In the 1790s, a handful of noble women with an eye to repairing their shattered fortunes, set up their own faro banks. Mrs. Strutt, Mrs. Hobart, and Lady Elizabeth Luttrell (the sister of the notorious Duchess of Cumberland) all set up gambling tables.
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| Lady Elizabeth Luttrell |
The most celebrated proprietress,
however, and the one who most often enjoyed the Prince’s patronage, was Lady Sarah
Archer. Lady Archer’s gaming establishment (which she euphemistically called a
“garden party”) hosted the most glittering members of the nobility, and she
knew how to attract gentlemen of fortune. She was a keen businesswoman who
shrewdly turned criticism to her advantage despite the fact that moralists of
the time charged that the ladies who frequented her tables served a more
iniquitous purpose (which, no doubt, increased her business considerably!). In The
Private Life of a King, John Banvard charged that Lady Archer’s Cyprians
were “training up to that character under the auspices of the patroness of the
night.”
“In all the arts and mysteries of love,”
Mr. Banvard declared, “she was acknowledged to be the paragon of the day.”
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| Lady Archer driving to the perfume warehouse in Pall Mall |
One of the most prominent men who fell under the spell of Lady Archer’s charms was the Duke of York, who it was said introduced the Prince of Wales to Lady Archer’s faro table.
It’s difficult to estimate the frequency
of the Prince’s visits to Lady Archer’s establishment; but her acquaintance
with the Prince blossomed to the point where she felt comfortably secure enough
to invoke his name whenever she thought it might do her some good.
When authorities began fining and
bringing charges against illegal gaming establishments, Lady Archer and Lady
Buckinghamshire (another noble woman who gave “garden-parties”) were two
proprietresses of the trade too conspicuous for the law to ignore. Lady Archer,
determined to keep her establishment open, applied to the magistrates for a
license under the name of Mr. Martindale (one of her more frequent customers)
and not-so-subtly hinted that the license had better be forthcoming because her
gaming rooms were patronized by the Prince of Wales.
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| King George IV when Prince of Wales |
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| The Gaming Table by Thomas Rowlandson |
The Prince wrote: “As I am thoroughly persuaded that in the administration of justice the very last thing that could enter your lordship’s thoughts would be any remark that would fall from your lips to unwarrantably prejudice the public mind against an individual of any description whatever, I am confident that your lordship could never have used the expression which in the notion of every one so decidedly alludes to me . . . It is true that, from applications from many respected quarters, I have been induced to assent to my name being placed among others as a member of a new Club, to be instituted under the management of Mr. Martindale, merely for the purpose of social intercourse, of which I never can object to be a promoter, and especially as it was represented to me, that the object of this institution was to enable his trustees to render justice to various honorable and fair claimants. But if these were really your lordship’s words (which I cannot for a moment suppose) give me leave to tell you that you have totally mistaken my character and turn, for of all men universally known to have the least predilection to play, I am perhaps the very man in the world who stands the strongest and most proverbially so upon that point. I shall not trouble your lordship further upon this strange circumstance . . .”
Lord Kenyon’s response to the Prince was
swift and apologetic: “I am confident that I meant nothing offensive to you . .
. May I presume to hope that your Royal Highness will pardon this trouble.”
Of course, the Prince did pardon him; and Lady Archer did, indeed, receive her license. Her “garden-parties” continued but private homes were not the only place a gentlemen of title and wealth could gamble. Gentlemen’s clubs offered a comfortable atmosphere where men could gather and talk a bit of politics, do a lot of drinking and engage in high-stakes gambling.
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| The Faro Table by James Gilray |
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Horace Walpole wrote in 1744 about a recorded
wager of £1,500 that a human being could live under water for twelve hours.
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Lord Alvanley wagered £3,000 (estimated
at over $100,000 in today’s economy) that one raindrop would beat another
raindrop to the bottom of the club’s famous bow window.
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Lord Alvanley (again!) wagered Mr.
Talbot one hundred guineas to ten guineas that “a certain person understood
between them does not marry a certain lady understood between them in eighteen
months from this day, January 5, 1811.” The betting book indicates Lord
Alvanley won the wager.
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| Gambling Hell by Cruikshank |
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| Hard Hit by Sir William Quiller Orchardson |
Of course, no women were ever allowed
inside the hallowed portals of a Regency era gentleman’s club, so all accounts
I’ve read are from the man’s perspective. I used my imagination to fill in some
blanks when I wrote the gambling scenes in my book A Scandalous Season. The hero is the kind of high-stakes gambler who probably would have graced Lady Archer's faro table. Under the influence of a bruised ego and a
bottle of wine, he makes a foolish wager for a ridiculous amount, much like Lord Alvanley’s
wager with Mr. Talbot. Luckily, my hero is wealthy enough to cover his bet and
charming enough to win the heroine’s heart. Click here to read more about A Scandalous Season.
Additional
sources:
- George the Fourth; including His Letters and Opinions, with a View of the Men, Manners, and Politics of His Reign by Percy Fitzgerald.
- Huish’s Memoirs, George IV, Vol. 1 by Robert Huish.
- Social Caricature in the Eighteenth Century by George Paston.
- Western Argus, October 2, 1906, p. 44.
