CHAPTER XIII.
Thenext morning, Mr. O’Rourke again applied to Scribble, to interpose on his behalf for leave of absence. Hamilton, who really was somewhat ashamed of having such a figure in their parties, was not much averse to the proposition; he conversed on the subject with his uncle and cousin; the former of whom cared little about the preacher; the latter, though averse to his absence, yet afraid, that by being crossed, he might relax into his former practices, judged it most expedient to consent. Accordingly, he set off that very afternoon on the road to Lewes, and was, by appointment, joined by a female devotee, with whomhe had made acquaintance at Brighton, and who agreed to accompany him in his spiritual peregrination. This evening was spent at the theatre. Here, as usual, they were joined by Mr. Scribble, who, at the end of the first act, was very cordially accosted by a strange looking figure that entered the box. This was a tall thin man, with a pale countenance, goggling grey eyes, and a remarkably long nose. Scribble returned the address with great pleasure. “My dear friend, Mr. William Nincompoop, to what do I owe the unexpected happiness of seeing you so far from home? I thought you had spared no time for pleasure;†“I don’t spare time for pleasure now, I have come upon business,†whispered Nincompoop; “but come and sup with me at the tavern, and I will tell you all about it.†Scribble accepted this invitation, and when the play was finished,the bookseller and the author set off to Hicks’s. When they were seated, Nincompoop opened: “My valued friend, Scribble, I know I can depend on you in whatever you undertake, and on your recommendation and advice, as well as your services; I prefer you to any of my authors, for your readiness to undertake any thing. Let me see,†said he, “what you are all doing for me at present. First, there is biography, the history of Katerfelto and his black cat;†“yes, I reckon that one of the best things I ever wrote;†“the life of the noted Charles Price, hanged for forgery; the life and adventures of Hawke the highwayman, and of Macdonald the thief-catcher; but take care of borrowing from the Newgate Calendar. Secondly, travels; tour through Ireland, including picturesque descriptions;†“yes, I got through the bog of Allen in Bunhill-row, and here atBrighton I am at the lake of Killarney;†“very well. Thirdly, metaphysics.—How comes your treatise on?†“I have already proved, that Locke, Hutchinson, Berkeley, Hume, and Reid, are blockheads, and I am now demonstrating, that nobody knows any of the matter but myself.†“Very well. Fourthly, divinity. How are you proceeding against Horseley and Priestley?†“Demonstrating that both know nothing about the matter, and as before, that no one knows any thing about the subject but myself.†“Fifthly, mathematics. How goes your essay upon the Cycloid?†“It’s not quite so far advanced, really,†“I must begin another hand,†said Nincompoop. “Sixthly, Ethics. What are you doing against Paley?†“I demonstrate him to be a fool, and myself only thoroughly to understand the subject; but history is my sheet anchor.â€â€œDo you think you would have time to do any thing for me there?†“Oh yes,†“I want a smart history; I don’t care on what subject,—or two or three.†“Suppose a second edition of my Jack the giant killer, or to make it a more general title, the history of British Giants. I have got some valuable materials about Gog and Magog myself,†“I should like something more modern. Could you cut me out from the gazettes and magazines, a good dashing original history of the American war?†“Oh yes, if I cannot write a better history than Hume, Robertson, or Gibbon, I will promise never to write another line.†“Do not make rash vows,†said Billy, “for you would assuredly break them.†“Another very clever man is strongly recommended to me as a capital hand for the military part.†“Aye, who’s that,†“Spontoon, drum-major of militia, now,I am told, at Brighton. I think if he do the military part, and you the rest, it will be a capital job. I shall agree on the usual terms; three half crowns a sheet, thirty shillings a volume for books to be broken up;†“but I must have an additional six-pence per sheet for flour paste.†“I dont like to find the flour; it would be establishing a bad precedent for my other authors, and would stand me in a sack of flour each quarter; besides they might be making puddings as well as books. No; all my authors must find their own scissars and paste; you know the workman at every craft finds his own tools; and the master only finds the materials. I must hear of no charge for paste:†“well, be it so, we shall not out about that, let’s see about Spontoon to-morrow.†“Scribble,†resumed Nincompoop, “do you know of any good hand at methodist sermons and hymns?â€â€œOh yes, I can undertake them myself.†“No; you have enough in hand already.†“Well then, there is a tall Irishman, called O’Rourke, I think he might be brought to do; he is gone a-preaching now; a good sharp fellow, but I rather doubt if he can spell.â€â€”“Spell indeed, what does that signify? If I were to employ no authors, but those who could spell, I would not do one quarter of my present business,†“and you do a great deal, my respectable patron.