Club Life of London Volume I Part 8

Lord Tankerville a.s.sured Mr. Rogers that Fox once played cards with Fitzpatrick at Brookes's from ten o'clock at night till near six o'clock the next afternoon, a waiter standing by to tell them "whose deal it was," they being too sleepy to know. Fox once won about eight thousand pounds; and one of his bond-creditors, who soon heard of his good luck, presented himself, and asked for payment. "Impossible, Sir," replied Fox; "I must first discharge my debts of honour." The bond-creditor remonstrated. "Well, Sir, give me your bond." It was delivered to Fox, who tore it in pieces, and threw them into the fire.

"Now, Sir," said Fox, "my debt to you is a debt of honour;" and immediately paid him.

Amidst the wildest excesses of youth, even while the perpetual victim of his pa.s.sion for play, Fox eagerly cultivated at intervals his taste for letters, especially the Greek and Roman historians and poets; and he found resources in their works, under the most severe depressions occasioned by ill-success at the gaming-table. One morning, after Fox had pa.s.sed the whole night in company with Topham Beauclerc at faro, the two friends were about to separate. Fox had lost throughout the night, and was in a frame of mind approaching desperation. Beauclerc's anxiety for the consequences which might ensue led him to be early at Fox's lodgings; and on arriving, he inquired, not without apprehension, whether he had risen. The servant replied that Mr. Fox was in the drawing-room, when Beauclerc walked upstairs, and cautiously opened the door, expecting to behold a frantic gamester stretched on the floor, bewailing his losses, or plunged in moody despair; but he was astonished to find him reading a Greek Herodotus.

"What would you have me do?" said Fox, "I have lost my last s.h.i.+lling."

Upon other occasions, after staking and losing all that he could raise at faro, instead of exclaiming against fortune, or manifesting the agitation natural under such circ.u.mstances, he would lay his head on the table, and retain his place, but, exhausted by mental and bodily fatigue, almost immediately fall into a profound sleep.

One night, at Brookes's, Fox made some remark on Government powder, in allusion to something that had happened. Adams considered it a reflection, and sent Fox a challenge. Fox went out, and took his station, giving a full front. Fitzgerald said, "You must stand sideways." Fox said, "Why I am as thick one way as the other,"--"Fire,"

was given: Adams fired, Fox did not, and when they said he must, he said, "I'll be d--d if I do. I have no quarrel." They then advanced to shake hands. Fox said, "Adams, you'd have killed me if it had not been Government powder." The ball hit him in the groin.

Another celebrated character, who frequented Brookes's in the days of Selwyn, was Dunning, afterwards Lord Ashburton; and many keen encounters pa.s.sed between them. Dunning was a short, thick man, with a turn-up nose, a constant shake of the head, and latterly a distressing hectic cough--but a wit of the first water. Though he died at the comparatively early age of fifty-two, he ama.s.sed a fortune of 150,000 during twenty-five years' practice at the bar; and lived notwithstanding, so liberally, that his mother, an attorney's widow, some of the wags at Brookes's wickedly recorded, left him in dudgeon on the score of his extravagance, as humorously sketched at a dinner at the lawyer's country-house near Fulham, when the following _conversation_ was represented to have occurred:--

"John," said the old lady to her son, after dinner, during which she had been astounded by the profusion of the plate and viands,--"John, I shall not stop another day to witness such shameful extravagance."

"But, my dear mother," interrupted Dunning, "you ought to consider that I can afford it: my income, you know--"

"No income," said the old lady impatiently, "can stand such shameful prodigality. The sum which your cook told me that very _turbot_ cost, ought to have supported any reasonable family for a week."

"Pooh, pooh! my dear mother," replied the dutiful son, "you would not have me appear shabby. Besides, what is a turbot?"

"Pooh, pooh! what is a turbot?" echoed the irritated dame: "don't _pooh_ me, John: I tell you such goings-on can come to no good, and you'll see the end of it before long. However, it sha'n't be said your mother encouraged such sinful waste, for I'll set off in the coach to Devons.h.i.+re to-morrow morning."

"And notwithstanding," said Sheridan, "all John's rhetorical efforts to detain her, the old lady kept her word."

Sheridan's election as a member of Brookes's took place under conflicting circ.u.mstances. His success at Stafford met with fewer obstacles than he had to encounter in St. James's-street, where Selwyn's political aversions and personal jealousy were very formidable, as were those of the Earl of Bessborough, and they and other members of the Club had determined to exclude Sheridan.

