MODERN LITERATURE.
CHAPTER X.
Brightonis situated on a declivity descending from the South Downs, a ridge of hills, which rising near the east coast of Kent, runs along the Channel to Hampshire, where gradually declining into woodlands, it at last terminates in fertile valleys. There are three approaches to the town from London; two winding between the hills by Lewes and Cuckfield; the third across the ridge by Henfield. From the last, as you come near the town, the prospect is extremelystriking on every side. You have been contemplating the Downs, which appeared like a line of bulwarks, guarding the rich and beautiful vale of Sussex. Before you, opens to your view the sea, which serves as a grand fence to the power, property, and independence of England, with a distant view of ships wafting from the various quarters of the globe wealth, the remuneration of industry. Pursuing these to the left, you attend them beyond Beachyhead, carrying riches towards London, their principal emporium. Turning your eyes next to the right, you descry the Isle of Wight, which naturally suggests the idea of Portsmouth; and of British strength securing British opulence. Descending, under you is the town of Brighton, which, beginning in an eminence, declines towards the south-east in a regular and gradual sweep to theSteyne, a beautiful lawn, bounded by the cliff. Thence it again rises along the cliff with a gentle ascent to the eastward. An amphitheatrical range of hills protects the town from the boisterous assaults of the north and north-easterly winds; on the west, extensive cornfields gradually and beautifully slope, from the Downs towards the sea.
The chiefostensibleobject of visiting Brighton being sea-bathing, that operation commences the employment of the morning; and the whole beach is covered with persons, either preparing for the immersion, or enjoying themselves with the salutary air of the sea.
When the tide is up, the water comes very near the cliff; and the bathing would, to scrupulous minds, appear offensive to decency; but rigid strictness being totally unsuitable to the pursuits of Brighton relaxation, this objection,whatever it might be in theory, has evidently no practical weight. The ladies seem far from averse to the contemplation; and the cliffs are never more the scenes of female resort. Here indeed a young miss may learn more in a week than a boarding-school, with even the assistance of a circulating library, could teach her in a year. Objectsseen, as the poet well observes, are much more impressive than those heard as subjects of discourse.
“Segniùsirritantanimos, demissa per aures,Quàm quæ suntoculis subjectafidelibus.”
“Segniùsirritantanimos, demissa per aures,Quàm quæ suntoculis subjectafidelibus.”
“Segniùsirritantanimos, demissa per aures,Quàm quæ suntoculis subjectafidelibus.”
“Segniùsirritantanimos, demissa per aures,
Quàm quæ suntoculis subjectafidelibus.”
Were this public exposure disagreeable to the visitants of Brighton, it might be easily prevented by a police vigilant in the execution of duty. Men might be compelled to confine their bathing to an early hour in the morning, and to keep in the wake of the machines, especiallyinshallowwater. But it may be questioned, whether this reform would answer the beneficial purpose of drawing out more ladies to enjoy the morning sea; at least, it has not been heard that any of them have been frightened by the present mode of exhibition. Gentlemen, it must be allowed, are in this particular so far correct, that they rarely bathe so publicly but at an early hour; but footmen, grooms, and persons of the same rank, choose to display themselves, without any machines, at the middle of the day, when the company naturally assemble on the beach to cool themselves by the sea-breeze.
The presentments before that scene of elegant resort, the marine library, are little less inconsistent with decency, than if the exhibitions were made on the Steyne, to the company collected under Mr. Gregory’s piazzas. A librarianlately endeavoured to remove this spectacle, but by a very inadequate mode. To prevent these men from shewing themselves naked to the ladies, he attempted to take away all their clothes. Baffled in an essay, which, if successful, was so little calculated to remove the evil, he was seized by the exhibitors, and plunged into the element which they had left. The suffering incurred by his meritorious regard for decency did not, it is said, excite the sympathy and compassion which might have been expected. Many did not stick to say, that he deserved it by his officiousness in endeavouring to avenge insults offered to female delicacy, of which female delicacy itself by no means complained.
Whatever individual diversities of character are to be found at Brighton, in one quality all the visitors agree, thatis idleness. Tradesmen, merchants, scholars, lawyers, senators, and statesmen; in short, men accustomed to close application and constant industry at their respective homes, here do nothing. To such, relaxation must be useful, by affording them fresh vigour when they return to their employments. But to mere fine gentlemen, and other habitual loungers, who have nothing to do, at least do nothing at any time, or in any place, it is doubtful if it can afford the same recreation. To them its variety is merely local; the whole change is removal from the banks of the Thames to the coast of the Channel; from lounging uselessness in Bond-street, to lounging uselessness on the Steyne.
