The Man in the Moon

The MAN IN THE MOON, &c. &c. &c. If Caesar can hid the Sun with a blanket, or put the Moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light.Cymbeline. WITH FIFTEEN CUTS.

Twenty-seventh Edition. LONDON: PRINTED BY AND FOR WILLIAM HONE,

45, LUDGATE HILL.

1821

[Epigraph] ————— "Is there not Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the men Who owe their greatness to their country's ruin?"

Dedicated

TO THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE CANNING, AUTHOR OF PARODIES ON SCRIPTURE, TO RIDICULE HIS POLITICAL OPPONENTS AND COLLEAGUE WITH THE PROSECUTORS OF POLITICAL PARODY:

WHO, AFTER LAMPOONING LORD SIDMOUTH, AND HOLDING HIM UP TO THE SCORN AND CONTEMPT OF ALL ENGLAND, AS A CHARLATAN AND "PRIME DOCTOR TO THE COUNTRY," NOW TAKES A SUBORDINATE PART UNDER HIM AS A "PRIME" MINISTER:

WHO, AFTER DENOUNCING LORD CASTLEREAGH'S INCAPACITY FOR INFERIOR OFFICE, AND CONFIRMING THAT DENUNCIATION BY HIS PISTOLS, ACCEPTED INFERIOR OFFICE HIMSELF UNDER THE CONTROL OF THAT VERY LORD CASTLEREAGH; AND SEEKS TO PROLONG HIS POLITICAL EXISTENCE BY THE FAWNING BLANDISHMENT OF "MY NOBLE FRIEND," ALTHOUGH THAT "NOBLE FRIEND" HAS NOT BEEN OBSERVED TO ENCOURAGE THE EMBARRASSING ENDEARMENT, BY RETURNING IT:

THUS,

BY HIS PARODIES, HIS PISTOLS AND HIS WITS, FIGHTING AND WRITING HIS WAY TO PLACE AND PROFIT UNDER MNISTERS, WHOM THE DERISION OF HIS PEN HAS DRIVEN TO THE MISERY OF HIS ALLIANCE.

THE MAN IN THE MOON, A SPEECH FROM THE THRONE, TO THE SENATE OF LUNATARIA In the Moon.

INTRODUCTION. I LATELY dream'd that, in a huge balloon, All silk and gold, I journey'd to the Moon, Where the same objects seem'd to meet my eyes That I had lately left below the skies; And judge of my astonishment, on seeing All things exactly, to a hair, agreeing: The mountains, rivers, cities, trees, and towers, On Cynthia's silver surface, seem'd like ours; Men, women, children, language, dress, and faces, Lords, Commons, Lackies, Pensioners, and Places, Whigs, Tories, Lawyers, Priests, and men of blood, And even Radicals—by all that's good! In a long street, just such as London's Strand is, 'Midst Belles and Beggars, Pickpockets and Dandies, Onward I went, between a brazen horse, And a large Inn which bore a Golden Cross, Then through a passage, narrow, long and dark, That brought my footsteps to a spacious park. It chanc'd that morning that the Sovereign Dey, The Prince of Lunataria pass'd that way— Gods! what a sight! what countless crouds were there, What yells, and groans, and hootings, rent the air! By which, I learn'd, the Lunatarian nation Are wont to testify their admiration; We don't do so on earth—but that's no matter— The Dey went onward, midst a hideous clatter To meet the Senators: for 'twas appointed, That, on that morning, He—the Lord's anointed— Should make a grand Oration from the throne, That his most royal pleasure might be known Respecting certain great affairs of State:— I heard the speech: Oh! could the muse relate The "elegance," the sweet "distinctiveness," With which his Royal Deyship did address That reverend body of Moonarian sages, I'd write a book that should endure for ages. Alas! such heights are not for me to reach; I'll therefore, from my note-book, take the Speech, And you must say, as 'tis by Pope exprest, "Give all thou canst, and we will dream the rest!"

