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The Comic Almanack, Volume 1 / An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities cover

The Comic Almanack, Volume 1 / An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities

Chapter 7: THE GREAT COMET.
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About This Book

The volume collects annual almanac-style material—satirical sketches, comic essays, mock-astrological pieces, humorous verse, and brief narrative vignettes—assembled as a running sequence of yearly numbers. Multiple contributors supply witty sayings, droll observations, and recurring columns, all accompanied by hundreds of woodcuts and engraved plates by prominent illustrators. The pieces alternate light parody and sharper social satire, using playful formats, topical jokes, and caricatured scenes to amuse readers across varied short items.

THE
COMIC ALMANACK
For 1835.

PRELUDIUM.

SCENE.—An Apartment in the House of Francis Moore, in which that renowned Physician and Astrologer is discovered, lying at the point of death. The Nurse is holding up his head, while a skilful Mediciner is dispensing a potion. Sundry Old Women surround his couch, in an agony of grief. The Astrologer starteth up in a paroxysm of rage.

Moore. "Throw physic to the dogs," I'll gulp no more.
I'm done for: my prophetic life is o'er.
Who are these hags? and wherefore come they here?
Old Women. Alack! he raves, and knows us not, poor dear!
To think he should his only friends forget!
Who've fostered him, and made him quite a pet.
Moore. Begone, ye beldames! wherefore do ye howl?
Old Women. We've come to comfort your unhappy sowl.
Nurse. 'Tis the Old Women,—pr'ythee, do not scare 'em,—
Who to the last have bought your Vox Stellarum;
They're sorely griev'd, and fear that you will die;
And then, alack-a-day! who'll read the sky?
Moore. Oh, ah!—yes—well,—just so—just so,
I see—I feel—I smell—I know—I know.
Nurse. Poor soul! he's going fast. Oh! shocking shock!
So kind a master.... Bless me! there's a knock!
Enter Rigdum Funnidos, in deep mourning.
Rig. Fun. "Ye black and midnight hags! what is't ye do?"
Nurse. Speak softly, Sir; my master's turning blue.
He's not been sensible since last November.
Rig. Fun. (aside) Nor ever was, that I can e'er remember.
But we must talk before his course is run.
Moore. Who's that?—my sight grows dim—Is't Rigdum Fun?
Rig. Fun. The same, great Moore!
Moore. But, bless me! all in black!
What! mourn a living man! Alack! alack!
Rig. Fun. I wear prospective mourning, thus to shew
The solemn grandeur of prophetic woe.
Moore. The thought is lively, though the subject's grave;
And, therefore, you my free forgiveness have.
Rig. Fun. How can I serve you, ere you vanish hence?
Moore. I wish you'd cut the throat of Common Sense.
To him I owe my death. That cruel wight
Long on my hopes has cast a fatal blight.
I knew I had receiv'd the mortal blow,
When first he wounded me, six years ago;
And every year the knave has stronger grown,
While ev'ry year has sunk me lower down.
Rig. Fun. I will avenge you;—nay, I'll go much further:
The "Crowner's quest" shall find him guilty "Murther."
The common hangman shall cut short his breath;
And, by a shameful end, avenge your death.
Moore. 'Tis kindly said; and I in peace shall die.
Say, is there aught that you would ask of I?
Rig. Fun. Oh, Francis Moore! who soon no MORE wilt be;
I came, a precious boon to beg of thee:—
One gracious favour, ere you breathe your last,—
On ME your Prophet's mantle deign to cast!
Let me be raised to your deserted throne,
And call your countless subjects all my own.
Then let the mirth, they levell'd once at thee,
Fall, if it will, with tenfold force on me.
If all will laugh at me, who laugh'd at you,
The frowns of fortune I no more shall rue;
Nay, with such temper would I bear their jeers,
I could endure them for a hundred years.
Moore. Life's ebbing fast; my sands are nearly run;
But you shall have what you request, my son!
Now, sit you down, and write what I shall say,—
The last bright glimmerings of the taper's ray.
I'll shew you how to pen those strains so well,
Of which the meaning no one e'er could tell.
Send forth the women;—draw a little nigher;
My brain is heating with prophetic fire.
Rig. Fun. Matrons, abscond! (They depart glumpishly; carrying
off the Mediciner.) Now, Dad, I'm all attention,
To learn the wisdom that's past comprehension.
Moore. "The fiery Mars with furious fury rages."
Rig. Fun. I've penn'd that down, most erudite of sages!
Moore. "The Dog-star kindles with inflaming ire."
Rig. Fun. Just wait a moment, while I stir the fire.
Moore. "Terrific portents flame along the sky;
"I know the cause,—but dare not mention why."
Rig. Fun. (aside) Which shews your prophecying's all my eye.
Moore. "The planets are the book in which I read,—"
Rig. Fun. I'm very glad to hear that you succeed.
You've better luck than when you went to school;
For there, I guess, they perch'd you on a stool.
Moore. I read this solemn truth, as in a glass,—
'Whate'er will happen's sure to come to pass;'
"And if it don't, why 'set me down an ass.'"
Rig. Fun. That's done already; for to me 'twas plain,
An ass you were, and ever would remain.
Moore. Avaunt! I'll speak no more to ears profane.

