The bridge-fiend; a cheerful book for bridge-whisters

Front matter

THE BRIDGE-FIEND A Book of Consolation for Incurables*

«The Ladies Dearly Love Their Heated Little Post-Mortems'

IHE BRIDGE- FIEND

Contents

PAGE

Forewarning ix

First Appearances of the Devastating

Chapter I First Appearances Of The Devastating Plague

During the past few years I have been amazed at the spread of bridge in America; not only in the principal cities, but in the smallest villages and towns as well. In the last six months I have seen listed on booksellers' catalogues over sixty books treating of the game. This is a , considerable mass of literature when it is remembered that sixteen years ago the game was unknown in this country or in England.

I wonder how many of my readers know anything of the origin of bridge? I may say that I have found it almost impossible to secure correct information about the early history of the game, but, after reading many I forbiddingly dry treatises on the subject, I lean to the opinion that it originated in Turkey. Russia and Greece have both claimed it, but I think it more than likely that the Turks were the first people to play it.

In Russia it is called " biritch," but just why, nobody seems to know. There is no such word as biritch in the Russian language, so that many are of the opinion that the word is a roundabout corruption of some word in use in Turkey.

Just as Persia was, they say, the first home of poker, so, I am disposed to think, was Constantinople the birthplace of bridge — a conclusion which any one who has ever played the game with a lurk will be inclined to share, for the Turks have a really marvelous genius for the game. I feel sure that the average Turk has about twenty per cent, more insight into cards and card-games than the average Englishman or American.

In Turkey and, indeed, throughout the East, cards are played with a quickness and brilliancy that are rarely met with elsewhere. Americans have always regarded poker as the one game of cards in which lying, joking, 2 bluffing and petty deceptions are not only permissible, but amusing. Were we to practice the same tactics in playing bridge, our adversaries would certainly consider us sharp, and, probably, dishonest. Now the Easterners play bridge exactly as we play poker. They study a man's eyes ; the twitching of his hands; his hesitation, and all the little personal signs that might give information as to the contents of his hand. I have heard many Europeans say that they did not like to play bridge with Easterners because of these trying little peculiarities.

I remember a particularly sad case of a Turkish diplomat in Washington who came to this country and played most brilliant bridge. He had, however, a provoking habit of looking you steadily in the eye ; talking, in an exaggerated way, about the value of his hand; studying the way you sorted your cards and being a little too keen about the score and the play of the hand. This gentleman went to Newport, and his system of play roused a good deal of gossip there, until finally he was branded as a cheat, when, as a matter of fact, he was merely playing 3 bridge as it was universally played in his native land and precisely as we play poker in America. He shortly afterward left America and has never appeared here since.

It was, I learn, during the year 1894 that bridge was introduced into London by Lord Brougham, who brought the game back with him from an extended foreign tour.

Lord Brougham's account of the event Is curious and interesting. Soon after his return to London he went into the Portland Club, which is probably the best-known card-club in the world. The Portland at that time was given over exclusively to old-fashioned whist. His lordship sat down to play a friendly rubber and, when It came his turn to deal, forgot to expose the trump. At his next deal he again forgot to turn the last card. His friends, who had known him for years, made a mental memorandum that his lordship was beginning to lose his memory. He explained his carelessness by saying that he had been playing so much " bridge " that he could never remember the exasperating convention of turning the trump. This re- 4 mark led to his explaining the game in detail to his friends.

From this insignificant beginning bridge has spread and spread until it is now the most popular card-game in the world. There Is to-day hardly any *' straight " whist played at the Portland; bridge has entirely replaced It. The Turf was the second English club to experiment with the game, and from that time on the fever spread through the English clubs very rapidly.

In 1895 the Portland Issued Its famous " Laws of Bridge." This was translated and adopted as the standard guide to the game in most of the cities of Europe and even In Constantinople, the city of Its reputed birth.

I believe that there Is good ground for the assertion that America was Introduced to bridge before England, for it Is certain that the late Henry I. Barbey explained the game to his friends at the Whist Club In New York as early as the beginning of 1894, probably a month or two before Lord Brougham explained It at the Portland. 5

A little later in the year Mr. Barbey had arranged an incomplete little table of rules and conventions of the game, which he published for private circulation, and, in 1897, the game had so far grown in favor at the Whist Club that it issued the first complete code of bridge laws to be published in this country.

