Part 8

The first of these tragedies took place on New Year's Day of 1755. Lord Montfort's death and the circumstances of it attracted great attention. He was considered one of the shrewdest men of his time, and, as Walpole said, "would have betted any man in England against himself for self-murder." Lord Montfort was of course eventually ruined--at White's alone he lost a fortune at hazard. As a last resource, he then eagerly applied (much to the surprise of the dilatory Duke of Newcastle) for the Governorship of Virginia or the Royal hounds. He got neither, and after spending the last evening of the year 1754 at White's, where he sat up at whist till one o'clock, went home in a strange mood, and shot himself next morning.

A tragic fate likewise befell Sir John Bland, who dissipated his entire fortune at hazard. At a single sitting he at one time lost as much as £32,000, though he recovered a portion of it before play was ended. Sir John shot himself on the road from Calais to Paris.

Some of the wagers chronicled in the betting-book are decidedly vague, the following for instance: "Mr. Talbot bets a certain gentleman a certain sum that a certain event does not take place within a certain time."

During the Napoleonic era several bets were made as to the chances of the Emperor getting back to Paris at the close of the Russian campaign, about ten to one being wagered on such an event happening.

A curious bet, dated February 14, 1813, is the following: "Lord Alvanley bets Sir Joseph Copley five guineas that a certain Baronet understood between them is very much embarrassed in his circumstances in three years from the date hereof; if one of his bills is dishonoured, or he is observed to borrow small change of the chairmen or waiters, Sir Joseph is to be reckoned to lose."

In 1797, hazard seems to have been allowed at White's, but it was expressly laid down that no member should be permitted to keep a faro bank. This rule was doubtless made to avoid the state of things which had lately prevailed across the way at Brooks's.

As time went on gambling became a thing of the past within the walls of White's, and the survivors of a reckless era in its history sobered down into grave and somewhat crotchety old men, who, from the stronghold of an accustomed seat, eyed younger members with a freezing gaze. When the question of smoking in the morning-room was raised their indignation knew no bounds, and even infirm old members--fossils who Alfred Montgomery declared had come from Kensal Green--tottered into the Club to oppose it. So given were these relics of the past to wrapping themselves in a cloak of exclusiveness that at one time the Club came almost to a standstill. Within recent years, however, White's has taken a new lease of life, and after an existence of one hundred and seventy-three years is now in as flourishing a state as ever. The Club-house has been enlarged and various alterations made--always, let it be said, with due regard for the traditions of the past. Unfortunately, in the course of time much connected with its former history has disappeared--it does not, for instance, possess a set of old gaming counters, which have a certain historic interest in these more sober days. The Club is particularly anxious to acquire any relics connected with its past, and also any representations of the Club-house (at the present time under repair) as it existed before the alterations of 1853, when a new façade replaced the old front.

Lower down St. James's Street, on the other side of the road, another Club, in old days notorious for high play, still exists. This is the Cocoa Tree, where very large sums once changed hands. During the year 1780 no less than £180,000 was lost here in a single week. In the same year Mr. O'Birne, an Irish gamester, won £100,000 at hazard of a young Mr. Harvey of Chigwell, a midshipman, who, by his elder brother's death, had suddenly come into a good estate. "You can never pay me," said O'Birne. "I will sell my estate to do so," replied the young man. "No," was the not ungenerous reply, "I will win ten thousand and you shall throw for the odd ninety." The dice were cast and Harvey won--still the evening cost him £10,000.

After Waterloo there appears to have been a revival of gaming in the West End, many officers returning to England with long arrears of pay at their command. This wave of gaming ruined Brummell. At first he was not particularly devoted to play, and had extraordinary luck when he indulged in it. At one sitting at whist at White's he won £10,000 from George Harley Drummond, the banker. It is said that this was the first game Drummond ever played at a Club; it was probably his last, for it led to his withdrawal from the banking business. But Brummell was not a man of large property, and when later he began to play habitually, a few reverses were sufficient to ruin a man of small means who matched his fortune against the much longer purses of his friends.

Brummell had no illusions as to the ultimate fate of a gambler, and once tied himself up against play, receiving a ten-pound note from Pemberton Mills on condition that he should forfeit a thousand if he played again at White's for a month. Nevertheless, a fortnight later he was playing again. His friend did not claim the thousand but merely said: "Well, Brummell, you may at least give me back my ten pounds." Playing at hazard one night with Alderman Combe, whom he playfully called "Mash-tub" because he was a brewer, the Beau, having won a considerable sum, said, pocketing the cash: "Thank you, Alderman; in future I shall never drink any porter but yours." "I wish, sir," was the reply, "that every blackguard in London would tell me the same."