[The scene openeth, and discovereth the Shade of the great Astrologer, Lilly, enveloped in a fog, who claspeth Francis Moore in his arms, and mizzleth off with him in a mist.—N.B. The renowned Physician droppeth his threadbare mantle, which falleth on Rigdum Funnidos, who maketh his exit therewith joyfully.

JANUARY. [1835.
  When you first go to bathe, gentle Sir, in a river,
  If you dip in one foot, it will give you a shiver;
  But if you've the pluck to plunge in your whole body,
  You'll not shiver at all, you poor timid noddy!
  Just so with my rhymes,—I've got thro' my first trouble:
  Had I stood shilly-shally, my toil had been double.
M Season's Odd Matters. WEATHER.
D Signs.    
1 toes    
       
2 nose COMFORTS OF THE SEASON. Weather
       
3 froze Chilblains sore on all your toes, likely
    Icicles hang from your nose  
4 blue Rheumatis' in all your limbs; ☍ ☌ △ ♄
    Noddle full of aches and whims;  
5 who Chaps upon your hands and lips, to be
    And lumbago in your hips.  
6 you To your bed you shiv'ring creep, cold
    There to freeze, but not to sleep;  
7 ice For the sheets, that look so nice,  
    Are to you two sheets of ice; □ ♃ △ ♂
8 trice Wearied out, at length you doze,  
    And snatch, at last, a brief repose, if
9 down Dream all night that you're a dab,  
    Lying on fishmonger's slab.  
10 crown While indulging in a snore, the frost
    There comes a rap at chamber door;  
11 folk Screaming voice of Betty cries:  
    "If you please, it's time to rise." △ ⚹ ☉
12 joke Up you start, and, on the sheet,  
    Find your breath is chang'd to sleet; is very old:
13 in Tow'rds the glass you turn your view,  
    Find your nose of purple hue,  
14 grin Looking very like, I trow, If no snow
    Beet-root in a field of snow.  
15 out You would longer lie, but nay, ☿ ♄ △ ♂ □
    Time is come,—you must away.  
16 shout Out you turn, with courage brave,  
    Slip on drawers,—and then to shave! should
17 cram Seize the jug, and in a trice,  
    Find the water chang'd to ice: chance to
18 ham Break the ice, and have to rue  
    That you've broke the pitcher too. fall
19 jam Water would not run before;  
    Now, it streams upon the floor,  
20 dram Threat'ning with a fearful doom, □ ☌ ⚹ ☉
    Ceiling of the drawing-room.  
21 twelfth In the frenzy of despair,  
    You seize you don't know what, nor care, then
22 night Mop up all the wet and dirt,  
    And find you've done it with your shirt; perhaps
23 bright Your only shirt,—all filth and slosh,—  
    For all the rest are in the wash.  
24 sight Into bed you turn again, ☿ △ ♂ ☉ ⚹
    Ring the bell with might and main,  
25 bake Stammer out to Betty, why □ ♄
    'Twixt the sheets you're forc'd to lie,  
26 cake 'Till, pitying your feelings hurt,  
    She dabs you out another shirt. no frost
27 nice    
       
28 slice   ☉ □ △
       
29 twice    
      at all.
30 quaff    
       
31 laugh   ♃ △ ☍ □ ♂

JANUARY.

