CLUBS OF ST. JAMES’S STREET—BOODLE’S, ARTHUR’S, AND WHITE’S  
The original clubland of the West End was St. James’s Street, where the first clubs originated from coffee-houses. In this historic thoroughfare—the “dear old Street of Clubs and Cribs,” as Frederick Locker called it—most of the sociable institutions founded many decades ago still flourish.
 
Such are White’s, Arthur’s, Brooks’s, the Cocoa-tree, and Boodle’s, the latter of which, after passing through a crisis which came near closing its doors for ever, now once again flourishes as of yore.
 
This club-house was built about 1765 by John Crunden, from the designs of Adam, but between 1821 and 1824 certain alterations and additions were carried out from the designs of John Papworth, an architect of that day.
 
From an architectural point of view, Boodle’s is an admirable specimen of the work of Robert Adam; its street fa?ade possesses many fine qualities, whilst the ironwork is of good design.
 
A year or two ago it was rumoured that, in order to comply with a clause in the lease, an additional story was to be added to the building. Up to the present time, however, to the gratification of all possessing the slightest taste, no alteration has been 64made; and it is earnestly to be hoped that in these days, when there is so much prating of culture and love of art, such an act of vandalism (which it is understood the club itself would bitterly deplore) will not be committed.
 
The saloon on the first-floor at Boodle’s has a very fine and stately appearance, and opening out of it on each side are two little rooms. One of these, according to tradition, was, in the days of high play, occupied by a cashier who issued counters and occupied himself with details connected with the game; the other was reserved for members wishing to indulge in gaming undisturbed by the noise of the crowd which thronged around the faro tables in the saloon. These tables, it is said, are still in the club. Towards the middle of the last century, though gaming had long ceased to take place in the saloon, there was a great deal of high gambling in the card-room upstairs. As far as can be ascertained, faro was once again played at that period.
 
Boodle’s in old days played a great part in fashionable West End life. One of Gillray’s caricatures, entitled “A Standing Dish at Boodle’s,” represents Sir Frank Standish sitting at a window of this club, which, it may be added, was noted for the large number of Baronets who were members. It was, indeed, said that anyone uttering the words, “Where is Sir John?” in the club-house would immediately find himself surrounded by a crowd of members.
 
Boodle’s, it should be added, has always been closely connected with Shropshire, from which county its membership then, as now, was largely recruited.
 
65The club was originally called the Savoir Vivre, and at its inception was noted for its costly gaieties; in 1774, for instance, its members spent 2,000 guineas upon a ridotto or masquerade.
 
Gibbon was a member of Boodle’s, which, however, in the past, as to-day, principally consisted of county gentlemen.
 
Up to comparatively recent years, before Boodle’s was reorganized, it was managed, not by a committee, but by a species of secret tribunal, the members of which were supposed to be unknown, though their duties corresponded with those of an ordinary club committee. This conclave conducted its proceedings with great secrecy, and its very existence was only inferred from the fact that, at intervals varying from six months to fifteen years, some printed notice appeared in the club rooms. Even so, this generally affected only dogs or strangers, both of whom old-fashioned members regarded with about equal dislike as unpleasant intruders.
 
Most of these notices, signed “By order of the Managers,” quoted the “custom of the house existing from time immemorial,” which, though unwritten, was then the only approach to a code of laws for the conduct of the club.
 
The old elections at Boodle’s were peculiar, being presided over by the proprietor. Fifteen years ago or so, when Mr. Gayner, who then occupied that position, was still alive, he would take his seat by the ballot-box near the window in the back room on the ground-floor, whilst in the adjoining front room opening off it were the members. When a candidate was proposed, they walked across, and deposited 66black or white balls, after which they retired again to the front room. After a short time, Mr. Gayner would shout out “Elected” or “Not elected,” as the case might be, the ceremonial being gone through separately for every candidate. Wicked wags used to say that the proprietor never troubled to make a scrutiny as to the number of the balls, no candidate whom he considered suitable for the election ever being rejected, whilst an undesirable one was certain to meet with an evil fate, even should there be no black balls at all.
 
During Mr. Gayner’s reign, Boodle’s sustained a severe blow owing to the retirement of the Duke of Beaufort and a number of other old members. On certain evenings, according to a time-honoured custom, there was a house-dinner, and members taking part in this had to put down their names beforehand. The cost of wine, whether a man drank much or little, was pooled, and equally divided between everyone, a usage which, while it well suited some of the older men who belonged to a less temperate age, pressed heavily upon those of a later generation, some of whom scarcely drank anything at all. Resenting the injustice of this exactment, by which they were made to pay for other people’s wine, some of the latter remonstrated with Mr. Gayner, and demanded that a more equitable arrangement should be made. The latter, realizing that such a protest was legitimate, then promised that matters should be set right, and to that end spoke to the Duke of Beaufort. The Duke replied that, whilst such a remonstrance might be just, he could not assent to any change without the 67concurrence of the older members of the club who were in the habit of dining. The majority of these, not unnaturally perhaps, energetically protested against any alteration in an old custom, which, as they quite truthfully declared, had always suited them very well. The Duke then informed Mr. Gayner that if any change were made he and these members would leave the club. Mr. Gayner, however, stood firm, saying he had given his promise and must keep it, in consequence of which the Duke, and the “old guard” with him, carried out their threat, and left Boodle’s for ever.
 
Mr. Gayner carried on the club on very liberal lines, and members were allowed extraordinary credit. They could cash cheques for any amount, for Gayner made a practice of keeping a very large sum of money in his safe. This, it is said, often contained as much as two or three thousand pounds, always in new notes.
 