The late Henry Jones, popularly known as " Cavendish," who was probably the master mind of whist in England and who has done more than any one man for that game (with the possible exception of Hoyle) was, at first, bitterly opposed to bridge. He poked all manner of fun at the game. He said it was ridiculously simple and a bore; but, before his death, in 1899, he was completely converted to it and ended by saying that there was " no game of cards in the world wherein skill, sound judgment and insight into the adversary's methods will meet with more certain reward than they will in bridge."

" Cavendish " explained the difference between the two games as follows: A new mode of deciding the trump; the varying 6 value of the tricks and honors; the right to double and redouble the value of tricks ; playing a third hand as dummy; a new system of scoring; the addition of a fifth honor.

In America, bridge has made giant strides. It has invaded, seemingly, every grade of society, and has, like a devastating fever, laid low the rich and the poor, the believer and the skeptic, the proud and the humble. In Washington, the throne of empire has itself been threatened. The President has even gone so far as to say cruel and dreadful things about the game. Not so the Secretary of the Navy, however, for Mr. Meyer is an expert and enthusiastic devotee of the game. He is, indeed, an international player, and, in Russia, Italy and England, his game has been for years the subject of enthusiastic comment by the natives. Indeed, his name has become hnked with the game, in a manner which, though trivial, threatens to become permanent. This fact is worth a word or two of comment in passing.

A favorite play of the Secretary's, and one which he is always certain to indulge in If the opportunity offers itself, Is to play, let us 7 say, a queen up to an ace, jack,, in dummy, and " let it ride." This, to his opponents, looks like a pretty trap set against the king, while, as a matter of fact, the king is all the while safely tucked away in the secretary's hand.

This play, or any similar play — like the jack up to ace, king — while the queen is in the player's hand — has become generally known as a " George Meyer finesse," and the term threatens to become as universal as, let us say, the term " Yarborough " for a hand without an honor, or as the word " doubleton " to denote a lead from a two-card suit.

I may add that the fever of bridge In America has just about reached its height and I am curious to see if there will be a gradual diminution of interest in the game. Pingpong lasted a year, diabolo two, bicycling five; bridge has lasted fifteen. How much longer will it endure? It is worth mentioning, in this connection, that straight whist has survived two centuries, only to be jostled, if not totally displaced, by bridge.

Nearly two hundred years ago Lady Mary Wortley Montague wrote to a friend from 8

Bath, where she had gone to take the waters — presumably for spleen :

I am bored to death. I hear nothing but the eternal questions, " What's trumps ? Who's to play?"

The whist fever did devastating work during all of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in England. Indeed, it must have been more prevalent in English society than bridge is at the present time in America, if such a thing were possible.

I have heard many people say that bridge has killed the pleasures of society. The formality, punctilio and chivalry of it have, they claim, been swept away by this pestiferous game.

With all the emphasis and eloquence of which I am capable, I rise to say: "No! Ten thousand times no ! "

Reader, can you remember the formal and gloomy dinners In New York about fifteen years ago before bridge had come to bless and brighten them? Do you recall the agonized hours you spent at them? What terrible things they were I Twenty ladles 9 in tiaras; twenty gentlemen in stiff, straight, high collars. Course after course of disguised food products ; then the gossip among the ladies and the long, black cigars among the men; the taxing talk about stocks, golf and pohtics. Then — most terrible of all — the meeting of the sexes in that stiff and impressively formal drawing-room; the chandeliers blazing, the heat incredible; the boredom insupportable; those awful Louis Quinze chairs; those forced tete-a-tetes and that general atmosphere of constraint and formality until the carriages were called and the lights extinguished. Can you say that bridge is a social curse, after remembering the torture of those solemn gatherings?

Now, thank Heaven, the picture has been changed. Small dinners — eight or ten — a very few good things to eat, turnover collars, liqueurs with the ladies, and bridge and chatter and laughter and comfortable chairs and cigarettes and — best of all — go home when you want to.

This is, to be sure, the point of view of a player. For a non-bridger I can imagine nothing more maddening than the social

lO tyranny of bridge. My advice to the man who dines out In New York and cannot or will not play bridge Is — suicide ! A few of these forlorn and melancholy spirits still grace the dinner-tables of the rich but their lot is worm-wood and their sufferings must be excruciating. They are pariahs at best — lost souls, supernumeraries.

Take bridge away from New York society and it will become — what? An "Elsie" book, without Elsie I

Chapter II Wild Partners I Have Met

An international card-player was once asked, in his club, if he could name an ideal partner at bridge. For a long time he went over in his mind the endless procession of men whom he had played with in the smoky club card-room and finally answered:

" No ! There isn't such a thing. An ideal partner, one without hateful mannerisms and annoying idiosyncrasies, is, like perpetual motion or the limit of space, inconceivable. There is not a known specimen in the British Museum in London or in the Smithsonian Institute at Washington."