†“Aye, how do I do so much business? Why by not being nice, either in my subject or my writing.†“I will introduce you to that young man that you saw with me; a decent enough youth.†“Oh, Hamilton you mean; I know him by sight; he is a very able writer I am told.†“Who tells you so?†says Scribble. “The booksellers, the public, the world.†“The booksellers, thepublic, the world, are a parcel of ignorant blockheads. I tell you, Hamilton is not a clever fellow, and you, and whoever says he is,†continued Scribble, “only shew their own ignorance.†Scribble was warm with liquor, otherwise he would never have ventured to talk so cavalierly to his supreme employer in the book manufactory. Nincompoop was a cunning fellow; regarded his own set of authors merely as productive journeymen, and, as many saleable books could be compiled without learning or genius, the chief qualifications he sought, in the usual routine of his business, were laborious drudgery, and readiness of raking. He could not distinguish between pains-taking dullness, and real ability: and therefore prized Mr. Scribble. Proud and irritable, however, he replied disdainfully to his journeyman: “I will not suffer such language fromany man; no, if instead of being a common literary hack, a jade of all work, he had the powers and learning of Dr. Strongbrain.†Scribble, too intoxicated for prudence, screamed with rage, “let me tell you, sir, I am superior to a hundred Strongbrains put together.†Nincompoop, who was perfectly sober, and extremely quick in surveying his own interest, recollecting the serviceableness of Scribble’s manufacturing talents, resolved to avoid a quarrel; and, by unsaying all that he had said, imputing it to the hastiness of his temper, and asserting his thorough conviction, that Scribble far surpassed Strongbrain, and every other literary man, he pacified the enraged author, called for a fresh bowl, and spent the remainder of the evening in friendly conversation, that was ended, by Dicky’s falling from his chair on the carpet, where he slept without disturbance till the followingmorning. This day, a party was proposed to Worthing; and to the great pleasure of the ladies, Scribble not being to be found, was not of the company. Even Hamilton himself, though from his satirical humour, he relished occasional meetings with the vanity, self-conceit, and absurdity of Dicky; yet, tired of him a daily dish, and agreed with the rest in thinking him, to use the fashionable language of that time, a shockingbore. Arriving at the pleasant village of Worthing, they repaired to the inn of the celebrated Mr. Hogsflesh; where, while the elderly part of the company took a short walk on the sands, the two young gentlemen and ladies directed their steps towards an eminence on the right, which, as they heard, commanded a prospect that included Hampshire and the Isle of Wight. It was near the end of September, and a very charming day. Thescene was rural and solitary, being a succession of fields, leading to a small and scattered village, containing a venerable old church, which, at different turnings of the path, presented several points of picturesque aspect.
When a young gentleman and a young lady, and another young gentleman and young lady, respectively, brothers and sisters, happen to be members of the same company, custom and politeness require that the chief attention should not be shewn to the nearest relation. Our youthful perambulators, on this occasion, found no difficulty in obeying those rules. John Mortimer prevailed on Miss Hamilton to take hold of his arm, while his fair sister graciously vouchsafed the same honour to our hero. Mortimer was already deeply impressed with the charms of his friend’s sister, nor was she altogether insensible to the charms of her friend’sbrother. In such a disposition, there was no great chance that the parties should find their walk tedious. Mortimer had as yet made no declaration of his sentiments, so that Charlotte could hear him without any consciousness of impropriety; and, as his conversation was very pleasing, she could not help listening with complacency. Hamilton had often and strongly urged his passion, and though he had not obtained any literal and verbal avowals of mutual affection, yet in the softness of Maria’s smiles, and the bewitching glances of her eyes, he received such testimonies, as he could not easily misinterpret. The respective couples were so much occupied themselves, that they did not attend to each other. By some means, Hamilton and our heroine seeing a path lead off to a still more pleasant scene, directed their steps thither. Their friends, not observingthis movement, kept straight forward. Hamilton and his lady now found themselves in a sloping copse, through which there was a narrow track, forming a vista, terminated by the church. This sequestered retirement, which might have excited ideas of love in the bosoms of two agreeable young persons that had been before unengaged, could not fail to promote them in hearts that already glowed so warmly. Our hero, the whole of whose expressions both of tongue, voice, and countenance, had been even more than ever impressive during this short excursion, had quite enchanted and dissolved the