Punch: Punch (19.1850)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

195

THE DESTRUCTION OE WESTMINSTER HALL.

{Being a Legal Lament for " Cras Animarum")

s~__ ^ ounty-Courts Bill came down like a wolf

z^^^^X on the fold,

f^^^^^^^vf^' And the agency honses were savage and sold;

f tJmfflk '^OCb ^nc' m *ae Exchequer, the Pleas, and q. B.,

7 rW^%^S?r^k Wss one declaration where ten used to be.

A&N=^^| w Like prize cauliflowers, in the garden so
^^^^T"Tlp*J\ green,

fcXy^feyBlW^ The wigs of the leaders last "eras: an,"
^f^^^^^m^h were seen,

tfUis J^^^ Like the same cauliflowers, when a blight

Ik^^B- ■ liatu. come do>VD)
mi^Ms^^^^M&l: t Those wigs, on this " eras:'an," look rusty

\S)iijM"M' Wb^0? and brown.

4^rl_^^i^ Eor Mr. Eitzroy's County Courts Bill hath

-------7A1 past,

Despite of John Jervis, and lawyers aghast;
And the hearts of sharp-practice attorneys waxed chill,
As their clients fell off, and their practice stood still.

There sits the Q.C. at his table so wide,

But on it no briefs with red tape neatly tied,

And his parchment-hued cheek turneth white as his shirt,

As he thinks what he'll come to, now law's cheap as dirt.

And there frets the Clerk, discontented and pale,
With no half-a-crown now paid down on the nail.
The Courts are all silent, the judges all yawn,
O'er demurrers unargued and pleadings undrawn.

And the Westminster ushers are loud in then wail,
There's no motion of eourse in the sad Court of Bai*;
And the cause of dear law, by attorneys adored,
Thank the new County Courts Bill, hath gone by the Ooard!

TAKING THE NONSENSUS OE THE COUNTRY.

To the Government falls the duty of taking the census of the
country, but it is the peculiar province of Bunch to take the nonsensus
of England. As we look around us, we cannot help fearing that when
the returns come to be published, the latter will far exceed in amount
the former.

Eirst of all, there are the Houses of Parliament, both old and new.
In the old House of Commons sit some 658 members, who represent
the collective wisdom of the country. We can scarcely tell whether
this term, " Collective Wisdom," applies to the members themselves, or
to the persons who sent them there. If the former, it says but li'/tle
for the amount of wisdom in the country ; and if the latter, it says still
less ; for what must those persons be themselves when they select such
poor specimens to represent them. But, in either case, the old House
of Commons is fairly entitled to figure at the head of the Nonsensus of
England.

The new House of Commons promises to claim the same proud dis-
tinction, for what can we say of a House that is wanted to hold upwards
of 500 members, and will only accommodate half that number, unless we
murmur an expression of wonder how, in the name of Nonsense, such a
House came to be erected at all ?—an expression which at once would
introduce the new Houses of Parliament within the limits of the N on-
sensus of the country.

Smithfield Market will also figure in the returns ; for a market to be
placed in the centre of a large capital, where it can only be productive
of obstructions, nuisances, accidents and deaths, is such an arrant piece
of nonsense, as could hardly find a place anywhere else but in the Non-
sensus of England.

Erom Smithfield Market to the City Corporation is a natural jump,
for it is the sticks of the one who uphold the sticks of the other, and
really it would puzzle a greater judge than we profess to be, to decide
which was the greater piece of nonsense of the two ? But for ages past,
aldermen and common-councilmen have been known for their extreme
love of talking nonsense, and, therefore, it would be an act of great in-
justice to omit their names on the present occasion. The claims of
Sir Peter Laurie will be particularly attended to, in a document
that addresses itself exclusively to nonsense.

It is not necessary to particularise any more names just at present.
We are busy collecting evidence in every institution, in every court, in
every office, in every vestry, in every tap-room, in every nonsensical
little corner in the kingdom, and we are sure that when the astounding
result is laid before our readers, that they will scarcely believe then-
eyes when they see what a tremendous amount of nonsense there exists
in England ! We can safely declare that the Nonsensus of 1851 will be
in every way worthy of the country.

JENKINS TOR ATHOLL !

Mr. Jenkins is a gentleman who follows his leader. That is to
say, the Morning Bosfs leading article of any given day, is generally an
attack—very dull and tiresome—on one which appeared in the Times
the day before.