A peppery, red-faced old gentleman, who was reading a racing-guide in the corner of the library and smoking a long, black cigar, was then appealed to. His face assumed an added crimson when the question was propounded to him.

" Yes," he said, after a pause, " I knew one m Bombay. Stop a minute, though; I remember now that he had a damnable habit of whistling whenever he played a winning hand."

A youngish gentleman (sallow and callow) declared that he didn't know much about it, but if there were such a freak of nature he was absolutely certain that It wasn't a woman.

A fashionable, globe-trotting bachelor, who, while the discussion had been raging, had sat twirling his mustache, drew up his chair to the self-appointed cross-examiner, lighted a cigarette, asked the waiter to " take the orders," and mildly tried to stem the tide.

"If you will excuse me," he went on, " I must beg to differ with all of you ; particularly with Reggie here, who has dared to animadvert against a large body of defenseless and, in some cases, guiltless women. As a matter of fact, I have played bridge in nearly every country of the civilized world and I have met with only three perfect, irreproachable and immaculate partners in my entire life — and all of them were women." 13

Incredulity was written large on the faces of the jury.

" As nobody asks me to explain and as you all seem to be absolutely averse to listening further, I shall, all uninvited, continue with my narrative," said the man of fashion — " and at some length."

" When I was secretary in Spain I chanced to be a good deal In Barcelona and played a lot of bridge at a charming club on the Rambla, that most delightful of all the world's thoroughfares. One afternoon I had an altercation with two gentlemen in the card-room. They were quarrelsome and boorish men at best. I could not help wondering why it was that all partners at bridge were so tiresomely irritating. I paid up my losses, determined never to play bridge with them again, took a drink of heavy Spanish wine, and went to my rooms to change my things for dinner. When I had bathed and finished dressing, I found that I had ten minutes' leeway before leaving for my dinner at Sefior G's. It was early springtime and I determined to idle about on the streets until it was time for my carriage to arrive.

" When I reached the Rambla I was fairly transported by the beauty of the scene. The hghts, the pretty women, the enchanting costumes of the ladies, the odor of the restaurants, the fresh green leaves on the trees, the soothing effect of my bath, the fragrant window-boxes of flowers and the soft southern air all helped to make me serenely happy. I sat down on a bench and lighted a cigarette. All was fairy-land, brightness, youth and dreamful ease.

"I soon fell — very naturally — to pondering upon the beauty of the Spanish women. Imagine, if you can, my surprise when a woman, tall, heavily veiled, and bearing in her arms a mass of yellow roses, sat down on the bench beside me and hesitatingly addressed me In the most perfect French.

" ' Will you,' she murmured hurriedly and softly, ' do. me a very great service ? Will you come with me In my carriage, do as I wish you to do, ask me no questions, and go when I tell you to go ? '

*' I explained that politeness to my hostess at dinner prompted me to say ' No,' but that 15 the dictates of my heart most certainly prompted me to say ' Yes.'

" Politeness, of course, went by the board and we were soon leaning back in the cushioned brougham. I noticed that we were speeding toward the newer part of the city."

" Is this going to be a very long story? " asked the red-faced gentleman with the racing-guide.

" It was to be," said the bachelor, " but I shall take your hint and make it as short as possible. Well, we soon arrived at a deucedly impressive palace and were shown, by an army of servants, into a charming little salon where sat two very beautiful women In decollete dresses. I was presented to them by my companion, who, when uncloaked and unmantled, stood before me as quite the most glorious being that I had ever beheld.

" One of the ladies was an Aragonese, one was from Valencia and one from Toledo. They were all grandes dames and all spoke delightful French. It was only then that my mysterious companion announced the favor which she wished me to grant her. I was to play three rubbers of bridge — one with each i6 of the ladies. At the conclusion of the seance I was to announce which of them was, in my opinion, the most perfect partner. I was told that a great deal hung on my decision, but what this great deal was I could not possibly divine or fathom.

