Volume I Part 21 (1/2)
Mr. Hood, in his _Comic Annual_ for 1838, took up the topic in his rich vein of comic humour, and here is the amusing result:--
”CLUBS,
”TURNED UP BY A FEMALE HAND.
”Of all the modern schemes of Man That time has brought to bear, A plague upon the wicked plan That parts the wedded pair!
My female friends they all agree They hardly know their hubs; And heart and voice unite with me, 'We hate the name of Clubs!'
”One selfish course the Wretches keep; They come at morning chimes; To s.n.a.t.c.h a few short hours of sleep-- Rise--breakfast--read the Times-- Then take their hats, and post away, Like Clerks or City scrubs, And no one sees them all the day,-- They live, eat, drink, at Clubs!
”With Rundell, Dr. K., or Gla.s.se, And such Domestic books, They once put up, but now, alas!
It's hey! for foreign cooks.
'When _will_ you dine at home, my dove?'
I say to Mr. Stubbs.
'When Cook can make an omelette, love-- An omelette like the Clubs!'
”Time was, their hearts were only placed On snug domestic schemes, The book for two--united taste,-- And such connubial dreams,-- Friends, dropping in at close of day, To singles, doubles, rubs,-- A little music,--then the tray,-- And not a word of Clubs!
”But former comforts they condemn; French kickshaws they discuss, And take their wine, the wine takes them, And then they favour us;-- From some offence they can't digest, As cross as bears with cubs, Or sleepy, dull, and queer, at best-- That's how they come from Clubs!
”It's very fine to say, 'Subscribe To Andrews'--can't you read?
When Wives, the poor neglected tribe, Complain how they proceed!
They'd better recommend at once Philosophy and tubs,-- A woman need not be a dunce, To feel the wrong of Clubs.
”A set of savage Goths and Picts Would seek us now and then,-- They're pretty pattern-Benedicts To guide our single men!
Indeed, my daughters both declare 'Their Beaux shall not be subs To White's, or Black's, or anywhere,-- They've seen enough of Clubs!'
”They say, without the marriage ties, They can devote their hours To catechize, or botanize-- Sh.e.l.ls, Sunday Schools, and flow'rs-- Or teach a Pretty Poll new words, Tend Covent Garden shrubs, Nurse dogs and chirp to little birds-- As Wives do since the Clubs.
”Alas! for those departed days Of social wedded life, When married folks had married ways, And liv'd like Man and Wife!
Oh! Wedlock then was pick'd by none-- As safe a lock as Chubb's!
But couples, that should be as one, Are now the Two of Clubs!
”Of all the modern schemes of Man That time has brought to bear, A plague upon the wicked plan, That parts the wedded pair!
My wedded friends they all allow They meet with slights and snubs, And say, 'They have no husbands now,-- They're married to the Clubs!'”
The satire soon reached the stage. About five-and-twenty years since there was produced at the old wooden Olympic Theatre, Mr. Mark Lemon's farce, _The Ladies' Club_, which proved one of the most striking pieces of the time. ”Though in 1840 Clubs, in the modern sense of the word, had been for some years established, they were not quite recognized as social necessities, and the complaints of married ladies and of dowagers with marriageable daughters, to the effect that these inst.i.tutions caused husbands to desert the domestic hearth and encouraged bachelors to remain single, expressed something of a general feeling. Public opinion was ostentatiously on the side of the ladies and against the Clubs, and to this opinion Mr. Mark Lemon responded when he wrote his most successful farce.”[23]
Here are a few experiences of Club-life. ”There are many British lions in the coffee-room who have dined off a joint and beer, and have drunk a pint of port-wine afterwards, and whose bill is but 4_s._ 3_d._ One great luxury in a modern Club is that there is no temptation to ostentatious expense. At an hotel there is an inclination in some natures to be 'a good customer.' At a Club the best men are generally the most frugal--they are afraid of being thought like that little sn.o.b, Calicot, who is always surrounded by fine dishes and expensive wines (even when alone), and is always in loud talk with the butler, and in correspondence with the committee about the cook. Calicot is a rich man, with a large bottle-nose, and people black-ball his friends.
”For a home, a man must have a large Club, where the members are recruited from a large cla.s.s, where the funds are in a good state, where a large number every day breakfast and dine, and where a goodly number think it necessary to be on the books and pay their subscriptions, although they do not use the Club. Above all, your home Club should be a large Club, because, even if a Club be ever so select, the highest birth and most unexceptionable fas.h.i.+on do not prevent a man from being a _bore_. Every Club must have its bores; but in a large Club _you can get out of their way_.”[24]
”It is a vulgar error to regard a Club as the rich man's public-house: it bears no a.n.a.logy to a public-house: it is as much the private property of its members as any ordinary dwelling-house is the property of the man who built it.