Volume I Part 15 (1/2)

_The Little Club_, we are told in the _Guardian_, No. 91, began by sending invitations to those not exceeding five feet in height, to repair to the a.s.sembly, but many sent excuses, or pretended a non-application. They proceeded to fit up a room for their accommodation, and in the first place had all the chairs, stools, and tables removed, which had served the more bulky portion of mankind for many years, previous to which they laboured under very great disadvantages. The President's whole person was sunk in the elbow-chair, and when his arms were spread over it, he appeared (to the great lessening of his dignity) like a child in a go-cart. It was also so wide in the seat, as to give a wag occasion of saying, that ”notwithstanding the President sat in it, there was a _sede vacante_.”

”The table was so high, that one who came by chance to the door, seeing our chins just above the pewter dishes, took us for a circle of men that sat ready to be shaved, and set in half-a-dozen of barbers.

Another time, one of the Club spoke contumeliously of the President, imagining he had been absent, when he was only eclipsed by a flask of Florence, which stood on the table, in a parallel line before his face. We therefore new-furnished the room, in all respects proportionably to us, and had the door made lower, so as to admit no man above five feet high, without brus.h.i.+ng his foretop; which, whoever does, is utterly unqualified to sit amongst us.”

Mr. Daniel, in his _Merrie England in the Olden Time_, has collected a further list of Clubs existing in London in 1790. He enumerates the following:--The Odd Fellows' Club; the Humbugs (held at the Blue Posts, in Covent-Garden); the Samsonic Society; the Society of Bucks; the Purl Drinkers; the Society of Pilgrims (held at the Woolpack, in the Kingsland-road); the Thespian Club; the Great Bottle Club; the Je ne scai quoi Club (held at the Star and Garter in Pall-Mall, and of which the Prince of Wales, and the Dukes of York, Clarence, Orleans, Norfolk, Bedford, etc., were members); the Sons of the Thames Society; the Blue Stocking Club; the No Pay No Liquor Club (held at the Queen and Artichoke, in the Hampstead-road, and of which the ceremony, on a new member's introduction, was, after his paying a fee on entrance of one s.h.i.+lling, that he should wear a hat, throughout the first evening, made in the shape of a quart pot, and drink to the health of his brother members in a gilt goblet of ale); the Social Villagers (held at the Bedford Arms, in Camden-town), etc. Of the Villagers of our time, Sheridan Knowles, the dramatist, was a jovial member.

JACOBITE CLUB.

In the year 1854 a Correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ communicated to that journal the following interesting reminiscences of a political Club, with characteristics of the reminiscent.

”The adherents of the Stuarts are now nearly extinct; but I recollect a few years ago an old gentleman in London, who was then upwards of eighty years of age, and who was a staunch Jacobite. I have heard him say that, when he was a young man, his father belonged to a society in Aldersgate-street, called 'The Mourning Bush;' and this Bush was to be always in mourning until the Stuarts were restored.” A member of this society having been met in mourning when one of the reigning family had died, was asked by one of the members how it so happened? His reply was, ”that he was not mourning for the dead, but for the living.” The old gentleman was father of the Mercers' Company, and his brother of the Stationers' Company: they were bachelors, and citizens of the old school, hospitable, liberal, and charitable. An instance occurred that the latter had a presentation to Christ's Hospital: he was applied to in behalf of a person who had a large family; but the father not being a freeman, he could not present it to the son. He immediately bought the freedom for the father, and gave the son the presentation. This is a rare act. The brothers have long gone to receive the reward of their goodness, and lie buried in the cemetery attached to Mercers' Hall, Cheapside.

By the above statement, the Club appears to have taken the name of the Mourning Bush Tavern, in Aldersgate, of which we shall have more to say hereafter.

THE WITTINAGEMOT OF THE CHAPTER COFFEE-HOUSE.

The Chapter Coffee-house, at the corner of Chapterhouse Court, on the south side of Paternoster-row, was, in the last century, noted as the resort of men of letters, and was famous for its punch, pamphlets, and good supply of newspapers. It was closed as a coffee-house in 1854, and then altered to a tavern. Its celebrity, however, lay in the last century. In the _Connoisseur_, January 31, 1754, we read: ”The Chapter Coffee-house is frequented by those encouragers of literature, and (as they are styled by an eminent critic) 'not the worst judges of merit,'

the booksellers. The conversation here naturally turns upon the newest publications; but their criticisms are somewhat singular. When they say a _good_ book, they do not mean to praise the style or sentiment, but the quick and extensive sale of it. That book is best which sells most; and if the demand for Quarles should be greater than for Pope, he would have the highest place on the rubric-post.”