The inhabitants, though successfully busy, are engaged in occupations administering to idleness. If they do work, their labour is by no means productive,and adds nothing to the useful stock of the community. Their chief manufactures are toys; their principal commerce is gambling; every shop in Brighton, the bookseller’s, the fruiterer’s, the coal-merchant’s, the milliner’s, the tallow-chandler’s, the perfumer’s, the apothecary’s, and the undertaker’s, is a toy-shop, and a gambling shop.
From bathing, the visitors return to breakfast, when just and high praises are bestowed on the excellent bread, and the no less excellent butter that comes from the Sussex valleys and Downs, enhanced by the keen appetite which the healthy air produces. Exquisite honey also convinces the visitors that the Georgics of Sussex are favourable to bees, as well as to pasturage and agriculture. The rest of the morning is passed either in the toy shops and walks of Brighton, or in land and waterexcursions to the neighbouring towns and villages. The days not devoted to peregrinations have an uniformity so great, that a diary of one may almost serve for an account of the whole season. The hours from seven to nine are usually spent in bathing and walking on the beach and cliff; from nine till ten is occupied by breakfast, and waiting the arrival of the post; letters not only of business, but of amusement, and even of frivolity, serving to relieve unoccupied minds from vacuity. At ten we set out in quest of food and of knowledge. Attended by the cook, we betake ourselves to the market, to examine the price and quality of fish and of meat. Having provided for dinner, and thus made dispositions for preserving ourselves, we next with laudable patriotism proceed to inquire into the means of preserving our country. Having concluded our dispatches to the kitchen, we cross over tothe library, to peruse the London Evening papers, and give judgment on the conduct of the various cabinets of Europe. Reading and thinking being burdens too heavy to be borne by most of the Brighton visitors, we are fortunate enough to meet in the library gentlemen most generously disposed to relieve us from the trouble of both. Some accomplished person, eminent for his elocution, with benevolence the more meritorious, because unsolicited, undertakes to pronounce aloud the contents of these repositories of intelligence; employing dignity of emphasis, he reads a paragraph about fashionable dresses with a solemnity of diction that might suit the recitations of Adam’s prayer in Paradise Lost; perhaps too, while displaying the splendour of his genius in his oratorial powers, he may also exhibit the exquisiteness of his taste in the brilliantwhich plays from his finger, or the cravat which he adjusts while enforcing delivery by the graces of action: though he reads much, he does not read all. Anxious expectants press for a perusal of his omissions. One old gentleman, after ogling the ladies, is impelled by sad recollection, to examine the generous offers of those worthy and philanthropic persons, who undertake to brace the relaxed nerves, renovate age, and invigorate debility. A smart youth, in boots and buckskin breeches, seeking moral perfection, reads its description, in an account of a bald filly,free from vice. A young lady, pale and pensive, earnestly searches for a consolatory address to those who dreadthe consequences of an unguarded moment.
The text being finished, next comes the comment. While committees are formed to discuss the merits of a ball,or a gala, celebrated by the dispensers of news, to criticise the poetry of a song, copied from a new play, or rather to read and repeat the criticisms already given, to fill up the blanks in a newly published intimation of crim. con. to guess who and who are together, with digressive annotations concerning those who probably have been together; some grave doctor contemning the announced virtues of horses, or vices of wives, undertakes to expound the politics of the day; being unanimously appointed by himself, to inform and instruct the company. In a voice loud, solemn, and authoritative, as when arrayed in his canonicals, he pronounces the peremptory creed of Saint Athanasius, he says; “Let me tell you, the ruin of this country is disregard for authority; there is a restless spirit in the people to think for themselves, without duly veneratingtheir priests; the people have nothing to do with the laws but to obey them: all the distress of Europe arises from the multitude pretending to inquire and reason on subjects beyond their capacity: I have little hope of the happy restoration of the crown and mitre, to that splendour and power which are justly due to them, until the multitude shall be re-taught a becoming reverence for their spiritual superiors.” After this exordium (intended to over-awe his hearers into an humble submission to whatever petitions he may be pleased to advance), the self-created preceptor proceeds to unfold to us the various secrets of the London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and Petersburgh cabinets; the views and intentions of the belligerent powers; and expounds to us the state of the whole political hemisphere.
