CHAPTER XI.
Inthe evening, the party repaired to the Steyne, which they found almost covered with company, met to enjoy the cool sea-breeze, by the clear rays of a harvest moon, to display themselves, criticise others, and various purposes, according to their age, condition, circumstances, or inclination. Here were lords and baronets, squires and merchants, soldiers and sailors, physicians and counsellors, and dignitaries; here were apothecaries, attorneys, and curates; here were tradesmen and mechanics, and shopmen and journeymen; all with their respective fair, from the duke to the barber, the duchess to the sempstress, all on a footing of equality,under the general denomination of gentlemen and ladies. Here if a fastidious grandee might feel indignant at being elbowed or jostled by a shoemaker or taylor, the liberal and enlightened patriot would rejoice in the consideration, that these were all effects of a free and equitable constitution, which assures to the industrious and skilful the fruits of their labour, enables them to compensate the toils of their arduous exertions by occasional relaxation, and braces their bodies and invigorates their minds for future efforts beneficial to themselves and the public. But a grandee is not the person most likely to feel or express displeasure at this temporary intermixture of ranks; those are often the aptest to stand upon points of precedence and dignity, who really have none to support. An earl may with safety venture to walk from the Pavillion to Fisher’swith his taylor, without any apprehension of being supposed the equal of that taylor; but if a retired soap-boiler or oilman were to allow Mr. Snip the same liberty, the case would be very different; they might be presumed to be companions of the said taylor; which would derogate from their supposed dignity, and would be more heinously offensive to their respective wives. Jealousy is most commonly the result of conscious deficiency; thence those are the most apprehensive of contamination from persons whom they regard aslow, who are really in their situation or sentiments the most low themselves. This was the view in which the Hamiltons, Wentbridges, and Mortimers, regarded the present amalgamation. They beheld honest vulgarity of manners as an object of sportive humour, when mingled with affectation, but reserved contemptfor meanness of conduct. Having enjoyed themselves for an hour in this promenade, they retired into the library, where, after having reconnoitred their fellow-visitors, and recollected various faces they had seen on the Steyne, Mrs. Hamilton was joined by two ladies, whom she recognized as neighbours, with whom she had a slight acquaintance. These were Mrs. Pompous, who had formerly kept a boarding-school near Mile-End, and her daughter, miss, now an unwilling votary of the goddess Diana, and who had received, unasked, the boon prayed for by Daphne, and would not, like that famed nymph, have fled, even if the suitor had not been an Apollo. Mrs. Pompous had, after her retirement from tuition, betaken herself to Southampton Buildings, that she might be near her brother, a topping hosier by the top of Shoe Lane. Theseladies declared themselves very much dissatisfied with Brighton, because there was so manylowpeople there. “Them,” observed the veteran teacher, “are kind of creatures that one wishes topurtectorsarve, but not to meet cheeck by jowl, when one comes to elegant society. Wilhelmina and I were quite asheamed just now to meet Miss Furbelow, the mantuamaker, who, though she knows our condition in life, had the folly to come up and speak to us as frankly and freely as if she had been our own equals.” “I do not think, mamma,” said miss, “that it was intentional presumption in the girl, but rather the thoughtless ignorance of what is due to the diversity of ranks in social life. You will observe, Mrs. Hamilton,” continued miss in the true imperative tone of preceptorial habit, “that there are different orders, situations, and professions inevery well constituted society.” “A very just observation,” said our hero. Thus encouraged, she went on: “Now, I do think, that such diversity of condition should be attended to, either at private parties, or at public places; for instance, it might happen that Miss Furbelow, (proceeded Miss Pompous,) and any of us might meet in a party, one would behave civilly, and even with affability and condescension to such a person; but then, she ought to know her distance.” Here Captain Mortimer inquired how this Miss Furbelow conducted herself in company? The answer came from Mrs. Hamilton, “Very properly and genteelly.” “Is she the servant or dependent of the persons with whom she happens to associate?” “Neither.” “Then I cannot see,” said the captain, “why she is to receive affability or condescension from those with whom she is on a footing ofperfect equality.” Miss, accustomed to have her dictates received as oracular truths, was much displeased with this contradiction, and answered, with angry solemnity, “that