BOHEMIAN CLUB GROVE The Seedy Gentleman dialogues 1902 by Peter Robertson SIGNED 

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5 ½ by 8 inches, 334 pages on deckle-edged cotton paper, top edge gilt. Printed by the Stanley-Taylor Company. This copy was signed and inscribed on December 8, 1902 by the author on the free front endsheet! 

This is an extraordinarily rare work produced entirely by Bohemian Club members. It was authored by a Club President. It consists of a series of literary, and philosophical dialogues on various subjects which take place in what is implicitly the Bohemian Club, which is always referred to simply as “the Club”.

This book survived the 1906 earthquake and conflagration. To our knowledge, this is the only copy available for purchase anywhere at this time, that‘s how scarce it is. Similarly rare early Bohemian Club books such as “Hoot of the Owl” sell for over $500 dollars at auction when they're unsigned.  

The main figure, “The Seedy Gentleman” is no doubt Peter Robertson (1847-1911) the author, who was the drama critic for the San Francisco Chronicle from 1881 to 1906. Robertson’s likeness is on the cover and frontispiece.

Robertson was a "Priest of the Trees" in the 1892 Midsummer Buddha High Jinks and was the President of the Bohemian Club from 1889 to 1890--Source: Volume 2 of the Annals.

Pseudonyms such as “The Seedy Gentleman,” “The Candid Man,” and “The Cynic” are used throughout for the various dialogue participants.

Gordon Ross (1873-1946), the noted artist who illustrated the cover and frontispiece of the Seedy Gentleman with his hot scotch, was also a Bohemian Club member as was the publisher, A.M. Robertson (d. 1934). I believe all were Scotsmen and it seems probable that Peter and A.M. were related.

The textual proof that these dialogues took place in the Bohemian Club is found in several passages: one which mentions the Club’s dead landlady Mrs. MacStinger, and the other which mentions “the toast our old friend used to give, ‘May the Lord love us, and not call for us too soon.’” Volume 2 of The Annals of the Bohemian Club states that the phrase was the “Colonel’s [J.C. Cremony] toast religiously uttered before each drink, and uttered so often as to become a household word in the Club in those days.” A poem titled “The Colonel’s Toast” by Ina D. Coolbirth, which uses the phrase as a preamble is even printed in Volume 2.

The dialogues range from the humorous to the deeply sentimental, the topics from drama to the relations between the sexes to the changing times. Some involve deceased literary giants. In “MORE ABOUT LOVE,” Robertson visits with the dead at “the Elysian Debating Society,” where Dickens, Scott, Richardson, Thackeray, Bulwer Lytton, Wycherly, Congreve, Ben Jonson, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Sheridan Knowles, Henry J. Byron, Tom Robertson, Boucicault, and Shakespeare discuss “what is love,” after which The Seedy Gentleman takes them to see various love stories performed. It should be noted that according the Volume 2 of the Annals, Peter Robertson sired the November 24, 1881 Jinks which was titled “The Elysian Fields“. In “MACBETH SEES HIMSELF,” Macbeth and his wife get into an argument with Shakespeare while watching Macbeth performed. In "A VISITOR FROM THE SHADES,” Thackeray makes another appearance in which The Seedy Gentleman takes him on a tour of various theatres to show him performances which are considered as portraying the qualities of the era. In “THE DEVIL,” The Seedy Gentleman treats Lucifer to a tour of plays in which Satan is portrayed.

Contents:

LOVE
OURSELVES
WOMAN’S EYES
LIFE IS A FAKE
SOME HUMAN WEAKNESSES
OUTLAWS AND OPERA
THE USELESSNESS OF THINGS
THE MORBID STORY
HAPPINESS
MORE ABOUT LOVE
‘IS ‘ART WAS TRUE TO POLL
MUSIC
THE NEW WOMAN
MACBETH SEES HIMSELF
THE CLUB LIBRE
WEDDINGS
LIFE IS NEVER THE SAME AGAIN
LOVE BALLADS
GHOSTS
THE HUMAN ORCHESTRA
A VISITOR FROM THE SHADES
THE MODE
THE COMIC OPERA OF LIFE
RAG-TIME
THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER
CURIOSITY
MAN, GET ON TO THYSELF
THE OLD LIFE AND THE NEW
HEARTSEASE
THE LOVE STORY OF A SCOT
THE DEVIL
MADAM PRESIDENT
IN THE BRAVE DAYS WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE
POVERTY
CHRISTMAS

