The so much talk'd of and expected old woman's Dunciad: Or, midwife's master-piece ... By Mary Midnight. With historical, critical, and explanatory notes, by Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- PREFACE

- THE Old Woman's DUNCIAD.

- INTERPRETATION.

FINIS.

The so much talk'd of and expected Old Woman's DUNCIAD.

OR, MIDWIFE's MASTER-PIECE.

CONTAINING The most choice Collection of Humdrums and Drivellers, that was ever expos'd to public View.

BY MARY MIDNIGHT.

WITH Historical, Critical, and Explanatory NOTES, BY Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

Quos fama recens & celebravit Anus.
BARROW.

No Author ever spar'd a Brother; Wits are Game Cocks to one another.
GAY.

Out with it DUNCIAD.
POPE.

Publish'd pursuant to Act of Parliament, as the greatest Work ever before attempted in any Age, Country, or Language.

LONDON: Printed for THEO. CARNAN, and sold by F. STAMPER, in Pope's-Head Alley, Cornhill; J. ROBINSON, at the Golden-Lion, Ludgate-street; R. WILSON, in Pall-Mall; and at all the Pamphlet-Shops. MDCCLI.

PREFACE

BY Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

AS there are so many Impostors and Imitators Abroad, it is highly requisite the Public should be satisfied, that this is the true and genuine Dunciad of Mrs. Mary Midnight; to which End I have wrote this short Preface. The Reader, therefore, is desir'd to attend to me with a little Patience, before he enters upon this great and wonderful Work. The extensive Fame our Author has gain'd, by her learned Lucubrations, in all the Courts and Universities in Europe, has excited many (who have, by some Means or other, met with some of her Fragments) to vend among them their Heaps of Trash in her Name; but it is hop'd the World will do her the Justice, to think she is not the Author of such poor paultry, wishy, washy, shim-sham Performances.

To reward, among many others, the Authors of such Proceedings in a Manner due to their Deserts, Mrs. Midnight has design'd and executed this Work; but, as an Affair of so much Consequence could not but get Air in the World, several of these, who were conscious of their Guilt, applied to her to be excus'd a Place; or, in other Words, to be left out of her Dunciad: Among which came the celebrated Pentweazle, and meanly offer'd her five Guineas in part, on Subscription to her Miscellany of Poems, to be publish'd some Time in February next. But Mrs. Midnight being above any mercenary View, was deaf to all Overtures, however considerable, of this kind: Upon which, with their usual Assurance, her Enemies advertis'd even this intended Work, the Old Woman's Dunciad, in her's and in my Name, intending to impose some Trumpery or other on the World, before this Poem could appear; and, with the most consummate Impudence, put out Advertisements against the fictitious Imitators of Mrs. Midnight's Works, to out-face, if possible, the very Truth itself. But we have, thro' a surprising Quickness of Genius, peculiar to our Author, anticipated their Designs, to their utter Confusion: Since the World will, by reading the following Work, be convinc'd of the genuine and elevated Spirit of Mrs. Midnight, and will not, for the future, be so easily impos'd on. I shall just add a Word or two on our Author's Character in general, and on this Work in particular. As to Mrs. Midnight's Reputation as an Author, notwithstanding she has made herself known but lately under that Name, yet it has been very extensive, under the more general one of Old Woman; she having had the principal Hand in most of the Performances that have been wrote within these few Years past; all which have been infallibly known by the Critics, who upon Perusal of them, have immediately laid them down, and crying out, the Author's an Old Woman; intimating thereby their Knowledge of her Works, and her establish'd Reputation that rais'd them above Criticism. As to this Poem in particular, the Publick can never enough acknowledge the Obligations they owe her, in these Improvements of our Language; which, however, fall vastly short of what she purposes to do, having selected several thousands of the most curious and copious in the [*] Gemerian or Welch Tongue, which will far exceed any Embellishment whatsoever drawn from the Greek or Latin.

MARGELINA SCRIBELINDA MACULARIA.

Notes

*
See Eulogium on the Welch Tongue. Cambria Book II. Line 20.
↵

THE Old Woman's DUNCIAD.

O Thou, whatever Title to thine Ear,

Whether Tom Jones, Joe Andrews, or what not,

Sound pleasing: thou, to my aspiring Song

Indulgent smile, while to high Pindus Top, [1]

Apex excelse! I volitate, nor frown

Elenthical. Of Dunces, and the Tribe

Of Nose-obesate, atramental Sons

I sing: nor PHOEBUS call, but to my Aid

Invoke MELPOMENE, of all the nine

My chief, best Patron; and THALIA, thou,

Haste thee from Avon's Banks, nor cull more Flow'rs

For Shakespear's Wreath: but help t' assist my Flight; [2]

For high on Pegasean Wing, I mean

To soar velocitate. O swifter far

Than fleet the winged Atoms in the Air,

When Auster its Euroclydon dilates:

Or when pervading Night excessive pours

The Twilight dun; with archimagic Art,

(A thrice repeated Charm by Hecate taught!)

The Dame venefic, on a Virgult borne,

Or courser stramentitious, Aether Wings.

[3]

Thanks to the Power of Verse! lo! now I soar

And lo! the House of Dullness is in view

See tow'ring Paul's eeclesiastic Dome

Its Head rears altitudinate: O far

The meaner emulating Tribe above

Of Spires parochial: so fam'd Cambria's Hills.

Like Alps on Alps, Pelion o'er Ossa pil'd [4]

High as Olympus, lose in airy Height

Their Heads; as antient as the Pen of Time.

There is a Cave fast by the House of Pray'r,

Where Hebetudo dwells; so low its Site,

That it may merit well speluncal Name.

