LAWYER DIVIDING THE OYSTER.
RULE V.
DIVISION.
Division teaches how to divide a number into two or more equal parts, as in the division of prize-money.
Division is of great importance, whether political, ecclesiastical, commercial, civil, or social. Nothing is more likely to destroy your opponents than a split. Divide et impera is the true Machiavelian policy of all governments.
Numbers, that is the multitude, are to be divided, in a variety of ways,—by mob orators, or by mob-sneaks, or by parliamentary flounderers, or by mystifying pulpit demagogues.
The divisors should generally endeavour to work into their own hands, and the dividends may be compared to fleeced-sheep, plucked-geese, scraped sugar-casks, drained wine-bottles, and squeezed lemons.
Social Division.—The divisions here may be a tale-bearer, a gossip, or a go-between, and the divisors will "separate" to fight like Kilkenny cats, leaving nothing behind but two tails and a bit of flue. In a township, a volunteer corps is an excellent divisor: you may kill the adjutant by way of a quotient, on the surgical principle of "Mangling done here."
In the division of property by will, be your own lawyer, and your property will be divided to your heart's content; for, as your heirs will most assuredly be divided amongst themselves, when they have done fighting over your coffin for what does not belong to them, they will call upon the Court of Chancery to divide it—principally among the lawyers, according to the lex non scripta.
In the division of profits, first take off the cream three times, and then divide the milk.
THE LION'S SHARE.
In all kinds of "Division of Money" endeavour to carry out the principle of the fable. Like the lion when dividing the spoil, consider that you have a right to the first part, because you are a lion; to the second, because you are strong; to the third, because no one dares dispute your right; and to the fourth, because no one is so able as yourself to defend it. This is the lion's share.
Division of Time.—"Tempus fugit," and therefore the due systematic and proper division of time, in a rational manner, is the bounden duty of every "beardling." All philosophers and some kings, whether from Democritus to Tim Bobbin, or from Alfred the Great to that merry old soul, "Old King Cole," have divided their time equitably, according to the maxim of Horace, "Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero." Modern life teaches and exhibits the same necessity for the rigid division of the "stuff life is made of," and the twenty-four hours may be systematically divided, with great advantage, by young men, as follows:—
| HOURS. | |||
| 1. | To yawning, vertigo, head-ache and soda-water, say from one to three, A.M. | 2 | |
| 2. | From pulling off the night-cap to putting the first leg out of bed | 1 | |
| 3. | To "cat-lap," "broiled chickens," Lackadaisical Magazine, "Dry Punch," and Gazette of Fashion | 2 | ½ |
| 4. | To the study of "cash stalking," the art of post-obits, with lessons from Professor Mœshes on the science of "Bondology." (Nocturnâ versate manu, versate diurnâ) | 1 | |
| 5. | To lounging, "dawdling," "muddling," sauntering, losing oneself in "ins and outs," "nowheres," &c. | 1 | ½ |
| 6. | To dressing for dinner, to getting on a pair of boots, half an hour, swearing at coat quarter of an hour, selecting vests half an hour, cursing pantaloons quarter of an hour, shaving, and other unnecessaries | 2 | ½ |
| 7. | To dining, wineing, brighting the eye, doubling the cape, getting half seas over, going into port instead of finding a champaign country | 2 | |
| 8. | To dressing for opera, "titivating," "bear's greasing," curling, barbarizing, scenting, putting on opera countenance, and ogling | 1 | ½ |
| 9. | To tying on stock half an hour, to putting on gloves quarter of an hour, to curling whiskers half an hour, to laying on the rouge, &c. | 1 | ½ |
| 10. | To bowing, scraping, hemming, hawing, yawning, toying, soft-sawdering, salooning, staggering, cigaring, coaching, and finishing | 3 | ½ |
| 11. | To no one knows what—Nisi castè saltem cautè | 5 | |
| 24 | |||
LONG DIVISION.
Long Division is so called when a long time is taken for the division of various sums, as in the case of the Deccan prize-money, or the Duke of York's debts. In these cases, various persons are placed in the state of longing—hence the name of the rule, which is a figurative exemplification of "hope deferred."
Rule I—Teaches to work an expected legacy or an estate in reversion, or a right of entail, with a "post-obit bond," cent. per cent. on a stiff stamen.