heart of Maria. All her darting quickness of penetration, the brilliancy of genius, appeared to suspend their wonted operation on her countenance and manners. Every look and tone spoke the tenderness of love. Gentle pressure of her fair hand, while heheld it in his, progressively led to farther caresses, and encircling the charming creature in his eager arms, he had imprinted a glowing kiss on her pouting lips, which her unsuspicious innocence had not chid from the object of impassioned love and undoubting confidence. The reception favoured repetition. Our hero had almost forgotten every consideration but one, that he had in his arms her whom he thought the loveliest of women; when suddenly a voice struck their ears, uttering the following words: “This way, honey; come, my dear girl, here is an opening through the bushes;†and presently Mr. O’Rourke made his appearance. He started at the sight of Hamilton, who was now walking on; but his companion having joined him, he saw concealment was impracticable, and without regarding the young lady’s presence, he began to try his hand at anapology. “The lady with me,†he said, “is a young person that, like himself, was of the methodistical sect: and having heard me preach privately at Brighton, was so pleased with me, that she agreed to accompany me in my public ministry.†Our hero made no comment upon this defence, but wishing the preacher success in his labours, departed. Maria, though from the innocent purity of her heart, not altogether sensible of the dangerous situation in which she had been, blushed deeply at the consciousness of the dalliance which she had permitted. Hamilton, skilled in its tendency and progressive effects, and loving Maria with a passion as honourable as ardent, on recollection and reflection, rejoiced at an intervention, which had tantalised him at the moment. But he was more than ever eager for an immediate marriage, and with impassioned earnestness,entreated the consent of Miss Mortimer, that he might instantly apply to her father. Maria could hardly constrain herself to refuse, but from an apprehension that he might think she had been too easily won, and be lessened in the esteem which, next to his love, it was her chief wish to secure, she withheld her consent. She, however, blessed him with a full acknowledgment, that he was master of her affections, and as soon as prudence and propriety would admit, she would either be his wife, or remain unmarried. Now having doubled the village, they beheld their friends at a considerable distance, in the ascent of the hill; and Maria, before they rejoined the other couple, had time to recover from the agitation which her acknowledgment and other occurrences of the day had occasioned. Having reached the summit, they participated with theircompanions, in the extensive and grand prospect which opened to the West, comprehending the channel, the Isle of Wight, Arundel, Chichester, and the Downs, until gradually flattening, they are lost in the forests of Hampshire. Having regaled themselves with contemplating these objects, they returned, well appetized for regaling themselves with the dainties which Mr. Hogsflesh had promised to furnish, and though their friends at the inn rather complained of their separation from the rest of the company, and their long stay, yet on their return, good humour was resumed. The contents of Mr. Hogsflesh’s larder were excellent, and of his cellars equally good. In the evening, they set off for the captain’s house, and having spent the following day at this villa, the second morning returned to Brighton. Hamilton, on his arrival, found several letters; one was from abookseller of great eminence and liberality, offering very considerable terms, if he would undertake a work of magnitude, on a subject which the bookseller specified. Our hero being a man of real genius, erudition, and science, would write upon no subject which he did not understand, and was notan undertaker-general in the trade of book-making. The subject in question, he was conscious he knew, and equally conscious, that whatever he did know, he could communicate clearly, forcibly, and impressively, to the public. He therefore resolved to accept the offer, and having imparted the proposal to his mother and his friend John, he answered in the affirmative. Having concluded this important treaty, he perused his other letters, two of which were from fair correspondents; the first in the well known hand of Mrs. Blossom, containing an intimationthat she was urging the squire to take her to Brighton, and expressing the happiness which she anticipated from a meeting with her beloved Hamilton. The third epistle was also in a woman’s hand, but disguised, and contained a request of an interview on the Downs, near the well. On looking on the date, however, he found that the proposed time was passed; there being no postmark on this epistle, he made some inquiries of the servants, and learned that it had been brought by a porter, and that the same had repeatedly called to inquire if Mr. Hamilton was returned. The fourth letter proved to be from the worthy apostle, Mr. O’Rourke, and was conceived in the following terms:
“Honoured Sir and Dare Couzen,Arundale, September 28th, 1789.