Its vestibule that gulphy Influx near,

Where the Colluvian Current pouring on, [5]

Rushing sonorous Falls the hoarse Cascade,

Th' illucid Lapse adown, with Torrent thick

Regurgling lutulent. The Cave within

The torpid Wretch, by igneal Glimmer seen. [6]

With Succubus Canidia, by that Name

If rightly she be call'd, sit hov'ring. So

In culmiferous Fields or frondose Woods,

With all their Opulence and native Worth,

Th' Egyptian Tribe itinerant repose

At prandial Noon, and dire mundungus Fume: [7]

So they the lov'd Nicotian masticate,

Or thro' Shiptonian Syrinx it inhale,

Fumifical: while in her better Hand

The Goddess a Pyxidicule sustains,

And Autographs and Schedals grace her Right.

Her daily Lucubrations! Thoughts prelaute!

Thoughts which her meditative Owl inspires. [8]

For he, the Sodale of her studious Hours,

Sung ululatious; contemplating deep.

Bright Contemplation! dignate of himself!

Illustrious Son of Hebetudo's Race!

O all ye num'rous Tribe, who in her Cave

Delight to dwell; of you the Muse shall sing.

The Verse as a Mnemosynum accept,

And erst with poplicolal Hand repay.

Within this sacred Cave where Hebes dwells,

In this her sluggish Pomp, her Sons attend;

Each to the nodding Head and beck'ning Eye

Obsequious. Chief, sapient Bubo first

Stands pendent; in his mounted Carcer held

Restrictive. Here he genders Thought on Thought,

As 'tween his Nods meditabundate, Want

And Hunger gaunt awake his bardate Soul.

[9]

Ah Miser those who fall in Dulness snare!

More fatal hers than Circe's Charms of Yore,

Which porcufied Ulysses vagrant train!

Say, Muse, how Ebenezer, by her Pow'r,

From human Frame into bubonic Form

Fell metamorphos'd (so Ascalaphus.

Son Acherontic! by rag'd Proserpine

Was verted hapless) once solertial Smart, [10]

He laugh'd and sung; e'er yet Canidia curst,

Her macerated Corps in Sacell laid;

Where, in the Form of Vacuum, she dwelt,

And banish'd ev'ry Golden, Rhyming Thought.

Just then, in fatal Hour grave Hebes woke,

And in her leaden Hand a Crustule bore: [11]

Charm more coercive to th' inedial Goût,

Then noctial Incantation of an Hag,

Than orient Tal'sman or mysterious Cast.

By learn'd Genethliac made. Ah! luckless! Ah!

He took and eat; and from that Moment sunk

Mancipial Immolation to her Will.

And now, whene'er the Coenal Hour is nigh,

Behold her potent Wand, her Paxil, waves

And he, in Cell sublime, a Bird of Night,

Screams hideous, or, in Dormitation mounts

Aquiline Wings, and in Etherial Space

Builds castral Edifices: Or he's pent,

In Shape Mustelar, to the Goddess' Use

Subservient; or, perverted into Form

Anicular, he verrates coenal Trash.

With miscellaneous Art; cracks kernell'd Nuts [12]

Or mumbles Grace twice o'er; and grinning shews

His toothless Gums. Ah void of Pow'r to hurt!

Next him, as next in Erudition taught,

From Oxon's fam'd Gymnasial lo! he comes;

For whom, on Isis' Banks, first founding Fame

The Student's, Honour, circumclangor'd wide

With Buccination: metamorphos'd now, [13]

Behold him into a Monedule turn'd,

Rostrate th' ingenial Cloac: Labour vile!

Or, in Theristral, femininely clad,

Assist the Trump of Fame debilitate

With Garrulations; while sage Bubo dreams

Of Domes Chimaeric; Domes too dearly bought!

For here no stipend Earth, nor Art piles up

The sculptur'd Stone, nor glow enflaming Kilns. [1]

To dense the conculated Clay; and yet

For this, he shares the Cibals of the Day.

The next Inhabitant of Hebes Cave!

Third fav'rite Son! Frigidio calls my Song,

Whose worth thro' Fame's loud retrovent respires.

Behold, with gloomy Brow, contracted Frown,

In hypocondriac cephalalgiac vext,

He sits contristate; manducating Thoughts [2]

In vaccal Rumination; for alas!

Pollution braccial, oviparous Care

Him deep affects. O say, celestial Muse,

From what fell Cause this cacatural Woe

Her darling Child befell. So will'd the Fates,

That in accursed Hour, on vile Intent.

Smack'em, a hostile and mischievous Wight,

Enter'd this Cavern of Cimmerian Gloom, [3]

And, with Combustion dire, he mouthed out

Verbose, stentorian Execrations, big

With Fate portentous and terrific Wrath.

Frigidio shiver'd with gelatic Fear;

And thro' th' intestine Cavern Murmurs roar'd.

Direful Presage of some descending III!

Which now to fly (but who from Fate can fly?) [4]

He festinates precipitate: but lo!

The Lasanon's no more. Fate inbenign!

In Deflagration blazing! see it sink

In Cinefaction. Dire Amazement! ah!

His Fears irrupt deorsate; while alas!

Distain'd, he sends Effluvias baleful round:

As when the Son of Excrement and Night,

High on his merdose Vehicle uprear'd,

Attaints the Breeze nocturnal: violent, [5]

At first the antiaromatic strikes

The Nose inflating: till by slow Degrees

The ambient Air itself edulcorates,

And in Euthanasy the Stench decays.

O fam'd Carnan, thou Prototype of Curl,

Be this thy Fate: the superfluent Pan

T' evacuate, or with thy Hands immers'd [6]

In the lutulent Flood, to pict or gild

Thy rubrick Post; till like horreal Valve

It beam refulgent.

But hark! what Clamours strike the Tympanum [7]

Auricular! Remains there ought as yet

Amid this Cave within the Muses' lore!

A calamarian Crowd in Limbo lo!

Like the fam'd Naiads, rage, with curved Arm,

In monomachial War, and cruel Strife.

Those, chiefly, who by Smack'em's potent Hand

Late fell inglorious. Dunciadus, thou

Thou Entity, of universal Fame, [8]

Thou greatest Crocodile, and greater yet

Illustrious Woodville! Ha! what do I see?