Excerpt from ABOUT LOVE
“About love. The dramatists never do get at the truth. They always make the right man fall in love with the right woman. The fact is, the man always falls in love with the wrong woman in real life, and vice versa. You sit and watch a play. When the actors and actresses come on and you know exactly what the couples will be in the last act. They may have lots of trouble before they get there; but you can tell that harmony of creation which is so noticeably absent from the real thing, and so beneficently produced by the playwright. Now, let us--” and the Seedy Gentleman lounged back in his chair and swung his left leg over his right. “Now, let us consider this question of love. Why should love be constant to one? How can love for one be eternal? I met a clever woman once--thank you, John--here is to her!--I met a clever woman once. We talked of love.
“Ahem!”
“I said, gentlemen, we talked of love,” and the Seedy Gentleman showed a momentary confusion. “We talked of love.”
“Have you ever loved?” I asked.
“Often,” she answered quite sadly.
“Can one love more than once?”
“Not the same man. I am in a great difficulty about that,” she answered. “I am fond of horses and I adore a man who loves them and can talk about them. I am interested in electricity, and I enjoy a moonlight walk with a young man who knows all about it. I like prize-fights, and a third gentleman is welcome, because he goes to all the scrapping matches. I am sentimental, and I have an admireer who reads poetry to me once or twice a week.”
“And you love them all?”
“At times. I couldn’t endure the prize-fight youth on my sentimental night, of course; and the chap who talks horses is a bore when I feel like discussing electricity. But I couldn’t get on without all of them.”
“Do they all love you?”
“That’s just the trouble. They all want to marry me; but how could I bear to have a husband eternally reading poetry or talking horses or describing prize-fights? That is the mistake I find in men. They are not made with a sufficient variety of tastes. Now, if there was one man who was fond of all those subjects he would be perfect; but even then I suppose he would feel like talking about horses when I wanted him to be poetic. If I could marry as many as I liked, it would be happiness. Do you think,” she asked anxiously, “there will be some liberty for women in heaven?”

Excerpt from MACBETH SEES HIMSELF
“Touching those brain waves,” said the Seedy Gentleman, standing up with his back to the fire, with a graceful wobble.
“I thought his brain was a little wavy,” remarked one of the crowd.
“He’s brains all over, apparently, then,” said another.
“When you have quite finished those rude allusions to my nervous system,” replied the Old Man, “we will proceed. Touching those brain waves, I may observe that as usual, science is behind the ordinary intelligence. I have known of those brain waves for a long time.”
“So have we,” said the Candid Man.
“Hardly likely. To realize brain waves one must have brains. John, give the gentleman something to make them intelligent. As I said to Lady Macbeth--”
“To whom?”
“To Lady Macbeth.”
“The same old wave.”
“I had a theatre party this evening.”
“Oh! Who was there?”
“There were Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Shakespeare and myself.”
“Did you meet them at the ferry?” asked the Fellow in the Corner.
“Yes. We all came over from the shades together. I dined with Shakespeare.”
“Dined?”
“Yes, of course, dined.”
“Where does Shakespeare eat?” asked the Practical Man.
“Oh, he lives at Mrs. MacStinger’s boardinghouse in the Elysian fields.”
“And what do they eat there?”
“Oh, the souls of chickens and things.”
“And what do they drink?”
“Only spirits,” said the old man blandly. “But as I was saying, I invited them all to come to the theatre. Somehow they heard that ‘Macbeth’ was being played. I saw at once, gentlemen, the danger, and I tried to persuade them to go somewhere else. It was of no avail. They would go.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Macbeth and Shakespeare don’t speak now.”
“Have a fight?” asked the Candid Man.
“Well, if there had not been ladies present, I fancy Shakespeare would have been badly off. You see, Macbeth enjoyed it very much at first. He had never seen anything like it. It did not occur to him for some time that it was all his story. You see, he never knew himself by the name of Macbeth. His name was Macbeathad MacFinlegh. Yes, the witches seemed to impress him. He was a superstitious fellow. Of course, he didn’t recognize his clothes. But he thought that that man Macbeth was quite a heroic kind of chap. Well, everything went well till I put my foot in it.”
“Whit’s this maist extror’ny rig-a-ma-jig?” he asked.
“Why, don’t you know this story?” I remarked.
‘I dinna ken a domd thing aboot it.’
“’Or Those incidences’?
“’What for dae ye suppose I wid be speerin at ye ‘gin I kent it a’?’”
Somebody broke in here with a query as to what kind of dialect Macbeth should have used.
“Gentlemen,” said the Old Man, “I supposed you had read Barrie and Ian Maclaren. Any way, I went on:
“’Why,’ I said to Macbeth, ‘this is your story.’
“Is that mysel‘?’”
“’That is yoursel’.’ I said with a bow. ‘You will see your good lady presently.’
“Hae they got me intul’t?” asked Lady Macbeth, very much pleased.
“Certainly, my lady,” I said.
They both became deeply interested. When Lady Macbeth came on, Macbeth made a long, critical study of her.
“I’m thinkin’ that’s no a’ richt,” he said, dubiously. “I doot if ye wid hae leeved throo’t, Gruoch Mac Boedhe, gin ye had na had mair bane. An’ ye were na jist sae pretty.”
“Gruoch what?” interjected an inquirer.
“That was Lady Macbeth’s name,” answered the Old Gentleman.
“Nae but ye war a fine wiman in your day, Gruoch. I’m nae saein’ onythin’ aboot that,” went on Macbeth….

