CELEBRATED DUTCHESS.

MADAM,

I am rather apprehensive that you will rank me among the Impertinents of the Age, in giving a performance which treats professedly of the Triumphs of Folly, the Sanction of Your Grace. But tho', in the too great quickness of apprehension, this may be the case; I have not the least doubt[Pg ii] but, in some succeeding moments of coolness and candour, you will accompany me through this Address; and not suffer a condemning spirit to pass a final sentence upon me, without giving some little attention to my justification.

I need not tell Your Grace, that, in former times, every Family of Distinction was considered as incomplete in its establishment, if it did not possess a certain whimsical Character called a Fool; who was either to afford amusement to his witty Master by the real singularity of his Humour,—or to act as a foil to his foolish Lord by well-timed displays of affected Folly.—These appendages to Greatness have long been laid aside.—Indeed, the present Age, which is remarkable for its refinements, has, in the general methods of forming the Great, blended the two Characters;—and it does not seldom happen, as Your Grace very well knows, that a Modern Man of Fashion serves his Company both as their Host and their Buffoon. I cannot therefore, in justice, be considered as guilty of any impropriety in addressing this work to Your Grace, as it relates to a Personage, who has heretofore possessed, as it were, a domestic union with the Great, by furnishing, from among her Children, the chief Wits of their noble Houses.

Tho' it has changed its appearance, the connection has not ceased to subsist; and Folly, though she extends her influence over all ranks and professions, still seems more particularly attached to the higher Orders of Life.

Folly loves the Toilette of a Woman of Fashion!—It is her Altar.—The enormity of its expences,—the frivolousness, to say no worse, of its conversation,—and the time which is lost in attending its duties, are so many offerings to her honour. The love of display is inherent in her nature:—every place of[Pg iii] public amusement is, more or less, her delight;—but an Opera is her favourite entertainment.—There, she not only presides, but triumphs.—There, Sense, Taste, and Reason, lie beneath her Feet.

As she is now become your intimate companion, I will not mortify Your Grace with the history of her origin, and an account of her genealogy, which I am sure would greatly distress you. Believe me, Madam, I should be sorry to give you a moment's mortification. My sincere desire is to do you good, by warning you of the danger which awaits such a disgraceful connection.

At your time of life it is not wholly unnatural that you should find something pleasant in the frolic gaiety of your Friend; and the Flatterers, who are alike under her influence, may find something graceful in the manners which she might communicate to you: but in the Mirror of Wisdom, the highest beauties of Folly appear but as foul deformities; and she is there seen in her natural appearance, attended by Vice, Contempt, and Misery.

The Prosperity of Fools, says the Wise Man, shall destroy them. The influence of Folly is more dangerous, as the station it possesses is more exalted; and as the means of doing good are more enlarged among the Rich and Great, that time is the more to be lamented which they consume in frivolous pursuits and empty pleasures.

Without intruding upon your recollection the more awful obligations attendant upon your station in the world, you will forgive me if I just hint to Your Grace that Society has claims upon you, which you cannot refuse but with dishonour to yourself, and the contempt of those who possess the right which you refuse to grant; a contempt which they will not fail to bestow.[Pg iv]

Give then to Society what it requires—a great and noble example of female excellence.—Discard your present Associate;—cultivate the more solid Graces;—exalt your character by the dignity of Virtue;—and let continual actions of Benevolence and Generosity mark those hours which are passing hastily away, and will never return.

Should Your Grace honour the following Poem, if it may deserve that name, with a perusal, you will, perhaps, consider me as a visionary Character.—Be that as it may,—I am quite awake to your Honour and Interest in the Counsels I have given you; and if your Grace should adopt them, you will awake also.—The Visions of Folly will vanish away;—and your eyes will open on the real prospect of wise and honourable days.

I am, Madam, with all due respect, Your Grace's most sincere Friend, And humble Servant, * * * * *.

[Pg 1]

THE

FIRST OF APRIL.

FINIS.

This Day was published, Price Two Shillings and Sixpence, A NEW EDITION, WITH LARGE ADDITIONS, OF THE DIABOLIAD.

Printed for G. Kearsly, No. 46, Fleet-Street.

