London Clubs: Their History & TreasuresNevill, Ralph
History
London Clubs: Their History & Treasures
Nevill, Ralph
Clubs -- England -- London; London (England) -- Social life and customs
Another kind of club-man is the irascible pedant, whose idiosyncrasies
make conversation almost impossible. He will address you; he will
lecture; he will instruct you; but he will not chat with
you—conversation with him is a monologue. He is to preach, you are to
listen. If you interrupt him, he will look at you as if sincerely pained
by your audacity; if you advance an opinion, he will promptly contradict
it; and even if you ask him a question upon a subject of which he knows
nothing, he will reply at enormous length.
It was a man of this kind who once described Niagara as a horrid place
where you couldn’t hear the sound of your own voice.
In former days many clubs included amongst their members a privileged
joker or two, to whom very great tolerance was extended. This type of
individual used to be particularly fond of exercising his propensities
at the expense of the most solemn and pompous of his fellow-members, on
whom he would play all sorts of childish tricks.
On one occasion, for instance, having got possession of an old
gentleman’s spectacles, a joker of this kind took out the glasses. When
the old man found them again, he was much concerned at not being able to
see, and exclaimed: “Why, I’ve lost my sight!” Thinking, however, that
the impediment to vision might be caused by the dirtiness of the
glasses, he then took them off to wipe them, but, not feeling anything,
became still more frightened, and cried out: “Why, what’s happened now?
I’ve lost my feeling, too!”
Some irrepressible jokers have paid for their love of fun by having to
resign their membership. One of them, whose escapades were notorious in
London twenty years ago, sitting half asleep in a certain Bohemian club,
became very much annoyed at a very red-headed waiter who kept buzzing
about his chair. The sight of the fiery locks was eventually too much
for this wild spirit, and, darting up and seizing the man, he emptied an
inkstand over his head before he could escape.
The result, of course, was expulsion from the club, besides which very
substantial compensation was rightly paid to the poor waiter, who
complained that he could not go about his work in a parti-coloured
condition, and it would take some time before the effects of the ink
disappeared.
Members who have developed undue eccentricity occasionally cause
uneasiness to their fellow-clubmen, for it is sometimes difficult
exactly to define the point where personal idiosyncrasies become
disquieting to others.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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