We know that we are broaching a doctrine which many will start at, and
which some will protest against, when we declare our belief that no
person, whatever his apparent wealth, ever yet gamed except from the
prospect of immediate gain. We hear much of want of excitement, of
ennui, of satiety; and then the gaming-table is announced as a sort
of substitute for opium, wine, or any other mode of obtaining a more
intense vitality at the cost of reason. Gaming is too active, too
anxious, too complicated, too troublesome; in a word, _too sensible_ an
affair for such spirits, who fly only to a sort of dreamy and indefinite
distraction.
The fact is, gaming is a matter of business. Its object is tangible,
clear, and evident. There is nothing high, or inflammatory, or exciting;
no false magnificence, no visionary elevation, in the affair at all. It
is the very antipodes to enthusiasm of any kind. It pre-supposes in its
votary a mind essentially mercantile. All the feelings that are in its
train are the most mean, the most commonplace, and the most annoying
of daily life, and nothing would tempt the gamester to experience them
except the great object which, as a matter of calculation, he is willing
to aim at on such terms.
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