Conscious that every exertion would be made to ensure his success, they agreed not to absent themselves during the time allowed by the regulations of the Club for ballots; and as one black ball sufficed to extinguish the hopes of a candidate, they repeatedly prevented his election. In order to remove so serious an impediment, Sheridan had recourse to artifice. On the evening when it was resolved to put him up, he found his two inveterate enemies posted as usual. A chairman was then sent with a note, written in the name of her father-in-law, Lord Bessborough, acquainting him that a fire had broken out in his house in Cavendish Square, and entreating him immediately to return home. Unsuspicious of any trick, as his son and daughter-in-law lived under his roof, Lord Bessborough unhesitatingly quitted the room, and got into a sedan-chair. Selwyn, who resided not far from Brookes's in Cleveland-row, received, nearly at the same time, a verbal message to request his presence, in consequence of Miss f.a.gniani, (whom he had adopted as his daughter,) being suddenly seized with alarming indisposition. This summons he obeyed; and no sooner was the room cleared, than Sheridan being proposed a member, a ballot took place, when he was immediately chosen. Lord Bessborough and Selwyn returned without delay, on discovering the imposition that had been practised on their credulity, but they were too late to prevent its effects.

Such is the story told by Selwyn, in his Memoirs; but the following account is more generally acredited. The Prince of Wales joined Brookes's Club, to have more frequent intercourse with Mr. Fox, one of its earliest members, and who, on his first acquaintance with Sheridan, became anxious for his admission to the Club. Sheridan was three times proposed, but as often had the black ball in the ballot, which disqualified him. At length, the hostile ball was traced to George Selwyn, who objected, because his (Sheridan's) father had been upon the stage. Sheridan was apprised of this, and desired that his name might be put up again, and that the further conduct of the matter might be left to himself. Accordingly, on the evening when he was to be balloted for, Sheridan arrived at Brookes's arm-in-arm with the Prince of Wales, just ten minutes before the balloting began. They were shown into the candidates' waiting-room, when one of the club-waiters was ordered to tell Mr. Selwyn that the Prince desired to speak with him immediately. Selwyn obeyed the summons, and Sheridan, to whom this version of the affair states, Sheridan had no personal dislike, entertained him for half-an-hour with some political story, which interested him very much, but had no foundation in truth. During Selwyn's absence, the balloting went on, and Sheridan was chosen; and the result was announced to himself and the Prince by the waiter, with the preconcerted signal of stroking his chin with his hand.

Sheridan immediately rose from his seat, and apologizing for a few minutes' absence, told Selwyn that "the Prince would finish the narrative, the catastrophe of which he would find very remarkable."

Sheridan now went upstairs, was introduced to the Club, and was soon in all his glory. The Prince, in the meantime, had not the least idea of being left to conclude a story, the thread of which (if it had a thread) he had entirely forgotten. Still, by means of Selwyn's occasional a.s.sistance, the Prince got on pretty well for a few minutes, when a question from the listener as to the flat contradiction of a part of His Royal Highness' story to that of Sheridan, completely posed the narrator, and he stuck fast. After much floundering, the Prince burst into a loud laugh, saying, "D--n the fellow, to leave me to finish the infernal story, of which I know as much as a child unborn! But, never mind, Selwyn; as Sheridan does not seem inclined to come back, let me go upstairs, and I dare say Fox or some of them will be able to tell you all about it." They adjourned to the club room, and Selwyn now detected the manoeuvre. Sheridan then rose, made a low bow, and apologized to Selwyn, through his dropping into such good company, adding, "They have just been making me a member without even _one black ball_, and here I am." "The devil they have!" exclaimed Selwyn.--"Facts speak for themselves," said Sheridan; "and I thank you for your friendly suffrage; and now, if you will sit down by us, I will finish my story."--"Your story! it is all a lie from beginning to end," exclaimed Selwyn, amidst loud laughter from all parts of the room.

Among the members who indulged in high play was Alderman Combe, who is said to have made as much money in this way as he did by brewing.

One evening, whilst he filled the office of Lord Mayor, he was busy at a full hazard-table at Brookes's, where the wit and the dice-box circulated together with great glee, and where Beau Brummell was one of the party. "Come, Mashtub," said Brummell, who was the _caster_, "what do you _set_?"--"Twenty-five guineas," answered the Alderman.--"Well, then," returned the Beau, "have at the mare's pony"

(25 guineas). He continued to throw until he drove home the brewer's twelve ponies, running; and then, getting up, and making him a low bow, whilst pocketing the cash, he said, "Thank you, alderman; for the future, I shall never drink any porter but yours."--"I wish, Sir,"

replied the brewer, "that every other blackguard in London would tell me the same."

