CURIOUS CLUBS OF THE EARLY PART OF THE CENTURY.

Otago Witness, Issue 1890, 10 February 1888, Page 31

CURIOUS CLUBS OF THE EARLY PART OF THE CENTURY.

Notorious among the clubs of the closing years of the seventeenth and early decades of the eighteenth century were " the Mug House Clubs." A book by an unknown author, entitled " A Journey through England," gives the following description of his visit to one of these symposia.

"But the most diverting of all is the Mug House Club, in Long Acre. They have a grave old gentleman, in his own gray hairs, now within a few months 90 years old, who is their president, and sits in an arm-chair, some steps higher than the rest of the company, to keep the whole room in order. A harp plays all the time at the lower end of the room ; and every now and then one or other of the company rises and entertains the rest with a song. Here is nothing drunk but ale, and every gentleman hath his separate mug, which he chalks on the table where he sits, as it is brought in, and everyone retires when he pleases, as in a coffee room. The room is always so diverted with songs and drinking from one table to another to one another's health, there is no room for politics or anything than sour conversation. One must be "there by 7 o'clock to get room, and after 10 o'clock the company are, for the most part, gone." "The Mug" was supposed to represent the Earl of Shaftesbury, or " Ugly Mug," the Achitophel of Dryden's great satire, and the best hated man in England.

Addison, in one of the early numbers of the " Spectator," gives an amusing sketch of the curious clubs of his time. He tells us that in a considerable market town was established a club of fat men ; the room in which the meetings were held had two entrances, one by a door of moderate size, the other by a pair of folding doors ; if a candidate could make his entrance through the first he was unqualified ; but if he stuck in the passage, the folding doors were immediately thrown open for his reception, and he was hailed as a brother. Though the club consisted of only 15 persons, it weighed three tons! In opposition to this society was the " Scarecrows or Skeletons," and such deadly strife arose between the two that it was found necessary each year to select one of the two magistrates from each of these clubs, so that they were coupled like rabbits — one fat, one lean. There were the "Humdrum" and the "Mum" Clubs, where the members sat together, smoked their pipes, and never spoke. These at least were harmless ; not so the Duellists' Club, to which no one was admitted who had not fought his man. The president was said to have killed half a dozen in single combat, and other members took their seats according to the number of their slain. Of an even worse type was the " Mohock Club," long the terror of the London streets. The literature of the period abounds in references to these miscreants; but Steele gives the best account of them. After drinking themselves to a state of madness, they would sally forth into the streets and attack everyone they met. "Some," to quote our author's words, "are knocked down, others stabbed, others cut and carbonadoed. To put the watch to a total rout, and mortify some of those inoffensive militia is reckoned couo d'etat. The particular talents by which these misanthropes are distinguished from one another consists in the various kinds of barbarities which they execute upon their prisoners. Some are celebrated for a happy dexterity in tipping the lion upon them — which is performed by squeezing the nose flat to the face and boring out the eyes with their fingers ; others are called the dancing-masters, and teach their scholars to cut capers by running swords through their legs ; and a third sorb are the tumblers, whose office it is to set women on their heads, and so on." Famous among the Queen Anne clubs was the KitCat, held at a noted mutton-pie house in Shire Lane, Temple Bar — now covered by the new law courts. It was kept by one Christopher Cat, and originated in a weekly dinner given by the celebrated bookseller, Jacob Tonson, to literary men, as we are told in the following verses, written by one of the members, in which Jacob, spclfc backwards, becomes Bocaj :' One night in Beven, afc this convenient seat, Indulgent Bocaj did the Mu-es treat ; Their drink was gen'rous wine, and Kit-Cat's pyes their meat, Hence did the assembly's title first arise, And Kit-Cat wits spring first from Kit-Oat pyeu.

Most famous of all the curious clubs of the last century was the "Beef Steak." There was more than one society that took its name from the [favourite English dish. The first was held at a tavern in the Old Jewry. But the "Beef Steak " best known to posterity was that founded by John Rich, the most celebrated of harlequins, and manager of Covent Garden Theatre from its erection in 1733 to the time of his death.

The " Beef Steak " held its meetings in the theatre until the house was burned down in 1808. After a short stay at the Bedford Coffee House, it was removed to the Lyceum, where it continued until its break-up in 1867. The members were strictly confined to 24 ; even when the Prince Regent was put up for admission he had to wait his turn. The members met once a week to eat steaks, no other dish being allowed, and to drink old port. At the end of the dining room \sas a large grating in the form of a gridiron, through which the fire was seen, and the steaks handed from the kitchen. Over this was inscribed a quotation from Macbeth : If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well

It were done quickly.

A notable " steaker " was the Duke of Norfolk, of whose appetite the most extraordinary stories are told. He was known to eat six steaks at a sitting, his ordinary allowance being four ; and he usually preceded these feeds by a little fish dinner, " just to get his stomach into play." It must have been a sight to see him with his silver gridiron, a badge worn by all, rubbing a clean plate with a shalot in front of the grating, waiting for his next.

During the hundred and odd years of this club's existence there were few famous men who did not belong to it. Perfect equality reigned among the members ; and the last made, even were he of royal blood, was the fag of the rest. A notorious association of the last century was the "Hell-fire Club," instituted by the.

eccentric Duke of Wharton; of a somewhat similar character was " The Monks of Medmenham," held under the presidency of Sir Francis Dashwood, at his residence, Medmenham Abbey, formerly an ancient Cistercian Convent, situated on the banks of the Thames, not far from Taplow. The monks were 12 in number, and included among others John Wilkes, the demagogue, and " the mysteries " they assembled to celebrate were blasphemous mockeries of the rites of the Roman Catholic Church.