Rule II—Teaches how to wait for a living instead of working for one. This is a hungry expectancy: yourself, in a consumption, with an interesting cough, preaching as curate to an admiring congregation principally composed of females, who bring jellies and jams, pitch-plasters, electuaries, and pills, "bosom friends," and other comforters, while the jolly incumbent, with his rosy gills and round paunch, writes you once a quarter to dine with him, to see how well he holds it.
Rule III. Chancery Long Division.—This is an exemplification of the "law's delay," and the rule is to be worked by giving the expectants the "benefit of a doubt," which is not quite so pleasant in Chancery as in criminal practice. The "Bidder" of this rule was John Lord Eldon.
Rule IV.—Beside long annuities, there are also long dividends. For instance, in the case of Bamboozle, Humbug and Co. who lately declared the third and last dividend of three-fourths of a farthing in a pound, for the benefit of their creditors.
THE INSOLVENT TRAP.
"THE LAW BINDS, BUT THE LAW LOOSES."
RULE VI.
REDUCTION.
Reduction is properly the "art of sinking." It teaches us, according to Martin, to bring numbers to a lower name without altering their value. When numbers are brought to a higher name, it is called Reduction ascending, when to a lower, Reduction descending.
Reduction ascending is to stand high in your own estimation, from the convincing reason, that, as no one thinks anything of you, you ought to think something of yourself. The visit of the Queen to Edinburgh raised the baillies so high in their own estimation, that it took them three hours to get up in a morning.
Examples of Reduction ascending are to be found in the following cases:—When a noodle is made a lord; 2. When Timothy Fig obtains a baronetcy; 3. When Muggins keeps his "willa;" and when a beggar gets on horseback.
Reduction ascending for Females.—Mrs. General Swipes, Mrs. Colonel Trashee, Mrs. Major Minus, Mrs. Alderman Bumble, Mrs. Common-sergeant Sprigings, Mrs. Common-councilman Snigings, Mrs. Executioner Ketch, Mrs. Beadle Blow-em-up, Mrs. Corporal Casey.
Reduction ascending is to be seen in the manufacturing districts; when the body politic gets inflated, a "rising of the lights," that is, of the illuminati, may be expected. In these risings the scum always gets uppermost, and some political demagogue is ejected to parliament by a revolutionary eruction—to be reduced to his own level as a leveller.
Reduction descending.—
This is the "old saw" Alderman Harmer used when he cut the city—or Lord John in his "finality" speech—cut his own fingers.
POLITICAL REDUCTION.
There have been many examples of Political Reduction both in our last and present ministry. The reduction of postage, so that it paid less than the cost, was an exceedingly business-like act. The reduction of cats'-meat in the storehouses at Plymouth, Woolwich, Portsmouth, and Chatham, from a penny to three farthings a-day, was also an example of legislative wisdom, and proved the maxim, "Sparus at the speketas letouat the bungholeas."
The reduction of paupers' food to "doubly diminutive and beautifully less" than that of the felon, is also "wisdom wonderful;" being a new way of offering a premium upon crime, at about thirty and a third per cent. It is presumed to have occurred with a view to the assistance of Old Bailey practice, and of the Poor Law Commissioners, as it promotes Coroners' inquests and saves coffins.
Rule for the Reduction of Paupers.—Take "an operative," starve him in the streets till he becomes light enough to make a shuttlecock of, then place in his hands an order from an Edmonton magistrate, by way of a feather; bandy him about from parish to parish till you are tired of the game. Let him then fall into the lock-up of the station-house. Keep him sixteen hours in a cold cell without food. Bring him before the Board, put him on the refractory diet, water-gruel, poultice dumplings, and rat roastings. Keep him till he becomes so thin as to lose his shadow, then turn him into the streets to look for a job, with three yards of cord in his pocket, and a direction to the nearest lamp-post, as an intimation of what that job is to be.
A state may be reduced in the same way by nip-cheese patriots. Such "save-alls," when they lop off excrescences, bark the trunk—when they prune redundances, let loose the sap. These "flint-skinners" grind down professions, pare down dignities, sweat sovereigns, purge the commonwealth, scour landlords, skin the army, starve the navy, scrape religion to the backbone, sell the honour of their country for a mess of porridge and its glory for a bag of moonshine; till at last John Bull becomes as lean as a country whipping-post, and would hang himself, only he has not weight enough on him to produce strangulation.