The house was much frequented by Chatterton, who writes to his mother: ”I am quite familiar at the Chapter Coffee-house, and know all the geniuses there;” and to Mr. Mason: ”Send me whatever you would have published, and direct for me, to be left at the Chapter Coffee-house, Paternoster-row.” And, writing from ”King's Bench for the present,”

May 14th, 1770, Chatterton says: ”A gentleman who knows me at the Chapter, as an author, would have introduced me as a companion to the young Duke of Northumberland, in his intended general tour. But, alas!

I spake no tongue but my own.”

Forster relates an anecdote of Oliver Goldsmith being paymaster at the Chapter, for Churchill's friend, Lloyd, who, in his careless way, without a s.h.i.+lling to pay for the entertainment, had invited him to sup with some friends of Grub-street.

The Club celebrity of the Chapter was, however, the Wittinagemot, as the box in the north-east corner of the coffee-room was designated.

Among its frequenters was Alexander Stevens, editor of the _Annual Biography and Obituary_, who died in 1824, and who left among his papers, printed in the _Monthly Magazine_, as ”Stephensiana,” his recollections of the Chapter, which he frequented in 1797 to 1805, where, he tells us, he always met with intelligent company. We give his reminiscences almost in his own words.

Early in the morning it was occupied by neighbours, who were designated the _Wet Paper Club_, as it was their practice to open the papers when brought in by the newsmen, and read them before they were dried by the waiter; a dry paper they viewed as a stale commodity. In the afternoon, another party enjoyed the _wet_ evening papers; and (says Stephens) it was these whom I met.

Dr. Buchan, author of _Domestic Medicine_, generally held a seat in this box; and though he was a Tory, he heard the freest discussion with good humour, and commonly acted as a moderator. His fine physiognomy, and his white hairs, qualified him for this office. But the fixture in the box was a Mr. Hammond, a Coventry manufacturer, who, evening after evening, for nearly forty-five years, was always to be found in his place, and during the entire period was much distinguished for his severe and often able strictures on the events of the day. He had thus debated through the days of Wilkes, of the American war, and of the French war, and being on the side of liberty, was constantly in opposition. His mode of arguing was Socratic, and he generally applied to his adversary the _reductio ad absurdum_, creating bursts of laughter.

The registrar or chronicler of the box was a Mr. Murray, an episcopal Scotch minister, who generally sat in one place from nine in the morning till nine at night; and was famous for having read, at least once through, every morning and evening paper published in London during the last thirty years. His memory being good, he was appealed to whenever any point of fact within the memory of man happened to be disputed. It was often remarked, however, that such incessant daily reading did not tend to clear his views.

Among those from whom I constantly profited was Dr. Berdmore, the Master of the Charterhouse; Walker, the rhetorician; and Dr. Towers, the political and historical writer. Dr. B. abounded in anecdote; Walker, (the Dictionary-maker,) to the finest enunciation united the most intelligent head I ever met with; and Towers, over his half-pint of Lisbon, was sarcastic and lively, though never deep.

Among our constant visitors was the celebrated Dr. George Fordyce, who, having much fas.h.i.+onable practice, brought news which had not generally transpired. He had not the appearance of a man of genius, nor did he debate, but he possessed sound information on all subjects.

He came to the Chapter after taking his wine, and stayed about an hour, or while he sipped a gla.s.s of brandy-and-water; it was then his habit to take another gla.s.s at the London Coffee-house, and a third at the Oxford, before he returned to his house in Ess.e.x-street, Strand.

Dr. Gower, the urbane and able physician of the Middles.e.x, was another pretty constant visitor. It was gratifying to hear such men as Fordyce, Gower, and Buchan in familiar chat. On subjects of medicine they seldom agreed, and when such were started, they generally laughed at one another's opinions. They seemed to consider Chapter punch, or brandy-and-water, as _aqua vitae_; and, to the credit of the house, better punch could not be found in London. If any one complained of being indisposed, the elder Buchan exclaimed, ”Now let me prescribe for you without a fee. Here, John or Isaac, bring a gla.s.s of punch for Mr. ----, unless he likes brandy-and-water better. Take that, Sir, and I'll warrant you you'll soon be well. You're a peg too low; you want stimulus, and if one gla.s.s won't do, call for a second.”

There was a growling man of the name of Dobson, who, when his asthma permitted, vented his spleen upon both sides; and a lover of absurd paradoxes, author of some works of merit, but so devoid of principle, that, deserted by his friends, he would have died for want, if Dr.

Garthsh.o.r.e had not placed him as a patient in the empty Fever Inst.i.tution.