The first of these clubs was started as the “Whip Club,” and in the _Morning Post_, June 9, 1808, is a description of a “Meet.”
“The _Whip Club_ met on Monday morning in Park Lane, and proceeded from thence to dine at Harrow-on-the-Hill. There were fifteen barouche-landaus, with four horses to each; the drivers were all men of known skill in the science of charioteering. Lord Hawke, Mr. Buxton, and the Hon. Lincoln Stanhope were among the leaders.
“The following was the style of the set out: Yellow bodied carriages, with whip springs and dickey boxes; cattle of a bright bay colour, with plain silver ornaments on the harness, and rosettes to the ears. Costume of the drivers: a light drab colour cloth coat made full, single breast, with three tiers of pockets, the skirts reaching to the ankles: a mother-of-pearl button of the size of a crown piece. Waistcoat blue and yellow stripe, each stripe an inch in depth. Small clothes corded with silk plush, made to button over the calf of the leg, with sixteen strings and rosettes to each knee. The boots very short, and finished with very broad straps, which hung over the tops and down to the ankle. A hat three inches and a half deep in the crown only, and the same depth in the brim exactly. Each wore a large bouquet at the breast, thus resembling the coachmen of our nobility, who, on the natal day of our beloved sovereign, appear, in that respect, so peculiarly distinguished. The party moved along the road at a smart trot; the first whip gave some specimens of superiority at the outset, by ‘cutting a fly off a leader’s ear.’”
In the _Annual Register_, vol. 51, p. 883 (1809), is the following satire “ON THE WHIP CLUB:--
“Two varying races are in Britain born, One courts a nation’s praises, one, her scorn; Those pant her sons o’er tented fields to guide, Or steer her thunders thro’ the foaming tide; Whilst these, disgraceful born in luckless hour, Burn but to guide with skill a coach-and-four. To guess their sires each a sure clue affords, These are the coachman’s sons, and those, my Lord’s! Both follow fame, pursuing different courses; Those, Britain, scourge thy foes--and these, thy horses; Give them their due, nor let occasion slip; On those, thy laurels lay--on these, the whip!”