ASS-TROLOGICAL PREDICTIONS.

I now proceed to put on my conjuring cap, and shew forth the wonders of the stars.

On looking at the moon, through my 500-horse power telescope, which magnifieth the planets 97,000,000 of times larger than life, I discern, that the march of intellect hath already travelled to that luminary; for I do distinctly perceive divers juveniles, of eighty years old and upwards, seated on stools, with horn-books in their hands. The Man in the Moon is also very busy, striving to metamorphose his sticks into brooms, to sweep away the cobwebs of ignorance therewith. Moreover, I do observe about half a million miles of cast-iron rail-road, in the direction of the earth, by which I do opine an inclination towards this planet. But there doth appear a great consternation amongst the other constellations, more especially in the Upper House, where Libra hath got into fiery opposition with Mars; and Saturn (who hath grown Grey) hath, in striving to part them, lost the skirts of his coat, and is glad to put up with a Spencer, whereby is clearly shadowed forth a fierce encounter between two great commanders. Let those, who think little of law and justice, read the 10,000 volumes of the Abridgment of the Statutes, and tremble!

Touching the affairs of Europe in general, I can say nothing in particular; excepting that I observe, that the Pope of Rome hath been furiously dealing forth his anathemas,[1] wherein he doth betray a most marvellous lack of wit; for doth he opine, that Christian folk are such calves as to be cow'd by a bull? Verily, it toucheth me sore, to note the silly doings of the crazy old beldame, who hath turned the world topsy-turvy for so many centuries, when she might gather her petticoats about her, and sit down in peace and quietness, by merely—my old friend and gossip, Poor Humphrey, sagaciously observeth,—just turning Protestant. And, in good sooth, when we come to think of it, there need be no quarrellings and bickerings on religious grounds, nor scruples for conscience' sake, in any part of the world, if all the Pagans, Hindoos, Mahometans, Jews and folks of every religion, and of no religion at all, were only just to make up their minds to do the same thing. And, pray, let me ask, what can be a more simple piece of advice?

1.  The Abbé de la Mennais has roused the thunder of the Vatican by his Paroles d'un Croyant. The Pope has addressed an evangelical letter to the prelates of the Catholic world, in which the Abbé is compared with John Huss and Wickliff, and his Holiness says:—"We damn for ever this book of small size but huge depravity."—Morning Post, June, 1834.

THE GREAT COMET.

Though, touching Comets, Tycho Brahe, Kepler, Halley, Sir Isaac Newton, and others of that stamp, do deny their malign influence on mundane affairs, yet I, Rigdum Funnidos, holding in far greater reverence the wisdom of our ancestors, and the sage opinion of my renowned defunct predecessor, Francis Moore, do maintain, that they cast a sinister aspect on this terrestrial globe; yea, and do mightily, in a most adverse fashion, affect the same. Where-fore, I say, look, when the Great Comet cometh, for a sufficient reason, in the coming thereof, for every thing which shall happen contrariwise; whether it be the falling of kings, or the falling of stocks; the quarrels of nations, or the squabbles of matrimony; the crash of empires, or the smash of crockery; the tyranny of despots, or the scolding of wives:—yea, I do say again, place them all to the account of the Great Comet.


Hereafter do follow sundry matters, both pleasant and profitable.

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

MATRIMONY.—A highly respectable Gentleman, who has, for many years, distinguished himself as an important Public Functionary, is desirous of haltering his condition, and tying the knot of wedlock with a Lady of congenial sentiments. Having, himself, a very tender disposition, he stipulates for the same on the part of the object of his attachment; and as he is partial to good spirits, he hopes she will always have a stock. She must be duly impressed with a regard for the dignity of her husband's station, and must never associate with her inferiors, and whatever pledges she makes, she must be careful to redeem. The Advertiser is not very particular as to personal attractions; and with regard to money, he has seen so many people in a state of dependence, that he merely trusts she will come provided against such an unpleasant contingency. On these conditions, which are the gaol of his wishes, he will give the fair object of his affections her full swing, and be perfectly resigned to his fate. He anxiously looks for a line, addressed "John Ketch, Esq., opposite the Debtors' Door, Old Bailey."

N.B. The Schoolmaster in Newgate, who drew up the above advertisement, for his respected friend, Mr. Ketch, takes this opportunity of contradicting a report, which has been current for some time past,—that the Schoolmaster is abroad, which is quite foreign from the fact. Arrangements were certainly made to that effect, which, had they been carried into execution, he would have been quite transported; but he regrets to state, that he is under the necessity of remaining at his old abode, the large stone house in the Old Bailey.

FEBRUARY.

1835.] FEBRUARY.
  Birds, this month, do bill and coo;
  Do the like, and you may rue.
  Courting is a pretty pleasure;
  Wed in haste, repent at leisure.
          * * * * * *
  To hen-peck'd husbands what a feast!
  This month, all women talk the least.
M Season's Odd Matters. WEATHER.
D Signs.    
1 mizzle    
      Rain or hail,
2 drizzle VALENTINE'S DAY.  
      ☽ ☍
3 frizzle I can't make out what they're about,  
      Nor how the men incline; snow or sleet
4 raw I've watch'd each knock, since nine  
      To get a Valentine. ☉ ♊ ♓ ♓
5 thaw    
    In vain I've tried on every side, in
6 hearts   Some happy chance to see,  
    For, ah, alas! there came to pass this month
7 darts   No Valentine for me.  
       
8 smarts From morn till night I've scream'd "The light ☌ ♈ ♒ ♄ ⚹
      Guitar," above a week.  
9 loves "Bid me discourse, has made me hoarse, you're
      Till I can scarcely speak.  
10 doves   sure to meet.
    Through rain and snow I always go  
11 gloves   To Tuesday evening lecture,  
    Yet snow and rain don't bring a swain; ♀ ♂ ☿
12 willing   And why, I can't conjecture.  
      If you don't
13 billing In short, to find a lover kind,  
      I've us'd all honest ways, ♊ ☌ ⊕ ♓
14 wooing I've pinch'd my toes, and no one knows  
      How tight I've lac'd my stays. why then
15 cooing    
    Three times to-day, across the way, you won't:
16 eyes   The postman has been seen—  
    And this makes four—at Jones's door  
17 sighs   One! two! "For Betty Green." ☊ ♅ ♑ ♎ ⚹
       
18 mate Well! on my word, old Major Bird Perhaps
      Stands making signs, I think,—  
19 fate (If Betty dares to set her snares,—) there won't
      I'm sure I saw him wink.  
20 love   be one
    I vow I'll call, and tell it all;  
21 cold   They'll give her instant warning;  
    And, but the river makes one shiver, ♃ ☉ ♐ ♋ ♉
22 scratch   I'd drown to-morrow morning.  
      nor t'other:
23 scold    
      ☍ ☿
24 fight    
      Why then
25 bite    
      'twill happen
26 spite    
      ♊ ☿ ⚹
27 mope    
      in
28 rope   some other.

HUMBUGGUM ASTROLOGICUM, PRO ANNO 1835.

VOX MULTORUM, VOX STULTORUM: The Voice of the Many is the Voice of a Zany.—It brawleth at all Places and Seasons.

Courteous Reader,

Stepping in the steps of my late worthy and much-lamented Prototype, Francis Moore, deceased, I herewith present you with my Hieroglyphic, "adapted to the Times." "Its interpretation is in the womb of time," and those who do pry with curious eyes into the mysteries of the stars, will, in due season, divine the hidden meaning thereof. Yet may I observe, that by the rules of art, I have discovered, that a fiery planet, which has been for some time located in the upper house, and has been for a long while lord of the ascendant, has come in fiery opposition with Scorpio; while Taurus hath flung a quartile ray at both of them.

MARCH.

