7. CROCKFORD'S CLUB.
This once celebrated gaming house is now `The Wellington,'
where the rattle of knives and forks has succeeded that of dice.
It was erected in 1827, and at its opening it was described as
`the new Pandemonium — the drawing-rooms, or real hell,
consisting of four chambers: the first an ante-room, opening to a
saloon embellished to a degree which baffles description; thence
to a small curiously-formed cabinet or boudoir, which opens to
the
supper-room. All these rooms are panelled
in the most gorgeous manner; spaces are left to be filled up with
mirrors and silk, or gold enrichments; while the ceilings are as
superb as the walls. A billiard-room on the upper floor com-pletes the number of apartments professedly dedicated to the use
of the members. Whenever any secret manœuvre is to be
carried on, there are smaller and more retired places, both under
this roof and the next, whose walls will tell no tales.'
`It rose,' says a writer in the Edinburgh Review, `like a
creation of Aladdin's lamp; and the genii themselves could hardly
have surpassed the beauty of the internal decorations, or
furnished a more accomplished maître d'hôtel than
Ude. To make the company as select as possible, the estab-lishment was regularly organized as a club, and the election of
members vested in a committee. "Crockford's'' became the rage,
and the votaries of fashion, whether they like play or not,
hastened to enroll themselves. The Duke of Wellington was an
original member, though (unlike Blucher, who repeatedly lost
everything he had at play) the great captain was never known to
play deep at any game but war or politics. Card-tables were
regularly
placed, and Whist was played
occasionally; but the aim, end, and final cause of the whole was
the Hazard bank, at which the proprietor took his nightly stand,
prepared for all comers.
Le Wellington des Joueurs lost
£23,000 at a sitting, beginning at twelve at night, and
ending at seven the following evening. He and three other
noblemen could not have lost less, sooner or later, than
£100,000 a piece.[39] Others lost in proportion (or out of
proportion) to their means; but we leave it to less occupied
moralists and better calculators to say how many ruined families
went to make Mr Crockford a
millionnaire — for a
millionnaire he was in the English sense of the term, after
making the largest possible allowance for bad debts. A vast sum,
perhaps half a million, was sometimes due to him; but as he won,
all his debtors were able to raise, and easy credit was the most
fatal of his lures. He retired in 1840, much as an Indian chief
retires from a hunting country when there is not game enough left
for his tribe, and the club tottered to its fall.'
[39] `
Le Wellington des Joueurs was the name given to Lord
Rivers in Paris. The other three, we believe, were Lord Sefton,
Lord Chesterfield, and Lord Granville or Lord Talbot.'
Times, 7 Jan. 1868.
Crockford was originally a fishmonger, keeping a
shop near Temple Bar. By embarking in this speculation he laid
the foundation of the most colossal fortune that was ever made by
play.
It was said there were persons of rank and station, who
had never paid their debts to Crockford, up to 1844, and that
some of his creditors compounded with him for their gambling
debts. His proprietorship had lasted 15 or 16 years.
Crockford himself was examined by the committee of the
House of Commons on the Gaming Houses; but in spite of his
assurance by the members that were indemnified witnesses in
respect of pending actions, he resolutely declined to `tell the
secrets of his prison-house.' When asked whether a good deal of
play was carried on at his club, he said: — `There may have been
so; but I do not feel myself at liberty to answer that question —
to divulge the pursuits of private gentlemen. Situated as
I was, I do not feel myself at liberty to do so. I do not feel
myself at liberty to answer that question.'
When asked to whom he had given up the house, he fenced in
like manner, saying that he had given it up to a `committee' of
about 200 gentlemen, — concerning which committee he
pro
fessed to `know absolutely nothing' — he
could not even say to whom he had given up the house — he gave it
up to the gentlemen of the club four years before — he could not
even say (upon his word) whether he signed any paper in giving it
up — he believed he did not — adding — `I said I grew too old, and I
could not continue in the club any longer, and I wished to give
up the club to the gentlemen, who made their own arrangement.'
Being asked, `Do you think that a person is just as
honourably bound to pay a debt which he loses upon a game of
Hazard, as he would be to pay a bet which he loses on a horse-race?' Crockford replied — `I think most certainly he would
honourably be bound to pay it.' — `Do you think that if the loser
of a bet on a game at Hazard had no charge to make of any kind of
unfairness, and he were to commence an action to recover that
money back again, he would lay himself open to a charge in the
world of having acted dishonourably?' The old gambler's reply
was most emphatic, overwhelming, indignant — `I should take all
the pains I could to avoid such a man.'
If this evidence was not satisfactory, it was, at any
rate, very characteristic.
A few interesting facts came out before the
par
liamentary committee on Gaming, in 1844,
respecting Crockford's.
It was said that Crockford gave up the business in 1840,
because there were no more very high players visiting his house.
`A number of persons,' according to the admission of the
Honourable Frederick Byng, `who were born to very large
properties, were very nearly ruined at Crockford's.'
The sums won on the turf were certainly larger than those
won by players at Crockford's; a man might lose £20,000 in
one or more bets, to one or more persons; but against this he
might have won an equivalent amount in small sums from 200 or
more persons.[40]
[40] This is not very clearly put, but the meaning is that much
more money was lost at Crockford's than on the turf.
Some years previously to Crockford's retirement, it is
said that he found the debts so bad that he was obliged to leave
off his custom of paying cheques; and said he would cancel all
previous debts, but that in future gentlemen would have to pay
with money. He made them play for money instead of with
counters, in consequence of the large sums that were owing to him
upon those counters.