FOOTNOTES:

[8] _Quarterly Review_, 1840.

"FIGHTING FITZGERALD"

AT BROOKES'S.

This notorious person, George Robert Fitzgerald, though nearly related to one of the first families in Ireland (Leinster), was executed in 1786, for a murder which he had coolly premeditated, and had perpetrated in a most cruel and cowardly manner.

His duelling propensities had kept him out of all the first Clubs in London. He once applied to Admiral Keith Stewart to propose him as a candidate for Brookes's; when the Admiral, knowing that he must either fight or comply with his request, chose the latter. Accordingly, on the night when the ballot was to take place (which was only a mere form in this case, for even Keith Stewart had resolved to _black-ball_ him), the duellist accompanied the Admiral to St. James's-street, and waited in the room below, while the ballot was taken. This was soon done; for, without hesitation, each member threw in a _black ball_; and when the scrutiny came, the company were not a little amazed to find not even _one_ white ball among the number. However, the rejection being carried _nem. con._, the question was, which of the members had the hardihood to announce the result to the expectant candidate. No one would undertake the office, for the announcement was thought sure to produce a challenge; and a duel with Fitzgerald had, in most cases, been fatal to his opponent. The general opinion was that the proposer, Admiral Stewart, should convey the intelligence.

"No, gentlemen," said he, "I proposed the fellow because I knew you would not admit him; but, by Jove, I have no inclination to risk my life against that of a madman."

"But, Admiral," replied the Duke of Devons.h.i.+re,[9] "there being no _white ball_ in the box, he must know that _you_ have black-balled him as well as the rest, and he is sure to call you out at all events."

This posed the Admiral, who, after some hesitation, proposed that the waiter should tell Fitzgerald that there was _one_ black ball, and that his name must be put up again if he wished it. All concurred in the propriety of this plan, and the waiter was dispatched on the mission. In the meantime, Fitzgerald had frequently rung the bell to inquire "the state of the poll," and had sent each waiter to ascertain, but neither durst return, when Mr. Brookes took the message from the waiter who was descending the staircase, and boldly entered the room, with a coffee equipage in his hand. "Did you call for coffee, Sir?" said Mr. Brookes, smartly. "D--n your coffee, Sir! and you too," answered Mr. Fitzgerald, in a voice which made the host's blood run cold. "I want to know, Sir, and that without one moment's delay, Sir, if I am _chose_ yet?"

"Oh, Sir!" replied Mr. Brookes, attempting to smile away the appearance of fear, "I beg your pardon, Sir, but I was just coming to announce to you, Sir, with Admiral Stewart's compliments, Sir, that unfortunately there was one black ball in the box, Sir; and consequently, by the rules of the Club, Sir, no candidate can be admitted without a new election, Sir;--which cannot take place, by the standing regulations of the Club, Sir, until one month from this time, Sir."

During this address, Fitzgerald's irascibility appeared to undergo considerable mollification; and at its close, he grasped Brookes's hand, saying, "My dear Brookes, _I'm chose_; but there must be a small matter of mistake in my election:" he then persuaded Brookes to go upstairs, and make his compliments to the gentlemen, and say, as it was only a mistake of _one_ black ball, they would be so good as to waive all ceremony on his account, and proceed to _re-elect_ their humble servant without any more delay at all." Many of the members were panic-struck, foreseeing a disagreeable finale to the farce which they had been playing. Mr. Brookes stood silent, waiting for the answer. At length, the Earl of March (afterwards Duke of Queensberry) said aloud, "Try the effect of _two_ b.a.l.l.s: d--n his Irish impudence, if two b.a.l.l.s don't take effect upon him, I don't know what will." This proposition was agreed to, and Brookes was ordered to communicate the same.