these were antediluvian notions, fit for the time of Queen Bess, not for the present.” The captain assured her, “that with regard to Queen Bess, as she called her, she was totally mistaken, both in fact and history; that degradation of useful professions befitted the remains of feudal ideas of those times much better than the enlightened wisdom of the present ages.” Miss retorted, “that he was totally wrong, and knew nothing of history when he talked so.” The captain, though acute, intelligent, and liberal, had not that perfectly fashionable polish which can completely command and disguise passions: he answered the last observation contemptuously, but desisted from farther contest. A personcoming up, heartily shook our hero by the hand, and expressed his joy at seeing him. This was a little man, seemingly about thirty, five feet and an inch in height, tolerably well proportioned, so as in person to be an abridged edition of a man, but with a countenance grave and solemn. Without relaxing the serious turn of his features, he said to Hamilton, “I am so happy to meet you, we shall have such food for remark and observation.” “Ah! my friend Scribble,” said Hamilton, “I had no expectations of meeting you in this place; we shall have such criticism and satire, now that you are here: but come, Dicky, go home and sup with us, and give some account of yourself.” He accordingly introduced him to his mother, and the other party in general, but more particularly to his friend John Mortimer. After they had reached theirhouse, taking John and Scribble into a back-parlour, he very gravely presented Mortimer to Dicky; “This is Mr. Mortimer, a young friend of mine, of abilities and literature, that will be very happy to avail himself of an opportunity of being known to a gentleman of Mr. Scribble’s immense, valuable, and diversified stores.” Scribble kindly answered, “he should be extremely happy by his communications to benefit the gentleman. Are you, sir, engaged in any work? because, if you are, whatever the subject may be, I shall lay you down the rules of composition.” Mortimer thanked him, but assured him, that, for the present, he had no such production in contemplation. Being now summoned to supper, Mr. Scribble, conceiving it incumbent on him to be spokesman of the company, opened upon sea-bathing, and professing a profoundknowledge of the animal system, in a preaching tone, expatiated on its process in the invigoration of the nerves. Coming from operation to result and effects, he very learnedly summed up the narratives and arguments of his harangue: “The salt-water contributes at once to purification, and to tension, and also to elasticity; the votaries of bathing have in every movement a pleasing bound, and an efficacious vigour. Every act of the animal œconomy in which they may be engaged is performed more completely and satisfactorily. All these I could illustrate to demonstration, but a few may suffice.” Mrs. Hamilton, not knowing what the nature of the elucidation might be, proposed to suspend the subject for the present, and a more general conversation was introduced, which lasted till the party separated. Next morning Scribble, afterbathing, met Hamilton on the west cliff; Mortimer soon after joining them, they took a walk along the cliff, when Hamilton praised the infinite treasures of knowledge, human and divine, that Scribble possessed: “Come, now Dicky, astonish Mortimer here, by a frank account of your studies.” “A detail,” replied Dick, “would be tedious; but since you insist upon it, I will give you a short sketch of what I have read, or treated in publications, or, in short, what I know.” “What you know and can write upon,” said Hamilton; “to speak generally and concisely, every thing; nothing comes wrong to Dicky.” “That is too much,” said Scribble, vouchsafing a smile; “but I certainly have considered and discussed a good many subjects; physics andmetaphysics, history and poetry, criticism and compilation, divinity and morality, legislation andpolitical œconomy, the law of nature and of nations, agriculture, manufactures, commerce, and finance, botany, chymistry, mineralogy, electricity, geology, geography, nosology, and medicine, have all exercised my pen.” Mortimer uttering interjections, expressing his admiration and surprize, Scribble, farther to transport his wonder, went on: “Though neither a physician, nor a surgeon, I am more deeply skilled in midwifery than any professed practitioner of the obstetric art. Though not called to the bar, I know better than Erskine how counsellors ought to plead. Though no clergyman, I know how men of that profession ought to preach.” “Mr. Scribble’s extraordinary merit,” said Hamilton, “is the cause of no less extraordinary envy. Nothing that he brings out has the reception which transcendent merit and abilities deserve.The malignancy of critics abuses his works, and the public most foolishly and unfortunately countenances all his detractors.” “So they do,” said Scribble, “they are all in a confederacy againstme.” “The public,” observed Hamilton, “has acted extremely ungratefully to my friend here. If you were to collect all that his indefatigable activity has written, you would find it more than the labours of some of our ancient divines. Nay, I really do not believe, that Saint Cyril himself wrote more against the Nestorian heresy, though he contributed seven folio volumes to orthodoxy, than Mr. Scribble’s reservoir of erudition has done to attack heretics in literature, who, as he observes, abound so much in the present day; and,” continued our hero, “it is not on one subject, but on all that he writes; my friend here is not more meritorious forhis genius than his courage. There’s no subject but Dicky will venture upon; I am convinced, if it were proposed to him, he would undertake to make out the longitude, or to solve all the hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt.” “But for all this,” said Scribble, “I am subject to the grossest defamation.” “Do you know,” said Hamilton, “what the impudent fellows say of poor Scribble?” “I cannot conceive,” replied Mortimer, “what is even possible to be said against such genius and erudition.” “Oh! the invention of malice will say any thing.” “Why, what do they say?” said Dick, somewhat irritated. “Insolent scoundrels,” said Hamilton; “Well, I will tell you, Scribble, that we may have a laugh at their folly.” “Ay, do,” said the other. “Why, it was only t’other evening I called at the club, and the conversation turned uponthe merits of my friend Dicky Scribble here: I said nothing: but one said, ‘he’s a special fellow; he’s a good raker; he has industry; and has got together some scraps on a great variety of subjects: he is superficial in all:’ here, I thought it incumbent on me to take your part; ‘I certainly (said I) think Mr. Scribble a man of extraordinary genius.’ Strongbrain was there; he looked in my face, and laughed. ‘Hamilton, you do not think him a man of extraordinary genius.’ Angry as I was at being so contradicted, I could not help laughing also.” “Laughing,” said Scribble angrily; “you, as my friend, should have knocked him down.” “By the lord, I must have then knocked down all the meeting, for they all agreed with him.” “Hamilton, you over-rate that Strongbrain;Ithink very little of him,Imust say, you yourself require a good dealof care to form your judgment, Now you think highly of Robertson and Hume, and such men as those, you are quite led by prevailing opinion; that is always the way with men of no great reach of abilities; whereas men of real talents differ in their opinion from every body else.” Hamilton not recollecting he was the aggressor, and that this remark was provoked by his satirical report, was so far irritated, as to proceed in humbling poor Scribble’s arrogance. “Yes,” said our hero, “one instance of that kind of extraordinary genius is John Dennis, who, when all the world allowed praise to Addison and Pope, endeavoured to prove that neither of them possessed any genius. Zoilus too was another extraordinary personage, who endeavoured to prove that Homer was no poet.” “All that,” said Scribble, “is mere common-place: I tell you, thatpersons now looked up to for literature and ability, are admired without reason, and I can surpass them all myself; and will surpass them all too.” “Come, come,” said Hamilton, “don’t be angry now, I was only telling you what I heard; but we shall not touch any more onyour genius and learning;it is a tender point: I know your works excel most of the age; and I dare say, every body else thinks so too, only they say the contrary to vex you.” Easily persuaded, that others thought as highly of him as he did of himself, Scribble swallowed these declarations, and soon after departed to attend an appointment. “Who is this?” said Mortimer. “Scribble,” answered his friend, “is one of that numerous class who, without genius or philosophy, set up in the trade of authorship. He is, however, much better qualified than many of the fraternity;he has received a classical education, is master of arts, has been bred to the English bar, but, finding he could get no employment, harangues against all the counsellors who receive briefs, especially Erskine, Gibbs, and Garrow; although he has not laid the foundation of erudition in either physical or moral sciences, he has raked together a great quantity of detached and miscellaneous facts, and as he has formed a decent, though stiff and pedantic style, he can write common-place observations on most subjects that occur; and while he confines himself to skimming the surface, he does well enough, and is very useful drudge in any periodical publication;but that won’t serve the fellow, he must write books forsooth. His parts are middling, buthis head has got a wrong twist, common sense presides not in his brain. Dicky wouldshine! To a manthat seeks literary distinctions, without great powers and acquirements, an obvious tract issingularity. Scribble is a great controverter of established opinions: He does not gainsay them by any ingenuity of hypothesis, but by simple contradiction. He is also a great exclaimer against established, or rising characters, especially in literature; that springs, partly from envy, but chiefly from vanity and self-conceit, or rather from an envy proceeding from vanity and self-conceit.” “What kind of books does he write?” said Mr. Mortimer, “I never heard of his name.”