Thirty years ago, Mr. Walker took some pains to disabuse the public mind of a false notion that female society was much affected by the multiplication of Clubs. He remarks that in those hours of the evening, which are peculiarly dedicated to society, he could scarcely count twenty members in the suite of rooms upstairs at the Athenæum Club. If female society be neglected, he contended that it was not owing to the institution of Clubs, but more probably to the long sittings of the House of Commons, and to the want of easy access to family circles. At the Athenæum he never heard it even hinted, that married men frequented it to the prejudice of their domestic habits, or that bachelors were kept from general society. Indeed, Mr. Walker maintains, that Clubs are a preparation and not a substitute for domestic life. Compared with the previous system of living, they induce habits of economy, temperance, refinement, regularity, and good order. Still, a Club only offers an imitation of the comforts of home, but only an imitation, and one which will never supersede the reality.
However, the question became a subject for pleasant satire. Mrs. Gore, in one of her clever novels, has these shrewd remarks:--"London Clubs, after all, are not bad things for family men. They act as conductors to the storms usually hovering in the air. The man forced to remain at home and vent his crossness on his wife and children, is a much worse animal to bear with, than the man who grumbles his way to Pall Mall, and not daring to swear at the Club-servants, or knock about the club-furniture, becomes socialized into decency. Nothing like the subordination exercised in a community of equals for reducing a fiery temper."
Mr. Hood, in his _Comic Annual_ for 1838, took up the topic in his rich vein of comic humour, and here is the amusing result:--
"Of all the modern schemes of Man That time has brought to bear, A plague upon the wicked plan That parts the wedded pair! My female friends they all agree They hardly know their hubs; And heart and voice unite with me, 'We hate the name of Clubs!'
"One selfish course the Wretches keep; They come at morning chimes; To snatch a few short hours of sleep-- Rise--breakfast--read the Times-- Then take their hats, and post away, Like Clerks or City scrubs, And no one sees them all the day,-- They live, eat, drink, at Clubs!