Such a Sensation has been created in the Clubs by the
appearance of the last paper on Club Snobs, as can't but
be complimentary to me who am one of their number.
I belong to many Clubs. The 'Union Jack,' the 'Sash and
Marlin-spike'--Military Clubs. 'The True Blue,' the 'No
Surrender,' the 'Blue and Buff,' the 'Guy Fawkes,' and
the 'Cato Street'--Political Clubs. 'The Brummel' and
the 'Regent'--Dandy Clubs. The 'Acropolis,' the
'Palladium,' the 'Areopagus,' the 'Pnyx' the
'Pentelicus,' the 'Ilissus' and the 'Poluphloisboio
Thalasses'--Literary Clubs. I never could make out how
the latter set of Clubs got their names; I don't know
Greek for one, and I wonder how many other members of
those institutions do?
Ever since the Club Snobs have been announced, I observe
a sensation created on my entrance into any one of these
places. Members get up and hustle together; they nod,
they scowl, as they glance towards the present Snob.
'Infernal impudent jackanapes! If he shows me up,' says
Colonel Bludyer, 'I'll break every bone in his skin.' 'I
told you what would come of admitting literary men into
the Club,' says Ranville Ranville to his colleague,
Spooney, of the Tape and Sealing-Wax Office. 'These
people are very well in their proper places, and as a
public man, I make a point of shaking hands with them,
and that sort of thing; but to have one's privacy
obtruded upon by such people is really too much. Come
along, Spooney,' and the pair of prigs retire
superciliously.
As I came into the coffee-room at the 'No Surrender,' old
Jawkins was holding out to a knot of men, who were
yawning, as usual. There he stood, waving the STANDARD,
and swaggering before the fire. 'What,' says he, 'did I
tell Peel last year? If you touch the Corn Laws, you
touch the Sugar Question; if you touch the Sugar, you
touch the Tea. I am no monopolist. I am a liberal man,
but I cannot forget that I stand on the brink of a
precipice; and if were to have Free Trade, give me
reciprocity. And what was Sir Robert Peel's answer to
me? "Mr. Jawkins," he said ---'
Here Jawkins's eye suddenly turning on your humble
servant, he stopped his sentence, with a guilty look--
his stale old stupid sentence, which every one of us at
the Club has heard over and over again.
Jawkins is a most pertinacious Club Snob. Every day he
is at that fireplace, holding that STANDARD, of which he
reads up the leading-article, and pours it out ORE
ROTUNDO, with the most astonishing composure, in the face
of his neighbour, who has just read every word of it in
the paper. Jawkins has money, as you may see by the tie
of his neckcloth. He passes the morning swaggering about
the City, in bankers' and brokers parlours, and says :--
'I spoke with Peel yesterday, and his intentions are so
and so. Graham and I were talking over the matter, and I
pledge you my word of honour, his opinion coincides with
mine; and that What-d'ye-call-um is the only measure
Government will venture on trying.' By evening-paper
time he is at the Club: 'I can tell you the opinion of
the City, my lord,' says he, 'and the way in which Jones
Loyd looks at it is briefly this: Rothschilds told me so
themselves. In Mark Lane, people's minds are QUITE made
up.' He is considered rather a well-informed man.
He lives in Belgravia, of course; in a drab-coloured
genteel house, and has everything about him that is
properly grave, dismal, and comfortable. His dinners are
in the MORNING HERALD, among the parties for the week;
and his wife and daughters make a very handsome
appearance at the Drawing-Room, once a year, when he
comes down to the Club in his Deputy-Lieutenant's
uniform.
He is fond of beginning a speech to you by saying, 'When
I was in the House, I &c.'--in fact he sat for
Skittlebury for three weeks in the first Reformed
Parliament, and was unseated for bribery; since which he
has three times unsuccessfully contested that honourable
borough.
Another sort of Political Snob I have seen at most Clubs
and that is the man who does not care so much for home
politics, but is great upon foreign affairs. I think
this sort of man is scarcely found anywhere BUT in Clubs.
It is for him the papers provide their foreign articles,
at the expense of some ten thousand a-year each. He is
the man who is really seriously uncomfortable about the
designs of Russia, and the atrocious treachery of Louis
Philippe. He it is who expects a French fleet in the
Thames, and has a constant eye upon the American
President, every word of whose speech (goodness help
him!) he reads. He knows the names of the contending
leaders in Portugal, and what they are fighting about:
and it is he who says that Lord Aberdeen ought to be
impeached, and Lord Palmerston hanged, or VICE VERSA.
Lord Palmerston's being sold to Russia, the exact number
of roubles paid, by what house in the City, is a
favourite theme with this kind of Snob. I once overheard
him--it was Captain Spitfire, R.N., (who had been refused
a ship by the Whigs, by the way)--indulging in the
following conversation with Mr. Minns after dinner.
Why wasn't the Princess Scragamoffsky at Lady
Palmerston's party, Minns? Because SHE CAN'T SHOW-- why
can't she show? Shall I tell you, Minns, why she can't
show? The Princess Scragainoffsky's back is flayed
alive, Minns--I tell you it's raw, sir! On Tuesday last,
at twelve o'clock, three drummers of the Preobajinski
Regiment arrived at Ashburnham House, and at half-past
twelve, in the yellow drawing-room at the Russian
Embassy, before the ambassadress and four ladies'-maids,
the Greek Papa, and the Secretary of Embassy, Madame de
Scragamoffsky received thirteen dozen. She was knouted,
sir, knouted in the midst of England--in Berkeley Square,
for having said that the Grand Duchess Olga's hair was
red. And now, sir, will you tell me Lord Palmerston
ought to continue Minister?'
Minns: 'Good Ged!'
Minns follows Spitfire about, and thinks him the greatest
and wisest of human beings.