—“He is not eminent, but still he is noted.”—“But his books,” rejoined Mr. Mortimer, “what are they? scissars and paste, I suppose.”—“No; that they ought to be: scissars and paste is the resource of book-manufacturers, without invention or wisdom; butScribble tries originals, and often spends more time and pains in speaking, (for he is a great coffee-house declaimer,) or in writing paradoxical nonsense, than might by compilation furnish a good-looking fair book for his worthy friend Billy Nincompoop.” “Who the devil is Billy Nincompoop?”—“An undertaker-general in the book-manufactory line. I shall give you some account of him another time: all I can now say is, that he has more journeymen at work than any mailer-manufacturer either at Birmingham or Manchester, and a great deal of work they do, and often very dirty work it is. Billy keeps a very sooty forge.”
The youths now returned to breakfast; soon after they accompanied the ladies to the Steyne, and the sun being very warm, they retired into the library, where they found a tall corpulent divine, with his bib and apron,and a large bushy wig, expounding the operations of the Austrians upon the Danube, and describing, as well as he could, the siege of Belgrade; the Emperor Joseph, he instructed the company, was a profound politician, and a consummate general: he was also, he firmly believed, a zealous friend to the protestant religion; witness his efforts for suppressing monasteries, and other repositories of popery.—Captain Mortimer said, “he could not perceive much of his wisdom there; his innovations were rash and precipitate, and appeared to be more for the sake of plunder than conversion; that the effect was revolt among his most industrious and flourishing subjects.” “They are insolent and audacious,” repeated the dignitary, in a pompous and sonorous tone, which with many served to fill up the chasm of argument; “subjects oughtnot to question the will of their rulers. A prince is responsible for his conduct only to that being from whom he derives his power,” “Pretty doctrine that in a free country,” (said the captain, somewhat iritated by the dictatorial manner of the self-sufficient priest,) “God forbid it should ever prevail in Britain. But Britain out of the question, it is totally erroneous in its application to the people of the Netherlands, whose first executive magistrate, Joseph, was on specified terms. Joseph has broken the conditions, therefore his subjects have a right to be off the bargain.” “That is an irreverend and seditious way of speaking.” “Irreverend and seditious,” said the captain, “who are you that dare use such language to a gentleman, merely because he won’t take your solemn sounding nonsense, for sense and argument.” Hamilton seeing the choler of his navalfriend, found means, by sliding into the conversation, to soften matters; and though no friend to public argumentation, yet, desirous of gratifying Maria’s uncle, he took a comprehensive survey of the conduct of Joseph, proved him to be the mere creature of imitation, who totally misunderstood his models: that to follow Frederick in the fashion of the times, he was an infidel; but contrary to the wise caution of his Prussian neighbour, manifested his infidelity in practical policy, and wished to destroy ecclesiastical establishments, the best preservers of civil and social order. In his present war with Turkey, he was the mere tool of Catherine, and was exhausting the resources of his country, to promote projects totally useless to his own dominions, and merely instrumental to the ambition of the Empress. But if the war had been wise in its origin, itwas feeble and inefficient in its execution. “In short,” said Hamilton, “in the internal administration that drove subjects to revolt, and in the external policy that engaged without provocation in a war to aggrandize another, I should think there are strong objections to Joseph as a consummate politician; and in the military conduct of four disciplined armies, repulsed by an undisciplined militia of barbarians that were enabled to invade and lay waste their fertile provinces, and alarm their capital, there are objections to the character of Joseph as a consummate general. But these, I dare say, the knowledge and ratiocinative powers of the reverend gentleman will, no doubt, satisfactorily solve.” The doctor, who both in the pulpit and out of it, had been accustomed to preach, but not to hear or to reason, did not think proper to reply tothis answer, but strutted out of the library. Not so Dicky Scribble, who had some time before joined the party, and eagerly listened in hopes of an argument