At the time of Mr. Gayner’s death, he was supposed to have been owed over ￡10,000 by certain members of the club. He appears to have regarded this as a sort of friendly charge, for a special clause in his will stated that no member of Boodle’s was to be asked for money. The best-natured of men, Mr. Gayner frequently assisted members who were in financial difficulties. One of these, a young fellow who had recently joined the club, asked him whether he could indicate any means of raising ￡500, as he had debts to that amount which demanded immediate payment. “I can’t think of allowing you to go to the Jews,” said Mr. Gayner; “come with me to my room, and I’ll put that all 68right.” Arrived in his sanctum, he produced notes for the required amount, and handed them to the young man, telling him he might settle the debt any time he liked.
 
After the death of Mr. Gayner, and of his sister, who succeeded him, it seemed at one time as if Boodle’s might cease to exist. At a critical moment in the club’s history, however, certain members stepped forward, and a complete reorganization was the result. The list of members was thoroughly sifted, and a most capable secretary, who still presides over the club’s fortunes, assumed control.
 
Some alterations were made in the interior of the building, but care was taken to leave unimpaired the old-world charm of the house, which, from an architectural point of view, possesses much merit.
 
The fine saloon, which, as has been said, was originally a gambling-room, was thoroughly restored and made into a comfortable lounge; it is a spacious and well-proportioned room, and contains a finely-designed mantelpiece and a very ornamental chandelier, the latter purchased after the reorganization. Except for some handsome inkstands and a few accessories which are of good design and execution, there are few works of art in this club, the hunting pictures on the staircase being of no particular value. Boodle’s appears once to have possessed portraits of Charles James Fox and the Duke of Devonshire, but these have now disappeared.
 
The furniture and general appearance of the club is essentially English, and it is pleasant to observe that the air of old-world comfort for which Boodle’s has always been noted remains unimpaired.
 
69A curious feature of Boodle’s is that the billiard-room is upstairs, a somewhat inconvenient arrangement not infrequent in clubs founded in past days.
 
It should be added that a rule enforcing the wearing of evening dress by members dining in the coffee-room still remains in force; but a smaller apartment is set aside for those who for any reason do not find it convenient to change their day clothes.
 
Arthur’s Club, in St. James’s Street, was the original abode of White’s, which occupied it from 1698 to 1755, since which date the house has, of course, undergone a good deal of change. In the eighteenth century, owing to the association of a Mr. Arthur with the management of White’s, the latter club was frequently spoken of as Arthur’s; this naturally originated an idea that the two clubs were at one time connected, but such in reality was never the case, the presumed parent of Arthur’s having been a coffee-house of that name.
 
The records of Arthur’s Club as at present constituted are, unfortunately, somewhat scanty. It would appear, however, that after the migration of White’s in 1755 another club was formed at 69 St. James’s Street, and that it took the name of Arthur’s, which it still retains.
 
In its present form the club-house was built by Mr. Hopper in 1825, though probably a certain portion of the original coffee-house, erected in 1736, was incorporated in the new building. A room on the ground-floor (at the back of the house) is said to have been the gaming-room of White’s Club during its tenure of the premises up to 1755; but if this is the case the decorative frieze and 70ceiling must have been added later, as in style they belong to the nineteenth century. During the rebuilding of 1825 everything seems to have been sacrificed to the staircase, which now occupies the very large hall, crowned by an elaborately-designed dome. There are, however, some handsome rooms, notably the library, in which is an eighteenth-century English sideboard of admirable design. In this and other rooms there is a good deal of the heavy, solid mahogany furniture so popular about seventy or eighty years ago. The examples in Arthur’s Club are certainly the best of their kind, and are well in keeping with the design of the house. There are very few pictures or engravings here—a print or two of Arthur’s as it was in old days, a few portraits of members, and an oil-painting of the late Sir John Astley (known as “the Mate”) are about all.
 
Arthur’s possesses a quantity of very fine silver plate, some of which dates from the eighteenth century.
 
This club still maintains some of the restrictions as regards smoking which were so general in the clubs of other days, no smoking being allowed in the library or morning-room. There are, however, ample facilities for indulgence in tobacco in other parts of the house—notably in the hall, where a very pleasant lounge has recently been contrived.
 
Only recently has the regulation which prohibited visitors from being admitted to dinner here been repealed. A room on the ground-floor (the one reputed to have been the old gambling-room of White’s) is now set aside as a dining-room for those privileged to be the guests of a member of 71this very charming club. There is no tradition at Arthur’s of high play at hazard, but whist was once very popular. “Sheep points and bullocks” on the rubber were, it is said, quite common in the days when so many country gentlemen were members.
 
Arthur’s, it should be added, has always been a very popular club with Wiltshire men, and its close connection with that county is still maintained.
 
As has been said, the chocolate-house in St. James’s Street, started by Francis White in 1697, seems to have stood on the site of part of what is now Arthur’s Club. John Arthur at this time was White’s assistant. Here White carried on business till he died in 1711. His widow continued to prosper as proprietress of the house, which became the centre of the fashionable life of the day, and the place from which its amusements were directed. Advertisements in the papers show that “Mrs. White’s Chocolate-House, in St. James’s Street,” was the place of distribution of tickets for all the fashionable amusements of the early years of the eighteenth century. Opera was being produced at the Haymarket, and the announcement of the performance of each new piece is accompanied by the notice that tickets are to be obtained at Mrs. White’s. A little later, Heidegger was taking the town by storm with his masquerades, ridottos, and balls. He was quick to see that Mrs. White’s was an advantageous ground from which to reach his patrons of the aristocracy. He accordingly issued his admissions for these entertainments from White’s, and requested those who were not using them to return them there, in order to prevent their falling into bad 72hands, and so spoiling the select character of his assemblies.
 
