The Olden Time Series, Vol. 1: Curiosities of the Old Lottery: Gleanings Chiefly from Old Newspapers of Boston and Salem, Massachusetts

In Short

This collection of historical gleanings documents the ubiquity of lotteries in Massachusetts between the 18th and early 19th centuries. By assembling advertisements, official schemes, and contemporary commentary from old Boston and Salem newspapers, the book illustrates how lottery proceeds funded everything from bridge building and canal clearing to the support of academies and churches. It serves as a social record of a period when the public appetite for "chance" was not merely tolerated but formally harnessed by the state for the common good.

The Story

The narrative begins by establishing the atmosphere of "Ye Olden Time," a period when lotteries were frequently sanctioned by the General Court for public works. The reader is presented with the "schemes"—the intricate mathematical breakdowns of ticket counts, prize distributions, and the odd, persuasive language used by managers to entice buyers. These managers, often men of local standing, framed the purchase of a ticket as an act of civic duty, claiming that one was contributing to "general utility" while simultaneously pursuing a fortune.

As the text progresses, the scope of these lotteries widens from basic infrastructure to the promotion of "piety and virtue." Colleges like Harvard and Rhode Island College (now Brown) utilized lotteries to bolster their funds, while churches sought to finish their houses of worship through the same mechanisms. The tone of the advertisements shifted accordingly; promoters appealed to the public’s sense of moral responsibility, framing the act of gambling as a support for the liberal arts and religious institutions. This juxtaposition—the pious aim and the speculative, often predatory, means—forms the central tension of the era.

The arc of the book reaches its climax as the social consequences of this institutionalized gambling become apparent. The reader encounters the voices of dissent, most notably through the letters of Joel Barlow, who decried public lotteries as a "shocking disgrace" that promoted vice and distracted citizens from "regular industry." The newspapers of the time recorded the occasional, brief triumph of the "lucky" winner—such as the poor widows of Marblehead or four enslaved individuals in Newport—but these instances are weighed against the growing realization that the system was riddled with irregularities, fraudulent ticket sales, and the ruin of families.

The volume concludes with the inevitable turn of the tide. As the 19th century progressed, the moral climate shifted. Influential figures like Governor John Hancock and merchant Peter C. Brooks began to openly condemn the practice, leading to the eventual legislative prohibition of lotteries in Massachusetts by 1826. The book frames this not as a sudden moral awakening, but as a gradual recognition of the inherent unprofitableness and social volatility of the lottery. It ends with a contemplative look at how the gambling instinct simply migrated into new forms, such as stock speculation, which the author suggests may have been even more devastating to the social fabric than the old-fashioned lottery ticket.

How It Unfolds

The machinery of chance. The book opens with the technical details of early lotteries, showcasing how managers calculated the ratio of blanks to prizes to ensure the success of bridge and road projects. These early chapters detail the formal language of the "scheme," where the promise of a windfall was inextricably tied to the promise of building a better community.

The moral endorsement. The narrative shifts to show how lottery managers enlisted the support of the clergy and trustees of academies to legitimize the practice. By rebranding gambling as a means to foster "piety and virtue," the organizers attempted to insulate their business from the stigma of the gaming table.

The voice of dissent. A counter-narrative emerges through the inclusion of contemporary letters and decrees, most notably from the French Revolution-era debates on public morality. These documents challenge the state’s right to "create a new vice, for the sake of loading it with a tax," marking a pivotal shift in public sentiment.

The decline and legacy. The final section traces the legislative dismantling of the lottery system. It reflects on the transition from the state-sanctioned lottery to the rise of speculative finance, suggesting that the human desire for a quick fortune simply found a more permanent, albeit more destructive, home in the stock market.

The People

The book is populated by a cast of historical figures who reflect the diverse attitudes toward the lottery. The Managers, such as Daniel Farnham and Caleb Cushing, represent the establishment; they are the architects of the "schemes," projecting an image of fiduciary responsibility while aggressively marketing the dream of wealth. They stand in opposition to the Critics, exemplified by figures like the statesman John Hancock and the writer Joel Barlow. Hancock provides the moral weight against the system, while Barlow, through his letters, acts as the intellectual provocateur, dissecting the "knavery" of governments that rely on the deception of their citizens.

Interspersed among these are the Adventurers, a nameless, representative class of people ranging from apprentices in Watertown to the widows of Marblehead. These individuals are the beneficiaries of the system’s rare successes, serving as the necessary bait to keep the wheels of the lottery turning. Finally, the Speculators and Agents, like John Russell, stand as the middlemen of the era. They are the ones who peddle the "rich wheels" and "undrawn tickets," navigating the fine line between legitimate business and the opportunistic exploitation of the public’s hope, acting as the bridge between the high-minded promises of the managers and the volatile reality of the gamblers they serve.

In Its Own Voice

"It is a shocking disgrace of modern governments, that they are driven to this pitiful piece of knavery, to draw money from the people."

(Joel Barlow’s harsh assessment of the state-run lottery as a form of institutionalized deception.)

"There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out."

(A Shakespearean epigraph used to introduce the collection, suggesting that the author viewed these historical relics with a detached, philosophical eye.)

"As the design of this Lottery is for promoting Piety, Virtue, and such of the liberal Arts and Sciences as may qualify the Youth to become useful Members of Society, the Managers wish for and expect the aid of the Gentlemen Trustees of the Academy."

(An advertisement from 1790, illustrating the incongruity of using gambling to fund educational and religious institutions.)

What It's Really About

The book explores the uneasy tension between the desire for state-funded progress and the moral cost of the methods used to achieve it. It questions whether a society can truly build its infrastructure—bridges, canals, and colleges—upon the back of its citizens' gambling impulses without corrupting the very "piety and virtue" it seeks to promote. The underlying argument is that the lottery was a mirror of its time: a mix of naive optimism, genuine desperation, and a developing sense of political accountability. The book ultimately examines how the "gambling instinct" is a persistent feature of human society, changing only in its form and the specific justifications provided by those in power.

Why Read It Today

This book is essential for readers who enjoy the texture of history—the small, idiosyncratic details found in old newspapers that textbooks often omit. If you are interested in the evolution of American social attitudes or the intersection of money and morality, you will find this a fascinating, if occasionally repetitive, read. It feels like browsing through a dusty archive, where the voices of the past—from the hopeful, if slightly desperate, ticket-buyer to the self-righteous manager—come alive through their own words.

It is not a traditional history book, but rather a curated collection of source material, meaning it lacks a singular narrative voice or a dramatic climax. Readers might find the period language and the frequent lists of lottery "schemes" dense, and the author’s occasional editorializing might feel dated to a modern audience. However, the value lies in the primary documents themselves. It provides an honest, unvarnished look at how our predecessors navigated the ethical complexities of their daily lives. What stays with the reader is the realization that many of our current debates about government funding, economic speculation, and the morality of chance have deep, long-standing roots in the very beginnings of the American republic.