Our eastern Bramin raise his virile Hoar

Most venerable, with each motley Scribe

Magirist, Student, Disputant, what not? [9]

Muse shut the Scene, the Soul enslaving Scene

Or Hebetudo's potent Wand will make

Ev'n me to nod.

Now is that Work compleat, that mighty Work,

Which dignate in insculptur'd Brass to shine,

Or macrocolum typ'd, so long shall live

As the didascal Sage the virgult Shakes

In Vapulations Let no Censor then

Deem this a Song of Folly, or austere, [10]

Call it a Cacosyntheton, or me

Stygmatize, with Hyberbation Name.

But if fond Regard fot modern Verse,

Deserve Exsibilation, or the Frown

Of quaint Derision. If 'tis so let loose,

The Storm of Momus, I can bear it all.

Notes

1

Line I. O thou, &c.] Our judicious and learned Author, Mrs. Midnight seems, at first setting out, to give us an Instance, that she knows what she is about, by this Imitation of the great Satyrist Mr. Pope; in whose Dunciad are the following Lines address'd to Swift, as are the above to Fielding.

O thou whatever Title please thine Ear,

Swift, Drapier, Bickerstaff; or Gulliver.

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2

Line 5. Apex excelse! —high Top!] We never can enough admire this Instance of the superexcellent Beauty of Expression, made use of by our modern Poets; in endeavouring to make our Tongue so nearly resemble that truly noble and elevated Language the Latin. Martina Scribeinda Macularia.

Line 7. Of Nose obesete-snotty Noses This Epithet, which, as a compound one, is not a little to be commended, is yet more admirable, as it has its Derivation from the Latin; in which Language a judicious and witty Man is signified by a Man with his Nose wip'd; and a Blockhead by a Fellow with a nasty or fat Nose, according to our vulgar Phrase a snotty one. Martina Scribelinda Macularia.

Line 11. Cull more Flowers—nor Rosemary cull] The Text is here extremely well express'd in the Interpretation, as the so often repeated Thought of the Muses gathering Flowers upon the Banks of the River Avon, for Shakespear, can certainly mean no more than the old fashioned Custom of gathering Rosemary for the Dead.—The Reader may find the above Thought in the Pleasures of Imagination, also in a late Piece called the Rosciad and many others; whose Merit is a sufficient Reason, I suppose, for its being inserted here.

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3

Line 16. When Austor its Euroclydon dilates] Mrs. Midnight is here openly indebted to the Author of the Rosciad, Line 58. We have before observed the Beauty of Latinizing our Language, we have in this Line a happy Instance of both Greek and Latin, without the least Variation in the Idiom, becoming easy and flowing English, very intelligible to the meanest Reader, and notwithstanding the Herd of Critics of low Taste, inveigh bitterly against this Practice, and call it a bastardiz'd Innovation of Dialect, I advise all, who would make any Figure in these Days, to lug in by the Ears all Manner of uncommon Phrases and Epithets they can lay hold of, and subject them to their own Use as lawful Prizes. Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

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4

Line 26. The meaner emulating Tribe above.] I cannot think Mrs. Midnight the Author of that surprizing Beauty in this Line, by the Position of the Preposition above, it seeming to me, that she has borrowed the Hint from the celebrated Dr. Young, whose Elegances of that Kind are numerous; he says, if I mistake not, Life is a Stage. ‘Inch high the Grave above—’

Line 28. Like Alps on Alps, &c] This and the following Line are taken from Cambria, where they seem to be the Effect, to use the Author's own Words, of a Regard for ‘A Land renown'd of old for nobelst Deeds,’ For which Reason every Mountain must be the highest in the World, as he says

The Pyrenoeans, Appenine, and Alps,

With meaner Altitude invade the Skies,

Than Cambrian Mountains—

Now, it is not to be supposed that the Author has ever seen Italy, France or Spain; or that he has taken the Altitude of his own Country Hills with the Barometer—No,— Reader, there is a Figure in Rhetoric called the Hyperbole, by which a Man may assert what he knows nothing at all of, and tell as many Lies as he pleases—It is by this Figure, Reader, that Mrs. Midnight has ornamented her Poem by this Simile from the above famous Writer, for it is impossible she should know so little as to imagine the Alps, &c. stand in the same Comparison below the Welch Mountains as the common Parish Churches do to St. Paul's—Margelina Seribelinda Macularia.

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5

Line 30. As antient as the Pen of Time] Endless have been the Disputes that Mrs. Midnight has had with some Critics, to which she has communicated this Design on this Passage —they assert that it is the first Time, Time ever was taken for an Author (as giving him a Pen seems to imitate he is) but that, on the contrary, they are a Set of People he has a mortal Aversion to; as they are Enemies to his Employment, by immortalizing those very Persons and Things he endeavours to erase—in answer to this, let them only see Cambria, Line 33. Book I. and be satisfied, from the Credit of that Author, of its Propriety; whose very Words she has borrow'd, Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

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6

Line 37. Th' illucid Lopse, &c.] The Reader may observe how our Author has imitated the great Men of our own Day in five or six of the preceding Lines; in which she has not an elegant Word but belongs to some of them. Nay, she has even almost copied whole Lines from them, in particular, from Cambria; and the beautiful Expression of the lucid Lapse, from the Excursion of Mr. Mallet—I am somewhat surprized, however, that Mrs. Midnight could condescend to imitate, in so unpoetical a Line as ‘There is a Cave fast by this House of Pray'r,’ a Writer of so little Credit in Point of Language as Milton; since it might have been modernized beautifully thus; ‘This Deme eretial near, a Cave exists.’ but there is no Work, as Mr. Pope says, without some Blemish,

Whoever thinks a faultless Piece to see

Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.

it is therefore excuseable if in a Poem, like this, so crammed with Beauties, there should he found one Fault.