"BLOWED PUFFERY."
RULE VII.
PROPORTION.
GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF THE RULE.
Proportion is sometimes called the "Rule of Three," because a certain system of conventionalisms has its origin in that, which is called, by way of joke, the "Three Estates" of the realm—King, Lords, and Commons; in other words, a parliament, so called from its being the focus of palaver, in which originate those splendid specimens of collective wisdom, known by the name of Acts of Parliament—because they "won't act."
The theoretic proportion is, that numbers should be exactly balanced,—that one sovereign should equal six hundred lords, that six hundred lords should equal six hundred and fifty-eight commoners, and that these should represent twenty-nine millions of people. Now, as the interests of each of these estates are said in theory to be opposed to each other, and as they are all theoretically supposed to pull three opposite ways with equal force, it must follow that legislation would be at a stand still, by the first law of mechanics, viz. that action and reaction are always equal: but to prevent such a catastrophe of stagnation, and to set in motion this beautiful machine, a pivot-spring, in the shape of a prime minister, or prime mover, is superadded, and a golden supply, fly, or budget wheel, is introduced, by which the following subordinate, yet ruling principles are developed; and thus we go on from age to age, making laws one day, and unmaking them the next, for the sake of variety.
"OUT OF PROPORTION."
THE WORKING OF THE RULE.
It must not be forgotten that this rule is one of proportionals, as its name imports. It therefore teaches proportion in all its relations, social and political; it is the rule of our country, and seeks to develop that beautiful equality and justice, so conspicuous in all our institutions, exemplified in the following well-known legal and constitutional maxim, viz. "One man may steal a horse, but another must not look over the hedge."
It is a maxim of English law, that punishment should be proportionate to the offence, and have a relation to the moral turpitude of the offender. Hence the seducer and adulterer only inquire, "What's the damage?" By the same rule, it is held highly penal to sell the only ripe fruit in England, roasted apples; and the stock in trade of the basket woman is confiscated. She, too, is sent to the Counter—because she is not rich enough to keep one with a shop attached.
CALLED TO ACCOUNT.
This brings us to the rationale of reward, and shows us the policy of making a prison superior to a poor-house. This wise arrangement of the collective wisdom of the Rule of Three (the three estates) is upon the principle of counter-irritation, that is, the best way to administer to the miserable is to inflict more misery, just as we put a blister on one part to subdue inflammation on another, or set up a mercurial disease to cure a liver complaint. On the other hand, we cure villany by increased rations of beef, bread, beer, and potatoes, in accordance with the maxim, that "the nearest way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
On the same principle of "Proportion," the operative is to have for his share the pleasure of doing the labour; for if one man had the labour and the gains too, it would be abominable, and destructive to all the usages of society.
It is also strictly proportional, that we should pay not only for what we have, but for that which we have not. Thus church-rates ought to be inflicted, not so much for the benefit of the church, but as the substitute for that wholesome discipline of flagellation, unhappily discontinued, and for the "good of the soul;" for if the spiritual benefit be great to those who pay for what they receive only, how great must be the reward of those who are content to pay for that which, they not only do not receive, but which they will not have at any price! Hence, it is possible that even dissenters may be saved—the trouble of spending their money in other ways.
The "Tax upon Incomes" affords also a striking example of the doctrine of Proportionals. It is so beautifully equalized, that the loss upon one branch of trade is not to be set off against the gain of another, the object of the act being, no doubt, to put a stop to trade altogether, as the best means of placing things statu quo, the grand desideratum of modern legislation.
"Bear ye each other's burdens" is a sublime maxim. The principle of the lever is well brought to bear in the doctrine of proportionals—and shows how to shift the weight of taxation from the shoulders of the rich upon those of the poor—
A SLIDING SCALE.
The laws and regulations for the conduct of our civil polity and social condition being founded on these divine principles, it is assumed as a fundamental maxim, that "great folks will be biggest," and he who has not learned that this is the ideal of true proportion, and who does not recognise it in his practical philosophy, will be compelled to knock his head against a wall to the day of his dissolution.
"BROKEN DOWN."