which might display his logic and his eloquence, and co-operate with a paragraph that was to appear in a London morning paper that would reach Brighton that evening, announcing among the arrivals Richard Scribble, Esq. the celebrated author. With these views and expectations he accosted our hero. “Mr. Hamilton, hem, I have heard with great pleasure, hem, your very ingenious argument, and I am not surprised that your eloquence overwhelmed an ordinary hearer, hem, but bestowing every praise on the brilliancy of your remarks, you will give me leave to question their logical force, hem. I will undertake to prove that the Emperor Joseph is a very wise man, hem.” “Iknow you will, my good friend,undertaketo prove that or any thing else, but respite your wisdom and erudition for the present, we are going to the parade. You that are a man of taste and refinement are friendly to gallantry and a polite attention to the ladies.” “Undoubtedly,” said Scribble, and to give a practical proof of his elegant address, on which he very much plumed himself, he made his best bow to Miss Mortimer, begged he might have the honour of her company, and while she was humming the South Downs, in unison with the band, he entertained her, or at least himself, with a dissertation on the different modes in which different nations, in ancient and modern times, treated women. Captain Mortimer at this time was praising and thanking our hero for his powerful assistance against the parson; but however he said, “it was not difficult,it was a first rate, full rigged, against a hulk; but this little cock-boat, Dicky, as you call him, to be sure he makes a great noise, but it is like the guns on a rejoicing day, all powder and no ball.” Having contemplated the military evolutions, after the corps were dismissed, they were joined by an officer with whom John Mortimer was acquainted. This gentleman was presently accosted by one of the soldiers of the light infantry corps, who requested leave of absence from the evening parade. His commander questioned him about his business, not approving of the excursions of soldiers in the dusk; but to the surprise of himself and the rest of his company, was answered that his engagement wasto preach the gospel. The captain at the intercession of the party, permitted the desired absence for a pastime not very usual among soldiers.Mr. Scribble would have opened an argument to prove that such preachers might do more harm than good, but found no one disposed either to refute his reasonings, or listen to his wisdom. The party being engaged to dine with the Mortimers, Mr. Scribble was asked. The fish consisted of turbot and foals. Here Dicky had, or at least took, an opportunity of holding forth upon ichthyology, which learned term, he in deference to the ladies, explained, and endeavoured to account for the scarcity of cod, haddocks, &c. on the coast of Sussex. He informed the company that he thought very little of Buffon’s Natural History, and that he had thoughts of writing on the subject himself, to detect and expose the other, and to remedy his defects. “It is a pleasing and instructive subject, but has never been hitherto properly treated, that is one of thedesideratain literature, which I am afraid it will be reserved for myself to fill.” “There are so many chasms,” said Hamilton, “which your benevolence proposes to supply, that I am apprehensive you will hardly be able to bear the laborious task.” “Oh! I have a very strong mind. One work much wanting is a history of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire. You, sir,” appealing to Dr. Wentbridge, “will admit that Gibbon’s religion is not of the best.” “Most readily,” replied the doctor. “In his views and arrangement,” rejoined Dicky “I will demonstrate that he is extremely defective, that he is narrow, uncomprehensive, and confused.” “The eviction of such a proposition, would convey a new truth to my mind,” said the doctor; “but so important a subject requires a written treatise.” “That I intend.” “Have you written any thing historical, sir?” “O, yes,from authentic records and documents that I found in an old chest near Glastonbury-abbey, I composed in seven volumes, quarto, a true, and impartial, history of Jack the Giant-killer, including cotemporary heroes. I have the satisfaction to say before this good company, that more profound views of human nature are no where to be found, but envy, that corrosive passion, blasted the tree at its birth, else it would have been a goodly child, which in its mature vigour, would have reflected honour on its happy and delighted parent. How do you like my figure?” “Very much,” said Hamilton, “it is very fine, and for mixture, Burke himself mixes.” “Perhaps you mean that as a compliment, my good friend,” said Scribble, who during dinner had drank wine with every individual in the company, and afterwards had not been sparing,“but I do not think very highly of him. On any subject that he has undertaken, I will undertake to write better. Name the subject, it