Line 39. The torpid Wretch] The Reader, to taste the Beauty of this Picture, and come to a right Understanding of our Author, must turn to the Frontispiece of the Old Woman's Magazine,(a Work of which Notice has been taken in our Preface) where he will find the Pictures of Dullness and Poverty represented under the Characters of Mrs. Mary Midnight and her Consederate Succubus Canidia—See Front to Old Wom. Mag. and Page 97. No. III.

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7

Line 40. By that Name, &c.] It is a Matter of no little Dispute whether the Consederate of Dullness should be called Succubus Canidia —the Christian Name, signifying a Devil in the Shape of an old Woman, and the Surname being taken from that of a Neapolitan Jezebel, whom Horace calls a Witch— the Query is (since we know the Figure represented is Poverty) whether Poverty can be justly called a Witch? Some have asserted, yes; because Witches are always poor, and old. But this is consuted by the learned and judicious Author of the Spectator, who says, that tho' Poverty and Age make Women suspected of being Witches, it is, nevertheless, no Proof of their, being so. And as to Shakespear's representing his Witches in this Manner, every Body knows his poetical Genius, never consined himself to historical Truth. It is, in fine, so abstruse and intricate a Point, that tho' I have consulted Glanville, Moreton and others, I must leave it to the Decision of abler Critics.

Line 42. In culmiferous, &c] The Propriety of these Epithets are admirable, and particularly consonant to Horace's Rule— they seem to be borrow'd from Cambria, and are not a little a-kin to the Author of this Line

And tam'd the rough Ferocity of Men.

ROSCIAD.
here we see the Beauty of the latinized English, since it would else have been the rough Roughness, which would have been a very rough Expression indeed. Martina Scribelinda Macularia.

↵

8

Line 48. In her better Hand.] Doubtless many People will wonder why the Left Hand should be here expressed by the better, and will dispute why one Hand is better than the other, but Mrs. Midnight has not wrote this without a Precedent, the Reader will find this same Epithet in the Rosciad, Ver. 69, to specify the Right Hand, which she has here given to the Left; admirably intimating that Dullness is Left-handed; or in other Terms, unlucky. Martina Scribelinda Macularia.

Line 51. Daily Lucubrations!] The Reader will do well to consider, that as Dullness lives in a Cellar, it is no Wonder she burns Candle in the Day-Time-beside the Text says they are Thoughts her Owl inspires: And who knows but her Owl may be in as bad a Situation as Mr. Smart, who wanted Light to see that it was dark, as a late Epigram intimates.—See Kapelion, No. 4. It is however, certain that all Authors have not the clearest Ideas of Day and Night—You will find in the Rosciad that at Night

—The lunar Queen

Shines forth with Splendor round the dimmer Day.

Line 51. —Thoughts prelaute] Doubtless the Critics, of a fine Ear for the Flow of Verse, will be as much offended at the disagreeable Sound (I might have said Cacophony) of these two open Words coming together, as were the fine tympanum'd Gentry, in the Court of Angustus, against a certain Line in Virgil (which as I don't remember I must pass over) but Mrs. Midnight has in this shewn her Respect for the Modernizes of Poetry—I will give you an Instance—A certain Writer, who stands much on his Merit in this Point, has used often these two Words together, natal Land. Now there is a surprising Harshness in the two Els, and almost an Impossibility of pronouncing them both, without making a Stop between the Words—It is true, Mr. Rowe, with wonderful Sweetness, has used the Word native here ‘More than myself I prize my native Land.’

Here now is a softening Syllable to harmonize the Strength of the preceding and following ones—but what of this? Native is a vulgar Word, and every Consideration should be given up for an Epithet obsolete or uncommon, as the abovementioned Refiner of plain English has shewn us, such as, ‘Patriotic Worth—Treaty of Pacification,’ and numberless others—it must be owned—Patriot worth—Treaty of Peace, would be equally expressive, and a thousand Times more elegant and beautiful; but, as that would be a common Way of Speech, the Dignity of the Language would have been degraded.

↵

9

Line 65. Steed pendent.] It is probable some of the witty Gentlemen, of the present Age, may laugh here, and accuse the Author of Hibernianism and say it is only a mean Imitation of a Saying of the celebrated Barnaby Buxtm, who told an Acquaintance, he steed like a Man hanging in Chains: But, with Submission to these facetious Critics, if they reflect upon the Situation of a Bird perched in a hanging Cage, it is possible they may reconcile this Passage to English.

Line 67. As'tween her Nods.] This is a true and lively Image of any Author who writes for Pay, whose Genius is never awake but when he is hungry.

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10

Line 72. How Ebenezer] Ebenezer Pentweazle, of Truro in the County of Cornwall, Esq a celebrated Epigrammatist.

Line 73. Into bubonic Form.] The Metamorphosis of Pentweazle into an Owl, is so admirably fancied, that I can't help preferring it to every thing I have met with in Ovid. The Similitude of an Author's being confined to Study in his, or his Bookseller's, Garret, for Means of Livelihood, is prodigiously similar to an Owl's perching on the Beam of a Barn, meditating on the Mice which she is to have—if she can catch them.

Line 76. Solertial, Smart.] This Passage bears some Dispute; as it is questioned, by many, whether there should be a Comma between these two Words—Some assert the former to be an Adjective, and the last a Substantive, and suspect Mrs. Midnight of a Pun in Heroics; others will have the Comma stand, and assert they are hoth Adjectives. I have considered the Point very seriously and, finding so many Reasons on both Sides, must leave it to the Decision of the Grammarians.

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11

Line 79. Woere in the Form of Vacuum.] It is likely many of our Brother Authors, especially those of the mathematical and philosophical Turn, will very learnedly and wittily ask in what Form is the Form of nothing; however, I must confess, for my own part, that I think Mrs. Midnight goes, in this Place, as infinitely beyond herself as all other Authors have fallen short of her—this is a very bold and caring Expression, and is beyond Criticism itself; and whether the Writers of the present Day will allow the Beauty and Justice of this Passage or not; they have, undoubtedly, often experienced it: So that, I think, their Disputes of the Existence of a Vacuum in the Universe, would be better supplied by a Study to destroy the Vacuum they find in their Pockets.