Excerpt from THE CLUB LIBRE:
“Good night!” said the Seedy Gentleman, taking his hat and coat.
“Off so early? And you haven’t said a word.”
“No, I am not satisfied, gentlemen, with some of the comments I have heard passed about me. I have started a new club. I am the president.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“It is a club for bores and people who do not speak to one another. Everybody talks to himself, and he can say just what he thinks about anything or anybody. It has many advantages. There is no interruption of the conversation; you are not called down all the time; and you can say right before anybody, what you would say behind his back, without offense. Good night!”
The old man walked down the street until he reached a door on which, engraved on a brass plate, was the legend,
THE CLUB LIBRE
He took a key out of his pocket, opened the door and went up stairs into a cozy, well-furnished room. There were plenty of easy chairs in it, and on the back of each chair was the name of the member to whom it belonged. There were three or four men there, all sitting with their backs to one another, smoking and talking to the pictures, which were all portraits of celebrated bores, or the windows, but never looking at or addressing one another. The only man they all spoke to was the servant, who took the orders. The old man hung up his hat and coat and went to his own chair. Nobody said anything, but they all looked up with a frown on their faces, going on with their soliloquies. Then one fellow was heard to say:
“Here’s that confounded bore, the president! I suppose he’s been to the theatre, and he’ll drivel about the drama.”
“There is one rule of the club,” said the Oracle, talking apparently to a gas jet, “that people don’t need to listen if they don’t want to.”
“Some people,” said the bald-headed man with a fringe of reddish hair around the back of his neck, gazing abstractedly at an ash-receiver on the table, “talk so loud you must listen.”
“If I don’t want to hear,” said a venerable chap in a black skull cap, looking up at the ceiling, “I put cotton in my ears.”
“I wish,” put in a weazened fellow, who was absorbed in contemplation of a fly on the wall, “I wish some fellows would stuff their mouths with it.”
The Old Gentleman lit a cigar and, leaning back in his chair, continued his contemplation of the gas jet. “I am sorry.” he remarked to it, “I am sorry they are gone.”
“The trouble about some bores,” said a voice near him, “is that you don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s bad enough when you do.”
“But they’re gone just the same,” went on the Old Fellow. “”The low comedian and the soubrette are no more. Those were happy days of the drama, when the dramatist gave every household a comic man servant and a singing chambermaid. Now they put the servants in their places, and the audience pay no more attention to them than if they really were servants.
“Some men,” said the bald-headed member, addressing his cigar, “would like to have a song and dance between the courses by the butler and the housemaid.”….