" I assented, naturally enough, and played the desired three rubbers. There was absolutely no fault to be found with any of them. The ladies and I all kept separate scores — by request of the hostess. They all played rapidly, but not too rapidly. They did not hum tunes or tap on the table with their fingers. They made no mistakes. They were never dejected by defeat or elated by victory. They smiled sweetly ; they did not go into post-mortems after the hands; they did not complain when I questioned a lead ; they were, in short, perfect partners. I felt that there was something uncanny In such perfection, in so much ease and quietude and skill. ' Is It,' I asked myself, ' a dream ? I shall apply to this situation an infallible reagent — the supreme acid test. I shall know, once and for all, if I am sane or raving. / shall add up the scores! If they are correct I shall know, to an absolute certainty, that this Is not Spain but fairy-land, for,' I argued, ' it is inconceivable that three women should score three rubbers without a single error — particularly In the honor column. Such a feat is unknown on our planet. I took the score-blocks and, to my amazement and consternation, the scores were all of them absolutely correct.

" ' Ladies,' I cried, arising, ' you are all perfect players and perfect partners. There is nothing to choose between you. I suspect, though, that this Is all a base deception, a devilish piece of magic and black art. You are Impostors, wizards, furies, harpies, witches ! '

At this they all arose, fluttering and crowding about me In their furbelows and laces as If to lay hands upon me. I was aware of the perfume of their bodices and the dim hum of their voices. Finally I was overcome with the absurdity of my position and opened wide my eyes — only to find myself on my bench In the Rambla, ten minutes late for my dinner and surrounded by a group of curious women who had stopped their promenade at the speci8 tacle of a gentleman in evening clothes asleep on an iron bench in the Rambla.

" Gentlemen, these three ladies were the only perfect bridge partners that I have ever met — or ever expect to meet."

At the conclusion of the bachelor's narrative the rubicund gentleman with the racing-guide hurriedly swallowed his cocktail and flew from the club with traces of indignation blazing on his face. The other listeners contented themselves with picking up their evening papers, and, in absolute silence, glaring at the bachelor with sullen and disapproving eyes.

Let us now go over In our mind all the bad partners that we have ever met. The assembly Is, naturally, a large one. Rabelais' celebrated list of games is as nothing to it. Homer's catalogue of the ships sinks into pitiful insignificance beside It. For purposes of reference, let us number the better-known types — up to thirty, thus :

( I ) The lady who has forgotten her purse, but will surely send you a check to-morrow — if she happens to remember it. 19

( 2 ) The telephone fiend who really would not dream of interrupting the rubber, but, " as this is a long distance call, I really ought to see who it is — so you will please excuse me, won't you? "

(3) The superstitious man who Is constantly calling for fresh cards, or changing his seat, or walking three times around his chair, or placing some magic charm on the table beside him.

(4) The ruminative animal who gazes Intently at the ceiling when it is his turn to play, as if seeking inspiration from some Invisible Yogi, or else listening to the call of a tuneful bird hidden In the branches of a gigantic tree.

(6) The hog who pounces Into the seat to the left of the dealer so as to rob his partner of the first deal.

( 7 ) The man who will never stop playing. (This gentleman is a positive first cousin to the negative gentleman who always refuses to play more than one rubber.)

(8) The gloomy creature or fatalist who is always pursued by bad luck, who tells you heartbreaking things about his poor cards, and remains plunged in despair until the horrible agony is over.

(9) The woman who " perks up " when she has a good hand — laughs, chats and makes merry.

(10) The so-called gentleman who writhes, groans and turns in his chair when his partner leads a card that does not fit in with his particular hand.

(11) The idiot who sprawls on the table and holds his cards so that every one must see them.

(12) The man who always wants to know the score — and his three brothers : The first who insists on looking back at the last trick and examining it carefully as though every card were new to him ; the second who always asks the trump ; and the third who Incessantly wants to know whether or not the trick is against him.

(13) The tea-and-mufHn crank who wants to play bridge, tell a story, smoke a cigar, butter a crumpet, read the paper and drink tea at one and the same time — with only one mouth and a single pair of hands.

( 14) The " gifted " player who has never read a book on bridge, does not know the leads, and simply plays by " common sense."

(15) The cataleptic trance-medium who refuses to play until he has rubbed his forehead and until eons of time have rolled their torpid lengths into the abysses of eternity.

(16) The nagger. This gentleman is usually an arguer, bristler, growler and gloater, as well as a " naggleton."

(17) The curious maiden who, when dummy, insists upon peeking at the hands of the leader and third hand.

(18) The person who hesitates unduly before making the trump or after the question, "May I play?"

(19) The tricky and artful player, who overfinesses, leads false cards, and, by his craft, leaves you absolutely in the dark as to what he really holds.

(20) The selfish animal who plays only for his own hand and never for yours.

(21) The doubter, who always watches you as you jot down the score — just to make sure that he is not being rooked or done out of his honors.

(22) The being — usually a woman — who Inevitably claims an honor or two that she did not hold.