Line 80. Golden, rhyming Thought.] Notwithstanding Tom Brown has written a long and learned Dissertation, in Praise of Poverty, and Mr. Moore an admirable Fable to prove that Want is ths greatest Help to Genius; yet there are few, even Poets, I believe, but think the jingling of one Guinea against another, infinitely better Rhime than Pope, Gay or Moore ever wrote in their Lives, and would approve a Bank Note of an hundred Pounds, as the best Prose they ever read. Nay, I believe, with a little Persuasion, Mr. R—t himself would be brought to accept it, notwithstanding there should be no hard Word in it.

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12

Line 94. Or he's pent.

Line 95. In Shape mustelar.] This is the second Time, in this Work, where a Pun may be suspected—in the former Passage, I forbore to give my Judgment; but here, I must own, the Words point immediately to the Name Pentweazle; yet is not this Passage to be degraded, since it is only introducing a new and bold Figure called the Allus•••••la, which I would recommend to all the Refiners of Language whatever. Margelina Seribelinda Macularia.

Line 98. Cracks kernell'd Nuts] Some of our Readers may perhaps imagine here are meant Nuts with Kernels in them—to free them from that Mistake, I beg Leave to assure them that Mrs. Midnight means Nuts without Kernels; as is expressed in the Interpretation: To come at the true and full Meaning of the Text, it is necessary we subjoin the following Advertisement given out by the fictitious, &c. To make you all merry at Christmas, and to open the New Year with Pleasure and satisfaction, my Publisher will exhibit on the 26th of this Instant, to all who are pleased to purchase the same, A most admirable, learned, and judicious Work intitled,

The NUT-CRACKER. Containing an agreeable Variety of well-seasoned Jests, Epigrams, Epitaphs, &c. collected from the most Sprightly Wits of the present Age. Together with such Instructions as will enable any Man to tell a Story with a good Grace, and crack a Nut without losing the Kernel. With other Particulars equally useful and entertaining, and for which the gentle, kind, and courteous Reader, will be pleased to look into the Book itself. Published with the Approbation of the Learned in all Faculties, by Ferdinando Foot, Esq

Now, Reader, these Nuts, here so bragged of, have been cracked before by Joe Miller, and the whole Tribe of Nut-crackers, who have been wise enough to secure the Kernels.

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13

Line 99. Or mumbles Grace 'twice o'er] The Reader will find the same Preface to the above Nut-cracker as to the Old Woman's Magazine: A Sign their own Wit is not very plenty.

Line 99. And grinning Shews] Mrs. Midnight here seems to point at some late Advertisements, put out in her Name; by the fictitious Attempters to her Humour and Genius; which, as they are remarkable Instances of the Considence of these People, we shall give an Instance or two.

ADVERTISEMENT.

WHEREAS several egregious Ideots have been flinging Dirt at Mrs. Midnight and her Works. The Publick is desired to take Notice, that there is now in the Press, and speedily will be published, the Old Woman's Dunciad with Notes.

THE Gentleman who sent five Guineas to be excused a Place, or, in other Words, to be left out of my Dunciad, is desired to call at my Publisher's and receive his Money; for, upon Enquiry, he appears to be such an egregious Blockhead, and is in all Respects so fit for Celebration, and so worthy of publick Notice, that I can't prevail on myself to omit any Character which will afford my Friends such high Entertainment.

The Reader is here desired to recollect, or: turn back to the Preface.

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1

Line 106. Into a Monedule turn'd] Whoever has the Honour of knowing this learned and ingenious Gentleman will see a great deal of Prepriety in his being converted to a Jack-daw; as his natural Gift of chattering might probably inspire Dullness with that Intention. We are, however, serry this Misfortune should happen to him before the finishing of the Tragedy he is engaged in as a Work of Nature requires undoubtedly a great deal of Solidity.

Line 107. Rostrate th' ingenial Cloac] This is admirably natural, and peculiarly adapted to the Nature of a Jackdaw, who is pecking among all the Filth and Rubbish he comes near.

Line 111. Domes too dearly bought!] The Gentleman, who is the Owner of these Castles, and employs this mighty Builder, complains very much of the Charges he is at in erecting them. Margelina, &c.

Line 112, &c.] —Where Art ne'er pil'd The sculptur'd Stone, nor glow'd enflaming Kilns To dense the conculcated Clay. CAMBRIA.

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2

Line 117. Frigidio calls my Song.] A Personage who needs no Celebration from any other Pen than his own.

Line 118. Feme's loud retrovert.] Many of our Readers will perhaps think this Sentiment rather ludicrous than momentary; but it is seldom, very seldom that our Author writes without a Meaning, though it is possible an ordinary Genius may be at a Loss to find it out, I presume, by Fame's proclaiming the Name of this Gentleman backwards, is intended the Pains and Trouble he himself takes to tell People he is a great Man, which is undoubtedly the reverse Way to Fame.

Line 121. Manducating Thoughts.] Here is not a little Beauty in this Expression, which it is probable the Reader, of little Penetration, will suffer to escape him—chewing Thoughts—intimating hereby that this Author chews his Sentiments so long that they come from him, with all the Sweetness sucked out of them like dried Sticks.

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3

Line 122. In vaccal Rumination]. Here seems to be a very extraordinary Meaning couched under the Epithet vaccal—ruminating like a C•w—It is a Question well wertly the study and Decision of our candid Disputants and free Enquirers in what Manner Cows may be said to ruminate; or how for those Ideas may comprehend; or whether they are in a Capacity of entertaining complex or only simple Ideas—for my own Part, as I never imagined a Cow, chewing the Cud, a Picture of Reflection, so I never gave myself the Trouble to ask any one what she was thinking of. I imagine our Author, Mrs. Midnight, is indebted for this Thought to a late Work, where is this Passage.