RULE VIII.
FRACTIONS.
The word Fractions is from the Latin "Fractus," broken. A Fraction is therefore a part or broken piece. A broken head is a fraction; a broken heart is a fraction; a bankrupt is a fraction—he is broken up; yet a horse is not a fraction, although he may be broken in—but his rider may have a broken neck, which is called an irreducible fraction. Speaking generally, therefore, a fraction may be considered as a "Tarnation Smashification."
FRACTIONAL SIGNS.
Fractions are of two kinds, Vulgar and Decimal. Vulgar fractions are used for common purposes, and examples may be seen in the plebeian part of our commonalty, such as coal-heavers, costermongers, sheriff's-officers, bailiffs, bagmen, cabmen, excisemen, lord-mayors, lady-mayoresses, carpet-knights and auctioneers.
Vulgar fractions may be known by the way in which they express themselves. They are more expressive than decimals; and the words, Go it, Jerry—Jim along Josey—What are you at?—What are you arter?—Variety—Don't you wish you may get it?—All round my hat—Over the left—All right, and no mistake—Flare up, my covies—I should think so—with those inexpressible expletives which add so much to the force and elegance of our language, may be taken as specimens of Fractions.
BREAKING UP NO HOLIDAY,
OR A
SALE BY AUCTION, IN BLANK VERSE.
By Doubledust Puffitoff, Esq.
"AN ANCIENT AND MODERN MUG."
LOT I.
LOT II.
LOT III.
KNOCKING DOWN THE LOT.
DONE BY INTEREST.
RULE IX.
INTEREST, &c.
To think of getting on in this world without Interest, is ridiculous. Place and Promotion are not for Fitness or Worthiness, but to serve particular Interests, private or public; and yet a number of very simple persons, who have as large a green streak in them as a sage cheese, without its sageness, are continually wondering that virtue and talent do not get all the "good things" of a vicious community. Punch forbid! Is not virtue declared to be its own reward? and as to talent,—let a man be content with that. It is a positive monopoly to covet wit and money too.
AT A PREMIUM AND DISCOUNT.
To take care of our Interest is the great law of Nature, and is universally followed. Every one for himself, and Fate for us all, as the donkey said when he danced among the chickens, is as profound a maxim as the gnothi seauton of Plato. "Take care of yourself" is of more importance than "Know thyself." To take care of oneself is a science which comes home to every man's business and bosom. It is "wisdom" identified with our personal character. It is philosophy turned to account. It is morality above par. It is a religion in which "every man may be his own parson," find his Bible in his ledger, his Creed in the "stock-list," his Psalter in the tariff, his Book of Common Prayer in the railway and canal shares, his Temple in the Royal Exchange, his Altar in his counter, and his God in his money.
THE OLD AND NEW PRINCIPLE—BOTH WITH CREDIT.
Principle, or Principal, is an old term used by our forefathers in "money matters" and commercial transactions, but is now obsolete. It formerly represented capital, and raised the British merchant in the scale of nations; but it is now a maxim of trade to discard Principle as not being consistent with Interest. It is paradoxically Capital to take care of our Interest, but it seldom requires any Principle to do so.
"The want of money is the root of all evil." Such is the new reading, according to the translation of a new sect called the Tinites. In the orthodox translation, the love of money was unfortunately rendered. To be without money is worse than being without brains—for this reason we should oppose all dangerous innovations, which in any way have a tendency to disturb the "balance of Capital." Right is not to usurp might. We are not, for the sake of Quixotic experiment, to invade the interests of the landed proprietor by an Anti-Corn Law movement, nor the vested right of doing wrong, which the various close corporations of law, physic, and trade, &c. have so long maintained, making England the envy of the world and the glory of surrounding nations.
THE TIN-DER PASSION.
Interest, therefore, teaches us to interest ourselves for our own interests, and to keep them continually in view in all our transactions. When a man loses sight of his own interests he is morally blind; he must, therefore, according to this rule, walk with his eyes open, and be wide awake to every move—keep the weather-eye open, and not have one eye up the chimney and the other in the pot, but both stedfastly fixed on the main chance.