Having promised Mrs. O’Rourke her a few lines, I think it my humbleduty to write you a few lines in the blank cover. I am here by the providence of God, propagating, as the phrase is, the Gospel in humble imitation, as St. Patrick and St. Whitfield did before me. This Arundale is a nice plaash, with a great call of hulliness and sprituous devotion: the girls are dainty bagooragh bits, and seem well disposed to the communion of saints. Plase take no notice to my wife as you see me yesterday, as she might take the thing wrong up; with my best respects to Miss Mortimer, who is a sweet companion for a woody walk. I have not yet preached in public at this plaash; but performed in private at the house of Mr. Deputy Dowlass. After sarvice, we had a very comfortable love-feast; there was roast goose and apple sauce, as well as the other rarities of the season. Wishing you and your party equally goodfare, and praying that you may all, through this wale of tears and of trials, provide food for your souls. I am your humble servant to command,
Roger O’Rourke.â€
Though at most of this composition our hero smiled; yet, the allusion to the walk in the grove, he did not relish, and was not without alarm lest the gross conception of the writer might misinterpret the matter. While he was ruminating on this subject, a female servant, with a simper, informed him, that the porter who had before made inquiries was now below, to ask if he was returned; but brought no message. In the evening, the young ladies staid at home, to prepare for a ball that was to be given in a day or two. The elderly part played a rubber at whist; Hamilton and Mortimer took a stroll to the library. At the door, they heard the voice of that worthy author, RichardScribble, exerted in a loud tone, that they soon found to be preceptorial; and entering, observed, that his back was towards them, while he accosted a lady of a pleasing countenance, expressing intelligence and sensibility, but tinged with a pensiveness that approached to melancholy. The interesting sadness of her countenance they ascribed, though, as they afterwards learned, unjustly, to some disappointment in love. The gleams of transient mirth, that occasionally shot across her visage, they justly imputed to the absurdities which the speaker was uttering. Approaching to the orator, unobserved, they heard him pouring forth the following words: “Yes, ma’am, as I have before observed, I have read your novel really with a good deal of pleasure, and I must say, there are traits of genius in it; and if you will suspend a future publication, until you see a treatisethat I myself am composing, on novel-writing, you may be enabled to make very important improvements in your materials, disposition, and expression. I shall demonstrate, that the art of novel-writing is hitherto unknown. Both Johnson and myself think meanly of Fielding; there Johnson is right: but Johnson thinks highly of Richardson; I don’t, there Johnson is wrong. Richardson is a poor paltry writer, without any of that knowledge or exhibition of sentiment, which the philologist erroneously ascribes to him. I have not the honour to be personally known to you, madam; but on announcing my name, I trust I shall immediately be recognized by any member of the republic of letters. I am Mr. Richard Scribble, author of the history of Jack the giant-killer, whose fame, I dare say, may have reached your ears.†“Iam sorry,†said the lady, “I never had the pleasure of hearing of it.†“No!†said Dicky; “you surprise me, ma’am. I will venture to say, it is a history that contains views, neither to be found in Hume, Robertson, or Gibbon.†The lady answered, “I have not the least doubt of it, sir.†At this reply, our hero perceiving that the lady comprehended Mr. Scribble, burst out into a laugh. Scribble turning about angrily, to his great surprise saw that Hamilton was the laugher, and was sitting close by him. “Hamilton,†said Scribble, “is it you that are making so boisterous a noise? You seem to form your manners on the model of Squire Western, whose character you so greatly admire; though, as I have often demonstrated, it contains not one particle of humour, but to please the very grossest taste and conception.â€â€œOh yes, I can imitate Squire Western,†said Hamilton; then gravely assuming an expression of anger, and looking at Scribble in the face, “What, dost thee open upon me? If thee dost begin to babble, I shall whip thee in presently.†Scribble, not perfectly understanding this quotation, and afraid its last part might be intended literally, thought proper to draw in his horns, and immediately assured Hamilton he meant no offence. The lady, happening to recollect the passage, turned to Hamilton, and said, “Fie, brother, Mr. Supple is a man of sense.†“There,†said our hero, “the comparison breaks.†Hamilton, who had learned who the lady was, now entered into conversation. “I see,†said he, “madam, you are a stranger to the valuable Mr. Richard Scribble; had you ever been in companywith him, you would not have failed to have known what he has written; and if it should be of consequence to be known at all, I must confess, such a nomenclator is not unnecessary.†Hamilton now, with all the elegant politeness of which he was so completely master, begged pardon for the question he was going to ask; whether he was not right in a conjecture that he had formed, that the lady whom he was now accosting, was Mrs. Somerive, author of the Orphan of Pembroke? She answered in the affirmative; and Hamilton, as far as delicacy would admit, expressed his admiration of the performance, and in such terms as convinced his fair auditor, that he was well acquainted with the work, and that his judgment could thoroughly comprehend and appreciate its merits. Mortimer now joined in the conversation,and, as they inquired, whether she often frequented the library on an evening, she told them, when she was unengaged, she did: that the following day she should not be there; but probably might the day after. Soon after, they departed.