DINING AND DINERS.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIIC, Issue 13725, 15 October 1908, Page 7

DINING AND DINERS.

POLITICAL AND ' BIOGRAPHICAL.

t I^iwiewing. Sir' Spence r. Walpble'i inteMsfcingJessays,. Harold' Spencer says : IV is generally a- > mistake to republish after, a*writer'* death the ..articles, which acknowledge when he was aEre. i Bot* it '.would ' have. been . a pity if* aU'these, essays had .been buried for wrer •-nader- the, sombre tombstone of anonymity. • Sir Spencer Walpole was always a sane and informing writer, even when he did nofc rise to distinction. There are at least four oat of the studies contained in this volume which deserve a. wider public than that somewhat stiffcoUarcd audience which patronises and perhaps sometimes reads our great Quart*rly Review*. THE LONDON' DINING CLUBS. " One of these studies—perhaps the most notable, as well as the most interesting —is the essay on the "Dining Societies of London." Perhaps there is bo phase of - London life so mysterious and obscure t<r"the aYerage Englishman- Here,, in the Tery central blaze of onr national fife, i a qtnet social freemasonry which atai keep* the Ynlgar at anna length. ■'-- Of cbarse, there are a large number of the London dining clubs of which tne . public bean in * vague way, though they receive no verbal report of tbetr proceedings. Of such are the "Savages," the "Arpme," the "Whitefriars," the ••Odd Vofames,'* and so forth—the social clubs of various sports, professions, and interests. But behind all these in the inner Holy. of Holies of English Kfe, there is a group of clubs which admit no gnest* to'their table*, and elect no members save those of the highest merit and distinction. There aw man/ things about English life which must amaze * visitor from a younger laid. Bnt sirely there is nothing quite so astonishing .as the fact that our most distinguished, gifted, and occopied men shook! hare the time- and leisure to devote to these samd and, mysterious rites of the dinner-table. ~ CREAM OF ENGLISH LIFE. The most exclusive of all these clubs are the Dilettanti Society; The Club, Nobody's- Onb, the Literary Society, and GriHion's Club. "The Club" is, of course, the'" direct descendant of Dr Johnson's famous little society, and possesses two secred portraits—that of Sir Joshua Reynolds' and that of Dr Johnson- It contains thirty-five members only—men drawn from the very highest 'positions; Jtßecreald of English life. Here, away from all sound and shock, these men •till meet and talk under the sacred Image of their founder. Would that these.dining sociefre had their BosweUs! What talk must pass •erase their tables and evaporate, like Osric's, into air! What jests! What ' gibes!! Perhaps it is here—in the existence of these clubs— that we find, explained the extraordinary "comradeship that exists between Englishmen of distinction in any line of life.: Perhaps these reunions explain the mystery that puzzles so many foreigners—why Englishmen can ' quarrel across the floor of the House of - Commons, and yet be friends outside, can belabour one another in the magazines, and.yet meet amicably in country bcuses. For, all .the time that these'gladiators are pretending to fight in public, they are meeting clandestinely in a sort of family .j life of their own at the table of these > dining dabs. .•,*—■-» the ajtexdED CLAWS. t Sn*\Spencer Walpole gives an admirable '\ «iainp&\«f how the club life may act in abatement of political stress. It was at GrOlioaV **** * c * otal 7 *S°' taat Stanley and Lord Morpeth met, after a fierce fight over a'cjause in one of Melbourne's'"bills, known as" the "Amended --• t'lajwe.* - When tb*-members met. they saw- that Lord Stanley's chair was placd B*xt to the one which Lord Morpeth occupied. LA Sir Spencer tell the rest : \ -T After dinner had commenced, Ixrd Stabler entered the* room, and naturally had to Uke the only vacant seat. The other members prtsent he.td their breath*, •Uobtlng whether even the traditions of CrQlions would keep the, t*raceT}J>etween two such antagonist* afK%. such t&n en' counter. Sir Thomas Aclarid. however, who was in the chair, summoned a waiter. and, pointing to ft dish of dreved lobstt r on. the table, said. 