ON
DUMPLING.
WHEREIN
All the Mystery of that dark Treatise is brought to Light; in such a Manner and Method, that the meanest Capacity may know who and who’s together.
Published for the general Information of Mankind. By J. W. Author of 684 Treatises.
Yhuchi! dandi ocatchu gao emousey.
LONDON:
Printed and Sold by A. Dodd, without Temple-Bar, and H. Whitridge, the Corner of Castle-Alley, in Cornhill. M.DCC XXVII. [Price 6 d.]
[PREFACE]
I t very much surprizes me that six Editions of a Mythological Pamphlet, entituled, A Dissertation on Dumpling, should escape your Notice of that wonderful Unriddler of Mysteries the ingenious Mr. E—— C--- who has at the same Time given such Proofs of his Abilities in his many and most elaborate Keys to Gulliver’s Travels; Keys, which Gulliver himself could never have found out! and withal, so pertinent, that I shall esteem those at the Helm, no great Lovers of Learning, if my Friend Edmund be not forthwith promoted: for as the Sweetness of a Kernel
is uncomatable, but by the Fracture of its Shell, so is the Beauty of a Mystery altogether hid, till the Expounder has riddlemayreed the Propounder’s Problem, and render’d it obvious to the meanest Capacity.
The only Plea I can use in Mr. C——’s behalf, is, that the Author of the Dissertation has been a little too free with his Character, which probably occasioned that Sullenness in our British Oedipus; who in Order to be revenged, has determined not to embelish the Work with his Interpretation, but rather let it rot and perish in Oblivion.
This, and nothing else, could be the Reason of so profound a Silence in so great a Mysterymonger, to remedy which Loss to the Publick, I an unworthy Scribler, and faint Copier of that great Artist, presume with aching Heart, and trembling Hand, to draw the Veil which shades the political Pamphlet in Question; and show it to my loving Countrymen in Puris Naturalibus.
If I succeed in this, I hope Mr. L——t, who all the World knows is a rare Chap to his Authors, will speedily employ me to unriddle, or at least make a Plot to the Rival Modes, which it seems the Author has omitted: it is true, he ought to have given it the Bookseller with the Copy, but has not so done, which makes me wonder he is not sued for Breach of Covenant; but what is that to me, if I get a Job by the Bargain? Let Booksellers beware how they buy Plays without Plots for the future.
I narrowly miss’d solving the Problem called Wagner and Abericock; Mr. B—— had spoke to Mr. W—— to speak to Mr. C——, who had just consented to employ me, after having made me abate half my demand: But Houses running thin, Colley had undertaken the Job himself to save Charges; intending at the same Time, to annex a severe Criticism on Pluto and Proserpine.
This, gentle Reader, will, I hope, induce you to look on me as a Writer of some Regard, and at the same Time,
to make a little Allowance for whatever Errors my great Hurry may occasion, being obliged to write Night and Day, Sundays and working Days, without the least Assistance. All our Journeymen Writers being now turned Masters, I am left to shift for my self; but am bringing up my Wife to the Business, and doubt not but a long War, and our mutual Industry, may rub off old Scores, and make us begin a new Reckoning with all Mankind; Pamphleteering having been so dead for many Years last past, that (God forgive me!) I have been oftentimes tempted to write Treason for mere Sustenance.
But Thanks to better Stars and better Days, the Pen revives, and Authors flourish; more Money can be made now of a Play, nay, though it be a scurvy One, than Dryden got by all his Works. Therefore now or never is the Time to strike while the Iron is hot, to write my self out of Debt, and into Place, and then grow idle and laugh at the World, as my Betters have done before me.
[INTRODUCTION.]
W hen a Book has met with Success, it never wants a Father; there being those good natured Souls in the World, who, rather than let Mankind think such Productions sprang of themselves, will own the Vagabond Brat, and thereby become Fathers of other Mens Offsprings.
This was the Fate of Dumpling, whose real Father did not take more Care to conceal himself, than some did to be thought its Author; but if any one will recollect the Time of its Publication, they will find it within
a Week after the Arrival of D——n S——t, from Ireland; the Occasion, as I am very well informed, was this, the D——n, one of the first Things he did, went to pay a Visit to Mr. T——, his old Bookseller; but, to his Surprize, found both the Brothers dead, and a Relation in the Shop, to whom he was an utter Stranger. Mr. M—— for such is this Person’s Name, gathering from the D—n’s Enquiries who he was, paid him his Devoirs in the most respectful Manner, solicited his Friendship, and invited him to a Dinner, which the D——n was pleased to accept. By the Way, you must know, he is a great Lover of Dumpling, as well as the Bookseller, who had ordered one for himself, little dreaming of such a Guest that Day. The Dinner, as ’twas not provided on purpose, was but a Family one, well enough however for a Bookseller; that is to say, a couple of Fowls, Bacon and Sprouts boiled, and a Forequarter
of Lamb roasted. After the usual Complements for the unexpected Honour, and the old Apology of wishing it was better for his sake: The Maid, silly Girl! came and asked her Master if he pleased to have his Dumpling; he would have chid her, but the D——n mollified him, insisting at the same Time, upon the Introduction of Dumpling, which accordingly was done. Dumpling gave Cause of Conversation, but not till it was eat; for the Reader must understand, that both the Gentlemen play a good Knife and Fork, and are too mannerly to talk with their Mouths full. The Dumpling eat, as I said before, the D——n drank to the Bookseller, the Bookseller to the Author, and with an obsequious Smile, seem’d to say ah! Dear Doctor, you have been a Friend to my Predecessor, can you do nothing for me? The D—n took the Hint, and after a profound Contemplation, cry’d, Why ay—Dumpling will do—put
me in Mind of Dumpling anon, but not a Word more at present, and good Reason why, Dinner was coming in. So they past the rest of the Meal with great Silence and Application, and no doubt dined well. Far otherwise was it with me that Day: I remember to my Sorrow, I had a Hogs Maw, without Salt or Mustard; having at that Time, Credit with the Pork-Woman, but not with the Chandler: Times are since mended, Amen to the Continuance!
The D——n, having eat and drank plentifully, began his usual Pleasantries, and made the Bookseller measure his Ears with his Mouth; nay, burst his Sides with Laughter; however, he found Interval enough to remind the D——n of Dumpling, who asked him if he had a quick Hand at Writing: he excused himself, being naturally as Lazy as the other was Indolent, so they contrived to ease themselves by sending for a Hackney Writer
out of Temple Lane to be the D—’s Amanuensis, while he and his new Acquaintance crack’d t’other Bottle.
This Account may be depended upon, because I had it from the Man himself, who scorns to tell a Lye.
To be short, my Friend had the worst of it, being kept to hard Writing, without Drinking (Churls that they were) about three Hours; in which Time the Dissertation was finished, that is to say, from Page 1. to Page 25. the rest might probably be done at some other leisure Time, to fill up the Chinks, but of that he knows nothing; sufficient is it that the D——n was the Author. Proceed we now to the other Discoveries, by drawing the Veil from before the Book it self.