In the end Brummell went under, owing, he declared, with all the superstition of a gambler, to the loss of a lucky sixpence with a hole in it, which he had picked up in the small hours of the morning in Berkeley Square. He gave it away, by mistake, to a cabman, and used to say that he supposed "that rascal Rothschild, or some of his set, had got hold of it."

One of the greatest gamblers in the early part of the nineteenth century was Lord Rivers, whose dashing play at Parisian tables had earned for him the name of "Le Wellington des Joueurs."

During a portion of his career this nobleman was said to have won nearly a hundred thousand pounds by gambling. As a card-player he was cool and skilful, whilst at the same time quick to seize the moment for exchanging caution for dash. At times, however, he was careless--he once lost £3400 at whist by not remembering that the seven of hearts was still in.

Crockford's eventually ruined him as it did many others--some it could not ruin. Lord Sefton, for instance, is said to have lost no less than £200,000 there. After his death the proprietor presented an acceptance for £40,000 to his son, which was paid. At the beginning of the nineteenth century young men-about-town were exposed to every sort of dangerous temptation.

In 1813 a youthful commoner, heir to large estates, was unpleasantly initiated into the mysteries of fashionable play by losing nearly £20,000 at hazard at a West-End Club, it being the first time he had ever played. His single antagonist was a noble Lord of considerable experience, who by mere chance held the box so luckily as to throw in seven times successively. A remark being made upon so extraordinary a run of the dice, his Lordship insisted upon having them cut up, to manifest that his success had been perfectly honourable--and the bones, on dissection, were found perfectly innocent.

Gambling flourished at all the fashionable clubs. Brooks's in particular was noted for unlimited gambling during the first forty years of its existence. The prevalence of gambling there is shown by one of the old rules, which prohibited "gaming in the 'eating-room' except tossing up for reckonings." The penalty for a breach of this regulation was paying the whole bill of the members present.

Though a rule existed which forbade the members to stake upon credit, it was more or less treated as a dead letter, Mr. Brooks being generally ready to make any advance which the members might desire. The result of such confidence in the solvency of his clientele appears to have been disappointing, for after eight years Mr. Brooks withdrew from the Mastership of the Club and died in very poor circumstances. All things considered this was not surprising, for he was a man

Who, nursed in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid.

During the gaming period losses and winnings amounting to five, ten, or fifteen thousand pounds were not at all uncommon. Lord Stavordale, before he was of age, having lost £11,000 one night, struck a good run at hazard and got it all back. This, however, did not satisfy his Lordship, who swore a great oath, saying, "Now if I had been playing deep I might have won millions."

One member, Mr Thynne, retired in disgust in March 1772. According to a note written opposite his name in the Club books this was because he had "won only £12,000 during the last two months, and that he may never return is the ardent wish of members."

At Brooks's, Charles James Fox found himself amidst the most congenial facilities for ruin, and he did not let them pass. Fox, who joined Brooks's when he was sixteen, once sat in the Club playing at hazard for twenty-two hours in succession, when he lost £11,000. At twenty-five he was a ruined man, though his father had paid £140,000 for him out of his own property. In 1793 his friends raised £70,000 to pay his debts and buy him an annuity--a proof of the affection this curious character inspired.

It was at Brooks's that Lord Robert Spencer is said at one stroke to have recovered his considerable fortune lost at play. General Fitzpatrick and Lord Robert, having both come to their last shilling, contrived to raise a sufficient sum of money to keep a faro bank, which proved an extraordinarily lucky one. Lord Robert's share was no less than £100,000, with which he retired from the gambling-table for ever, and never played again.

Another well-known man of fashion lost at Brooks's £70,000 and everything else which he possessed, including his carriage and horses, which was his last stake. Charles Fox, who was present, and partook of the spoils, moved that an annuity of £50 per annum should be settled upon the unfortunate gentleman, to be paid out of the general fund, which motion was agreed to _nem. con._, and a resolution was entered into at the instance of the same gentleman, that every member who should be completely ruined in that house should be allowed a similar annuity out of the same fund, on condition that they are never to be admitted as sporting members; as in that case the society would be playing against their own money.

The old betting-book at Brooks's is a most curious record. A certain member, for instance, bets another five hundred guineas to ten that none of the Cabinet will be beheaded within the following three years. Another wagers fifty guineas that Mademoiselle Heinel will not dance at the opera next year. The whole volume is most characteristic of an age when all fashionable London lived in a vortex of speculation.

Faro, quinze, and macao were the favourite games at Brooks's, but at one time whist for high stakes came into great favour. Two of the best players at this were a couple of characters known as Tippoo Smith and "Neptune"--the latter an old gentleman who had gained his nickname owing to his having once thrown himself into the sea under the false impression that he could no longer keep his head above water.