FOOTNOTES:

[a] [His S——r's Fate.]—If the Reader should think I have strayed beyond the line of propriety in introducing a Family so profitably employed as this, into the Temple of Folly,—I shall beg leave to refer him to a sacred Book which this Family pretend to read with great care and attention; wherein he will perceive that the wisdom of this world, with which this Family so much abounds, is accounted foolishness.—Tho', if he should object to Scripture authority, he will find, in the laugh and contempt of Mankind, the real folly of those who, in the midst of affluence, by the most bare-fac'd and indelicate proceedings, obtain and continue to grasp at every means of domestic emolument.

[b] [And the flow L——.]—I do not allude to this noble person's capacity,—but to his great and well-known Indispositions to this Connection.

[c] [to break through every golden-rule.] This woman, as an example of the good effects of a prudential and parsimonious education, the moment she was let loose, run into the extreme of Folly and expensive Fashions.—It has been said of one of her sisters, that she never spoke before her marriage, and was never silent afterwards.—This is the true art of managing Daughters—To prevent a discovery of their real dispositions 'till the end of the hypocrisy is answer'd,—and the Settlement for Life irrevocable.

[d] [And Oaths by which he swore.] At the last General Election, it was consider'd as a certain road to success by the Patriotic Candidates for the Senatorial Dignity, to propose and take oaths to support certain wise measures, and to endeavour at the Repeal of certain dangerous Laws. This person was among the outrageous Partisans of Opposition, who, at that time, look the propos'd oaths with great noise and clamour in various parts of the Kingdom: But his success was not then equal to that which he has since found, without any public engagements, beneath the smile of Ministerial favour.—But I do not mean, indeed I have no right to express myself with severity at this change of Party;—I will not add Sentiments;—for they are in the secret recesses of his own breast.—Nor shall I endeavour, at present, to develope the turnings and windings of that course which many of our Modern Patriots have taken.—These things will, in due time, explain themselves.—The Right Honourable Captain fought and found an empty Renown among the Frozen Seas of the North.—Some more substantial

Honours seem to await him here.—I do not despair of seeing him a Lord of the Admiralty.—The Noble Relation to whom he owes the rudiments of naval wisdom, may also have communicated to him that subtle Spirit, which, in spite of Private Connections, Family Dissentions, Public Engagements, and Ministerial Confusion, looks alone to, and will maintain its own Interests.

[e] [th' expected Dower.]—The Anecdote to which this relates is known to every one.—It contains the picture of a sordid Man in the extreme, who was capable of seeking for emolument in the Injustice of a Parent to his Children;—and, being repulsed in this hope, made the basest resolutions, but possess'd not sufficient courage to put them in execution.—And his reward is Disappointment for Life.

It is very extraordinary,—but the polite Clubs and Circles were alive at this event.—What then must that Man be, whose Miseries furnish delight to his Fellow-Creatures!—But when a money-loving spirit alone leads a man to the Altar,—the World will rejoice if a cowardly spirit should drive him thither.

[f] [th' omitted Legacy.] About three or four months ago, the following Paragraph, or something like it, appear'd in the Morning Papers.—"Yesterday Lord ——, who had been called into the country by the sudden Illness of a noble Lady not twenty miles from Windsor, return'd to Town with an account of her Death and his Disappointment, to an anxious Family in Lower Grosvenor Street."—This Article of Intelligence would, probably, have been unnotic'd by me, had not a Person without any previous notice, exclaim'd aloud in a Coffee-House where I happened to be,—I am glad of it, by G——d.—Upon being ask'd by some of the Company, what might occasion such a joyful Asseveration,—he read the above paragraph,—and the whole room express'd an almost equal satisfaction.

[g] [Then Folly titter'd.] Mankind, who are accustomed to have their attention awaken'd to acts of daring Vice, or pre-eminent Virtue, may think the mean, base, cowardly, hypocritical Character not sufficiently interesting to claim their particular notice;—and that the exposing to the general knowledge of the World, those miserable, sneaking qualities which have not courage to rise into general notice, and are too mean to be long the topics of any conversion, is drawing aside the veil where it ought to be covered with thicker folds.—But when the mean Character, conscious of the universal contempt of those in his own rank, endeavours, by occasional smiles, and a silky demeanour, to acquire some degree of respect from the subordinate stations, his hopes, surely, ought to be dash'd;—and he deserves well of Society and of Virtue who performs the office.—Tho', I believe, in the Character before me, the gentle semblance of Virtue will not pass current with those who possess the least suspicion, or the most ordinary penetration.—But more of this hereafter.