Jonathan and His Continent Part 13

CHAPTER XVII.

_Boisterous Humour and Horseplay Wit.--A Dinner at the Clover Club of Philadelphia.--Other "Gridiron" Clubs._

Humour only springs in simple, unaffected characters. You find it in the well-bred Scotch. It overflows in the American, who is the prince of good fellows.

The Americans are so good at taking a joke, so good-tempered that, even in public, they enjoy to banter each other and serve as b.u.t.ts for each other's sarcasms: it is on these occasions that American humour is allowed free play. There are even "Gridiron Clubs"--clubs where guests are invited only to be put on the grill.

The most famous of these is the Clover Club at Philadelphia. Outside Paradise, there is no place where men are treated with so little regard to their rank. The members of the Clover Club are no respecters of persons. Nothing is sacred for them; age or position count for naught in their a.s.semblies.

The club is composed of the princ.i.p.al journalists of Philadelphia. Once a year they ask to their table about fifty guests--people talked about; the President of the United States himself has an invitation, if he cares to submit himself to the "grilling" process.[8]

[8] Mr. Grover Cleveland has been through it.

The banquet is princely; the _menu_ most _recherche_.

But let us take a peep at the proceedings.

The president of the club, Mr. Handy, an American br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with wit, takes his place at the head of the table, and the feast begins.

Choice dishes follow one another, and are washed down with choice wines.

Conversation flows, and faces light up. An orchestra, placed in a neighbouring room, makes pleasant subdued music. The guests begin to think over the speeches they will soon be called upon to deliver--you recognise them by their white faces; the Cloverites quietly sharpen their weapons for the fray. Presently comes the dessert. The President strikes two or three little blows upon the table, and rises. Now for it!

Now for the _quart d'heure de Rabelais_!

"Gentlemen," says the President, "I have the honour to propose the first toast of the evening. Let us fill our gla.s.ses, and drink to the honourable member of Congress on my right. I doubt not you will push your amiability and patience so far as to listen to his speech in respectful silence. He will be all the more proud to have an audience to-night, because, as we all know, when the honourable member gets up to make a speech at Washington, the benches begin to empty by magic.

Gentlemen, give him a chance."

The Congressman takes the joke merrily, and thus commences his speech:

"Gentlemen--I mean _Members_--of the Clover Club."

The members pocket the satire with a hearty laugh.

Presently comes the turn of the second speaker. This one speaks in a scarcely audible voice.

"Raise your voice," cry the members.

"I am sorry you cannot hear. Come nearer."

The cries of "Louder!" continue.

"If I speak _low_," replies the orator, "it is in order to get down to your level."

This convulsed the a.s.sembly with laughter.

I was aghast.

Can it be possible, I thought, that they will stand that? The joke may be new and funny, but surely it is being carried beyond the bounds. If such things went on in France, one would see duels going on in all the retired spots of the neighbourhood next morning.

The health of a third guest is proposed in terms as grotesque as the preceding ones. This gentleman is an American, whose daughter is the wife of a member of the English aristocracy. By the manner in which he rises and begins to speak, it is easy to see that he is an old hand at this kind of tournament. He begins:

"Gentlemen, when I was present at your dinner last year----"

"Last year!" cries a Cloverite; "how did you get invited again this year, pray?"

"Oh, you know you can't do without me. You must have a few respectable people at your table. I mix with the aristocracy, gentlemen; but, as you see, I am not at all proud: I come and sit at meat with you. It is not that I have the least esteem for you, but I will not have folks say that, because I move in the society of dukes, marquises, earls----"

"Shut up! what do we care for your dukes?"

"Bah! of course there is no blue blood in you; you can't appreciate the honour I am doing you."

The ironical laughter is deafening, but the speaker will not be baffled of his say.

"Before I came here, I made up my mind----"

"Your WHAT?"

"My mind."

"Ha, ha!"

Here the Cloverites stamp and shout, but the speaker braves out the storm. As a peroration, this is what he offers to his hosts:

"Gentlemen, I had prepared a speech, something refined, which you could scarcely be supposed to appreciate. I will not cast my pearls to----('All right, all right.') I will sit down. Perhaps next year I may find you a little more civilised."

"Next year! No danger of your being asked, my fine fellow!"

The President rises once more.

My turn has come.

Scarcely have I said the word "Gentlemen," when a volley of shouts and whistlings greets me.

I see that I am not going to be spared.

"Excuse me," I continued; "perhaps I had better explain to you why I accepted your invitation. Since I am in America, I mean to study the customs and manners of the people. With this object in view, it would not do for me to confine myself to good society, and I have determined to make a beginning this evening----"

"That's right," whispers my neighbour; "continue in that strain, and you will do."

For hours the speechifying goes on, mixed with music, recitations, songs, and anecdotes.

At two in the morning hosts and guests separate, declaring that they have had a real "good time."

The Clover Club is a first-rate leveller.

Any man, suffering from over-cultivated self-esteem, can be supplied by this club with wholesome physic.