(23) The "book" player who plays entirely by rules — usually rules that don't happen to govern the hand at issue.

(24) The fiend who doubles spades on nothing but faith, hope and stupidity.

(25) The fingerer. This strange creature has a curious habit of pulling out a card, putting it back in his hand, pulling it out again, putting it back, etc., ad infinitum.

(26) The man who can't count thirteen. (There are half a million school children In New York City alone who can correctly count thirteen, but only a very few card players are similarly gifted.)

(27) The belligerent, defiant, excitable and warlike partner who has blood In his eye and is out to do serious damage to his adversaries.

(28) The partner who, even if you score a grand slam, is sure to point out a way by which you could have made another trick.

(29) The agreeable partner. (As we have pointed out in the beginning of this chapter, this Is a purely mythical creature, like an angel or a minotaur.)

And finally there is

(30) the depraved wretch who, as soon as he catches you in a revoke, leans over the table and grabs three tricks from your pile without asking your pardon or permission. (It is related that King Canute ordered a courtier hanged for checkmating him at chess. What would the seashore king have done to this detestable creature? Hanging, or even boiling in oil are deaths too blissful and fragrant for him.)

It Is certain that bridge is the supreme test of breeding. If you ever are fortunate enough, dear reader, to come upon a pleasant partner at bridge, you may be certain that he Is a man of breeding, of good family, of gentle birth, and of unimpeachable manners. Curiously enough, many men of breeding are insufferable partners, but it is also true that they are more often agreeable partners than those men who have not had similar advantages in birth and training.

The word " etiquette " was, I am Informed, not known to Doctor Johnson. I may add 24 that it Is practically unknown, to this day — ■ at the bridge-table. Some one has wisely said that all bridge-partners are idiots, while only a few of them are gentlemen.

As to etiquette, I take the liberty of pointing out to the bridge boor that It Is hardly good form:

( 1 ) To draw a card from his hand before it is his turn to play.

(2) To revoke a second time in order to hide his first revoke.

(3 ) To try and raise the table-stakes when the three other players are satisfied with them.

(4) To hesitate In his play In order to show his partner that he might have played differently, and perhaps with as good results.

(5) To hesitate, when third hand, about doubling a no-trump make, simply because he has a good heart suit. (Penalty — ten days at hard labor. )

(6) To slap a card on the table as if to say to his partner: "There! That's the suit I wanted."

(7) To make remarks about the play of a hand when he Is merely an onlooker,

(8) To claim the rest of the tricks until such a claim is beyond dispute.

(9) To play a winning card and then immediately draw out another card from his hand as if to say: "Partner! That's the best ! Don't trump it."

(10) To frown or sigh or groan when he has drawn an indifferent partner. (Penalty — thirty days. )

(11) To ridicule or gloat over the misplays of his adversaries.

(12) To reach over and grab three tricks for a revoke from the revoker's stack. (Maximum penalty — public guillotine or gallows.)

A nice sense of honor and a kindly consideration of the feelings of others will suggest, to any well-bred player, scores of other points to avoid, but the above are some of the most glaring instances of bad taste constantly seen at the bridge-table. It is really surprising to note how often a partner will fail to observe some vital point of etiquette at bridge.

Partners are, as a rule, hke the insane. They are sane except on one subject, but on that subject they are hopeless, perverted, in- 26 curable. I know one very charming player who, in every point, respects the feelings of others; nobody could be more well-bred and delightful, but, so soon as the cards are placed in the wrong position for the next deal, he becomes petulant and aggressive, and his wrath is unappeasable.

In private life we do not loudly proclaim, to our friends and acquaintances, their weaknesses and shortcomings.

We do not say: " Bessie, you are an unutterably stupid woman," " George, you are not only dull of comprehension but an incurable congenital idiot into the bargain," " Harry, you are a blank, blank, dash, semi-colon and two interrogation points," but In bridge it sometimes seems as though our only object were to browbeat our friends, wound their feelings, brutalize and badger them on every possible occasion. We all have our faults at bridge. My own particular vice Is to throw the cards on the floor and call for fresh packs. I must also admit that, during my long runs of bad luck, I become alarmingly cynical and sour. A sullen despair somehow seems to possess me. But we should all earnestly 27 strive to improve and be as the saints are — " blameless and without guile."

There are two or three little anecdotes connected with bad partners which are, perhaps, worth quoting, as they contain a certain modicum of humor.

To begin with, there are two stories about the first division — as arranged in my list of thirty horrors and abominations — the lady who has forgotten to bring her purse.