We have just narrated the establishment of this Club—how it was originally a gaming club, and was formed at first by Almack. It was subsequently taken by Brookes, a wine-merchant and money-lender, according to Selwyn; and who is described by Tickell, in a copy of verses addressed to Sheridan, when Charles James Fox was to give a supper at his own lodgings, then near the Club:— "Derby shall send, if not his plate, his cooks, And know, I've brought the best champagne from Brookes, From liberal Brookes, whose speculative skill Is hasty credit, and a distant bill; Who, nursed in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid." From Pall Mall Brookes's Club removed to No. 60, on the west side of St. James's-street, where a handsome house was built at Brookes's expense, from the designs of Henry Holland, the architect; it was opened in October, Lord Crewe, one of the founders of the Club in Pall Mall, died in 1829, after sixty-five years' membership of Brookes's. Among its celebrities were Burke and Sir Joshua Reynolds, Garrick and Hume, Horace Walpole, Gibbon, and Sheridan and Wilberforce. Lord March, afterwards Duke of Queensberry, was one of its notorieties—"the old Q., whom many now living can remember, with his fixed eye and cadaverous face, watching the flow of the human tide past his bow-window in Pall Mall."—National Review, 1857. [This is hardly correct as to locality, since the Club left Pall Mall in 1778, and a reminiscent must be more than 80 years of age.] Among Selwyn's correspondents are Gilly Williams, Hare, Fitzpatrick, the Townshends, Burgoyne, Storer, and Lord Carlisle. R. Tickell, in "Lines from the Hon. Charles Fox to the Hon. John Townshend cruising," thus describes the welcome that awaits Townshend, and the gay life of the Club:— "Soon as to Brookes's thence thy footsteps bend, What gratulations thy approach attend! See Gibbon tap his box; auspicious sign, That classic compliment and evil combine. See Beauclerk's cheek a tinge of red surprise, And friendship gives what cruel health denies. Important Townshend! what can thee withstand? The ling'ring black-ball lags in Boothby's hand. E'en Draper checks the sentimental sigh; And Smith, without an oath, suspends the die." The Prince of Wales, one day at Brookes's, expatiating on that beautiful but far-fetched idea of Dr. Darwin's, that the reason of the bosom of a beautiful woman being the object of such exquisite delight for a man to look upon, arises from the first pleasurable sensations of warmth, sustenance, and repose, which he derives therefrom in his infancy; Sheridan replied, "Truly hath it been said, that there is only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous. All children who are brought up by hand must derive their pleasurable sensations from a very different source; yet I believe no one ever heard of any such, when arrived at manhood, evincing any very rapturous or amatory emotions at the sight of a wooden spoon." This clever exposure of an ingenious absurdity shows the folly of taking for granted every opinion which may be broached under the sanction of a popular name. The conversation at Brookes's, one day, turning on Lord Henry Petty's projected tax upon iron, one member said, that as there was so much opposition to it, it would be better to raise the proposed sum upon coals. "Hold! my dear fellow," said Sheridan, "that would be out of the frying pan into the fire, with a vengeance." Mr. Whitbread, one evening at Brookes's, talked "They've raised the price of table drink; What is the reason, do you think? The tax on malt's the cause I hear— But what has malt to do with beer?" Looking through a Number of the Quarterly Review, one day, at Brookes's, soon after its first appearance, Sheridan said, in reply to a gentleman who observed that the editor, Mr. Gifford, had boasted of the power of conferring and distributing literary reputation; "Very likely; and in the present instance I think he has done it so profusely as to have left none for himself." Sir Philip Francis was the convivial companion of Fox, and during the short administration of that statesman was made a Knight of the Bath. One evening, Roger Wilbraham came up to a whist-table at Brookes's, where Sir Philip, who for the first time wore the ribbon of the Order, was engaged in a rubber, and thus accosted him. Laying hold of the ribbon and examining it for some time, he said: "So, this is the way they have rewarded you at last: they have given you a little bit of red ribbon for your services, Sir Philip, have they? A pretty bit of red ribbon to hang about your neck; and that satisfies you, does it? Now, I wonder what I shall have.—What do you think they will give me, Sir Philip?" The newly-made Knight, who had twenty-five guineas depending on the rubber, and who was not very well pleased at the interruption, suddenly turned round, and looking at him fiercely, exclaimed, "A halter, and be d—d to you!" George III. invariably evinced a strong aversion to Fox, the secret of which it is easy to understand. His son, the Prince of Wales, threw himself into the arms of Fox, and this in the most undisguised manner. Fox lodged in St. James's-street, and as soon as he rose, which was very late, had a levee of his followers, and of the members of the gaming club, at Brookes's, all his disciples. His bristly black person, and shagged breast quite open, and rarely purified by any ablutions, was wrapped in a foul linen night-gown, and his bushy hair dishevelled. In these cynic weeds, and with epicurean good-humour, did he dictate his politics, and in this school did the heir of the Crown attend his lessons, and imbibe them. Fox's love of play was desperate. A few evenings before he moved the repeal of the Marriage Act, in February, 1772, he had been at Brompton on two errands: one to consult Justice Fielding on the penal laws; the other to borrow ten thousand pounds, which he brought to town at the hazard of being robbed. Fox played admirably both at whist and piquet; with such skill, indeed, that by the general admission of Brookes's Club, he might have made four thousand pounds a year, as they calculated, at those games, if he could have confined himself to them. But his misfortune arose from playing games at chance, particularly at Faro. After eating and drinking plentifully, he sat down to the Faro table, and inevitably rose a loser. Once, indeed, and once only, he won about eight thousand pounds in When Fox lodged with his friend Fitzpatrick, at Mackie's, some one remarked that two such inmates would be the ruin of Mackie, the oilman; "No," said George Selwyn; "so far from ruining him, they will make poor Mackie's fortune; for he will have the credit of having the finest pickles in London." The ruling passion of Fox was partly owing to the lax training of his father, who, by his lavish allowances, fostered his propensity for play. According to Chesterfield, the first Lord Holland "had no fixed principles in religion or morality," and he censures him to his son for being "too unwary in ridiculing and exposing them." He gave full swing to Charles in his youth: "let nothing be done," said his Lordship, "to break his spirit; the world will do that for him." (Selwyn.) At his death, in 1774, he left him £154,000 to pay his debts; it was all bespoke, and Fox soon became as deeply pledged as before. Walpole, in 1781, walking up St. James's-street, saw a cart and porters at Fox's door; with copper and an old chest of drawers, loading. His success at faro had awakened a host of creditors; but, unless his bank had swelled to the size of the Bank of England, it could not have yielded a sou apiece for each. Epsom, too, had been unpropitious; and one creditor had actually seized and carried off Fox's goods, which did not seem worth removing. Yet, shortly after this, whom should Walpole find sauntering by his own door but Fox, who came up and talked to him at the coach-window, on the Marriage Bill, with as much sang froid as if he knew nothing of what had happened. It was at the sale of Fox's library in this year that Walpole made the following singular note:—"1781, Lord Tankerville assured 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 passion 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 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 passed 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 amassed 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 "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 circumstances. 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 Fagniani, (whom he had adopted as his daughter,) being suddenly seized with alarming 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 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 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 |