Punch (49.1865)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[July 8. 1865.

12

HAPPY HOURS IN TOWN.

A HAPPY HOUR IN SOMERSET HOUSE.

It has often occurred to me that the Country Visitor now in the
Metropolis has been ill furnished with a guide not only to all places of
mere amusement, but also to those picturesque spots in our smoky,
dingy city where instruction is combined with recreation, and where a
glance may be obtained of some portion of that gigantic machinery daily
set in motion, and kept moving by the collected forces of an energetic
Government. Such a place is Somerset House.

The Northern Farmer, or Enoch Arden, or any other sojourner for
i a few days in London, will, of course, insist upon being taken to Somer-
set House.

The shortest way from any point to Somerset House is to take a cab,

1 and the shortest and cheapest is to take a friend with you, and let him
pay for it.

If you are alone, you can tell your Cabman to await your return at
the Strand Gate, while you, your inspection of the interior being
finished, can, without causing any unnecessary excitement, leave the
building by the other gate in Wellington Street. This is another cheap
method ; but, like most conjuring tricks, to which it bears a close affinity,
too sudden a repetition will destroy the effect first created.

Remarks on Entering the Building.—You may make as many remarks
as you like, either on your entrance or your exit. They had better not
perhaps be of a personal cliaracler with regard to any of the officials,
unless given in terms of unqualified admiration. Thus, you will be per-
mitted to stand in front of that Hall-beadle-porter (or Hall-porter-Hall-
beadle, or, omitting “Hall” in both cases, as allowing a Cockneyfied
use of the “ H,” say correctly Half-beadle-TIalf-port.er), and exclaim,
using action expressive of unqualified admiration, “ How lovely ! How
beautiful! ” But you mustn’t point, because, as was instilled into you
with the other pure moral maxims of your youth, “ it’s rude to
point.”

More Remarks on Entering.—You may say, “ Here we are again ! ”
if you ’ve been there before, or simply “ Here we are ! ” if you haven’t.
You will notice a dim religious light throughout the building, and small
lamps feebly burning before the shrines of St. Income-Tax., the Blessed
Legacy and Succession, the Beatified Comptrollers, and other Govern-
ment Divinities.

Perhaps it is through these media that you will be so greatly struck
by the close resemblance between Somerset House and St. Peter’s at
Rome, especially if you’ve never seen the latter. The illusion would be
perfect, but for a strong smell of cooking, that issues, apparently, from
a tall and narrow watch-box close at hand. Through its glass window
you will see that this box is full of smoke. As this gradually clears away,
a Beadle appears before you, as the Genie did to the fisherman, and you
j will then discover that the excessive fumigation was caused by the pre-
paration of this Jack-in-the-box-in-office’s dinner, which he has been
stewing or grilling on a small portable stove cunningly fitted into a corner
of his lantern-like round-house. Nobody, as a rule, likes to be looked at
or spoken to when eating ; but you can at once put him at his ease by
standing on no ceremony, and saying jocularly to him, “I say, give us
j a bite.”

You will now smile benignantly on a policeman, and walk along the
dimly-lighted corridors until you come to an ancient inscription on
the wall, which your knowledge of languages will enable you to
decipher as

“ INQUIRY FOR INCOME-TAX OFFICE.”

Here you are expected to look in, and make an inquiry after the Income-
Tax. You may ask to look at yours, or request to have it returned to
you, because you believed there was a bad shilling in it. When you
have ascertained that the Income-Tax is quite well, proceed a few steps
further, and you will see another intimation to this effect—

“ ALLOWANCE OFFICE FOR SPOILED STAMPS.”

In this room you may spend a very amusing quarter of an hour in
spoiling Stamps. This is the only office where you are allowed by
Government to do it. On leaving it, seek the “ Solicitors’ Office
for Marking Deeds.” This operation they will, if in a good
humour, extend to pocket-handkerchiefs, in indehble ink—initials or
name in full.

Keep your ears open for the sounds of revelry and music. Directly
you hear some one tioiling a song, make for the room. It is the Comp-
troller’s Office, or “Come! Trailer's Office,” as it was originally
named. Offer to join him in any chorus. The Clerk, following the
manner of Custom-House officers, will ask for your keys, and, after a
J short exercise, you may retire.

