All you need is a shilling and a dream



When eighteenth-century British criminals got up to no good, they often committed surprisingly modern crimes. Consider, for instance, the trial of Thomas Day for lottery fraud on April 27, 1720.



Government-sponsored gambling is nothing new under the sun. Lotteries with cash prizes go back at least to the sixteenth century, and their history in England begins during the Elizabethan era. Beginning in 1694, the national lottery was a regular event in Britain with tickets sold through registered agents; then, as now, lotteries were considered a more palatable alternative to taxation.



With rich prizes to be won, the temptation to fraud was too much for some criminally minded Englishmen. Day, who was the first lottery forger to be immortalized in the archives of the Old Bailey, was accused of "feloniously altering the Numbers of two Lottery Tickets that were drawn Blanks, to the Numbers of two that were drawn Prize s. viz. No. 64590, to 61960, a Prize of 500l. and 64592 to 68073. a Prize of 100l. on the 30th of December last, with an Intention to defraud our Sovereign Lord the King." At a time when working-class wages sometimes amounted to less than ten pounds a year, the prospect of winning 600 pounds was more than enough for some people to risk the penalties of the Bloody Code.



Day was luckier than many; he was unsuccessful in redeeming the tickets, but was acquitted of the criminal charges. The jury found it "very plain" that "the Numbers of the Tickets were alter'd," but apparently believed Day's protestations that he did not alter them himself.



The risk of fraud was countered by elaborate security measures, as this 1746 trial reveals:

Gentlemen, the Method in which I propose to lay this Evidence before you, will be in the first Place to shew you, that the Ticket is in Fact an alter'd, counterfeit, not a true Ticket. In order to shew that, it may be necessary to observe to you the Manner of making out these Lottery Tickets. 'Tis directed, that there shall be a Book made, and that in that Book there shall be three Columns. I shall first mention to you the Columns, then the Reason. The Act of Parliament directs, that the Book shall be divided into three Columns, the middle Column is to be the Ticket, which is to be sold and dispos'd off to the Proprietor of the Lottery. The outside is to be given to the Adventurer. The Ticket next to that goes into the Wheel, but between them there are Flourishes, and those Flourishes must exactly agree. Further, at the End of the other Ticket there is another Flourish, which, when the Party comes to the Government to receive the Prize, supposing it to be a Prize, 'tis check'd with a Flourish remaining upon the Back; and if it does not agree with it, 'tis clear 'tis a Forgery. I don't think the Wisdom of Man could have invented a greater Method of certain Security, than having these particular Flourishes, so divided by a Pair of Scissars.

The 17-year-old defendant in that trial, John Peter Mayaffree, attempted to defraud the lottery by changing ticket 19165 to 19105, which carried a prize of 20 pounds. This choice of numbers, according to the King's counsel, was deliberate:

This Ticket he bought at Wilson's Lottery-Office ; when he came there he enquir'd for some Lottery Tickets to buy, and enquir'd for Numbers where there were either 6 or 9 in these Numbers: The People with regard to Chances might be superstitious; a plausible Reason he gives why he desir'd Numbers of 6 and 9, was that they were fortunate and lucky Numbers: Gentlemen, I am afraid it will be the Reverse to himself. Gentlemen, if you consider it, it is an easy Thing to take off 6 and make it an 0.

Unfortunately for Mayaffree, the King could not so easily be defrauded, and he was convicted upon proof that "the Flourish on this Ticket and the Flourish in the Lottery-Office Book do exactly tally with Number 19165." He received the death sentence, although "the Jury on Account of his excellent Character and tender Years, recommended him to his Majesty's Mercy."



The trial records reveal many variations on the theme of lottery fraud, including altering the date rather than the ticket number and even selling tickets for nonexistent lotteries. Others sought to avoid government security measures by selling tickets to third parties and demanding a partial deposit in a manner prefiguring the modern-day lottery scam. Indeed, the lottery scam in its 1777 incarnation was almost the same as it is today - the perpetrator claimed to be a foreigner who had drawn a prize-winning ticket and needed to dispose of it to an eligible winner. Some things, it seems, never change.