By half-past eleven, the affairs of Europe being settled, the drum and trumpet summon us from the diurnal exercise of the politician, to the diurnal exercise of the soldier. From the Steyne we walk up to the parade, and in the now well-known sounds of “Handle arms, ease arms;” our own parish, and our own corps, is recalled to our minds. From this sweet recollection of our own warlike progress and achievements, returning to contemplate the exhibitions before us, we admire the readiness, ability, and skill with which the soldiers perform their evolutions. Not a few of us conclude, that the military instructor who teaches them to handle arms, knows his business better than the political instructor in the library, who professes to handle the counsels of statesmen.
Returning to the Steyne, instead of the spectacles, we have now time and opportunity to observe its late spectators. A more lovely groupe is rarely to be seen; most charming women, with complexions freshened by healthy air and exercise, their nerves braced by that element, from which sprang the fair deity whom many of them equal in attractive beauty; their thoughts free from the anxious cares of the evening, when the momentous dice are to agitate the heart of eager expectants of a toy. Their breasts and their eyes are animated by the sound of martial music, and the sight of martial men; while they themselves, like Venus, not only possessing but displaying charms, nearly approach to that state in which statuaries exhibit the bewitching divinity: with charms so transparent, who does not wish for a nearer approach? the soft complacency of their lovely countenances,affords to sprightly youth the reasonable hope, that they do not produce dainties like the banquet that drew the eyes of the hapless Tantalus, destined only for his sight, but withheld from his other senses. The Brighton fair come not to inflictsuchtorments of the damned.
From the Steyne we walk along the beach, or perhaps crossing the Downs, view the tomb-stones: here we learn that Charles the Second, of amorous memory, chose, when escaping from the usurper, as the last English stage of his flight, a place destined in future ages, as a testimony of honour for his memory, to imitate the example of morals which he set his subjects. Mingling incidental with appropriate history, we call to mind exploits not unworthy of Charles himself: recapitulate the feats of the Taylor of Brighton; and, perhaps, inquire whether, though residingin England, he was not a native of Ireland. Descending, we are received by the hair-dresser, whose narratives call our attention from former to recent occurrences. From him we learn what fair lady has most highly extolled and most liberally rewarded the lovelyJem[1]; who had been the greatest gainers and losers by dice, cards, and billiards; what new converts were made to methodism, with the causes and circumstances of their conversion; in what new instances love inflamed religious zeal.
Dinner soon after making its appearance, introduces the praises of Brighton foals and turbots, mixed with severe censures against the Brighton fishmongers, who though not an hundred yards from the landing-place, where they purchase their wares from the fishermen, exact a profit ofcent. per cent.fromthe consumer. We now project schemes for repressing extortion by combination; but as the execution of such projects would require activity, and activity is no part of a Brighton visitor’s purpose, we talk against extortioners, but suffer them to go on in the old way. Our eulogiums on the Down mutton are chequered by reproaches of the porter and ale, and followed by severe invectives against the Brighton wine; invectives very unpatriotic, because a native of our own country. Owing partly to the quality of that beverage, and partly to a restless disposition, often arising from idleness, we are very moderate as to quantity, and sit a very short time at table. While our ladies repair to their toilets to make dispositions for the evening campaign, we stroll towards the chalybeate wells, or, taking the opposite direction, proceed to the race-groundand signal post. Returning, we find our fair friends arrayed to their minds. After tea, we accompany them to the place of destined resort for finishing the amusements of the day; perhaps to the theatre, where resorting for amusement, and not for criticism, we have a very good chance of being pleased. Contemplating the company, we find dress no more intended to cover than undress. We see the boxes quite a miniature of London, containing a number of people, the greater part of whom have met to converse, to look at one another and themselves, attending as little to the stage almost as if it were a pulpit, from which the preacher was inculcating moral virtue; unless there be a song, or a Harlequin, when the spectators are as attentive as if they had been listening to a methodistical hymn, or a methodistical preacher, fervently inculcating the pleasures of spiritual love.Perhaps the grove has been our choice, wherein the scenery of Vauxhall is happily imitated, and also some of the amusements. Here, too, for those who prefer retirement to company, there aredark walks. On chosen evenings of supreme felicity, there are balls; which, presenting beaux and belles dressed at each other, dancing at each other, talking and simpering at each other, ogling at each other, squeezing at each other, and making assignations with each other, we shall pass over, as neither in the present operation, or future effects, containing any thing peculiar to Brighton, or which does not happen when ever beaux and belles join in so exhilarating a pastime. Perhaps, indeed, the bracing air may increase their spirits and animation, and give more elasticity to their movements.