On re-entering the waiting-room, Mr. Fitzgerald eagerly inquired, "Have they _elected_ me right, now, Mr. Brookes?" the reply was, "Sorry to inform you that the result of the second balloting is--that _two_ black b.a.l.l.s were dropped, Sir."--"Then," exclaimed Fitzgerald, "there's now _two mistakes_ instead of one." He then persuaded Brookes again to proceed upstairs, and tell the honourable members to "try again, and make no more mistakes." General Fitzpatrick proposed that Brookes should reply, "His cause was all hopeless, for that he was _black-balled all over_, from head to foot, and it was hoped by all the members that Mr. Fitzgerald would not persist in thrusting himself into society where his company was declined." This message was of no avail: no sooner had Fitzgerald heard it than he exclaimed: "Oh, I perceive it is a _mistake altogether_, Mr. Brookes, and I must see to the rectifying of it myself, there's nothing like _daling_ with princ.i.p.als; so, I'll step up at once, and put this thing to rights, without any more unnecessary delay."

In spite of Mr. Brookes's remonstrance, that his entrance into the Club-room was against all rule and etiquette, Fitzgerald flew upstairs, and entered the room without any further ceremony than a bow, saying to the members, who indignantly rose at the intrusion, "Your servant, gentlemen--I beg ye will be _sated_."

Walking up to the fireplace, he thus addressed Admiral Stewart:--"So, my dear Admiral, Mr. Brookes informs me that I have been _elected_ three times."

"You have been balloted for, Mr. Fitzgerald, but I am sorry to say you have not been chosen," said Stewart.

"Well, then," replied the duellist, "did _you_ black-ball me?"--"My good Sir," answered the Admiral, "how could you suppose such a thing?"--"Oh, I _supposed_ no such thing, my dear fellow; I only want to know who it was that dropped the black b.a.l.l.s in by accident, as it were!"

Fitzgerald now went up to each individual member, and put the same question _seriatim_, "Did you black-ball me, Sir?" until he made the round of the whole Club; and in each case he received a reply similar to that of the Admiral. When he had finished his inquisition, he thus addressed the whole body: "You see, Gentlemen, that as none of ye have black-balled me, _I must be chose_; and it is Mr. Brookes that has made the mistake. But I was convinced of it from the beginning, and I am only sorry that so much time has been lost as to prevent honourable gentlemen from enjoying each other's company sooner." He then desired the waiter to bring him a bottle of champagne, that he might drink long life to the Club, and wish them joy of their unanimous election of a "_rael_ gentleman by father and mother, and _who never missed his man_."

The members now saw that there was nothing to be done but to send the intruder to Coventry, which they appeared to do by tacit agreement; for when Admiral Stewart departed, Mr. Fitzgerald found himself _cut_ by all his "dear friends." The members now formed parties at the whist-table; and no one replied to Fitzgerald's observations nor returned even a nod to the toasts and healths which he drank in three bottles of champagne, which the terrified waiter placed before him, in succession. At length, he arose, made a low bow, and took leave, promising to "come earlier next night, and have a little more of it."

It was then agreed that half-a-dozen stout constables should be in waiting the next evening to bear him off to the watch-house, if he attempted again to intrude. Of this measure, Fitzgerald seemed to be aware; for he never again showed himself at Brookes's; though he boasted everywhere that he had been unanimously chosen a member of the Club.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] This was the _bon-vivant_ Duke who had got ready for him every night, for supper, at Brookes's, a broiled blade-bone of mutton.

ARTHUR'S CLUB.

This Club, established more than a century since, at No. 69, St.

James's-street, derives its name from Mr. Arthur, the master of White's Chocolate-house in the same street. Mr. Cunningham records: "Arthur died in June, 1761, in St. James's-place; and in the following October, Mr. Mackreth married Arthur's only child, and Arthur's Chocolate-house, as it was then called, became the property of this Mr. Mackreth."

Walpole, writing in 1759, has this odd note: "I stared to-day at Piccadilly like a country squire; there are twenty new stone houses: at first I concluded that all the grooms that used to live there, had got estates and built palaces. One young gentleman, who was getting an estate, but was so indiscreet as to step out of his way to rob a comrade, is convicted, and to be transported; in short, one of the waiters at Arthur's. George Selwyn says, 'What a horrid idea he will give us of the people in Newgate?'"

Mackreth prospered; for Walpole, writing to Mann, in 1774, speaking of the New Parliament, says: "Bob, formerly a waiter at White's, was set up by my nephew for two boroughs, and actually is returned for Castle Rising with Mr. Wedderburne;

"'Servus curru portatur eodem;'

which I suppose will offend the Scottish Consul, as most of his countrymen resent an Irishman standing for Westminster, which the former reckon a borough of their own. For my part, waiter for waiter, I see little difference; they were all equally ready to cry, 'Coming, coming, Sir.'"

Mackreth was afterwards knighted; and upon him appeared this smart and well-remembered epigram: