ance to the past suggests the following
melancholy list, which only forms a part of its deplorable results: none
of the dead reached the average age of man.' Among the members were Beau
Brummell and the madman Bligh.

7. CROCKFORD'S CLUB.

This once celebrated gaming house is now 'The Wellington,' where the
rattle of knives and forks has succeeded that of dice. It was erected in
1827, and at its opening it was described as 'the new Pandemonium--the
drawing-rooms, or real hell, consisting of four chambers: the first an
ante-room, opening to a saloon embellished to a degree which baffles
description; thence to a small curiously-formed cabinet or boudoir,
which opens to the supper-room. All these rooms are panelled in the most
gorgeous manner; spaces are left to be filled up with mirrors and silk,
or gold enrichments; while the ceilings are as superb as the walls.
A billiard-room on the upper floor completes the number of apartments
professedly dedicated to the use of the members. Whenever any secret
manoeuvre is to be carried on, there are smaller and more retired
places, both under this roof and the next, whose walls will tell no
tales.'

'It rose,' says a writer in the Edinburgh Review, 'like a creation of
Aladdin's lamp; and the genii themselves could hardly have surpassed
the beauty of the internal decorations, or furnished a more accomplished
maitre d'hotel than Ude. To make the company as select as possible,
the estabishment was regularly organized as a club, and the election of
members vested in a committee. "Crockford's" became the rage, and the
votaries of fashion, whether they like play or not, hastened to enroll
themselves. The Duke of Wellington was an original member, though
(unlike Blucher, who repeatedly lost everything he had at play) the
great captain was never known to play deep at any game but war or
politics. Card-tables were regularly placed, and Whist was played
occasionally; but the aim, end, and final cause of the whole was the
Hazard bank, at which the proprietor took his nightly stand, prepared
for all comers. Le Wellington des Joueurs lost L23,000 at a sitting,
beginning at twelve at night, and ending at seven the following evening.
He and three other noblemen could not have lost less, sooner or
later, than L100,000 a piece.(39) Others lost in proportion (or out of
proportion) to their means; but we leave it to less occupied moralists
and better calculators to say how many ruined families wen