1835.] MARCH.
  I fear I am a Sinner lost,
    For often do I pray,—
  That I could read, in Times or Post,
    The death of Lady Day.
M Season's Odd Matters. WEATHER.
D Signs.    
1 Shrove    
      I suspend
2 tide MARCH WINDS.  
      ☌ ☉ ♄ ♃ ♊
3 fritter Come, Bully March! and show your blustering face;  
  fried I'll give you blow for blow, to your disgrace. my
    You take advantage of us Fleet Street sinners, predictions
5 Nan While the police are gone to get their dinners.  
    From Racket Court you rush, with such a rattle, ♅ ☊ ♌ ♑
6 makes As makes the Lumber troopers fear a battle.  
      on the
7 pan-   Oh! what fun, by the Bolt-in-tun,  
        As your windy highness passes; weather
8 cakes   D'ye hear a crash? There's a window-sash  
        Made multiplying glasses.  
9 batter   ♓ ☊
    And now you come again from Chanc'ry Lane,  
10 clatter Where "Law" and "Assurance" guard Old Dunstan's fane. this month,
    (Old Dunstan, did I say?—young Dunstan now,  
11 spatter As many a heavy parish rate will show.) ♂ ☿ ☉ ☽
    See how you raise a riot and a rout,  
12 sky Tossing old women's petticoats about; because I
    Hats, capes, and umbrellas round you scatter,  
13 high Till good Saint Bridget wonders what's the matter. shall be able
       
14 toss   Ah, che gust-o! what a dusto!  
        Blowing, growing, as it flies. ♂ ♌ ♑ ♓ ♄
15 in the   Lime and mortar show no quarter,  
        Ramming, cramming, ears and eyes. to tell more
16 pan    
    They say your dust is gold; so, little fear correctly
17 high Of growing poor; we'll roll in riches here;  
    Then blow up, March! our sapient parish powers ♎ ♐ ♏ ♀
18 as Ne'er think of water till the April showers.  
      next year;
19 you    
      and
20 can    
      moreover,
21 toss    
       
22 them   ⊕ ♃
       
23 higher   my readers
       
24 fat   can
       
25 in the   ♌ ♂ ♓ ♄ ☊
       
26 fire   exercise
       
27 soot    
      their own
28 must    
       
29 splash   judgments
       
30 crash   ♂ ☽ ♊ ☿
       
31 ash   thereupon.

MY GRANDMOTHER'S LAMENT;
or,
THE SETTLING DAY.