The best description of this vile association is that given by Charles Johnstone, in his novel, "The Adventures of a Guinea." He tells how the most sacred rites of religion were burlesqued on the initiation of a novice, and how at supper time, dressed in their monkish garbs, "the members sat down to a banquet in the chapel in honour of the occasion, at which nothing the most refined luxury, the most lascivious imagination, could suggest to provoke and gratify appetite was wanting, both the superiors and inferiors (who were permitted to take their places at the lower end of the table as soon as they had served the banquet), vying with each other in loose songs and dissertations of such gross lewdness and daring impiety as despair may be supposed to dictate to the damned."

The end of the last and early years of the present century were fertile in curious clubs. There was one instituted by that notorious 11 roue," Lord Barrymore, known as " Hellgate Barrymore," his two brothers being called — the one Cripplegate, on account of his lameness; and the other "Newgate," because it was said he had seen the inside of every prison in Europe ; while his sister, on account, as Mrs Malaprop says, of her " nice derangement of epitaphs," was well named " Billingsgate."

The club referred to was named "The Blue Bottle," or " The Humbugs ;" its meetings were held in a tavern under Covent Garden Piazza, and it was called " The Humbugs," on account of the manner in which members were initiated. Two candidates were always introduced at the same time, and the point was to set them quarrelling as soon as they were seated. It did not matter how trivial might be the cause of difference, the members would take the opposite sides, and exasperate the disputants to abuse, and sometimes blows. When matters grew serious, Barrymore would interfere and inform the victims that they had both been humbugged, and were consequently elected. He had long pressed Incledon, the celebrated singer, to become a member, and when the latter consented he had the honour to be proposed alone ; but he did not thereby escape the usual penalty. He was called upon for a song, and rising commenced one of the most noted of his ballads, " Black-Eyed Susan." He had sung only the first line when a member called out, " Oh come, come, Charles, it's too bad to fool us like that." Incledon stopped and stared, but a chorus of voices bade him go on. "All in the Downs the fleet lay moor'd," again began the great tenor. " Incledon, remember you are singing to gentlemen, not to a Covent Garden gallery," interrupted a voice ; this was followed by cries of " Shame, shame ! Order, order ! " Once more Incledon restrained himself and started again. But he was interrupted by hisses and cries of " You're drunk ! " The singer could contain himself no longer, but throwing off his coat, threatened to thrash his tormentors within an inch of their lives. A roar of laughter and the cry of " Don't you know we are the Humbugs 1 " however, appeased his wrath, and he was declared duly elected.

Sometimes, however, the proposed members failed to see the joke when the explanation was rendered. "Is it humbugging us you've been ?" cried a couple of Hibernians who had been introduced by a member ; and off went their coats. But they were not so easily appeased as Incledon. A regular Donnybrook Fair row followed, during which bottles, chairs, candlesticks, and every portable article were used as missiles, until all had fled except Lord Barrymore and one of the Irishmen, who, with almost every shred of clothing torn off their backs, continued fighting among the ruins of glass, crockery, and furniture

A notable club was " The Owls," which was held at the Garrick's Head, a tavern in Brydges street, close to Drury Lane Theatre. The name is too suggestive to need explanation. There were about 200 membersjournalists, musicians, and actors. Kean, Sheridan, Knowles and Douglas Jerrold were among the number. Leman Rede, the well-known playwright and journalist, was the "translator" — a very important office. Before a candidate was elected he had to explain to the meeting who and what he was, and in what way he could add to the amusement or edification of the society. Everything was done in the way of interruption and irrelevant questions to confuse the speaker, and render him incoherent; then up rose the "translator," who wittily perverted every word he had uttered, and made it a peg to hang jokes and personalities upon.

Douglas Jerrold was the acknowledged sponsor of many curious clubs. There was " The Mulberries," which met at the Wrekin, in Broad Court, Bow street. The leading regulation of this club was that some paper, poem, or conceit touching upon Shakespeare should be weekly contributed by some member, and these contributions were called " mulberry leaves." Among the earliest members were William Godwin, Kenny Meadows, and Lemon Blanchard. The title was afterwards changed to the Shakespeare Club, when Charles Dickens, Justice Talfourd, Macready, and Maclise belonged to it.

Jerrold also instituted "The Hooks and Eyes ; " " Our Club ; " " The Musenm." But most curious of all was " The Zodiac ; " this was essentially convivial: its members, limited to 12, dined together once a month ; and each member was named after a zodiacal sign. When the club was in solemn conversational and gastronomical conclave it was imperative upon each present to address his brother constellation by his astronomical name under the penalty of Id. The chairman at each meeting was the member who represented that sign of the Zodiac into which the sun had entered at the time.

A curious commentary is suggested upon the changes which have taken plape in our manners during the last 70 years, when we note that a club called "The Eccentrics," $q which Fpx, Sheridan, #e}bourne, apd.

Brougham at different times belonged, a club which, during its existence, numbered no fewer than 40,000 members, all more orleßS distinguished men, held its meetings at a tavern in Chandos street, Covent Garden.

In these sober, monotonous days, curious clubs, and, indeed, specialist clubs, have almost ceased to exist ; the old cosy gatherings of congenial spirits have swollen into a sort of subscription hotel, where one-half the members are uniaiown to the other half. 11 The Garrick "is flooded by city men ; and even " The Savage " admits people who have only the most hazy connection -with literature, art, or the drama; the very idea of whose admission would have been scouted by the original founders.—" All The Year Round."