CUSTOMS RULE

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 November 1939, Page 7

CUSTOMS RULE

LONDON'S ANCIENT CLUBS "WALES. TOUCH THE BELL." LINKS WITH VICTORIAN ERA. When, a short time ago, Prince's Club in Knightsbridge closed its doors for the last time, there were commen-' tators on life who deplored the passing of a unique bit of Victorian London, and actually pointed to it as one more indication of the approaching end of the world, stated Ernest H. Rann in "Boston Journal.” Certainly there was some reason for the sad eye and the burdened heart among the clubmen of the fashionable world. Prince's was a great institution, with a history of some 80 years, an unblemished record for real tennis and rackets which had been established by the finest players in the world, and an atmosphere oi superlative tone. The first real strength of the Club was when the Guards were in Knightsbridge Barracks just opposite, and it was a standing order with them that Prince’s was “in bounds.” even for the orderly officer of the day, and as a consequence the Club was always crowded with members of the Brigade. It could boast that on its roll of members there were the names of four, British monarchs, past and present. Prince’s was the frequent haunt of King Edward VII, of King George V. of King Edward VIII. when he was Prince of Wales, and of King George VI, when he was Duke of York. It was always the pride of Prince’s that every member knew every other member by his Christian name, and could say exactly what he liked about him with every twist of his vocabulary: but whether that rule were maintained in the case of royalty, history is silent. But to suppose that clubland is doomed, and that the end of the "West End" world is due by reason of the disappearance of Prince’s, is absurd. As long as choice varieties of humanity exists, so long will London have its clubs for all sorts and conditions of men.

They do not advertise their presence on Pall Mall or St James’s Street. Few of them have door plates, and behind their solemn facades they preserve an almost cloistral dignity and decorum. They had and have their own stern rules. At the National Club “family prayers" are said every morning, in the presence of members, the office staff, and the pages. Was it not the Alexandra Club, which for 50 years refused to admit men to rooms long hallowed by femininity, so that when Queen Alexandra was once lunching there and King Edward called for her, he was kept waiting outside until a message had been sent to the dining room?

King Edward’s favourite club was the Marlborough, hard by his home, Marlborough House. He formed the club for the enjoyment of himself and his friends.

King George VI is also a member of the Marlborough—of that and no other. The Duke of Gloucester, the King's brother, belongs to the Marlborough, too, and the Bath, the Cavalry, and Buck’s; while the Duke of Connaught favours, next to the Marlborough, the United Services, the Army and Navy, the Guards’, as befits an old soldier, and the Royal Automobile. The Princess Elizabeth is often at the Bath Club for swimming practice, and here, in perhaps happier days. King Edward VIII (as Prince of Wales) was a frequent visitor, keen for a friendly game of squash. But should a member of the Royal Family appear in a Royal Club it must not be" supposed that the "divinity (that) doth hedge a king” is forgotten. The story runs that when King Edward VII (then Prince of Wales) was sitting one day by the fire a too presumptuous fellow-member said, "Wales, touch the bell." "Wales” touched it, and when the waiter appeared the Prince remarked, "Waiter, kindly order this gentleman's carriage." Foreign princes visiting London are made temporary members of the Marlborough, and its ties with royalty are very close, but against politics it sets a granite face, as the late Duke of Marlborough discovered to his chagrin when he gave a political luncheon to his cousin, V/inston Churchill. and some 40 other persons—and invited reporters to be present. The Marlborough rocked to its foundations. The peculiar distinction of the Athenaeum among the clubs of London. indeed of the world, is hardly t'< be questioned. Standing on the "sweet, shady side of Pall Mall," it is peculiarly associated with the conception ol eminence, and has been likened to a stage across which passes every distinguished figure in the higher walk? of art. natural science, literature, the church and the.stage. It is the common meeting ground of the great. The Athenaeum has always been noted for its silence and solemnity ol its deportment, but with the passing oi the years its conversational atmosphere has both lightened and brightened Some of the older members of the club still bemoan the fact that, aftei a hard struggle, the regulation as to the admission of visitors has been relaxed. For years the club prided itself upon the way that even the most distinguished non-members were kep from its sacred precincts. All sorts o' celebrated folk have been turned awaj from the door. When Mr Ramsay Mac Donald was Prime Minister and a member of the club he took a verj distinguished friend there with him But Prime Ministers are treated like everyone else at the Athenaeum, anc Ramsay MacDonald and his friends had to go elsewhere for their lunch. The Athenaeum, having so many cel ebrities within its walls, is proud of its reputation of never staring at a guest however famous he may be. But wher Hugh Walpole escorted Charles Laugh ton. the film star, into the dining room every distingt bed v ?ad was turne;’

were established for the purpose of gaming. The bow windows of White's still to be seen, became an institution of fashionable life in the West End. From the first only the chosen and older members of the club sat there. The ordinary member would never have dreamed of taking a chair. Moreover, favoured occupants of the window seats sat with their hats on. in evidence to the outside world in St James’s Street, and the ladies of their acquaintance could not fail to recognise them in passing. But did the be-hatted members recognise the ladies? That would have been asking altogether too much, and after anxious debate it was decided that no greeting of any kind should pass from the bow window or an) other window of the club, and the hat of the dandy was ever afterwards fixed firmly on his head whoever might be passing. Yet. on the whole, the traditions of London clubs are slowly passing away. The modern young man has less use for restrictions than had his grandfather and wants to be free. If the Marlborough has abandoned its once inflexible rule that no one could dine there in full evening dress, there is hope that some less understandable rules in other clubs will vanish. Bui with it all we may have to wait a long long day, if ever, to see "Wales” ring the bell at the call of a presumptuous friend.