At Brooks's are preserved a number of relics of the old gambling days, including the faro table at which Fox played. This has a portion cut away, in order, it is said, to give room for his portly form. A complete set of the old gaming counters--the highest inscribed 500 guineas--is also here, whilst several prints and pictures (one of them reproduced in these pages by the courtesy of the Committee) give a good idea of a vanished day.

Brooks's was much frequented by a famous whist-player, General Scott, the father-in-law of George Canning and the Duke of Portland, who is said to have won about £200,000 at the game, of which he was a past master.

The General, indeed, was a very shrewd man where all forms of speculation were concerned, and once won a large wager at Newmarket in the following way. Just as his horse was about to start for a sweepstake, Mr. Panton called out to him, "General, I'll lay you a thousand pounds your horse is neither first nor last." The General accepted the bet and immediately gave directions to his rider; his horse came in last, and he claimed the money. Mr. Panton objected to payment, because the General had spoken to his rider; but the Jockey Club held that the bet was laid not upon the chance of the place in which the horse would come, if the rider was uninformed of it, but upon the opinion, that he had not speed enough to be first, nor tractability enough to be brought in last.

Nevertheless, the General, like most gamblers, had his moments of generosity. He was playing one evening with the Count d'Artois and the Duc de Chartres, at Paris, when a petition was brought up from the widow of a French officer, stating her various misfortunes, and praying relief. A plate was handed round, and each put in one, two, or three louis d'or, but when it was held to the General, who was going to throw for a stake of five hundred louis d'or, he said, "Stop a moment, if you please, sir: here goes for the widow!" The throw was successful, and he instantly swept the whole into the plate, and sent it down to her.

General Scott was an excellent whist-player, and lived in a most careful manner, which gave him a great advantage over his contemporaries, many of whom were reckless to a degree, tossing their money about in all directions, and borrowing from any one when short of cash.

General Scott followed a regime which assisted him to keep all his faculties in the very best condition for getting the most out of his cards. His dinner usually consisted of a boiled chicken, washed down with toast and water. His memory, coolness, and judgment were remarkable. With players such as these, whist became almost a religious function of a singularly profitable kind.

At the present day, when whist has fallen from its ancient high estate, and rendered practically obsolete owing to the popularity of bridge, it is difficult to realise the place which the game held in the estimation of many of our forefathers.

At the beginning of the nineteenth century almost as large sums were lost and won at whist as at the hazard-table, which was chiefly the resort of those who, like Fox, complained that games of skill afforded no excitement.

Many who were not entirely devoted to high play found their only relaxation in whist. Such a one was Lord Camden's brother, Mr. Edward Pratt, connected with the East India Company, whose sole bond with humanity is said to have lain in whist.

By no means an avaricious man, Mr. Pratt spent little upon his personal comfort, always living in the upper floor of a house owing to its tranquillity, and regularly dining in a room by himself at a tavern every day of the year, his only companion a solitary bottle of port.

He was seldom heard to speak, but no circumstance, however urgent, could prevail on him to break silence at whist, the favourite amusement, or rather occupation of his life; and, at the conclusion of each rubber, he could correctly call over the cards in the exact order in which they were played, as well as the persons from whose hands they fell, and enumerate various instances of error or dexterity in his associates, with practical remarks. This extraordinary exertion of the retentive powers was often doubted, and as often ascertained by considerable wagers.

Abstinence from speech, however, was the favourite, habitual, perhaps the affected, pleasure of his life; to such a pitch did he carry this eccentricity that he deliberately chose to forego many little satisfactions and comforts, rather than be at the trouble to ask for them.

In his voyages to India, Mr. Pratt might have been compared to some Eastern mystic, whose eyes and thoughts are immovably riveted by inspiration, madness, or emptiness to the region of the navel. When on voyages by sea it was his invariable custom to present the appearance of one entirely engrossed by his own thoughts, which, it was opined from his countenance, were of a peculiarly morose character. He often doubled the Cape without having scarcely uttered a word. During one voyage, when his ship had been detained by a long and troublesome calm, the anxious and dispirited crew were at last revived by the advent of the long-wished-for breeze. Amidst general excitement, a miserably dressed seaman on the topmast being at last able to proclaim the welcome tidings of land, Mr. Pratt alone struck a discordant note, for whilst the officers and ship's company were congratulating each other on the approaching joys of being on shore, though his features were observed to alter and somewhat unbend, no sound escaped his lips. "I knew you would enjoy the sight of land," at length said the first officer. "I saw it an hour before the careless ragamuffin aloft," were the first, the last, and the only words Mr. Pratt uttered during the voyage.