An Excerpt from ABOUT GHOSTS
“I see by the evening papers,” he said, as he kicked off his rubbers and drew his easy chair up to the fire, “I see by the evening papers that the storm is over.”
“Looks like it, doesn’t it?”
“Now, if we lived away back two or three or four thousand years, we should be down on our marrow bones praying lustily to the gods. That was a regular Jovian thunderbolt, wasn’t it?
“You are the oracle. The ancients used to seek the oracle for explanations. What does the oracle say this portends?” said the Candid Man.
“Well, if it had been before the election, I should have said it portended some great political disaster; but I am inclined to think it is plain weather.”
“That is rather commonplace,” put in the Cynic.
“My friend, everything is commonplace, today. If anything very extraordinary turns up we are immediately deluged with explanations that make it absolutely uninteresting. I like to see the ghost in ‘Hamlet’ simply because scientific men can’t get up and explain it away. I haven’t the least doubt Hamlet saw his father’s ghost.”
“Oh, people see ghosts now.”
“I doubt it. I have seen some strange things in my time--thank you, John!--but--well--”
“You have reformed?”
“Slightly, gentlemen, slightly. Here’s to you!”
The old gentleman took a sip and, leaning back in his chair, lapsed into silence.
“Ah,” he said, in his dreamy tone, “the ghosts of old came from the dead. The ghosts today come from the living. The grave is more silent than it was; the tomb more secret. The veil that hides beyond is more impenetrable; the bourne from which no traveler returns grows more and more mystic and inscrutable. We were better when we dreamed of peace and rest and happiness--to come.”
“You are getting mournful.”….

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Condition: Good+ Binding intact and strong, pages clean. Spine has wear and appears faded, one corner has a minor bump, and there is a half inch tear to the top of the spine. See photos. In good shape for being 106 years old.

Founded in 1872, the Bohemian Club is most famous for its Grove plays, 45 foot tall stone Owl Shrine within the club owned 2,712 acre redwood forest, and annual “Lakeside Talks”--lectures given by leading men in politics, corporations, academia, science, music, literature, drama, and art. The annual Bohemian Grove encampment is famous for the “Cremation of Care” ritual, which is when robed, hooded members carry torches to the Owl Shrine where they sacrificially burn an effigy of "dull care" in a bonfire. This Grove tradition has been occurring in one form or another since 1880.

Members and guests of the past and present include Samuel Clemens, Ambrose Bierce, Jack London, Thomas Nast, Bram Stoker, Rudyard Kipling, Robert Louis Stevenson, Oscar Wilde, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, William Randolph Hearst, Nicholas Murray Butler, Swedish Kings and Princes, Bing Crosby, Rowan and Martin, Earl Warren, Wernher Von Braun, Dean Rusk, Neil Armstrong, John E. du Pont, the then Crown Prince Faisal, John Diebold, Prince Phillip, Lord Louis Mountbatten, Warren Buffett, Walter Cronkite, James D. Wolfensohn, Caspar Weinberger, Pete Wilson, Donald Rumsfeld, Richard Cheney, the current Governor of California Arnold Schwarzenegger, Peter Ustinov, Laurindo Almeida, Bob Hope, Willie Brown, Robert Mondavi, and every republican President since Herbert Hoover.

There are 119 different camps at the Grove ranging in elite status. Ronald Reagan was a member of Owl’s Nest. The Bush family belong to Hill Billies Camp. Richard Nixon and Hoover were members of Cave Man’s camp. Henry Kissinger, Gerald Ford and George Shultz are current members of Mandalay Camp. There is strong membership correlation between the Bohemian Club and Yale's Skull and Bones Society (Russell Trust) as well as other elite groups such as The Pilgrims Society, Council on Foreign Relations, and the Federal Reserve System.

Maclean's magazine, March 23, 1981 reported: "The Grove's Shakespearean motto, 'Weaving spiders come not here,' is an injunction to forget wheeling and dealing which is widely ignored. While 'ruling-class cohesiveness' rarely lets slip details of accommodations arrived at there, some - such as the 1967 agreement by Ronald Reagan, over a drink with Richard Nixon, to stay out of the coming presidential race - have helped mold America's destiny." The Bohemian Club is also admittedly where the Manhattan Project and "Star Wars," a.k.a. SDI were conceived and/or planned.Thanks for looking. Please email with any questions.

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