Last Eriday, however, Mr. Jenkins thought fit to honour Mr. Bunch
as well as the Times, with his abusive observations. Both of us have
had the misfortune to offend Mr. Jenkins by the line we have taken
in reference to the closure of Glen Tilt by the Duke of Atholl, in
whose service we presume he is. And yet by Mr. Jenkins's own
showing, our offence should be a light one against his master—if the
Duke or Atholl is his master, and the subjoined piece of writing is
not from the pen of the Duke himself:—

" The ownership of this land is maintained by the Duke to be as exclusive as his
Grace"s property in his own drawing-room—in the coat which he wears on his hack—
or the kilt on which the Times and Punch concentrate their facetiousness."

Mr. Jenkins's veneration for his master's wardrobe would seem to
be extreme, to judge from the indignation he expresses at the Ducal
kilt having been held up to ridicule. But then, to be sure, the Duke
was in it.

Great stress is laid by Mr. Jenkins on the alleged fact that the
question of the public's right of way through Glen Tilt is yet undecided.
We don't care a button—a button with the Atholl crest upon it—for
that. Jenkins himself, says—shuddering, of course, at making the
hypothetical admission—

" The Duke of Atholl may have acted selfishly, or unwisely, or unadvisedly,
but—■ &c. &c. &c.

May, Jenkins ? nay, he has—we know not, May. And the appro-
priate emblem of selfishness is a small creature of the canine species,
and there is no harm in drawing it; no, nor in adding to the sketch a
Flunkey, set to wash the little animal; which would do for the figure
of Servility, Mr. Jenkins.

But although we concentrated our facetiousness on the Duke of
Atholl's kilt, a cry had been raised against him, and, says Jenkins,

" The ciy was taken up by the scurrilous prints which disgrace our press; the
subject of the libel started in the Times was abused, caricatured, and vilified with every
species of malice."

Further, complains Jenkins, although it has not been settled that
the Duke has the legal right to shut up Glen Tilt—

" Foul abuse and vile caricature continue uncorrected arid unchecked."

Jenkins, if Mr. Bunch were the owner of Glen Tilt, and were to
close it against the traveller, whether legally or illegally, Mr. Bunch
would be a curmudgeon, and would deserve to be drawn and described
in his true character

You are not much 10 be congratulated, Jenkins, on having exchanged
the plush for the plaid. Best keep to cleaning the Duke of Atholl's
boots ; and leave his fame alone.

BACON'S NEW BRAZEN HEAD.

In the sincerest spirit of penitence, we beg pardon of the publishing
world of America, whom we have from thne to time criticised in what
we now feel to be a harsh and uncharitable spirit, for their wholesale
conveyance of English books to then own profit and advantage. The
Rev. Dr. Bacon, an American, at the Educational Conference, held at
Manchester, has put the matter in a true and startling light. American
booksellers, by printing English books, only show their intense admira-
tion of the commodity. The boa-constrictor, that gorges his half-dozen
rabbits, merely manifests a complimentary taste for rabbits. But hear
Parson Bacon, of the Brazen Head—

" The credit of having their books printed on the other side the Atlantic helps the
sale of a book at home. There is another of your writers, Macaulay. i believe he
has more admirers, that there are more who have read his writings with rapture in
America, though it is understood he is no great admirer of the American people, than
here. How many copies of his last work have been printed in the United States'?
Tens of thousands ? No. You may count them by hundreds of thousands ! (Hear, hear.)

We repeat it; we are more than satisfied; we are confounded by the
arguments of the modern Roger. How large, too, is their application!
A pickpocket twitches your Bandana from your poke. Ought you to
cry " Stop Thief," if the knave be detected; or, if you know your loss,
when the thief—that is, the abstractor—has made clear off with your
goods, ought you to visit that man with anathema, with uncharitable
thoughts ? Certainly not; for know, that Mr. James Twitcher, the
possessor of your Bandana, has a great admiration for the style of
the article ; its elegant pattern and vivid colour have, moreover, found
many admirers in the Minories or in Field Lane. Your stolen hand-
kerchief is highly praised, and you ought to be correspondingly
delighted. Again, should you lay down your gold spectacles on a coffee-
room table, and should they, perchance, be carried off; consider the
loss as the highest personal attention. The gentleman who takes your
spectacles feels it impossible to do otherwise—the gold is so pure; so
touchingly seductive. You are robbed, but how you are complimented
in that verv act of thieving !