Stretch'd in the Clover Ditch, saint-lowing Herds

Couch ruminant.

You see, from hence, that the Sentiment is however a very good one: But perhaps this Gentleman, as well as Mrs. Midnight, might be acquainted with some Cow of Genius, and therefore have done this Honour to their Species.

Line 129. Smack'em. &c.] The Reader will be better acquainted with this celebrated Personage by perusing the following Advertisement. The MAGAZINES blown up; or they are all in the Suds. Being a full, true, and particular Account of the apprehending, seizing and taking of the notified Pentweazle, an Oxford Scholar, in the Shape of an Old Woman: With his Examination before the right worshipful justice Banter, and his Commitment to the New Prison. Together with an Account of his Impeachment of divers others, who were concerned in many late barbarous Attempts on the Senses of his Majesty's liege Subjects.—With a right and true List of all their Names, who were taken, last Night, at a House of ill Fame near St. Paul's—With their whole Examination and Commitment by the said Gentleman. To which is added, a Key to the Back-Door. The whole done in plain English, by Whacum Smack'em, the greatest Satirist now living;

Who can deep Mysteries unriddle,

As easily as thread a Needle.

HUDIBRAS.
at so small and easy a Charge as Three-Pence.

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4

Line 131. Verbose Stentorian, &c.] Taken from the Rosciad,

Consus'd, Stentorian Execrations big

With Fate portentous and cerrifick Wrath.

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5

Line 138. The Lasanon's no more.] The Reader will easily comprehend this Passage, by turning to the Frontispieces of the Old Waman's Magazine and the Magazines blown up, in the first of which the Jakes of Genius is placed near the Goddess Dullness, and in the last it is blazing on the Fire.

Line 140. Dire Amazement! ab!] Nothing can add more to the Dignity of Verse then the frequent Use of the Ecphenesis or Exclamation—it being a Privilege peculiar to Poetry, which renders ordinary Affairs, or those of no Consequence at all, Matters of the greatest Moment. Thus, a modern Author, introducing a Sentiment as common as that of one Day passeth away, and another cometh, beautifully exclaims, — Dire Amazement! ah! Is that small Mart, is Newport all the Spoil Of glorious Isca?

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6

Line 149. And in Euthanasy the Stench decays.] In the Rosciad, the Author, describing the Decrease of the Wind, says ‘And in Euthanasy the Breeze decays.’ It may here be observed how far the Poets of the present Day exceed, in point of Stile, all that ever went before them; and how ignorant, in the true Beauties of Expression, were the most celebrated Critics of Yesterday— Says Mr. Pope,

Words are like Leaves, and where they most abound,

Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.

Again,

Such labour'd Nothings in so strange a Stile,

Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile.

And again he says,

'Tis not enough, no Harshness gives Offence,

The Sound must seem an Echo to the Sense.

Now how foreign is the Sound of the Word Euthanasy to its Meaning, a gentle dying— And yet the Beauty and Propriety of this Word, as it derives from the Greek, is beyond all Doubt. Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

Line 150. O fam'd Carnan.] T. Carnan not the true and genuine Theophilus Carnan, Mrs. Midnight's only Bookseller.

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Line 155. It beam refulgent] Notwithstanding the numerous Excellencies already exemplified in this Poem, I cannot help preferring this Passage to any other—Here, Reader, is the Elegance and the Art of a Poet; to make a Sentiment which is, in it sels, mean and despicable equal to the most refined and sublime—Here is a Specimen of true Wit,

—Nature to Adventage drest,

What oft' was thought but ne'er so well express'd,

I imagine Mrs. Midnight has given this, as an Instance of that Power and Beauty of Language she is Mistress of; which may not only serve to enlighten all who may write hereafter; but may also convince them of the ignorance of the best of our Predecessors in this Point—says Mr.Pope, A vile Conceit, in pompous Words exprest, Is like a Clown in regal Purple drest. An undeniable Proof of the injudicicus Taste of this Author, in so material a Point!— and how widely does he mistake the Truth of the Matter, in saying,

—True Expression, like th' unchanging Sun,

Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon,

It gilds all Objects, but it alters none.

Now, who does not see in the above Passage in the Text, that the Sentiment is so alter'd, that it is scarce discern'd to be the same. Who would imagine that, like Horreal Valve. It beam refulgent. Signified no more than it shines like a shitten Born Door: Or, as the Reader may recollect several of the preceeding Passages, that

—Nor glow inflaming Kilus

To dence the CONCULCATED Clay

Intimated nothing else than

Nor glow the Brick-kilns piping hot

To lake the Clay TROD UNDER FOOT.

To enumerate these Remarks would here be needless as this whole Work may be said to be one continual Beauty of this Kind. Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

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8

Line 160. Like the fam'd Naiads] See Fielding's Tom Jones, where he compares the Oyster-Wenches to the Naiads. An Instance (as well as Mrs. Midnight's) of fine Writing.

Line 161. In monomachial War] Our Author seems here to have an Eye to a Passage in the Kapelion—See Archimagirus's Address to his Customers; where he challenges his Brother Scribblers to fight them, Pen, Ink, and Paper, upon any Spot of Ground in England, and sends them the Length of his Quills and the Price of his Paper, to shew he scorns to engage them at unequal Weapons.

Line 163.—Dunciadus thou] The Reader, for an Information concerning this Character, may turn to the Magazines blown up —Whimsey Banter says there, his Bookseller's Sign is his Emblem, and that he is the Packhorse of Authors. Another Evidence says, he is a Beast of Prey, and loves Carrion and bad Meat.