THE SPEECH. My L-rds and G--tl-n, I grieve to say, That poor old Dad, Is just as—bad As when I met you here the other day. 'Tis pity that these cursed State Affairs Should take you from your pheasants and your hares Just now: But lo! Conspiracy and Treason are abroad! Those imps of darkness, gender'd in the wombs Of spinning-jennies, winding-wheels, and looms, In Lunashire— Oh, Lord! My L—ds and G—tl—n, we've much to fear! Reform, Reform, the swinish rabble cry— Meaning, of course, rebellion, blood, and riot— Audacious rascals! you, my Lords, and I, Know 'tis their duty to be starved in quiet: But they have grumbling habits, incompatible With the repose of our august community— They see that good things are with us come-at-ible, And therefore slyly watch their opportunity To get a share: Yes, they declare That we are not God's favorites alone— That they have rights to food, and clothes, and air, As well as you, the Brilliants of a throne! Oh! indications foul of revolution— The villains would destroy the Constitution! I've given orders for a lot of Letters, From these seditious, scribbling, scoundrels' betters, N—d—n and N—rr—s, F—ch—r, W—t and H—y, 'To lie, for your instruction,' Upon the table; From which said premises you'll soon be able To make a fair deduction, That some decisive measures must be taken, Without delay, To quell the Radicals, and save our bacon. And now, my faithful C—m—ns, You must find The means to raise the wind: For Derry Down, and Sid, have thought it wise, To have—besides the Spies— A few more Cut-throats, to protect the rhino Of loyal people,—such as you and I know. Van's estimates will come before you straight; And, I foresee That your opinions will with mine agree, No lighter weight Can well be placed on

JOHNNY MOON CALF'S back, Who is, you know, a very willing hack. The revenue has fluctuated slightly— See the Courier— But it's been found to be improving nightly— For two weeks past,— therefore we've nought to fear. Some branches of our trade are still deprest, And those dependant on them wanting food, But that's a sort of temporary evil— 'Twill wear away: perhaps 'tis for the best:— At all events, 'twill do no good To let the starving wretches be uncivil. Five years ago, you know, our sad condition Was partly owing to 'the quick transition From war to peace'—then, we had 'scanty crops'— Then, something else—and now— our weavers' shops Are full of Radicals, and Flags, and Caps; But 'temporary' still are these mishaps— The 'quick transition's' gone, the 'crops' are good, And though the Radicals may still want food, A few

STEEL LOZENGES will stop their pain, And set the Constitution right again. My L—ds and G—tl—n, The foreign powers Write me word frequently that they are ours, Most truly and sincerely, in compliance With our most

HOLY COMPACT AND ALLIANCE, The purposes of which I need not mention— You that have brains can guess at the intention. 'Tis my most anxious wish, now we're at peace, That all internal discontents should cease— T' accomplish which I see no better way Than putting one-eyed pensioners on full pay. ' The body of the people, I do think, are loyal still,' But pray, My L—ds and G—tl—n, don't shrink From exercising all your care and skill, Here, and at home, TO CHECK THE CIRCULATION OF LITTLE BOOKS, Whose very looks— Vile 'two-p'nny trash,' bespeak abomination. Oh! they are full of blasphemies and libels, And people read them oftener than their bibles. Go H—df—t, Y—rm—th, C—le—gh, and C—nn—g Go, and be planning, Within your virtuous minds, what best will answer To save our morals from this public cancer; Go and impress, my friends, upon all classes, From sleek-fac'd Swindlers down to half-starv'd Asses, 'That, from religious principles alone,' (Don't be such d—d fools as to blab your own) Temperance, chasteness, conjugal attention— With other virtues that I need not mention— And from subordination, and respect, To every knave in robes of office deck'd— 'Can they expect to gain divine protection' And save their sinful bodies from dissection!

His Highness ceased— The dissonance of Babel Rose from the motley Moonitarian rabble: The yell of loyalty— the dungeon groan— The shriek of woe— the starving infant's moan— The brazen trumpets' note— the din of war— The shouts of freemen rising from afar— Darted in horrid discord through my brain:— I woke, and found myself on Earth again.