WEEDON GROSSMITH. 1905.
Our friend started the Punch Bowl Club (he had always been inspired with the great idea of a real Bohemian Club) in Regent Street, and one met a variety of good fellows and plenty of clever entertainers. One of the foremost members was Mostyn Piggott, who was quite a leading light. Raven Hill was very popular also. Our club room was situated on the uppermost storey of a house of which the foundation must have been rather "dicky," for one evening it descended into another, and when we arrived, we found our room wrecked beyond recall. After this avalanche, he started new premises over a motor establishment leading out of Oxford Street. Here we had very spacious and very originally decorated rooms, which were hung with a great number of Indian trophies, for Wood was an Indian chief, and rejoiced in the title of Rah—Rih—Wah—Casda of the Six Nations Indians—an honour bestowed, I believe, only on two or three other Europeans, the Prince of Wales (King Edward VII.) and the Duke of Connaught being the foremost chiefs.
Sometimes he appeared dressed in his war paint, as an Indian chief, at the large meetings which he delighted in organizing, when he brewed the punch, while other members, dressed in the character, gave their services as cook and waiters.
The club was run on somewhat similar lines to the Savage Club, and we addressed each other as "Brother So-and-So."
These dinners were very successful until Wood's health gave way, for they ended at a very late hour, and he never went home, preferring to sit up all night. After his death the club's popularity waned; the organizing personality that had previously supported it being absent, amusements fell through, but before the end we had some very pleasant evenings entertaining distinguished guests.
I was once persuaded to take the chair on the occasion of the visit of the Lord Chief Justice, and when, with every good intention, I rose to propose the usual toasts, to thank the Lord Chief Justice for his presence that evening, and to extol his good qualities, I almost forgot whether he was Lord Chief Justice or the Archbishop of Canterbury. However, I managed to struggle through, and with admirable promptitude the guest of the evening replied with real humour and relieved me of some part of my duty. At the end of the evening, Percy Wood came up to me and thanked me for so ably taking the chair, and when I apologized for what I considered my inability adequately to fill the post, he congratulated me, whereupon an artist who was standing by, said, "What! That a good speech! It was awful rot!"
It was a singular coincidence that on this and the following occasions when our guest was the Bishop of London, both men were total abstainers, while we indulged in our toasts from the punch bowl. I made a silhouette beforehand of the Bishop leaning forward as though to make a speech, which appeared on the menu.
W. S. GILBERT AND MSLLE. ROSA.