Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XXIII.—April, 1852.—Vol. IV.: NoneVarious
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XXIII.—April, 1852.—Vol. IV.: None
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
Jarndyce and Jarndyce drones on. This scare-crow of a suit has, in
course of time, become so complicated, that no man alive knows what it
means. The parties to it understand it least; but it has been observed
that no two Chancery lawyers can talk about it for five minutes, without
coming to a total disagreement as to all the premises. Innumerable
children have been born into the cause; innumerable young people have
married into it; innumerable old people have died out of it. Scores of
persons have deliriously found themselves made parties in Jarndyce and
Jarndyce, without knowing how or why; whole families have inherited
legendary hatreds with the suit. The little plaintiff or defendant, who
was promised a new rocking-horse when Jarndyce and Jarndyce should be
settled, has grown up, possessed himself of a real horse, and trotted
away into the other world. Fair wards of court have faded into mothers
and grandmothers; a long procession of Chancellors has come in and gone
out; the legion of bills in the suit have been transformed into mere
bills of mortality; there are not three Jarndyces left upon the earth
perhaps, since old Tom Jarndyce in despair blew his brains out at a
coffee-house in Chancery-lane; but Jarndyce and Jarndyce still drags its
dreary length before the Court, perennially hopeless.
Jarndyce and Jarndyce has passed into a joke. That is the only good that
has ever come of it. It has been death to many, but it is a joke in the
profession. Every master in Chancery has had a reference out of it.
Every Chancellor was "in it," for somebody or other, when he was counsel
at the bar. Good things have been said about it by blue-nosed,
bulbous-shoed old benchers, in select port-wine committee after dinner
in hall. Articled clerks have been in the habit of fleshing their
legal wit upon it. The last Lord Chancellor handled it neatly, when,
correcting Mr. Blowers the eminent silk gown who said that such a thing
might happen when the sky rained potatoes, he observed, "or when we get
through Jarndyce and Jarndyce, Mr. Blowers;"--a pleasantry that
particularly tickled the maces, bags, and purses.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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