John James Heidegger was a clever Swiss who, after leading a Bohemian life all over Europe, had come to London, where he had for a time co-operated with Handel in producing opera. His celebrity was chiefly due to a remarkable ability for organizing masquerades.
 
He was a very ugly man, and knew it. Consequently he would not have his portrait painted. The Duke of Montagu, however, determined to obtain a likeness, in order to play a trick at a masquerade.
 
The Duke induced the Swiss Count, as he was called, to make one of a select party, which (very appropriately) met to dine at the Devil Tavern. The rest of the company, all chosen for their powers of hard drinking, were in the plot, and a few hours after dinner Heidegger was carried out of the room dead drunk. A daughter of Mrs. Salmon, the waxwork-maker, was sent for, and took a mould from the unconscious man’s face, from which she was ordered to make a cast in wax, and colour it to nature. The King, who was a party to the joke, was to be present, with the Countess of Yarmouth, at the next of Heidegger’s masquerades. The Duke in the mean time bribed his valet to get all the information as to the clothes the Swiss was to wear on the occasion, procured a man of Heidegger’s figure, and, with the help of the mask, made him up into a duplicate master of the revels.
 
When the King arrived with the Countess and 73was seated, Heidegger, as was usual, gave the signal to the musicians in the gallery to play the National Anthem. As soon, however, as his back was turned, the sham Heidegger appeared, and ordered them to play “Over the Water to Charlie,” the Jacobite song, and the most insulting and treasonable piece that could have been chosen to perform in the presence of royalty.
 
The whole room was at once thrown into confusion. Heidegger rushed into the gallery, raved, stamped, and swore, and accused the band of conspiring to ruin him. The bewildered musicians at once altered the tune to “God Save the King.” Heidegger then left the gallery to make some arrangements in one of the smaller rooms.
 
As soon as he disappeared, the sham Heidegger again came forward, this time in the middle of the main room, in front of the gallery, and, imitating Heidegger’s voice, damned the leader of the band for a blockhead, and asked if he had not told him to play “Over the Water” a minute before. The bandmaster, thinking Heidegger mad or drunk, lost his head, and ordered his men to strike up the Jacobite air a second time.
 
This was the signal for a confusion worse than before. There was great excitement and fainting of women, and the officers of the Guards who were present were only prevented from kicking Heidegger out of the house by the Duke of Cumberland, who was in the secret. Heidegger rushed back to the theatre, and was met by the Duke of Montagu, who told him that he had deeply offended the King, and that the best thing 74he could do was to go at once to His Majesty and ask pardon for the behaviour of his men.
 
Heidegger accordingly approached the King, who, with the Countess, could barely keep his countenance, and made an abject apology. He was in the act of bowing to retire, when he heard his own voice behind him say: “Indeed, Sire, it was not my fault, but that devil’s in my likeness!” He turned round, and for the first time saw his double, staggered, and was speechless. The Duke now saw that the joke had gone far enough, and whispered an explanation of the whole affair. Heidegger recovered himself and the masquerade went on, but he swore he would never attend another until “that witch the wax-woman was made to break the mould and melt down the mask” before his face.
 
Hogarth’s plate, “Heidegger in a Rage,” was suggested by this story.
 
Heidegger, it may be added, remained popular with the fashionable world up to his death. He lived at Barn Elms, where the King honoured him with a visit. He bore the reputation of great charity, and died in 1749, “immensely lamented,” aged near ninety.
 
That White’s Club was a great success from the very first is shown from the old rate-books, where the prosperity of Mrs. White, the proprietress, is reflected. The entries give us three degrees of comparison: At White’s death, positive, “Widow White”; later, comparative, “Mrs. White”; later still, superlative, “Madam White.” The Bumble of the period was evidently impressed by her 75prosperity, and by the fine company which met at her house.
 
Madam White’s, indeed, was never an ordinary coffee-house, a proof of which is that the usual charge of a penny made for entrance into such places appears to have been increased. In earlier days, when it was a chocolate-house, Steele (though he never became a member of the club) was a constant frequenter, for in 1716 he lived opposite. In the first number of the Tatler, published in 1709, he informs his readers that “all accounts of gallantry, pleasure, and entertainment shall be under the article of White’s Chocolate House,” while Will’s was to supply the poetry, and the Grecian the learning. We find, accordingly, many of the early numbers of the Tatler dated from White’s.
 
Madam White continued at the chocolate-house until some time between 1725 and 1729 (the exact year is uncertain, as the rate-books for those years are missing), and she probably left the place with a fortune.
 
At Mrs. White’s demise, Arthur became proprietor, and largely added to the premises. These were burnt down in 1733, when he removed to Gaunt’s Coffee-house till White’s had been rebuilt. His son, Robert Arthur, appears as proprietor of the new house in 1736.
 
During Robert Arthur’s life the most fashionable frequenters of his chocolate-house became more and more exclusive, and the proprietor soon found that catering for its members, all men of means and leisure, was the chief part of his business, and more lucrative than the custom of the general public. 76His interests, of course, lay in the direction of meeting the wishes of his patrons, and in consequence of this members of the public were eventually excluded. White’s Chocolate-house was thus transformed into the private and exclusive society since known as “White’s.”
 
Though White’s was at this time reputed to be very exclusive, and although certain qualifications were indispensable, some of the members were drawn from a quite unaristocratic class.
 