is all one to Scribble. I have in agitation a new theory on the sublime and beautiful, which will astonish the world. Longinus, Addison, Burke, Gerrard, Hutchinson, Hogarth, psha, they do very well to pass on superficial people, but I believe I must take the subject in hand myself.” “How do you like the eloquence of Mr. Fox,” said Dr. Wentbridge. “Why, tolerably well his speaking, eloquence you cannot call it. Fox is a good sensible man enough, but no orator.” “What is an orator,” said Dr. Wentbridge. “What is an orator,” replied our sage, “ask your nephew there. Hamilton, you remember my speech at the forum.” Mr. Pitt being now proposed as a toast, Scribble having first filled and drunk abumper, half shut his eyes, curled up his nose, looked contemptuous and great. “I think nothing of Pitt’s ability, a superficial young man. If I had been prime minister, now you would have seen the country in a very different situation; men of letters and wisdom should have been the sole governors. I should not have employed a copying clerk in an office, unless he could speak Greek; moreover, unless he was conversant in metaphysical, physical, and moral erudition and science. Not a letter should have been written of which a Cicero could be ashamed. The epistles upon plain business should have been attuned to Cicero in harmony, and swelled to Cicero in magnificence. How do you like my phraseology, is it not worthy of the subject?” “Highly,” said the doctor, “but as to the matter of fact, Cicero’s letters upon business have neitherthe tone, nor the swell that you mention, they are clear and plain narratives, with apposite observations, and strong reasoning, expressed in language simple and energetic, but totally unadorned.” “I know,” said Scribble, rather shortly, “what Cicero’s letters are.” Wentbridge not deigning to enter into a contest with this gentleman, the subject dropped. Besides himself, Mr. Scribble had one admirer in the company, this was Mr. Roger O’Rourke, who regarded him as a phenomenon of wisdom and learning, pledged his bumpers, and as they adjourned to tea, took occasion to pay him a compliment, and ask his advice. “By Jasus, Mr. Scribble, you are the cleverest fellow I ever see in my life, unless it was Counsellor Magpie at Dundalk assizes, when I was tried for horse——Imanewhen I was a witness for horse-stealing; but he did botherthem all so, by Jasus he got it all his own way, and proved an allby, and that made us all snug: Imanemade the prisoners snug. I after that took to the dancing line, and then to the Gospel; but my father-in-law, and my friend Mr. Hamilton here would have me give up the preaching, because it led me to bad courses, and to be sure, to confess the truth honestly, a methodist preacher has such temptations among the dear cratures, that flesh and blood cannot stand it. The saints are so warm and so loving, then there are so bewitching opportunities; there is the love feast, the holy kiss, and the spiritual communion in the dark; the evening meetings in theconventickles, andticklethey do sure enough. Even an Englishman with all his prudence, or a Scotchman with all his gravity, but much more, a poor boy from Ireland must give way. For when man and woman meet alone,Mr. Scribble, they are dangerous kind of combustibles: and then there is that faith without works gives such encouragement. Its all as one as if I was to live as I pleased at an ale-house, and tell the landlord I believe you to be a very good sort of a man. He, every time I ran up a score, would take a wet cloth and wash the chalk. By Jasus he would not want customers. Now, sir, as you appear to be a man of great sense, I wish to consult you on a point of conscience andsacrecy. You see, sir, to confess the truth, my wife, the large fat lady with the red hair, thatsetopposite to you, is none of the handsomest, and besides, as Louis XV. Emperor of Germany observed,toger perde[2], which it seems in their language is,too much of one thing is enough. What with the bathing and sea air, and the bracing and one thing or another, and looking at the sweet creaturesin the face, I have a great mind to take to the methodism again. I am sure I could be morepopulousthan that light infantry man. If you would speak a good word for me to young Mr. Hamilton, for he rules the roast with the old boy, just to let me have a small excursion while they stay at Brighton, I shall, as in duty bound, both in my sermons and out of them, praise your works.” Scribble having further conversation in the course of the evening with Mr. O’Rourke, concluded that with some training in orthography and grammar, he might be improved into a spiritual writer, for his friend Billy Nincompoop, who it seems would soon want a fresh hand in the divinity branch of the manufacture; and promised to take an early opportunity of further conversing with Mr. O’Rourke. They now adjourned to the meeting of the military saint, who borrowed thequaker rendezvous for that night. This preacher was deemed the best singer of martial