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9

Line 165. Thou greatest Crocodile and greater yet.] A particular Description of all these Characters may be found in the above mentioned Pamphlet—Doubtless the Critics will here fall foul upon Mrs. Midnight, and desire to know if Crocodile is greatest, how Woodville can be greater—but sure, Gentlemen, it is impossible but you must have heard of the new Degree of Comparison, founded on a bold Figure in Rhetorick and called the super-superLnive. —It is by this, that the celebrated Author of the ACTOR says that the Tragic Player requires fire in the greatest Degree, but the Comic Player in a much g••ater. Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

Line 167. Our castern BRAMIN]—It is presum'd no Body is ignorant of the celebrated Author of the Oeconomy of Human Life, whose Name, coming from so great a Distance, has made the World not a little suspicious of an Imposture—The contest here pointed at, is that between the original Bramin and the Authors of second Parts, Suppliments, &c. which Gentlemen are a Set of Writers, who, rather than go without a Dinner at all, are contented to take up with the Victuals half cold, after others have made a Meal, yet boast much of their Dining at the same Table.—It is, however, to be disputed which has the most Right to the Name of a Professor of Virtue and Philosophy, the Bramin of Grubstrect or the Bramin of PalMall.

Line 169. Magirist, Student, &c. —By the former of these is meant, Archimagirus Metaphoricus, Author of the Kapelion, a Work that requires no Celebration. By the Student, is hinted the Author of a Six-penny Pamphet, under that Name, published Monthly by the Assistance and Approbation of the two famous Universities OXFORD and CAMBRIDGE. A surprizing and wonderful Example of the vast and extensive productions of those two great Seminaries! both of which, we are told, are employed in the composing of this PAMPHLET of important Articles. What then may not the World expect from, their joint Assistance in so great a Work?

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10

Line 172. Ev'n me to nod.—The Hermistics in this Poem I cannot help imputing to a wilful Neglect, which, however, would be unpardonable in a Work of less Merit than this Dunciad, Virgil's Aeneids and some others of equal Worth in this Day.

Line 173. Now is that Work, &c. Mrs. Midnight has clos'd this Poem with as much Confidence and as justly as the celebrated Ovid; whose Words are,

Jam opus exegi quod nec jovis ira, nec ignis,

Nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas

The following Lines to the End are borrow'd from the most modest Writer of the present Age

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[*] INTERPRETATION.

O thou, whatever Name sound easy,

Jones, Andrews, or what else may please you;

Do thou look pleasant on my Rhime.

While Pindus Top, high Top! I climb.

Of Dunces, which the Verse supposes

The Sons of Ink with snotty Noses,

I sing: nor call our Rhyming Domine,

But beg my fav'rite Wench MELPOMENE

(My surest Friend of all the Nine)

To lend a Hand to this Design.

And leave, thou, Thaly, Avon's Shore

Nor Rosemary cull for Shakespear more

But help my Trot around Parnassus,

Swift on your ambling Nag Pegasus,

Swifter than scamper Snow or Sleet,

When Seaman's Plague drives on the Fleet,

Or when at Night, by Magic wrought,

Of three times three by Hecate taught,

Witches on Wisps of Straw their Bums stick,

Or ride like Devils astride a Broom-stick.

G-d bless the Muse—I thank her now

I mount and Dullness' Cellar view.

Look where the Church of great St. Paul

Rears up its losty Head so tall,

Above the Parish Churches all.

So notified Welch Mountains high,

Rear up their Heads above the Sky.

Alps, Alps, and Pelion Ossa pile,

The Lord knows how many hundred Mile;

But by the nearest; Guess that's giv'n

Within Hop, Step, and Jump of Heav'n;

Stand, lost in Clouds and Fogs and Rime,

As antient as the Pen of Time.

Now by this Church there is a Cellar,

Where Goddess Dullness is the Dweller;

So very low, that it may well

Deserve the Title of a Cell.

Its Groundfil a Stone's Throw or more,

From where the rushing common Shore

Runs bubbling down the muddy Place,

Roaring with Dirt and Nastiness,

Within this Cellar, scarce discern'd

By Cinders into Embers burn'd,

There hov'ring sits the Humdrum Wretch

With Canid; call'd (if right) a Witch:

As in Corn Fields, or leasy Woods,

With all their Chattles and their Goods,

The wandering Gypsies sit them down,

And smoke their Dinner Pipe at Noon,

So they the dear Tobacco Quid,

Or suck short Pipe, as Shipton did,

While in the Goddess better Hand,

A 'bacco Box is at Command;

And the waste Book of common Place,

And written Sheets her left doth grace,

Her daily Works of Candle Light,

Works which her screech Owl doth indite:

For he, Companion of their Studies,

Was us'd to hoot, to please the Goddess:

In a brown Study always gone,

Oh ever worthy Dullness Son!

O you, whoe'er delight to dwell

Within the Threshold of her Cell;

Of you, the Muse her Song shall tell:

Yet in Remembrance beas the Lay,

And as the Time may serve repay.

Within the Cell where Dullness Lives,

Constant each Son attendance gives;

Let her but nod or wink her Eyes,

Whip, Presto, in a Trice, he flies.

Here, chief, her Owl, sedate and Sage,

Stands hanging, in his mounted Cage:

While Thoughts succeed, in nodding Fits,

As musing in the Dumps he sits,

And Hunger jogs and wakes his Wits.

Unlucky those whom Dullness curses!

Her charms more fatal are than Circe's,

That made, of old, such horrid Work,

And turn'd Greek Sailors into Pork!

Say Muse, how, 'cause it hap'd to please her,

From human Form poor Ebenezer

(For some vile End which she had purpos'd)

Into an Owl was metamorphos'd.

As once was serv'd the tatling son,

Ascalaphus, of Acheron.

Late witty, Smart, he laugh'd and sung;

E'er curst Conidia on him hung,

Who, meagre, in his Pocket crept

And there in form of nothing slept;

Whence ev'ry golden Cross she banish'd,

And ev'n the Sound of Chinking vanish'd.

Then Dullness shew'd, in Hour accurs'd,

Within her leaden Hand a Crust;

More pow'rful o'er the hungry Stomach

Than nightly Charm the Witches do make?

