When the allies entered Paris, after the Battle of Waterloo, the
English gentlemen sought, instinctively, something like a club. Paris,
however, possessed nothing of the sort; but there was a much more
dangerous establishment than the London clubs, namely, a rendezvous for
confirmed gamblers. The Salon des Etrangers was most gorgeously
furnished, provided with an excellent kitchen and wines, and was
conducted by the celebrated Marquis de Livry, who received the guests
and did the honours with a courtesy which made him famous throughout
Europe. The Marquis presented an extraordinary likeness to the Prince
Regent of England, who actually sent Lord Fife over to Paris to
ascertain this momentous fact. The play which took place in these
saloons was frequently of the most reckless character; large fortunes
were often lost, the losers disappearing, never more to be heard of.
Amongst the English habitues were the Hon. George T--, the late Henry
Baring, Lord Thanet, Tom Sowerby, Cuthbert, Mr. Steer, Henry Broadwood,
and Bob Arnold.
The Hon. George T--, who used to arrive from London with a very
considerable letter of credit expressly to try his luck at the Salon
des Etrangers, at length contrived to lose his last shilling at rouge
et noir. When he had lost everything he possessed in the world, he got
up and exclaimed, in an excited manner, "If I had Canova's Venus and
Adonis from Alton Towers, my uncle's country seat, it should be placed
on the rouge, for black has won fourteen times running!"
The late Henry Baring was more fortunate at hazard than his countryman,
but his love of gambling was the cause of his being excluded from the
banking establishment. Col. Sowerby, of the Guards, was one of the
most inveterate players in Paris; and, as is frequently the case with a
fair player, a considerable loser. But, perhaps, the most incurable
gamester amongst the English was Lord Thanet, whose income was not less
than 50,000£. a year, every farthing of which he lost at play.
Cuthbert dissipated the whole of his fortune in like manner. In fact,
I do not remember any instance where those who spent their time in this
den did not lose all they possessed.
The Marquis de L-- had a charming villa at Romainville, near Paris, to
which, on Sundays, he invited not only those gentlemen who were the
most prodigal patrons of his salon, but a number of ladies, who were
dancers and singers conspicuous at the opera; forming a society of the
strangest character, the male portion of which were bent on losing
their money, whilst the ladies were determined to get rid of whatever
virtue they might still have left. The dinners on these occasions were
supplied by the chef of the Salon des Etrangers, and were such as few
renommes of the kitchens of France could place upon the table.
Amongst the constant guests was Lord Fife, the intimate friend of
George IV., with Mdlle. Noblet, a danseuse, who gave so much
satisfaction to the habitues of the pit at the opera, both in Paris and
London. His lordship spent a fortune upon her; his presents in jewels,
furniture, articles of dress, and money, exceeded 40,000£. In return
for all this generosity, Lord Fife asked nothing more than the lady's
flattery and professions of affection.
Hall Standish was always to be seen in this circle; and his own hotel
in the Rue le Pelletier was often lighted up, and fetes given to the
theatrical and demi-monde. Standish died in Spain, leaving his gallery
of pictures to Louis Philippe.
Amonst others who visited the Salon des Etrangers were Sir Francis
Vincent, Gooch, Green, Ball Hughes, and many others whose names I no
longer remember. Of foreigners the most conspicuous were Blucher,
General Ormano, father-in-law of Count Walewski, Pacto, and Clari, as
well as most of the ambassadors at the court of the Tuileries. As at
Crockford's, a magnificent supper was provided every night for all who
thought proper to avail themselves of it. The games principally played
were rouge et noir and hazard; the former producing an immense profit,
for not only were the whole of the expenses of this costly
establishment defrayed by the winnings of the bank, but a very large
sum was paid annually to the municipality of Paris. I recollect a
young Irishman, Mr. Gough, losing a large fortune at this tapis vert.
After returning home about two A.M., he sat down and wrote a letter,
giving reasons as to why he was about to commit suicide: these, it is
needless to say, were simply his gambling reverses. A pistol shot
through the brain terminated his existence. Sir Francis Vincent--a man
of old family and considerable fortune--was another victim of this
French hell, who contrived to get rid of his magnificent property, and
then disappeared from society.
In calling up my recollections of the Salon des Etrangers, some forty
years since, I see before me the noble form and face of the Hungarian
Count Hunyady, the chief gambler of the day, who created considerable
sensation in his time. He became tres a la mode: his horses, carriage,
and house were considered perfect, while his good looks were the theme
of universal admiration. There were ladies' cloaks "a la Huniade,"
whilst the illustrious Borel, of the Rocher de Cancaile, named new
dishes after the famous Hungarian. Hunyady's luck for a long time was
prodigious: no bank could resist his attacks; and at one time he must
have been a winner of nearly two millions of francs. His manners were
particularly calm and gentlemanlike; he sat apparently unmoved, with
his right hand in the breast of his coat, whilst thousands depended
upon the turning of a card or the hazard of a die. His valet, however,
confided to some indiscreet friend that his nerves were not of such
iron temper as he would have made people believe, and that the count
bore in the morning the bloody marks of his nails, which he had pressed
into his chest in the agony of an unsuccessful turn of fortune. The
streets of Paris were at that time not very safe; consequently the
Count was usually attended to his residence by two gensdarmes, in order
to prevent his being attacked by robbers. Hunyady was not wise enough
(what gamblers are?) to leave Paris with his large winnings, but
continued as usual to play day and night. A run of bad luck set in
against him, and he lost not only the whole of the money he had won,
but a very large portion of his own fortune. He actually borrowed 50£.
of the well-known Tommy Garth--who was himself generally more in the
borrowing than the lending line--to take him back to Hungary.