doings, and strange stories were whispered of the habits of some of
its distinguished members. The eccentricities of Count Demidoff and of
Major Frazer, the obstreperous fooleries of Lord Henry Seymour, the
studied extravagances of Comte d'Alton-Shee, created in the public mind
the impression that the club was nothing less than a sort of infernal
pit, peopled by wicked dandies like Balzac's De Marsay, Maxime de
Trailles, Rastignac, etc. Even the box of the club at the opera was
dubbed with the uncanny nickname _loge infernale_, and the talk of the
town ran upon the frightful sums lost and won every night at the tables
of the exclusive _cercle_, while the nocturnal passer-by pointed with a
shudder to the windows of the first floor at the corner of the Rue de
Grammont and the Boulevard, glimmering until morning dawn with a light
altogether satanic. The truth must be confessed that _jeunesse doree_
of the period affected a style somewhat "loud." There was exaggeration
in everything--in literature--for it was the epoch of the great
romantic impulse--in art, in politics: what wonder, then, that the
distractions of high life should over-pass the boundaries of good
taste, and even of propriety? The Jockey Club in the time of Louis
Philippe did but recall the good old days of Brookes's and of White's,
of the two Foxes, of George Selwyn and of Sheridan. But how changed is
all this! There is not to-day in Paris, perhaps in the world, a more
sedate, reputable and in every sense temperate club than the "Jockey."
It concerns itself only with racing, the legitimate object of its
foundation, and nothing else is discussed in its salons, if we except
one room, which under the Empire was baptized "The Camp of Chalons,"
for the reason that it had come to be reserved for the use of the old
soldiers, who met there to talk over incidents of army life. Baccarat,
that scourge of Parisian clubs, is forbidden, and lovers of play are
obliged to content themselves with a harmless rubber of whist. As one
black ball in six is sufficient to exclude a candidate--or, to use the
official euphemism, to cause his "postponement"--it is not difficult
for the coterie that controls the club to keep it clear of all noisy,
or even of merely too conspicuous, individuality. Lord Henry Seymour
would be "pilled" to-day by a probably unanimous vote. A candidate may
enjoy all the advantages of wealth and position, he may have the entree
to all the salons, and may even