songs in the whole regiment; upon the faith of that perfection he acted also as precentor. He got very well through the performance, bating that he once fell into the tune of “The top sail shivers in the wind,” and in endeavouring to get out of it, he got hold of “The black joke.” He however succeeded in pitching his voice for the next stave by humming the serious and melancholy ditty, “There came a ghost to Margaret’s door,” and got at last into a proper strain of psalmody. The discourse had nothing particular in it to distinguish it from any other methodist sermon, consisting merely of cant, mysticism, soft love imagery, melodious inanity, chequered with the terrible pictures of the punishment of unbelievers, when in possession of the devil. The sermon includeda very particular detail of roasting in hell-fire, which, next to the amorous parts, gave the highest satisfaction to the devotees. Towards the end of his discourse, he took occasion to compare Brighton to Sodom and Gomorrah, and exhorted them speedily to depart from such a scene of wickedness: he should lead them to the right way. The drum-major, who happened to be present, hearing this declaration, took it into his head that the preacher intended to desert, seized him as he was descending from a bench; but finding on examination that the orator had only been speaking by types and similitude, he suffered him to depart in peace. From the chapel, Mr. Scribble prevailed on the company, though it was late, to look in at the library, hastily proceeded to the reading table, and taking up the Humbug, call out, “How shameful it is in those news-writers, thata man of any eminence cannot move from one place to another, but they must make it public.” “What is the matter, Richard,” said Hamilton. “Read that paragraph.” We learn from Brighton that the celebrated Richard Scribble, Esq. delights and astonishes the frequenters of the rooms and libraries by the brilliancy of his wit, and the depth of his erudition. “It is astonishing how the Humbug could know that already,” said Hamilton, “last night was your first in the library, and however witty and wise you might appear, I cannot account for your fame reaching London in time for the morning press, but by enchantment.” Soon after the company parted for the evening.
The next day, a water excursion was proposed for Shoreham. On their way, their pilot poured out his maledictions against Mr. Pitt, for having so completelysuppressed smuggling, that as the waterman phrased it, there was now no opportunity forhonestindustry. Having arrived at this ancient borough, and viewed the rope-works and other curiosities, the conversation turned from the commercial state, to the political history of this noted repository of electors. Some of the company animadverting severely on the gross corruption of 1768, Mr. Scribble undertook to prove that corruption was necessary to the existence of executive government; but, he was interrupted in his dissertation, by notice from the watermen, that they must immediately return, or that they would lose the tide: they accordingly returned to Brighton. That Evening they spent at the Promenade Grove, where there was a great deal of company, and most fortunately, our hero’s party was joined by Mr. Chatter, the apothecary, intelligencergeneral of the place. Several ladies entered the room, one of whom was strikingly beautiful in her face; of a most expressive countenance; of a fine stature, and exquisite form; Hamilton being at some distance, his sister asked Mr. Chatter who that was? “The wife of a valiant soldier, pretty miss, who assisted Wolfe at Quebec; forced the city to surrender; became a viscount on the death of his father; a famous hand for wit and humour; was lord-lieutenant of Ireland; great favourite with the whole nation; did not call for coffee too soon after dinner; eldest son became an earl while he was viscount;—said a good thing upon that. His son regretting that he had a higher title than his father. I don’t care, George, which title you have, so long as you don’t get hold of mine; but the viscount is lately made a marquis. She is a charming woman—themarchioness,” said Miss Hamilton; “she is an excellent wife, mother, and mistress of a family, pretty miss, a pattern to her rank and sex. If all were to take example by her, Doctors’ Commons would starve; but I do not suppose you know any thing of them sort of things yet, miss.” Miss Mortimer now observed a lady of a fine shape, with a most fascinating countenance, and applying to Mr. Chatter, this communicative person very readily gave her information, prefaced with a hem, and the hem accompanied with a shrug of the shoulders, “that’s a lady of quality too, very different from the marchioness; she is the countess of a Cockatrice, evil tongues don’t stick to say;——but my lord is a good, easy man, not at all exceptious, and if he is pleased, nobody else has a right to be displeased. She has daughters grown up and married,—that is oneof them a little behind that lady with the