Foreign News: Crime in the Athenaeum

Noble lords grew apoplectic. Bishops harrumphed. Even venerable flunkeys quailed. Seldom, if ever, in the 121 years of its existence, had the learned members of London’s venerable club, the Athenaeum, received so rude a shock.

In lofty lounges and paneled smoking rooms members perused the painful letter from Lord Simonds, their chairman: between 1942 and 1944, no fewer than 22 volumes had been purloined from the club’s library, another 15 had been filched this year. Nor was that all. Of the eight copies of the London Times received each day, all but one were usually missing by evening. The weekly Times Literary Supplement and the Economist often disappeared for days at a time.

At first the committee had felt disposed to blame only one of the club’s 1,550 members. But regretfully they had come to the conclusion that more were involved. If the revelation did not shame the culprits into decent behavior, said the tart letter, the committee would not hesitate, under Rule 29, to invoke the extreme penalty: expulsion from the club for unbecoming conduct.

Should the committee’s warning be translated into practice, there will be no lack of aspirants to fill the vacancies. The club’s waiting list is so long many candidates reach the grave without attaining the Athenaeum.