After several journeyings up-stairs and down-stairs, you will be in-
clined to ask, “ Who’s Wills?”

You’ll find him proved “ within ten years” and without ten years, at
the top of the House, at the bottom of the House, in the middle of the
House, and, in fact, in every part of the House. This Wills is
{ examined, indexed, and treated in all sorts of ways. In one place he’s

called “ Old Wills,” in another—only we didn’t see this ourselves—
“ Young Wills,” and, for aught we know, “ Middle-aged Wills.”
There is also in Somerset House a School for Politeness. Over one
door you will see, in large characters,

“ duties received.”

Every visitor must enter here, and pay his duty to the venerable gen-
tleman seated in a private box, behind a sort of counter, as if he’d got
something to sell, but he hasn’t, on the right-hand side of the door as
you go in. The ceremony is confined to two bows, and the expression
of a hope that he, the old gentleman, is enjoying the best possible
health. You may ask him a riddle, if you like, but this is not compul-
sory, nor is it in any way expected of you. You can see him fed at one
o’clock, when, if you call, you will be expected to throw him a penny
bun. There is a baker’s shop close at hand, in the Strand, where you
can get yesterday’s buns for a halfpenny each. This is worth knowing.
Call in at the Audit Office. This is where the celebrated strong ale,
so popular at Cambridge, is brewed. Audit ale is given away gratis on
some feast days. The beverage is named after the office, not the
office after the beverage. The name signifies, “He hears;” and the
two gentlemen who are seated in this room are bound to listen to
everything that anyone may say to them. They are not compelled
to answer, or to make any observation whatever, but they must
hear you. No deaf person need apply for the appointment. Here
you will always find a gentle sympathiser for your grievances—a
steady listener appointed thereto by a compassionate Government.
You will perhaps be surprised at the number of policemen in the
passages of Somerset House: the fact is, that the presence of one
necessitated the employment of the rest. A 2 was stationed there to
look after A 1, and the duty devolving upon A3 was to see that A 2
and A1 didn’t shirk ; and so on, up to the last man in the division. At
first sight one might almost imagine that these gentry would be better
employed out-of-doors; but, at all events, there is no excuse for not
giving a direct answer to the vulgar cry, “ Where are the Police ? ” by
immediately replying, “ In Somerset House.”

You may now quit. Somerset House, and go home to dinner, thanking,
our guidance for your first Happy Hour in Town.

YOUNG PALMERSTON.

Air—“ College Hornpipe.”

The tumble and the talk of the Session are past,

And the House of Commons is dissolved at last.

There are many grave and gay,

To the country take their way;

And the gayest of the lot is Young Palmerston !

There’s Gladstone more glibly and gushingly can speak,

And Russell he can write more despatches in a week ;

But what’s written here or said,

That the nail knocks on the head;

Ten to one is writ or said by Young Palmerston !

Let Dizzy climb the Caucasus to find a hustings cry,

Or come it strong to catch the Church, as angel from the sky,
Let him fill his wind-bags full
Of great cry and little wool.

But what cry is like the laugh that greets Young Palmerston !

He may be eighty-one by the reckoning of Debrett,

But who can say what lots of “life there’s in the old dog” yet?
If on the charge of years,

You would try him by his Peers,

You must go to twenty-one to try Young Palmerston !

Then here’s luck and good deliv’rance to Pam the ever green,
Soon, coming from the country, may his jaunty face be seen :
And whoe’er goes to the wall.

May he never have a fall,

Or but fall to rise a livelier Young Palmerston !

The Aim of Italy.

The following portion of a telegram, dated at Florence, is the best
news we have had from Italy for a long while :—

“ The national rifie meeting was inaugurated to-day by Kino Victor-Emmanuel,
who fired the first shot.”

If every Italian who wishes to complete the unity of Italy would only
learn to make sure of his man with a rifle at a reasonable distance, the
Roman and Venetian questions would very speedily solve themselves.
Rome and Venice are prizes which Italians must learn to shoot
for.