The most aristocratic of these "hells" was "Crockford's" or, familiarly, "Crockey's," in St. James's Street. It was so called from its proprietor William Crockford, who formerly kept a small fishmonger's shop adjoining Temple Bar. In some manner he made some money, either on the turf or by gambling at cards; he set up a gaming house on a most extensive scale, on the site now occupied by the Devonshire Club, No. 50, St. James's Street. Gronow, "Celebrities of London and Paris," 1865, p. 103, gives as good an account of this famous club as any one. He says—
"In the reign of George IV. a new star rose upon the horizon, in the person of Mr. William Crockford; and the old-fashioned games of macao and lansquenet gave place to the all-devouring thirst for the game of hazard. Crockey, when still a young man, had relinquished the peaceful trade of a fishmonger for a share in a "hell," where with his partner Gye he managed to win, after a sitting of twenty-four hours, the enormous sum of £100,000 from Lords Thanet and Granville, Mr. Ball Hughes, and two other gentlemen whose names I do not remember. With this capital, added to his former gains, he built the well-known palace in St. James's Street, where a club was established and play organized on a scale of magnificence and liberality hitherto unknown in Europe.
"One may safely say, without exaggeration, that Crockford won the whole of the ready money of the then existing generation. As is often the case at Lord's Cricket Ground, the great match of the gentlemen of England against the professional players was won by the latter. It was a very hollow thing; and, in a few years, £1,200,000 were swept away by the fortunate fishmonger. He did not, however, die worth more than a sixth part of this vast sum;[12] the difference being swallowed up in various unlucky speculations.
"No one can describe the splendour and excitement of the early days of Crockey. A supper of the most exquisite kind, prepared by the famous Ude, and accompanied by the best wines in the world, together with every luxury of the season, was furnished gratis. The members of the club included all the celebrities of England, from the Duke of Wellington to the youngest Ensign of the Guards; and, at the gay and festive board, which was constantly replenished from midnight to early dawn, the most brilliant sallies of wit, the most agreeable conversation, the most interesting anecdotes, interspersed with grave political discussions and acute logical reasoning on every conceivable subject, proceeded from the soldiers, scholars, statesmen, poets, and men of pleasure, who, when 'the House was up,' and balls and parties at an end, delighted to finish their evening with a little supper and a good deal of hazard at old Crockey's. The tone of the club was excellent. A most gentlemanly feeling prevailed, and none of the rudeness, familiarity, and ill-breeding, which disgrace some of the minor clubs of the present day, would have been tolerated for a moment.
"The great foreign diplomatists, Prince Talleyrand, Count Pozzo di Borgo, General Alava, the Duke Palmella, Prince Esterhazy, the French, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Austrian ambassadors, and all persons of distinction and eminence who arrived in England, belonged to Crockford's as a matter of course; but many rued the day when they became members of that fascinating but dangerous coterie. The great Duke himself, rather a friend of the dandies, did not disdain to appear now and then at this charming club; whilst the late Lord Raglan, Lord Anglesey, Sir Hussey Vivian, and many more of our Peninsula and Waterloo heroes were constant visitors. The two great novelists of the day, who have since become great statesmen, D'Israeli and Bulwer Lytton, displayed at that brilliant supper table, the one his sable, the other his auburn curls; there, Horace Twiss made proof of an appetite, and Edward Montague of a thirst, which astonished all beholders; whilst the bitter jests of Sir Joseph Copley, Colonel Armstrong, and John Wilson Croker, and the brilliant wit of Alvanley, were the delight of all present, and their bons mots were, the next day, retailed all over England.
"In the play room might be heard the clear, ringing voice of that agreeable reprobate, Tom Duncombe, as he cheerfully called, "Seven," and the powerful hand of the vigorous Sefton, in throwing for a ten. There might be noted the scientific dribbling of a four by "King" Allen, the tremendous backing of nines and fives by Ball Hughes and Auriol, the enormous stakes played for by Lords Lichfield and Chesterfield, George Payne, Sir St. Vincent Cotton, D'Orsay and George Anson, and, above all, the gentlemanly bearing and unmoved demeanour, under losses or gains, of all the men of that generation.
"The old fishmonger himself, seated snug and sly at his desk in the corner of the room, watchful as the dragon that guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides, would only give credit to sure and approved signatures. Who that ever entered that dangerous little room can ever forget the large green table, with the croupiers, Page, Parking, and Bacon, with their suave manners, sleek appearance, stiff white neck cloths, and the almost miraculous quickness and dexterity with which they swept away the money of the unfortunate punters when the fatal cry of, 'Deuce ace,' 'Aces,' or 'Sixes out,' was heard in answer to the caster's bold cry of 'Seven,' or 'Nine,' or 'Five's the main.'
"O noctes cænæque deum! But the brightest medal has its reverse, and after all the cost and gaiety and excitement of the night, how disagreeable the waking up, and how very unpleasant the sight of the little card, with its numerous figures marked down on the debtor side in the fine bold hand of Mr. Page. Alas, poor Crockey's! shorn of its former glory, has become a sort of refuge for the destitute, a cheap dining-house.[13] How are the mighty fallen! Irish buckeens, spring captains, 'welchers' from Newmarket, and suspicious looking foreigners, may be seen swaggering after dinner through the marble halls and up that gorgeous staircase, where once the chivalry of England loved to congregate; and those who remember Crockford's in all its glory cast as they pass a look of unavailing regret at its dingy walls, with many a sigh to the memory of the pleasant days they passed there, and the gay companions and noble gentlemen who have long since gone to their last home."
For a good account of Crockford's career, I may refer my readers to Bentley's Magazine, vol. xvii., pp. 142-155, 251-264.
But to show how prevalent was gaming at this time, I give the following paragraph in the Times, January 24th, copied from an evening paper:—