But on common evenings dedicated to neither of the recreations which wehave just mentioned, we accompany our fair party to the grand fashionable rendezvous on the Steyne. After promenading on thisdelightfulspot, hearing important and interesting remarks on this one’s dress, and that one’s face, and t’other one’s ancles, and listening to the music, first of the librarian’s concert, and afterwards of a solo from a blind fidler, we adjourn to the library. There the morning papers, now arrived from London, afford Mr. Spout another opportunity of displaying his elocution; and Dr. Fatgoose his political wisdom: but both now attract not the attention which their morning efforts excited. The indolent indifference of early hours now give place to the anxious cares of the night. Now the librarian is considering the chances of the dice, preparing for the principal business of a Brighton trader; in short, he is collectinghis troops, and making his dispositions for commencing the gaming, encouraged not merely by the probable hope, but the undoubted certainty that whoever may be entitled to the victory, he himself shall obtain the spoils. As the general principle of gambling is to acquire our neighbour’s property without giving him an equivalent, raffling, as practised at the watering places, especially at Brighton, is dexterously calculated for picking the pockets of visitors, in order to fill the pockets of the inhabitants; and, indeed, is to Brighton shopkeepers a greater source of revenue than any other craft which they exercise, with all the benefit of monopoly and extortion. The raffle-holder gains without any risk: his profits are always twofold, and by a little additional dexterity of fraud, may be threefold. In the first place, the articleto be disposed of is a toy, which if sold in the shop, (or called for gentility’s sake the library,) would at the retail price fetch about double prime cost. But the subscription for the raffle is, in the second place, at least double the retail amount: this is the second profit. Thirdly, by the prescribed œconomy of Brighton raffles, the subscribers do not all throw together, but at different times, as they happen to be present. By adding a fictitious name, a librarian can easily pretend that the name in question has thrown the winning number. Thus, for instance, if a netting-box cost the raffle-holder one guinea, if sold according to the rate of Brighton profits, it might fetch no more than two guineas, but by raffle it will produce four; so that if the real winner should be too sharp for the fictitious name to come in, the holder has, at the worst,three guineas of clear profit, besides the daily and almost hourly return of his money. Every subscription for one shilling adds six-pence certain to the gambling branch of the librarian’s revenue, besides three-pence more to the mercantile part, in the exorbitant profits on the disposal of his goods. In the best frequented raffle-rooms, 10l.a-day are subscribed, affording to the owner, besides his profit on his stock, 30l.a-week for gambling without risk.
Raffling occupies the chief concern of the evening till about nine o’clock, when the various parties move either homewards, or to some appointment or assignation, according to their situation and dispositions.
Such was the substance of Hamilton’s account of the general state and manners of Brighton: we shall now proceed to theparticular incidents and occurrences which regarded him or his party.
The Hamiltons found a commodious house at Russel-place, commanding a very extensive prospect, that comprehended Anchorfield, the cottage that now held Maria Mortimer. Having spent the morning after his arrival in surveying the place, Hamilton rode over to the seat of Captain Mortimer, who was prepossessed in his favour by the accounts of his brother and nephew, and insisted on his staying to dinner; an invitation which he most readily accepted. In the course of their conversation, his host said, he recollected that when he was midshipman aboard the Lion man of war, in 1759, there was a land-officer of his name, a very brave and handsome fellow, who, with a party of soldiers, was aboard their ship; and that the night proposed forascending the heights of Abraham, he had charge of a boat, in which Hamilton was the first man that jumped ashore, and went up the precipice with Colonel Howe. “I am told,” he added, “he very much distinguished himself. I afterwards saw him once or twice, but never have heard of him since the peace.” Hamilton, pleased with these praises, informed him, that the Hamilton in question was his father. “By George, now I recollect it, you are extremely like one another, and a fine youth he was: I remember that after the town was taken, as he walked through the streets, the French girls used to admire him so. I can tell you a comical story upon that subject:”—but the entrance of a visitor interrupted the projected narrative. Hamilton, in the course of the day, made great progress in the good graces of the old naval hero. At the instanceof William, strongly seconded by the younger Mortimer, and not opposed by Maria, the Captain agreed to spend a fortnight at Brighton, and the next day a house was found in the vicinity of Mr. Hamilton.