it, I may lose it,--and that lost, what
can I do?" Still the Monsignore said, "Buy a ticket in the lottery."
"Since your Eminence commands me, I will," said the old man; "but what
numbers?" "Play on number so and so for the first drawing," was the
answer, "_e Dio ti benedica_!" The servant did as he was ordered, and,
to his surprise and joy, the first number drawn was his. He was a rich
man for life,--and his Eminence lost a troublesome dependant.

A capital story is told by the author of the article in the "Civilta
Cattolica," which is to the point here, and which, even were it not told
on such respectable authority, bears its truth on the face of it. As
very frequently happens, a poor _bottegaio_, or shopkeeper, being
hard-driven by his creditors, went to his priest, an _uomo apostolico_,
and prayed him earnestly to give him three numbers to play in the
lottery.

"But how under heaven," says the innocent priest, "has it ever got into
your head that I can know the five numbers which are to issue in the
lottery?"

"_Eh! Padre mio!_ what will it cost you?" was the answer. "Just look at
me and my wretched family; if we do not pay our rent on Saturday, out we
go into the street. There is nothing left but the lottery, and you can
give us the three numbers that will set all right."

"Oh, there you are again! I am ready to do all I can to assist you, but
this matter of the lottery is impossible; and I must say, that your
folly, in supposing I can give you the three lucky numbers, does little
credit to your brains."

"Oh, no! no! do not say so, _Padre mio_! Give me a _terno_. It will be
like rain in May, or cheese on my maccaroni. On my word of honor, I'll
keep it secret. _Via!_ You, so good and charitable, cannot refuse me the
three numbers. Pray, content me this once."

"_Caro mio!_ I will give you a rule for always being content:--Avoid
Sin, think often on Death, and behave so as to deserve Paradise,--and
so"----

"_Basta! basta! Padre mio!_ That's enough. Thanks! thanks! God will
reward you."

And, making a profound reverence, off the _bottegaio_ rushes to his
house. There he takes down the "Libro del Sogni," calls into
consultation his wife and children, and, after a long and earnest
discussion and study, the three numbers corresponding to the terms Sin,
Death, and Paradise are settled upon, and away goes our friend to play
them in the lottery. Will you believe it? the three numbers are
drawn,--and the joy of the poor _bottegaio_ and his family may well be
imagined. But what you will not imagine is the persecution of the poor
_uomo apostolico_ which followed. The secret was all over town the next
day, and he was beset by scores of applicants for numbers. Vainly he
protested and declared that he knew nothing, and that the man's drawing
the right numbers was all chance. Every word he spoke turned into
numbers, and off ran his hearers to play them. He was like the girl in
the fairy story, who dropped pearls every time she spoke. The worst of
the imbroglio was, that in an hour the good priest had uttered words
equivalent to all the ninety numbers in the lottery, and the players
were all at loggerheads with each other. Nor did this persecution cease
for weeks, nor until those who had played the numbers corresponding to
his words found themselves, as the Italians say, with only flies in
their hands.

The stupidity of many of the common people in regard to these numbers is
wonderful. When the number drawn is next to the number they have, they
console themselves with thinking that they were within one of it,--as if
in such cases a miss were not as bad as a mile. But when the number
drawn is a multiple of the one they play, it is a sympathetic number,
and is next door to winning; and if the number come reversed,--as if,
having played 12, it come out 21,--he laughs with delight. "Eh, don't
you see, you stupid fellow," said the _speziale_ of a village one day to
a dunce of a _contadino_, of whose infallible _terno_ not a single
number had been drawn,--"Don't you see, in substance all your three
numbers have been drawn? and it's shameful in you to be discontented.
Here you have played 8--44--26, and instead of these have been drawn
7--11--62. Well! just observe! Your 8 is just within one point of being
7; your 44 is in substance 11, for 4 times 11 are 44 exactly; and your
26 is nothing more or less than precisely 62 reversed;--what would you
ask more?" And by his own mode of reasoning, the poor _contadino_ sees
as clearly as possible that he has really won,--only the difficulty is
that he cannot touch the prize without correcting the little variations.
_Ma, pazienza!_ he came so near this time, that he will be sure to win
the next,--and away he goes to hunt out more sympathetic numbers, and to
rejoice with his friends on coming so near winning.

Dreams of numbers are, of course, very frequent,--and are justly much
prized. Yet one must know how to use them, and be brave and bold, or the
opportunity is lost. I myself once dreamt of having gained a _terno_ in
the lottery, but was fool enough not to play it,--and in consequence
lost a prize, the very numbers coming up in the next drawing. The next
time I have such a dream, of course I shall play; but perhaps I shall be
too late, and only lose. And this recalls to my mind a story, which may
serve as a warning to the timid and an encouragement to the bold. An
Englishman, who had lived on bad terms with a very quarrelsome and
annoying wife, (according to his own account, of course,) had finally
the luck, I mean the misfortune, to lose her. He had lived long enough
in Italy, however, to say "_Pazienza_" and buried his sorrows and his
wife in the same grave. But, after the lapse of some time, his wife
appeared to him in a dream, and confessed her sins towards him during
her life, and prayed his forgiveness, and added, that in token of
reconciliation he must accept three numbers to play in the lottery,
which would certainly win a great prize. But the husband was obstinate,
and absolutely refused to follow the advice of a friend to whom he
recounted the odd dream, and who urged him to play the numbers. "Bah!"
he answered to this good counsel; "I know her too well;--she never meant
well to me during her life, and I don't believe she's changed now that
she's dead. She only means to play me a trick, and make me lose. But I'm
too old a bird to be taken with her chaff." "Better play them," said his
friend, and they separated. In the course of a week they met again. "By
the way," said the friend, "did you see that your three numbers came up
in the lottery this morning?" "The Devil they did! What a consummate
fool I was not to play them!" "You didn't play them?" "No!" "Well, I
did, and won a good round sum with them, too." So the obstinate husband,
mad at his ill luck, cursed himself for a fool, and had his curses for
his pains. That very night, however, his wife again appeared to him,
and, though she reproached him a little for his want of faith in her,
(no woman could be expected to forego such an opportunity, even though
she were dead,) yet she forgave him, and added,--"Think no more about it
now, for here are three more numbers, just as good." The husband, who
had eaten the bitter food of experience, was determined at all events
not to let his fortune slip again through his fingers, and played the
highest possible _terno_ in the lottery, and waited anxiously for the
next drawing. He could scarcely eat his breakfast for nervousness, that
morning,--but at last mid-day sounded, and the drawing took place, but
no one of his numbers came up. "Too late! taken in!" he cried. "Confound
her! she knew me better than I knew myself. She gave me a prize the
first time, because she knew I wouldn't play it; and, having so whet my
passions, she then gave me a blank the second time, because she knew I
would play it. I might have known better."

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