In Davies’s “Life of Garrick” is the following curious reference to Colley Cibber as a member of White’s: “Colley, we are told, had the honour to be a member of the great club at White’s; and so I suppose might any other man who wore good clothes, and paid his money when he lost it. But on what terms did Cibber live with this society? Why, he feasted most sumptuously, as I have heard his friend Victor say, with an air of triumphant exultation, with Mr. Arthur and his wife, and gave a trifle for his dinner. After he had dined, when the club-room door was opened, and the Laureate was introduced, he was saluted with loud and joyous acclamation of ‘O King Coll! Come in, King Coll!’ and ‘Welcome, welcome. King Colley!’ and this kind of gratulation, Mr. Victor thought, was very gracious and very honourable.”
 
The present White’s Club dates from 1755, in which year Robert Arthur removed with the Young and Old Clubs which had met at his house—350 members in all—to the “Great House” in St. James’s Street, which, though much altered, is still White’s. He had purchased this building from Sir 77Whistler Webster. One of its earlier occupants had been the Countess of Northumberland, whom Walpole mentions as one of the last to practise the unmaimed rites of the old peerage. “When she went out,” says he, “a footman, bareheaded, walked on each side of her coach, and a second coach with her women attended her. I think, too, that Lady Suffolk told me that her granddaughter-in-law, the Duchess of Somerset, never sat down before her without her leave to do so.”
 
In course of time the management of the club came into the hands of Martindale, a man whose name was connected with high play, of which he frequently figured as an organizer.
 
The house now began to have something of the organization which prevails in modern clubs.
 
About 1780, for instance, there was a regular club dinner at White’s, when Parliament was sitting, at 12s. a head. In 1797 the charge for this had fallen to 10s. 6d. Hot suppers were provided at 8s., and lighter refreshments, with malt liquors, at 4s. At that time one of the rules decreed “that Every Member who plays at Chess, Draughts, or Backgammon do pay One Shilling each time of playing by daylight, and half-a-crown each by candlelight.”
 
George Raggett, who succeeded Martindale as manager of White’s, was quite a character in his way. He understood how to get on with gambling members, and owned the Roxburgh Club in St. James’s Square, where whist was played for high stakes. Here, on one occasion, Hervey Combe, Tippoo Smith, Ward, and Sir John Malcolm sat down on a Monday evening, played through the 78night, through the following Tuesday and Tuesday night, and finally separated at eleven on Wednesday morning. It is interesting to notice that the separation took place then only because Mr. Combe had to attend a funeral. That gentleman rose a winner of ￡30,000 from Sir John Malcolm.
 
Before leaving the club, Combe pulled out of his pocket a handful of counters, amounting to several hundred pounds, over and above the thirty thousand he had won from the Baronet, and gave them to Raggett, saying: “I give them to you for sitting so long with us, and providing us with all we required.” It was the practice of the astute Raggett to attend his patrons personally whenever there was high play going on. “I make it a rule never to allow any of my servants to be present when gentlemen play at my clubs,” said he; “for it is my invariable custom to sweep the carpet after the gambling is over, and I generally find on the floor a few counters, which pays me for my trouble of sitting up.” This practice made his fortune.
 
As time went on, the club-house of White’s underwent considerable alteration. In 1811, for instance, it was resolved to remove the entrance by converting the second window from the bottom of the house into a door, and to enlarge the morning-room by taking in the old entrance hall. This gave room for an additional window. The old doorway was utilized for this purpose, and the famous “Bow-Window at White’s” was built out over the entrance steps, which may still be seen supporting it.
 
WHITE’S CLUB PREVIOUS TO 1811.
 
Directly this window was made, Brummell, then in the heyday of his fashionable prosperity, took 79possession of it, and, together with his followers, made it a very shrine of fashion and an institution of West End club-life. At that time only a select few dared to sit in it; an ordinary member of the club would as soon have thought of taking his seat on the throne in the House of Lords as of appropriating one of the chairs in the bow-window. Nice questions of etiquette arose in connection with the bow-window, and were duly discussed and settled. Its occupants were so much in evidence to the outside world in St. James’s Street that ladies of their acquaintance could not fail to recognize them in passing. It was decided, after anxious discussion, that no greeting should pass from the bow-window or from any window in the club. As a consequence, the hats of the dandies were doffed to no passers-by.
 
Not a few of the old school resented monopoly of the famous window by Brummell and Lord Alvanley. “Damn the fellows!” said old Colonel Sebright; “they are upstarts, and fit only for the society of tailors.” Brummell made amusing use of his connection with the club. He was reproached by an angry father whose son had gone astray in the Beau’s company. “Really, I did all I could for the young fellow,” said he; “I once gave him my arm all the way from White’s to Watier’s.” Later, when he was coming to the end of his means and of his career in England, some of his friends who had assisted him with loans became importunate. One of these pressed him for the repayment of ￡500. “I paid you,” said the Beau. “Paid me! When, pray?” “Why, when I was standing at the 80window at White’s, and said as you passed, ‘How d’you do!’”
 
About 1814 Brummell played much and unsuccessfully at White’s. One night—the fifth of a most relentless run of ill-luck—his friend Pemberton Mills heard him exclaim that he had lost every shilling, and only wished someone would bind him never to play again. “I will,” said Mills, and, taking out a ten-pound note, he offered it to Brummell on condition that he should forfeit a thousand if he played at White’s within a month from that evening. The Beau took it, and for a few days discontinued coming to the club; but about a fortnight after, Mills, happening to go in, found him gambling again. Of course the thousand pounds were forfeited; but his friend, instead of claiming them merely went up to him, and, touching him gently on the shoulder, said: “Well, Brummell, you might at least give me back the ten pounds you had the other evening.”
 
