Part 6 (1/2)

This ancient tradition of non-recognition Is dear to all clubs (save Soho ones!), Where Brummels and Nashes still twirl their moustaches, And even the windows are _Beau_-ones!

Here, once the resort of all lovers of sport, Are the counters and dice of past players; The belt, too, bestowed upon Heenan, who showed So much grit when he battled with Sayers.

Here, loudly proclaiming their pa.s.sion for gaming, Our prodigal ancestors betted; Their shekels they squandered, and home again wandered, Stone-broke or profoundly indebted!

Less p.r.o.ne to high play is the member to-day Than his forbear, that fire-eating gamester.

His pleasure he takes in more moderate stakes, And his losses don't cause quite the same stir.

But, still, a White's-clubber can win a big rubber, With all of his forefathers' vigour, And double 'no trumps,' too, until the score jumps to A really respectable figure!

A cursory look at the old wager-book Will discover full many an entry Recalling the age when this club was the rage Of the pick of our peerage and gentry.

But now the old places are filled with fresh faces, Of members less wise and less witty, Of hearty old busters, of pool-playing thrusters, Of brokers and blokes from the City, Whose names are less worthy recording on vellum Than those of a Walpole, a Pulteney, or Pelham!

CANTO III

THE BACHELORS'

While clerks lunch at Lockhart's or Lyons', And labourers meet at some 'pub,'

Society's celibate scions Resort to the Bachelors' Club; For here all the members elected Belong to a very smart set, And bask in the suns.h.i.+ne reflected From Mr. Gillett.

Here youths of the Governing Cla.s.ses At regular intervals call, To tap barometrical gla.s.ses Or study the tape in the Hall; Discussing the 'latest from Lincoln,'

Comparing the odds of each bet, Or reading out jokes from the '_Pink 'Un_'

To Mr. Gillett.

And though they severely disparage Those trammels that Bened.i.c.ks bind, And members who contemplate marriage Are spoken to sharply and fined; 'The s.e.x' they regard as no sinners, And ladies may often be met, Partaking of luncheons or dinners With Mr. Gillett.

Here, too, for young persons of leisure Who wish to develop the mind, Instruction is tempered with pleasure, Tuition with fun is combined; New knowledge they gain (one conjectures) And cerebral stimulus get, Attending the Radium Lectures Of Mr. Gillett.

Then ho! for this celibate centre For youths who are loth to espouse, Though fish-knives (the gift of their mentor) May tempt them to cancel their vows!

And ho! for that guide and dictator!

Their whistles let bachelors wet (A whisky and soda, please, waiter!) To Mr. Gillett!

CANTO IV

THE GARRICK

If for solitude you feel a partiality, If you chance to be unsociably inclined, If (like other men of British nationality) You abominate the presence of your kind; If you take your pleasures glumly And delight in dining dumbly, And if table-talk's a thing you nearly die of; If you look with detestation Upon Gen'ral Conversation, Then the Garrick is a club you should fight shy of!

If you hunger for companions.h.i.+p and jollity, If you much prefer to chatter while you eat, If you condescend at moments to frivolity, And will fraternise with any one you meet; If your interest is chronic In the art called histrionic, If your pa.s.sion for the drama's hot and strong, too; If you welcome its professors Telling tales about their 'dressers,'

Then the Garrick is a club you should belong to!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

If you come here (say) at supper-time on Sat.u.r.days, You will meet with all the patrons of the stage (Though the place is not so popular, these latter days, As it was before 'week-ends' became the rage).

Here each notable 'first-nighter,'

Critic, journalist, and writer, Sprinkles pepper on this club's especial oyster, And you hear a well-known jurist Or some literary purist Telling anecdotes unsuited to the cloister!

Here you'll notice, too, a perfect portrait-gallery Of those mummers who immortal have become, Though they earned, no doubt, a less prodigious salary Than the moderns who more lucratively mum.