'Take that dsh of dreWd lobster. imnfediaUly to ljird .Morpeth and Lord Stanley. Lord Mort-ptb '■ Lord. Stanley! The amended claws!" The laughter which ensued drowned the |>" -aibilßy of strife, and the lun became a« boisterous and as good-humoured as ever." NOBODY'S CLUB. The Club" and the "Literary Club" are' ..the most distinguished of English dining .institutions; but -Nobody's" an.l "GrillionV'- is strangely .characteristic of one phase-of English'life:— -"Nobody's."- or Nobody"s Friends—to quote its propei* fitle —was founded in 1800 by William Steweras, a partner in a large hosiery business jn Lonodon. who, as the inscription on hh monument Jells ■», * Educated, and his whole life engaged in trade, found lime to enrich his mind with English, French, Latin. Greek, and tspecialry Hebrew literature.' In addition to. these literary pursuits, he was kn<wn among his contemporaries as "one of the most charitable of men. and a-» one of the most profound theologians of hi* age. He was the authi r of numerous anonymous pamphlets, which be subsequently col Wcted into one volume, if Steveuv wre wilting to assume the mod*t.t noin de plume of Xohody, its memb-ts were delighted to call themselves N'obdy's Friends. To this dar the dab k*-|s_the memory of its founder green by drinking. a» the first toast at eaeb ol its dinners, to the immortal memory of N'oobody, the founder of this club." FRANK BUCKLAND. Of the other essays, that ou Mr Frank Auckland is the most charming. l>oih for rhe subject, and the Mann<r in which it u treated. Buckland. the great natural Sat, was a man of the queerott habits, who fascinated all who knew him. Jam o> lie puzzled docs at Oxford, so be was a mystery to all persons in authority all his life. Sir Spencer tells wia* very good stories about him—good, and new. One of Backland's great troubles was h> beott:— * - "On one occasion, travellmg alone in a railway carnage, he fell asleep with his teet resting oo the window sill. As usual, be kicked off hj» boot*, and they tell out side the carriage on the line. When he reached ha destination the boots c<uld mot. of course, be found, and be had to go without thetn to his hotel. The next morning a platelayer, examining ibe permanent way, cjuo* upon the boot*. *nd reported to the traffic maoeger that be had found a pair of gentlemen's boots, but that he could not find the gentlem.ui. focneone connected with the railway recol lected that Mr Buckland bsd been seen in the neighbourhood, and. knowing ht. re centricitirs. inferred that the boots mutt belong to him. They were accordingly sent to the Home Office. *nil were At once claimed." He would travel in the strangest compasnr. On one occasion he found it decidedly difficult to meet the require mens of tht railway company -. "• He had buen in France, and was returning, via Southampton, with an overcoat ctuffed with natural history specimens of all sort*, dead and alive. Among them was a monkey, which was domiciled in a large inside breast-pocket. As Buckland was taking his ticket. Jscko thrust up his hfad and attracted ■the attention of tb* booking-clerk, who iausedUtely iand very properly) «aid, - Yorn must take a ticket U >r that dog. if it's jping with you." "Dog!" wid Buckland; "it's no dog. it's s monkey." •* It is * dog." replied the clerk. " lt'« a monkey." retorted Buckland. and pro-

ceeded to show . the whole. animal, hot without convincing the clerk, -who insisted on.-five shillings for the dog-ticket to London. Nettled at this, Buckland plunged his hand into • another pocket and --produced a tortoise. '"No," said be, "-we- make ho .'charge for them—thev're insects."

No one bnt could love such a man. On the whole, then, though there are several essays .here which might well have been omitted, essays of passing rather than permanent interet —Mrs. Holland has chosen her batch well. The interest of all Sir Spencer Walpole's work is that it is the writing of one who is at once a man of letters—a man who learnt in practice what he janeht in admirable prose.