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 assistance, 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 manœuvre. 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."
"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 Devonshire,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 balls: d—n his Irish impudence, if two balls 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 balls 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 principals; so, I'll step up at once, and put this thing to rights, without any more unnecessary delay."