After Brummell’s day was over, Lord Alvanley (a coloured print of whom as “The Man from White’s” still hangs in the club) became the chief of the bow-window party. Most of this nobleman’s time seems to have been spent in endeavouring to get rid of a large fortune, the inheritance of which had caused him to leave the Coldstream Guards, in which he had served with distinction in the Peninsular War. Lord Alvanley was the most noted bon-vivant of his day, and was utterly regardless of what his dinners cost. One of his fancies was to have a cold apricot tart on his sideboard every day throughout the year. Another instance of his 81prodigality was the payment of 200 guineas to Gunter for a luncheon-basket, which by an oversight had been forgotten in arranging a day’s boating on the Thames—a costly picnic indeed!
 
On one occasion Lord Alvanley organized a dinner at White’s, at which it was agreed that whoever could produce the most expensive dish should dine for nothing. The winner was the organizer, whose dish was a fricassée composed entirely of the noix, or small pieces at each side of the back, taken from thirteen kinds of birds, among them being one hundred snipe, forty woodcocks, twenty pheasants, and so on, the total amounting to about three hundred birds. The cost of the ridiculous dish amounted to ￡108 5s.
 
This extravagant and eccentric peer, who, it was said, never paid cash for anything, was once asked by the sarcastic Colonel Armstrong, who knew of this failing, what he had given for a fine horse he was riding. “Nothing,” said his lordship; “I owe Milton 200 guineas for him.” Another failing of Lord Alvanley’s caused his friends at country-houses some anxiety. He always read in bed, and would never blow out his candle, his method of extinguishing that light being usually to fling it into the middle of the room; if this was ineffectual, he would throw a pillow at it. Sometimes he would vary the proceedings by putting the burning candle bodily under his bolster.
 
Another frequenter of the bow-window was Lord Allen, who became such a confirmed lover of London that, during the latter part of his life, it was said his only walk was from White’s to Crockford’s, 82over the way and back again. It was also said that he was so accustomed to the roar of the London traffic, that to get him to sleep at Dover, where he was visiting Lord Alvanley, that nobleman hired a hackney coach to drive in front of his window at the inn all night, and sent out the boots at proper intervals to call the time and the weather, like the London watchmen.
 
Lord Allen was a man of very moderate means, and eked out his income by dining out as much as possible. An incivil remark at dinner to an old lady caused her to say: “My lord, your title must be as good as board wages to you!”
 
Lord Allen was generally known as “King Allen.” In course of time, as a result of his lounging life about town, he lost most of his not very abundant money, when he withdrew to Dublin, where, in Merrion Square, he slept behind a large brass plate with “Viscount Allen” upon it, which verified the old lady’s remark; for it was as good to him as a regular income, and brought endless invitations from people eager to feed a Viscount at any hour of the day or night.
 
Many distinguished men have belonged to White’s, and many more have tried to do so. Louis Napoleon, during his exile in London, is said much to have desired to be a member of White’s, but his wish was never gratified.
 
Count d’Orsay, who drew the portraits of many of his contemporaries, some of whom were members of this club (lithographs of which portraits hang in the morning-room), made several attempts to secure election, but without success. As he was very 83popular amongst the men of his day, it was probably merely the fact of his being a foreigner which kept him out.
 
Though the shell of Sir Whistler Webster’s “Great House” still exists at White’s, many structural alterations have been made from time to time. The most notable of these was undertaken in 1850, when Raggett, the then proprietor, entrusted to Mr. Lockyer the work of remodelling the fa?ade of the old club-house. Four bas-reliefs, designed by Mr. George Scharf, jun., representing the four seasons, were, under Lockyer’s direction, inserted in the place of four sash-windows. At this period the old balcony rails would seem to have been moved, and the present elaborate cast-iron work substituted—a very doubtful improvement. The interior of the club-house was also then redecorated by the firm of Morant, and Victorian mantelpieces were introduced into some of the rooms. In all probability these alterations, carried out at a period when taste was at a low ebb, robbed White’s of much which the more enlightened taste of to-day would have wished preserved.
 
The management of White’s by Henry Raggett only ended at his death in 1859. He was the last of the proprietors of the club who were also the owners of the freehold of the club building.
 
Raggett was succeeded as manager by Percival, who continued in this position till his death in 1882. The Misses Raggett, sisters of the late proprietor, still owned the club-house, and consequently a certain feeling of insecurity prevailed as to the future of the club. In 1868 a proposal was made that the 84building should be purchased from the Misses Raggett by the members; but it was found that the property was in Chancery, and that nothing could be done. The club, still feeling unsettled, decided to form a fund to provide against eventualities connected with the tenure of the house. This they accomplished by raising the entrance fee to nineteen guineas, ten of which were devoted to the purpose, and placed in the hands of trustees.
 
Lord Hartington reported, in 1870, that he had at last induced the trustees of the Raggetts to name a price for the sale of the club building. This was fixed at ￡60,000. He reported at the same time that Percival held an unexpired lease of ten years at a rental of ￡2,100. The club very naturally refused to entertain the idea of purchase at any such figure. A reduced offer of ￡50,000, made a month later, they also refused.
 
A year afterwards the place was sold by auction. With a view to purchase, members of White’s had subscribed for debentures to the amount of ￡16,000. At the auction, the representative of the club bid ￡38,000 for the property, but it was bought by Mr. Eaton, M.P., afterwards Lord Cheylesmore, for ￡46,000.
 
After some fruitless negotiations in 1877, when the number of members had been increased to 600, Percival, negotiating on his own account with Mr. Eaton, announced that he had obtained a new lease of thirty years, from 1881, at a rent of ￡3,000 a year. In 1882 Mr. Percival died. The management of White’s then passed to his son, as representative of Mrs. Percival, the widow.
 
85In 1888 matters arrived at a crisis. Mrs. Percival announced her intention of terminating her lease with Lord Cheylesmore, and it was proposed by the committee to grant her a sum of ￡1,200 in consideration of her carrying on the club business until the end of the year. There were various meetings at which the proposal was discussed, and much was said on both sides. Eventually it was carried, and negotiations were entered into with two members of the club who had expressed themselves willing to take over the management. In July of 1888 the management of the Percivals came to an end by the signing of an agreement for the future conduct of White’s by a member of the club, Mr. Algernon Bourke.
 
Under his management White’s resumed its youth, and was again invested with an air of sprightly insouciance, which in latter years had been conspicuous by its absence. Drastic structural alterations, carried out under the direction of Mr. Bourke, much improved the convenience of the building. The courtyard, where was an old Well from which, up to quite recent years, the water used in the club was drawn, was roofed over and converted into a spacious billiard-room, and the large front room was converted into a dining-room, certain alterations being made in the apartment behind previously used for that purpose.
 
Within the last two years some further alterations of a very judicious nature have been carried out in the club-house. An upper story containing servants’ bedrooms has been added, but this has scarcely altered the appearance of the house, and the fa?ade 86remains practically the same as it has been for the last fifty-seven years.
 
Portfolios seem formerly to have been preserved at White’s, which contained engravings of well-known members. Many of these were framed by Mr. Bourke, who, adding to the number, formed the present valuable and interesting collection. On each of these prints the date at which its subject belonged to White’s is inscribed in pencil. As a club record of past membership the series is unique.
 
In the dining-room of the club are several paintings, and among them is a portrait of the first Duke of Wellington, by Count d’Orsay. This, I believe, is one of two portraits painted by the Count. The Iron Duke, it is said, was much pleased with them, and declared that d’Orsay was the only artist who had ever painted him as a gentleman.
 
Other oil-paintings here represent George II and George III—a modern portrait shows the late Duke of Cambridge in undress uniform. There are also a few other pictures, including two of horses by John Wooton. All the pictures in this room, with the exception of the portrait of George II, originally in the house dining-room (now the committee-room next door), were acquired after the reconstitution of the club by Mr. Bourke in 1888. On the other hand, some Italian pictures and a curious portrait of a woman, supposed to have been in White’s since its foundation, have disappeared. The same fate, unfortunately, has befallen the fine old silver plate which belonged to the club up to comparatively recent years; and most of the original furniture is in other hands.
 
87The whimsical coat of arms which, carved in wood, hangs over the fireplace in the entrance hall is, of course, a modern copy of the design invented by Horace Walpole and his friends at Strawberry Hill.
 
The worth of some of the old furniture in White’s was great, as may be realized when it is stated that the present possessor of two small sideboards formerly in the dining-room was a short time ago offered ￡600 apiece for them by a well-known expert. The original eighteenth-century dining-room chairs (the place of which is now supplied by copies) were also of great interest and value.
 
A curious old oak table, now in the committee-room at White’s, is in no way connected with the history of that club. It was originally the dining-table of the Sublime Society of Beefsteaks, and has on it three carvings. Two of these represent the mitre and Beefeater’s cap which figured in the ceremonial of that institution, and the centre one a gridiron, which was its crest. As has already been mentioned, this table was purchased by Mr. Bourke.
 
A richly decorated piano which formerly stood in what is now the card-room has gone, as have also a very ornamental French weather-glass and some other objets d’art.
 
Of late years great efforts have been made to recover anything connected with the past history of White’s, and already, owing to the efforts of certain members, several have been discovered and obtained. These include the quaint original ballot-box and a complete set of the old gaming counters, 88which, like those at Brooks’s, are inscribed with the sums they represented.
 
A feature of the downstairs lounge at White’s is the belt presented to Heenan after his celebrated fight with Tom Sayers. This interesting trophy, which is lent by a member (Mr. Gilbert Elliot), now hangs over the mantelpiece beneath a not very successful bas-relief of the late King, which was placed there during the alterations in 1888. It is said that an unsophisticated visitor to the club-house being taken into the lounge, after glancing at the silver belt and the bas-relief above, eagerly inquired, “Did the King win it?” which remark naturally occasioned much amusement.
 
In the lease of White’s Club-house is a clause, dating from the middle of the eighteenth century, which lays down that copies of the Times and of the Racing Calendar should always be preserved, in consequence of which, up to a few years ago, the cellars were filled with an enormous mass of paper, much of which had been almost reduced to pulp, owing to inflows of water during floods. The collection is now stored elsewhere.
 
White’s Club is just a year older than the Bank of England. It was established before the last of the Stuarts had left the throne, and a number of its members have fought England’s battles on land and sea. One of these was Lord St. Vincent, the great sailor, who brought the West Indies to the British Crown and won the naval battle of St. Vincent. Rodney was a member, and his wife, when her husband had been greatly impoverished by gaming debts and election expenses, sent the 89hat round for him at White’s. Very inappropriately, however, the money was provided by a Frenchman, the Marshal de Biron. George Keppel, third Earl of Albemarle, who captured Havana in 1762, was another naval member, as was Charles Saunders, who co-operated with General Wolfe in the assault of the Heights of Abraham; so too was Boscawen, who went by the name of “Old Dreadnought.”
 
Besides having had a great number of gallant soldiers and sailors on its list, this club can also boast that for many years the destinies of Great Britain were practically in the hands of certain of its members.
 
Sir Robert Walpole and his able rival, William Pulteney, afterwards Earl of Bath, were members of the old club at White’s in 1756. In the debate on the motion for the impeachment of Sir Robert in 1741, the latter, in the course of a speech, quoted a verse from Horace. Pulteney rose and remarked that the right honourable gentleman’s Latin and logic were alike inaccurate. Walpole denied it, and a bet of a guinea was made across the floor of the House. The matter was then referred to the Clerk at the table, a noted scholar, and decided against the Minister.
 
The guinea was handed to Pulteney, and is now in the British Museum, with the following inscription in his handwriting:
 
“This guinea, I desire, may be kept as an heirloom. It was won of Sir Robert Walpole in the House of Commons; he asserting the verse in Horace to be ‘Nulli pallescere culp?,’ whereas I 90laid the wager of a guinea that it was ‘Nulla pallescere culpa.’ I told him that I could take the money without blush on my side, but believed it was the only money he ever gave in the House where the giver and receiver ought not equally to blush. This guinea, I hope, will prove to my posterity the use of knowing Latin, and encourage them in their learning.”
 
The betting-book at White’s, which is still in existence, bears witness to the love of a past age for speculating about every manner of thing, grave or gay. At one period of the eighteenth century chess was in high favour at White’s. Several matches are recorded in the betting-book. Lord Howe, for instance, engages “to play twelve games at chess with Lord Egmont, and bets Lord Egmont twelve guineas to six guineas of each game.” It is also recorded that M. de Mirepoix, the French Ambassador, sent an invitation to all chess-players of both clubs[2] to meet him for a game. He spells the word “clubs” “clamps.”
 
2.  White’s was formed from the old and new clubs into which it was originally divided.
 
Lord Montfort, who eventually met with a tragic death at his own hands, in consequence, it would appear, of the impecuniosity which followed on his wild gaming, made a curious bet as to his powers as a horseman:
 
July ye 17th, 1752.
 
Ld. Montfort to ride six days running.
 
1st. Ld. Montfort gives Ld. Downe one guinea to receive 10 gs. when he rides 35 miles within the first day.
 
912nd. Ld. Montfort gives Ld. Ashburnham 1 guinea to receive 10 gs. when he rides 25 miles within the second day.
pd.
 
3rd. Ld. Montfort gives Ld. Waldegrave one guinea, to receive 10 gs. when he rides 20 miles within the third day.
paid.
 
4th. Ld. Montfort gives Mr. Watson 1 guinea, to receive 10 gs. when he rides 15 miles within the fourth day.
pd.
 
5th. Ld. Montfort gives Ld. Downe 1 guinea, to receive 10 gs. when he rides 10 miles within the fifth day.
 
6th. Ld. Montfort gives Ld. Howe 1 guinea to receive 10 guineas when he rides 5 miles within the Sixth day.
Paid.
 
Another wager of this nobleman dealt with the matrimonial intentions of the proprietor of White’s:
 
Ld. Montfort wagers Ld. Ravensworth one hundred guineas, Duke of Devonshire Fifty guineas, and Ld. Hartington fifty guineas, that Mr. Arthur is not married in three year from ye date hereof, March 11th, 1754.
 
N.B. Bob goes Twenty guineas with Ld. Montfort in this bet.[3] (Now Sir Robt. Mackreth.)
 
3.  A note added: “‘Bob,’ the waiter, married the daughter of Mr. Arthur, the proprietor of the club, became prosperous, and was afterwards knighted. He was subsequently Member for Castle Rising.”
 
The following are a few of the very numerous bets of which account is given in this curious record:
 
November 7th, 1758.
 
Mr. Cadogan engages to pay Mr. Willis twenty guineas, in consideration of one guinea received from him, whenever he has in his possession, either by purchase or gift, a Post Chaise with a crane neck.
 
92The following bet, recorded in 1813, would appear to refer to some incident in the life of Mr. Creevy which has escaped notice:
 
Col. Osborn bets Sir J. Copley 5 gs. that Mr. Creevy is imprisoned before the announcement of the capture of Dantzic is received.
J. Copley.
J. Osborn. pd.
 
April 2nd.
 
Mr. Methuen bets Col. Stanhope ten guineas to 1, that a certain worthy Baronet understood between them does not of necessity part with his gold ice-pails, before this day twelvemonth; the ice-pails being found at a pawnbroker’s, will not entitle Col. Stanhope to receive his ten guineas.
H. F. R. Stanhope.
Paul Methuen.
 
White’s, April 10th, 1813.
 
Mr. Raikes bets Sir Joseph Copley ten guineas that he does not play at cards or dice at any Club in London in a year from this date.
settled.
 
May 22nd, 1818.
 
Lord Binning bets Lord Falmouth five guineas that a Roman Catholic Bishop upon formally abjuring his Catholic faith, may be made a Protestant Bishop without any new ordination in the Protestant Church.
Binning.
Falmouth. pd.
 
April 17th, 1825.
 
Lord George Bentinck bets Col. Walpole a Rouleau that the Duke of St. Albans marries 93Mrs. Coutts within six months of this day. Ld. Elliott stands half the bet with Ld. G. Bentinck.
G. Bentinck.
 
January 8, 1826.
 
July 8, paid a pony to the waiter for Col. Walpole.—G. Bentinck.
 
1 June pd. a pony Elliott.
 
Lord Maidstone bets Ld. Kelburne six bets of ￡50 each that he has six horses now in his own stable which he will ride over and shall clear a 5 feet wall in the Leath country in Lincolnshire.
Sir Richard Sutton, Bart. } to be umpires.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . }
 
Lord Adolphus FitzClarence bets Mr. George Bentinck ￡10 that there is not a shot fired in anger in London during the year 1851.
 
Mr. F. Cavendish bets Mr. H. Brownrigg 2/1 that he does not kill the bluebottle fly before he goes to bed.
W. Frederick Cavendish.
Henry M. Brownrigg. recd. H.B.
 
July 17, 1856.
 
At one time very large sums changed hands over the whist-table at White’s. One of the most distinguished gamblers was Lord Rivers, known in Paris as Le Wellington des Joueurs. This nobleman, it is said, once lost ￡3,400 at whist by not remembering that the seven of hearts was in! He played at hazard for the highest stakes that anyone could be got to play, and at one time was supposed to have won nearly ￡100,000; but 94all, together with a great deal more, went at Crockford’s.
 
