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.