Another wit at Brooks’s was Dunning, Lord Ashburton, a somewhat eccentric member. Though he only lived to the age of fifty-two, and although he was very liberal and extravagant, he had made no less than £150,000 during twenty-five years’ practice at the Bar.
In spite of the fact that his name does not appear in the club list, the notorious duellist, George Robert Fitzgerald, who was executed for a cold-blooded murder in 1786, must in a sort of way be regarded as having belonged to the club. He was, however, only in it once, though it was his boast that he had been unanimously chosen a member. The history of this is curious.
Owing to Fitzgerald’s well-known duelling propensities, no first-class London club would admit him. Nevertheless, he got Admiral Keith Stewart, who knew that he must fight or comply, to propose him for Brooks’s. Accordingly, the duellist went with the Admiral on the day of the election to the club-house, and waited downstairs whilst the ballot was in progress.
The result, a foregone conclusion, was unfavourable to the candidate, not even one white ball being among the black, the Admiral having been among the first to deposit his. Nevertheless, to him it was decided should fall the dangerous task of announcing the result to Fitzgerald. He did not, however, care for such a mission at all.
“I proposed the fellow,” said he, “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, “there being no white ball in the box, he must know that you have blackballed him as well as the rest, and he is sure to call you out in any case.”
Eventually it was decided 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. In the mean time Fitzgerald had frequently rung the bell to inquire “the state of the poll,” and had sent several waiters to ascertain, but none daring to return, Mr. Brooks 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. Brooks 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. Brooks, 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.”