rolling eye; she seems already to have a good modest assurance of her own too. O Lord, there is little Tommy Titmouse, the famous coachman.” “Poor Titmouse,” said Hamilton, “he is a good-natured little creature, and encourages the breed of horses; therefore, he is not so totally useless as one is apt to think.” “Observe,” said Mortimer, “that tall military figure; that is a nobleman, who unites the hero, the scholar, the statesman, the philanthrophist, and the finished gentleman,—such as English nobility ought to be. That also is a lord, who is speaking to him.” “What, he with the strong, black, bushy eyebrows?” said Miss Mortimer. “That,” said Hamilton, “is a man of as powerful a masculine understanding, as most that have ever sitten in the house of peers, or occupied the highest offices in thestate.” There now entered a slim, middle-sized gentleman-like man: evidently an old beau, wishing to appear young, who was immediately accosted by the fascinating countess above-mentioned, “and is Great Bayleaf come to enliven Brighton with his gaiety and gallantry.” His lordship, with the fashionable inattention of the manners of the time, made no direct answer; but, looking through a spyglass at Miss Mortimer;—“fine girl that, Cockatrice, is she one of us?” “Of us, no; one of the canaille I suppose; a fine fellow that; that squires her though;” “well enough for a trooper,” said the peer; “but perhaps, such are to your ladyship’s taste;” “and perhaps such girls may be to yours; but, take my word for it, such a youth would be much more to their’s.” “I admit the competency of your ladyship, to deliver judgment on the case, and sustain yourverdict; he shall be a fine fellow, since you will have it so. But, who are all here? Who of us.” “Of you,Peers of England—pillars of the State: there is, as you see there, the lord chancellor, and the lord chief justice Norland, to engage with your ladyship on constitutional law, and state politics. Lord Carolina to engage you on warfare and literature.—I saw two or three of the bishops here too; they will afford an opportunity of opening your stores on divinity.” “Aye, aye,” said Bayleaf, “what you say of learning and divinity reminds me of a piece of news I just heard. I find my Lord Cockatrice is turning author;” “What is he about to write?” “A commentary on the patience of Job.” “Well,” said Bayleaf, “your friend George Bonmots, who has been your partner in other concerns, seems to be letting you into a partnery of his wit;but, I much question whether your capital be sufficient.” “But your ladyship has not yet answered my question:—Who of our friends are at Brighton?” “Oh! abundance; there is my Lord Spindle, Viscount Ogle, Sir Billy Butterfly, Tommy Titmouse, the Lady Leerwell, the Dowager Dimple, the Countess of Cockdie, Lady Frances Faro, Sir John Jockey, and an old friend of your house, his new-married lady, and various others, whom I have not time now to recount.” During this dialogue, a plump, sturdy, rosy-cheeked person made up to Mr. Chatter, who received him with much heartiness. “Ah, my good friend, Kit Cotton, who thought of seeing you at Brighton?” “Being now less off business, and a gemman, I have come down a bit to see your doings.” “So you have left off business.”“Yes; I have retired into the country now, for the benefit of air and exercise. I bought a nice house by Kingsland turnpike, near the brickfield, within sight of the great cow-keeper’s yard. Charming prospect I have on the one side to Ballspond and Hoxton; on another, to Hackney fields, all the way over to the Cat and Shoulder of Mutton. We are just upon the road, and there is a power of coaches that passes us every day; so it is very pleasant to sit at the window and count them. I know to a minute when every stage coach should pass, for I was always pretty cute, andobsarveswhat is going forewood.” “But why are you in mourning; no family misfortune I hope?” “Oh yes, our Deborah have left me a widower; but, as the parson says, the will of Providence must be done. Daughter Peg now keeps house.It was she that made me come down here, for, says she, father, now you be come on in the world, and a gemman; it is right you should put yourself forwood among other great gentlefolks. I was agreeable, and proposed Margate; but Peg said, says she, Margate be well enough for the ribble rabble Canille, says she; but won’t do for those who havepretensionsto gentility, says she. Most of our old neighbours are gone there that I used to keep company with before I left off business; and my daughter Peg says they won’t do for people of condition. This is a good smartish place enough, not much worse than White Conduit House; but for one thing, is bad. I axed the waiter for somebaccar, he laughed, and told me, as how no smoking was allowed here.” Mr. Cotton being departed, Scribble was disposed to entertainthe party with a dissertation on the tendency of habit, to determine the sentiments and characters of men; but the commencement of a favourite song postponed his erudition.