In earlier days White’s appears to have been an occasional resort of very queer characters indeed. In Hogarth’s gambling scene at White’s we see the highwayman, with the pistols peeping out of his pocket, waiting by the fireside till the heaviest winner takes his departure, in order to recoup himself of his losings. And in the “Beaux’ Stratagem,” Aimwell asks of Gibbet: “Ha’n’t I seen your face at White’s?”
 
M’Clean, the fashionable highwayman, had a lodging in St. James’s Street, over against White’s; and he was as well known about St. James’s as any gentlemen who lived in that quarter, and who, perhaps, went upon the road, too. When M’Clean was taken, in 1750, Horace Walpole tells us that Lord Mountfort, at the head of half White’s, went the first day; his aunt was crying over him. As soon as they were withdrawn, she said to him, knowing they were of White’s: “My dear, what did the Lords say to you? Have you ever been concerned with any of them?”
 
Mr. Pelham, the Prime Minister, who had originally been an officer, was a well-known frequenter of the gaming-table at White’s, to which he resorted even when in high office—a habit alluded to in the following lines:
“Or chair’d at White’s, amidst the doctors sit,
Teach oaths to gamesters, and to nobles wit.”
 
General Scott, the father-in-law of George Canning and the Duke of Portland, was known to have 95won at White’s ￡200,000, thanks to his notorious sobriety and knowledge of this game. The General possessed a great advantage over his companions by avoiding the excesses which used not unfrequently to muddle their brains. He confined himself to dining off something very light, such as a boiled chicken with toast and water, and in consequence always came to the whist-table with a clear head. Possessing a remarkable memory, with great coolness of judgment, he was able honestly to win the enormous sum of ￡200,000.
 
At Almack’s, a rival institution to White’s, there was also much high play. According to the rule of the house, every player had to keep not less than twenty to fifty guineas on the table in front of him, and often there was as much as ￡10,000 in gold on the table. The players, before sitting down at the gaming-table, removed their embroidered clothes and substituted frieze greatcoats, or turned their coats inside out for luck. They also put on short leather sleeves to save their lace ruffles, and in order to guard their eyes from the light and keep their hair in order they wore high-crowned straw hats, with broad brims adorned with flowers and ribbons; whilst to conceal their emotions they also wore shades or masks.
 
George Selwyn, one evening at White’s, saw a member connected with the postal service, Sir Everard Fawkener (the present writer’s great-grandfather, and an indifferent card-player), losing a large sum of money at piquet. Selwyn, pointing to the successful player, remarked: “See now, he is robbing the mail!”
 
96On another occasion, in 1756, observing Mr. Ponsonby, the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons, tossing about bank-bills at a hazard-table at Newmarket, “Look,” he said, “how easily the Speaker passes the money-bills!”
 
Of the gambling at White’s in former days so much has been written that it would be superfluous to dwell upon this phase in the history of the club when George Selwyn played night after night. Selwyn, however, was something more than a mere gambler, and possessed in a conspicuous degree the power of scourging folly and self-pretension. The following is an instance of his powers in this direction:
 
One morning, when Selwyn was at the home of the Duke of Queensberry, a newly-appointed Commissioner of Taxes made his appearance. This man was in a tumult of joy at his preferment; but, though it was to the Duke he had primarily been indebted for his good fortune, he hardly thanked him; for he was possessed with the notion that it was from his own merit that he had acquired the promotion. Entering the room, he assumed several consequential airs, thinking that he was now as great a man as the Duke himself.
 
“So, Mr. Commissioner,” said Selwyn—“you will excuse me, sir, I forget your name—you are at length installed, I find.” The word “installed” conveyed an awkward idea; for the new Commissioner’s grandfather had been a stable-boy.
 
“Why, sir,” replied the other, “if you mean to say that I am at length appointed, I have the pleasure to inform you that the business is settled. 97Yes, I am appointed; and though our noble friend, the Duke here, did oblige me with letters to the Minister, yet these letters were of no use; and I was positively promoted to the office without knowing a syllable about the matter, or even taking a single step in it.”
 
“What! not a single step?” cried George.
 
“No, not one, upon my honour,” replied the new-fledged placeman. “Egad, sir! I did not walk a foot out of my way for it.”
 
“And egad, sir!” retorted Selwyn, “you never before uttered half so much truth in so few words. Reptiles, sir, can neither walk nor take steps—nature ordained they should creep.”
 
Like many men of his day, Selwyn did and said many things which a later age would call very snobbish. Happening to be at Bath when it was nearly empty, he was induced, for the mere purpose of killing time, to cultivate the acquaintance of an elderly gentleman he was in the habit of meeting in the Rooms. In the height of the following season Selwyn encountered his old associate in St. James’s Street. He endeavoured to pass unnoticed, but in vain. “What! do you not recollect me?” exclaimed the indignant provincial. “I recollect you perfectly,” replied Selwyn, “and when I next go to Bath I shall be most happy to become acquainted with you again.”
 
Though Selwyn appears to have preferred White’s, he did not entirely confine his attention to it. It was in his day the fashion to belong to as many clubs as possible—Wilberforce, indeed, mentions no fewer than five to which he himself belonged: 98Brooks’s, Boodle’s, White’s, Miles and Evans’s in New Palace Yard, and Goosetree’s, on the site of which stands the Marlborough. As their names imply, all these clubs were originally mere coffee-houses, kept by men of the above names, the most celebrated of whom, next to the proprietors of White’s, was Brookes, or Brooks, who founded the present club in St. James’s Street.