Then eastern Tal'sman or strange Scrawls

On the learn'd Fortune-teller's Walls!

He took and eat—Lord bless my Eyes!

And fell her slavish Sacrifice.

And now, whene'er he wants a Supper,

She waves her pow'rful 'Bacco-stopper,

And he, aloft; a screech Owl, screams!

Or gets into his tantrum Dreams;

Fancies himself an Eagle there,

And raises Castles in the Air;

Or else, into a Weazel Pent,

He serves the Goddess's intent.

Or else, in an old Woman seen,

Sweeps Rubbish for a Magazine.

Cracks Nuts that have been crack'd before,

Or, toothless, mumbles Grace twice o'er.

Next him, who next in Point of Knowledge is,

Brought up in one of Oxon's Colleges,

For whom, on Isis' Banks the Strumpet

Fame founded Student thro' her Trumpet,

Now turn'd into a Jack-daw chatters.

Or in the Jakes of Genius spatters;

Or, drest in Female Petticoat,

Helps Fame to sound a louder Note;

While the wise screech Owl, in Chimaera,

Builds mighty Castles; bought too dear, Ah!

For here no Ground-Rent is requir'd,

Nor Carvers Work to be admir'd,

Nor Glow the Brick-kilns piping hot,

To bake the Clay trod under foot:

And yet by this his Dinner's got.

Next Dullness' third and fav'rite Son,

Frigidio, bids the Verse go on.

Frigidio fam'd, whose great Renown

Fame loudly, farts about the Town.

See, down i' th' Mouth, with Brow contracted,

With Head-ach and the Hip-distracted,

He sits i' th' Dumps; so ruminating

As thoughtless Cows do when they're eating.

For ah! and oh! in filthy Breeches,

An Egg; fresh laid, his Bum bewitches.

For what, O heav'nly Muse! pray tell,

This shitten Curse her Child befell.

So luck would have't, in evil Hour,

Smack'em, a wicked Son of a Whore,

Enter'd the darksome Cave, and told 'em,

He'd make the House too hot to hold 'em.

Roar'd, curst and swore, and play'd the Devil,

Still threatn'ing some approaching Evil.

Just then Frigidio's Blood ran cold,

And down his Guts loud Grumbles roll'd,

That some descending Evil spoke,

Which now (but who can help ill Luck!)

He runs t'avoid. But ah! undone!

He finds the Close-stool Refuge gone.

Amid the Fire behold it blazing,

To Cinders burnt. Ah! most amazing!

Now all his Fears behind burst out,

And he besmear'd, stinks all about:

As when Tom Turdman, on his Cart,

Poisons the Night with filthy Art;

At first we find the spicy Scent

Perfumes the Nostrils violent;

Till the Air cleansing by Degrees,

The gently dying Stink decays.

Thou Type of Curl! O fam'd Carnan!

Be thou the Safeguard of the Pan,

If any future Force attempt it;

And when 'tis full, take care to empt it,

Or dip thy Fingers in the Flood,

And paint and gild with native Mud.

Until thy rubrick Post, so fine,

Shall like a shitten Barn-door shine.

But hark! what Noise is this I hear?

What else remains that's Worth my Care?

A Crowd of Scribblers yon, in Limbo,

Like Oyster Nymphs, with Arms a-kimbo,

Lunge with sharp-pointed Pens, as cruel

As pale-fac'd Beaux do in a Duel.

Those chiefly who of late, notorious

Knock'd under Smack'em's Arm inglorious,

Dunciadus, Entity, whose Name is

So universal, and so famous

Thou Crocodile by Name and Nature,

The greatest, and thou Woodville greater.

But who the Duce! marry and Amen!

Our Eastern venerable Bramin!

Old Father grey Beard's whiten'd Locks

'Mong Students, Disputants, and Cooks.

Muse shut the Scene▪ and drop the Curtain,

Or, even, I shall sleep for certain.

Now is that mighty Work compleat,

That should, on Brass, be 'graven neat

Or printed on the Royal Sheet:

Where lasting Worth shall be admir'd

Till Masters are with Flogging tir'd,

Then let no snarling Critic dream

A Trump'ry-Ballad is my Theme,

Or call (because they think they're wife)

This Fustian; me, a Fustianizer;

But if a Love for modern Verse

Deserve th' unluky Play'rs Curse;

Or to be laugh'd at be its Merit.

Laugh and be pox'd, for I can bear it.

Notes

*
The Reader will no doubt much approve this Design of Printing the Interpretation to this Work, for the Sake of the Herd of Readers, who are void of a Taste for the Sublime, tho' it was for a much greater End, which our celebrated Author intended it, and this was the extensive Utility it would be of in our Academies, and in particular to the Students of our two Universities; as she was very sensible this Work would be, as now being published it is, esteem'd Classical; and as such be put on the same sooting with Hemer, Virgil, Ovid, &c. and be taught as a Pattern of Language in all the distinguish'd Schools in Europe. Martina Scribelinda Macularia.
↵

Information about this book

Title statement

The so much talk'd of and expected old woman's Dunciad: Or, midwife's master-piece ... By Mary Midnight. With historical, critical, and explanatory notes, by Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

Kenrick, W. (William), 1725?-1779.

Publication

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University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4357

ID [isbn10]

1106013565

ID [isbn13]

9781106013569

ID [TCP]

K051255.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310298329

ID [ECLL]

0170903700

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— The so much talk'd of and expected old woman's Dunciad: Or, midwife's master-piece ... By Mary Midnight. With historical, critical, and explanatory notes, by Margelina Scribelinda Macularia., Kenrick, W. (William), 1725?-1779.. [2],28p. ; 4⁰. London :: printed for Theo. Carnan, and sold by F. Stamper; J. Robinson; R. Wilson; and at all the pamphlet-shop,. 1751.. [Mary Midnight = William Kenrick.] ['Theo. Carnan' is a false imprint (see line 150, footnote, of poem).] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT58326.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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