"A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game," was the sole earthly aim of Mr. Pratt, as it was of the old lady who declared that next to her devotions she loved a good game of whist. Players of this sort were not lukewarm gamesters or half-and-half players who have no objection to take a hand if one is wanted to make up a rubber; affirming that they have no pleasure in winning, or that they like to win one game and lose another. Keen antagonists, they never desired an adversary who had slipped a wrong card, to take it up and play another. They loved a thorough-paced partner and a determined enemy. They took and gave no concessions; they hated favours, never made a revoke, or passed it over in an adversary without exacting the utmost penalty. They never introduced or connived at miscellaneous conversation during the progress of a game, for, as they emphatically observed, cards were cards. Whist was their business and duty--the thing which they had come into the world to do--and they did it.

In the early days of the nineteenth century a great deal of gambling went on at Wattier's Club, No. 81 Piccadilly (now a private house), which made a speciality of macao. This game is said to have been introduced into England by French _émigrés_.

Wattier's was kept by an old _maître d'hôtel_ of George IV., who, quite a character in his way, prided himself upon the excellence of his cuisine and wines.

The life of Wattier's was a short and merry one, for it only lasted some twelve years, being closed in 1819, when for a time it became a sort of common gambling-house. Byron, Beau Brummell, and many other men of fashion frequented the Club, and, occasionally, says tradition, solaced themselves for their losses by throwing bottles of wine out of the window into the yard of the house just across the way.

Some sixteen years later there was a good deal of high play at whist at Graham's Club, and a scandal occurred. Lord de Ros being charged with unfair play by the _Satirist_ newspaper, against which he brought an action for libel. Much curious evidence was given during the trial, one witness admitting that he had won no less than £35,000 in fifteen years at whist. Another--Captain Alexander--estimated his winnings at about £1600 a year. Asked by Counsel how long he had played on a certain occasion, he replied: "All night." "After a slight dinner I suppose?" "As good a dinner as I can get." "A small boiled chicken and a glass of lemonade perhaps?" The witness for some reason considered this insulting and excitedly said: "I deny the lemonade altogether--I never take lemonade"--a disavowal which plunged the court into laughter. Considerable amusement was also created by another witness who, being asked whether he had ever seen anything suspicious about the prosecutor's play replied: "Yes." "What course did you take?" "I always backed him," was the answer.

In the end the peer, who was Premier Baron of England, lost his case. He did not long survive the disgrace, and on his death in 1837 the following line was suggested by Theodore Hook as an epitaph--

Here lies England's Premier Baron patiently awaiting the last trump.

Towards the middle of the nineteenth century gambling in Clubs began to decline, though, as is always the case, intermittent fits of private gambling were frequent at the West End. In the late 'seventies and early 'eighties, however, of the last century there was some revival of gaming-clubs, or rather places called clubs.

A considerable number of these, started merely for the purposes of play, sprang up in the West End; and the proprietors in many cases realised large sums by cashing the cheques of players, a certain percentage being deducted from the amount of the sum, which was not infrequently handed over in counters. A clever proprietor would, of course, know how much any particular client was good for, and take care to run few risks. Where play was high and the members rich a plentiful harvest was reaped.

The most fashionable Club of this sort was the Park Club, Park Place, St James's, where, in 1884, there was a good deal of high play at baccarat. The existence of what was virtually a gaming-club aroused much comment, and, the matter reaching the ears of the authorities, it was not long before action was taken.

As considerable misapprehension exists as to how the English law views gaming, some account of the proceedings which followed may not be out of place.

On the 17th of January 1884, Mr. St John Wontner attended at Bow Street on behalf of Mr. Howard Vincent, the Director of the Criminal Investigation Department, to apply for process against the Park Club, Park Place, St. James's, under the provisions of the Gaming Acts.

Mr. Wontner, referring to the section of the Act under which it was proposed to proceed, said that the summons was applied for against the proprietor, the secretary, the committee, and various members of this Club, for keeping the premises as a common gambling-house, where they habitually allowed baccarat to be played.

Attention was called to the comments of the Press on gambling, and it was said that various complaints had been made to the police, in consequence of which an inspector was instructed to intimate to the proprietors of various Clubs that the practice of playing games of chance was illegal, and proceedings would be taken were it to be continued.

Play had been suspended at various Clubs, but in the ease of this particular Club, Messrs. Lewis & Lewis, Solicitors, of Ely Place, had communicated with the authorities to the effect that it was the intention of those concerned to test the question, and expressed willingness to answer any proceedings that might be instituted.

On the 1st of February 1884, at Bow Street, before Sir J. Ingham, Jenks (proprietor), Dalton (secretary), and certain members of this Club and its committee appeared to a summons charging them with a contravention of the Gaming Act.

Mr. St. John Wontner prosecuted, Mr. Charles Russell, afterwards Lord Russell of Killowen, and Mr. Poland, instructed by Mr. George Lewis, defended.