Interest teaches us also to swear to anything and admit nothing; to prove, by the devil's rhetoric, that black is white and white black; to tamper, to shuffle, to misrepresent, to falsify, to scheme, to undervalue, to entangle, to evade, to delay, to humbug, and to cheat in virtue of the monied interest.
FAITH AND DUTY.
In the days of our forefathers, we had a most excellent compendium of Faith and Duty, called the "Church Catechism," which taught us not only to "fear God and honour the King," but to be "true and just in all our dealings." The "fast and loose," "free and easy" system of "liberality," shuts the Creed and the Catechism out of half our schools; and worldliness teaches in its place the creed of Mammon. Instead of being taught to worship God, we are taught to worship money. Instead of honouring the Queen, we are told to bow down to the "golden image" which trade has set up; we no longer consult our conscience, but our pocket; for principle we read interest—for piety, pelf.
In illustration of this, the following "cut and dry" "'Change Catechism," which fell from the pocket of a Latitudinarian bill-broker, is subjoined, as affording the best examples of the Rule of Interest.
QUESTION AND ANSWER.
- Q. My good child, tell me what you believe in?
- A. Money.
- Q. What is money?
- A. The all-ruling and all-powerful; the fountain of worldly wisdom and power.
- Q. How is it worshipped?
- A. By the daily sacrifice of time, talents, health, and virtue.
- Q. What is this worship called?
- A. Mammon.
- Q. What is its chief rite?
- A. Gammon.
- Q. What is the chief ceremony?
- A. Deceit.
- Q. What are its principal festivals?
- A. Dividend-days.
- Q. What are its days of penance or fasting?
- A. Days when no business is done.
- Q. What are its feast-days?
- A. City "Feeds."
- Q. Where are its principal temples?
- A. The Treasury, the 'Change, and the Bank.
- Q. Who are its priests?
- A. Whitewashed "black-legs."[3]
- Q. What is virtue?
- A. A name.
- Q. What is Orthodoxy?
- A. Cash.
- Q. What is Heterodoxy?
- A. Bills.
- Q. What is Heresy?
- A. "No effects."
- Q. What is Schism?
- A. "Call again to-morrow."
- Q. What is Respectability?
- A. Plenty of trade.
- Q. What is Roguery?
- A. Being in debt.
- Q. What is Vice?
- A. Misfortune.
- Q. What is the greatest sin?
- A. Poverty.
- Q. What is the principal virtue?
- A. Prompt payment.
- Q. What are the principal blessings?
- A. Loans.
- Q. What should be our continual desire?
- A. Good luck.
- Q. For what our rejoicings?
- A. Success.
- Q. What is Morality?
- A. Cent. per cent. profits.
- Q. What is the Origin of evil?
- A. A returned bill.
- Q. What is the greatest evil?
- A. Bankruptcy.
- Q. What is our chance of escape from perdition?
- A. "Taking the benefit."
- Q. What is the Devil?
- A. To be without money.
- Q. Who are the chosen children of Mammon?
- A. Those born with a "silver spoon."
- Q. What is the true definition of good?
- A. Solvency.
- Q. What is the true definition of bad?
- A. Insolvency.
- Q. What is your duty to your friend?
- A. To cheat him.
- Q. What to the stranger?
- A. To "take him in."
- Q. What is Experimental Philosophy?
- A. Going a borrowing.
- Q. What is practical philosophy?
- A. Being refused.
- Q. What should be your chief consolation in old age?
- A. Dying rich.
- Q. What is the chief maxim of this creed?
- A. Doing every one, but suffering no one to do you.
RULE X.
BILLS.
When goods are bought or work is done, a bill is to be made out and delivered. In some cases the bill may be made out before the work is done, and work charged in prospective; and therefore the making out of bills is an art and mystery known only to the professional man or the tradesman. It comprehends the mystery of mystification, and impudence and assurance are its two first rules. The milkman is not only allowed by parliament to water his milk, but to cut a notch in his chalk and mark double. The baker thinks it legitimate, and part of his vested rights, to put in "dead uns;" the butcher to "hang on Jemmy;" but the birds noted for the longest bills are the carpenter woodpecker, (who undertakes to take you under) the gallipot crane, the red-tape snipe, and the heron. The bills of each of these bipeds are as long as from this to the paying of the National Debt, and as unfathomable as the Bay of Biscay—or the lowest pit of——
L