Chapter XIV: Part II

“The Market now grew rather stiff,
And shares not quite so free;
Many Directors went abroad,
And many an Allottee.

“And briefs fell slack, and no more at our back
The agents in crowds did follow,
Nor ten times a day, with papers or pay,
Came to the Barrister’s hollo!

“I had done what was quite irregular,
And it would work them grief,
For all averred that the worst had occurred
Since I refused the brief,
‘Ah, wretch!’ said they, ‘to turn away
The fee upon a brief!’

“The Panic grew, the bills came due,
Directors crossed the sea;
Who knows which first of the bubbles burst?
They went, and so did we.

“Down dropt our work, our fees dropt down:
’Twas bad as bad could be;
Not once a week had we to speak
Upon a Committee.

“All in the hot Committee-rooms
The Barristeres, at noon
Must yawn, and linger round the doors,
Or thro’ the lobbies moon.

“Day after day we pined away,
So idle you’ve no notion;
As idle as a long debate
Upon an Irish motion.

“Business, business, everywhere――
The Courts it seemed to fill;
Business, business, everywhere,
But not one Railway Bill!

“Yea, even young men just called――oh dear,
That such things e’er should be!――
By mere half-guinea motions made
A better thing than we!

“About, about, in busy rout,
Attorneys and Q.C.’s,
Within our sight were paying down
And pocketing of fees!

“Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
And, for starched kerchief, the rejected brief
About my neck was hung.

“Farewell, farewell; but this I tell――
As sure as there thou’rt set,
He best shall thrive who most shall strive
To keep all he can get.

“He fareth best, who loveth best
All fees, both great and small;
For the Bench declares that the etiquette
Of the Bar is ‘Pocket all.’”

The Barristere whose bag is light,
Whose wig with age is hoar,
Passed from my sight――a thoughtful wight
I crossed St. Stephen’s door,

And heard debates my brain that stunned,
’Bout currency and corn.
A sadder and not wiser man.
I woke the morrow morn.

_Punch._ November 20, 1847.

――――

THE PROLIX ORATOR.

It is a prolix orator
And he stoppeth one J. B.
“By thy strange long beard and vacant eye
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

“My business calls I’ve work to do
Which I would fain begin;
My House is met, a question set
That I’ve an interest in.”

He holds him with his eager hand:
“I rise to move,” quoth he――
“Move off! unhand me, long beard loon!”
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his vacant eye,
Spell-bound JOHN BULL stands still:
And listens like a gaping child:
The orator hath his will.

(_Six verses omitted._)

_Punch_ (1849) on Thomas C. Anstey, M.P. for Youghal, the “Prolix orator.”

――――

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT ALDERMAN.