It was a drear November morn; the rain was pouring fast;
I underneath a gateway stood, in hopes it would not last;
And forthwith I began to muse, and to myself did say:
I hope the rain will soon give o'er, for this is "Settling Day."
If I don't stand for shelter here, I shall be wetted thro';
I at the Stock Exchange shall be black-boarded if I do:
And while I thus was fidgetting, the sun shot forth a ray;
And then I hoped to be in time all for the "Settling Day."
The rain clear'd off, and gladsomely I did prepare to go,
When up there came an Ancient Dame with visage full of woe:
She laid on me her skinny hand, and mournfully did say:
"To my lament you must give ear, altho' 'tis 'Settling Day.'"
"Good lady," I began to say, "my time is very short,"—
And fain I would have slipp'd away, but she my button caught.
"Oh! listen to your Grandmother! for she has much to say,"—
(She surely held me by some spell, although 'twas "Settling Day.")
"From morn till eve I wander forth; I roam like one distraught;
"Which ever way I turn my eyes, with ruin it is fraught.
"The good old times are quite forgot; all things do fade away;
"And when I mourn, the people laugh, and cry: ''tis Settling Day.'
"'Twas in the Court of Chancery I oft did take my nap;
"And many doubting Chancellors I've dandled in my lap;
"But now the Broom, that sweeps the room, it brushes me away;
"And says, for me, and all such crones, it is the 'Settling Day.'
"'Twas in the Commons House I sat, when Billy Pitt was young;
"I listen'd to his twelve-hour speech, and blest his fluent tongue.
"They us'd to sit from night till morn; and how they talk'd away!
"But now they sit from morn till night: oh! what a 'Settling Day!'
"They've London pull'd about one's ears; 'tis London now no more;
"They've swallow'd up poor Swallow Street; behind is now before;
"They've metamorphos'd Charing Cross; the Mews has pass'd away,
"And Lewkner's Lane I seek in vain: 't has had its 'Settling Day.'
"St. Dunstan's Church they've built anew; oh! what a Gothic feat!
"The Savages, who beat the Bells, have beaten a retreat;
"They've built another London Bridge; the old one's clear'd away;
"For such destructive knaves I wish a speedy 'Settling Day.'
"The Watchmen mustn't cry the hour, nor in their boxes snore;
"Their occupation's gone, and time with them is now no more.
"They tell me, too, the little Sweeps no more must 'Soot, ho!' say:
"I hope for such black deeds there'll come a sweeping 'Settling Day.'
"Another thing doth sorrow bring, and maketh me to fret;
"They talk about abolishing Imprisonment for Debt;
"And next, alas! the time may come, there'll be no costs to pay,
"For ev'ry man will get his own upon the 'Settling Day.'
"I mind me, when a little girl, I travell'd once to York;
"And slow and stately did we ride; it was a three days' work;
"But now they do it all by steam, so very fast, they say,
"To Brummagem you'll go, and back, in half a 'Settling Day.'
"I heard them talk, awhile agone, about an air-balloon,
"To come from France, and carry us a journey to the moon.
"When folks become so impious, our duty 'tis to pray,
"That such presumptuous doings soon may meet a 'Settling Day.'
"That horrid March of Intellect has prov'd a perfect bore;
"I fear it killed poor St. John Long: his rubbing days are o'er;
"But 'twas a gracious sight to see his funeral array,
"And lords and ladies join the train, upon his 'Settling Day.'
"They've made the babes at infant schools so very wise indeed,
"That they can read before they speak, and write before they read:
"They're wiser than their grandmothers! you hear the people say,
"I can't survive this awful shock;—this cruel 'Settling Day.'"
While thus the crone did make her moan, I pitied her full sore,
And much I strove to comfort her, when she had given o'er;
I begg'd of her to list to me, and I'd be bound to say,
Some snug abuses I would find, without a "Settling Day."
For dirty courts and narrow lanes, I told her not to fret;
To 'mind us of the good old times, there was a plenty yet:
At East and West, 'mong gents and cits, there's many a crooked way,
And holes and corners dark enough, without a "Settling Day."
I bade her look at Temple Bar,—that venerable pile;
Its mould'ring stones and rotten gates, and then she gave a smile
She thought upon the bleeding heads, and plaintively did say:
"I hope for that dear obstacle there'll be no 'Settling Day.'"
Tho' St. John Long (I said) is gone,—that curer of all ills,—
We still have modest Morison's fam'd Vegetable Pills;
Then think upon the Pension List, where stand, in grand array,
A splendid train, who take their cash on ev'ry "Settling Day."
I own'd that, for the London Cries, we now must ring a knell:
But if we've lost the 'Sweep soot-ho!' we've got the dustman's bell;
Tho' in the street, it is not meet that folks should preach or pray;
Yet Punch may bawl, and singers squall, without a "Settling Day."
My Granny grinn'd a ghastly smile, and let my button go;
"We'll meet again," she said, "and then I'll tell you all my woe:
"You have not heard a twentieth part; but you'll no longer stay."
She vanish'd straight; but all too late;—I lost my "Settling Day."

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

A GENTLEMAN, who is about to proceed to New South Wales, on the public account, for fourteen years, is desirous of providing a confidential situation for an active YOUTH, previously to his departure. He is exceedingly light-fingered, and very dexterous in the conveyance of property; and, among his other accomplishments, the advertiser can confidently recommend him for considerable skill in opening locks without the aid of a key. He has been brought up to the bar; and is lineally descended from the renowned Jerry Abershaw. Most of his relations have been raised to exalted situations, far above the ordinary crowd; and, indeed, there is little doubt, that the force of his genius, if suffered to take its course, will, in time, procure for him the same degree of elevation. He can refer with confidence for a character to any of the gentlemen composing that respectable body, the Swell Mob Association; and the advertiser will be happy to reply to any inquiries, addressed—Peter Prig, Esq., at the Stone Jug Hotel, Old Bailey.