Transcriber’s note
Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor punctuation
inconsistencies have been silently repaired. A list of the changes made
can be found at the end of the book. Formatting and special characters
are indicated as follows:
_italic_
MODERN LITERATURE:
_A NOVEL_,
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
By ROBERT BISSET, L.L.D.
Non ignota loquor.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR T. N. LONGMAN AND O. REES,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1804.
Printed by A. Strahan, Printers-Street.
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAP. X.
_Description of Brighton in the latter Years of the Eighteenth
Century. Prospect from the Church. Ideas suggested by Ships sailing
towards the Thames, the Reservoir of English Opulence, by the distant
Isle of Wight, calling to us by Association, Portsmouth the Reservoir
of English Strength. Brighton itself. Its Situation and Conveniences.
Chief ostensible Pursuits. Bathing. Regulations suggested. Anecdotes.
General Objects of Brighton Visitants. Occupations of Brighton
illustrated by a Journal of a Day. Morning. Sea Beach, and Cliffs.
Breakfast. Libraries, to hear the London News. Spontaneous Elocution
of Newspaper Orators. Spontaneous Instructions of Newspaper
Politicians. Military Spectacles on the Parade. The Steyne.
Charming Women resemble Venus in Beauty, and almost in its Display.
Perambulations. Historical Anecdotes of Brighton. Honoured by the
Presence of Charles II. Not unworthy of that gallant Monarch: return
to the Hair-Dresser: hear the Narratives of that communicative Person.
Dinner, Soals, Turbot, Down Mutton excellent. Wine not so good. Walks,
Tea, attend Ladies to the Steyne. Moonlight Lucubrations there.
Adjourn to the Library. Toys and Dice. Hamilton becomes acquainted
with Captain Mortimer, Maria’s Uncle. The Mortimers move from his Seat
to Brighton._ Page 1
CHAP. XI.
_The Party visits the Steyne. Particular Description of that
Rendezvous. They repair to the Library. A Governante complains of
a Milliner that had not kept her Distance. Anxiety greatest about
Precedence, where there is none to settle. Our Hero meets Mr.
Scribble, a voluminous and noted Author: introduces him to his Party,
and invites him to Supper. Scribble harangues the Company. The Party
breaks up. Hamilton and Mortimer again meet with Scribble, who gives
an Account of the wonderful Extent of his Erudition. He knows every
thing, and writes on every Subject: instructs his Hearers that all are
inferior to himself. He denies the Praise of Genius to those to whom
it is universally allowed. He departs. Hamilton unfolds to Mortimer
his real Talents and Abilities. Describes him as a mere Drudge and
Bookmaker._ Page 28
CHAP. XII.
_The Party repairs to the Library. Doctor Fatgoose harangues on
Public Affairs. Dispute between him and Captain Mortimer. The Parade.
Application of a Soldier for Leave of Absence, being engaged that
Evening to preach. Granted. Scribble dines with Hamilton’s Party:
entertains the Company with an Harangue about himself. His History
of Jack the Giant-Killer. Scribble’s own Praises of his own History.
Criticisms upon others. Mr. O’Rourke’s Admiration of Scribble,
consults him on the Subject of Methodism. Visit to Shoreham. Return.
Party to the Promenade Grove. Account of the Company. A charming
and exemplary Lady of high Rank. A charming Lady not so exemplary.
The Countess of Cockatrice. A military Nobleman who unites the Hero,
Scholar, and the Statesman. Another as a Lawyer, eminent for masculine
Understanding. Lord Bayleaf an old Beau: ogles the Ladies. Dialogue
with the Cockatrice. Persons of lower Rank. Kit Cotton, a Citizen,
retired to live upon his Fortune. His Account of his rural Prospects,
from his House at Kingsland Turnpike._ Page 47
CHAP. XIII.
_O’Rourke makes a new Sally in quest of Methodistical Adventures.
Party to the Theatre. Scribble there meets his Friend and Employer,
Bil Nincompoop the Bookseller. They depart to sup together. Bil
catechises Scribble on the various Pieces which he is manufacturing.
Farther literary Plans. Dispute between the Master and Journeyman:
happily composed by Punch. Excursion of Hamilton and his Party to
Worthing. They meet the Methodist Errant with a Female ’Squire.
Letters that waited Hamilton on his Return to Brighton. Mortimer and
he repair to the Library. There find Mr. Scribble instructing the
celebrated Mrs. Somerive on the Rules of Novel Writing._ Page 77
CHAP. XIV.
_Party at Captain Mortimer’s. Mrs. Somerive one of the Company.
Conversation. Discussion of that Lady’s Orphan of Pembroke. Succession
of Songs, and their Effects on the different Sentiments and
Feelings. A Letter in a Woman’s Hand is brought to Hamilton, while
sitting by Maria. Uneasiness of the young Lady. Hamilton leaves the
Company. Greatly agitated, Maria retires. Dialogue between her and
Hamilton’s Sister Charlotte on Constancy. Hamilton has an Interview
with his Correspondent who proves to be the Countess of Cockatrice.
Accommodating Complaisance of the Lady of the Toy-Shop. Hamilton is
visited by Scribble, brim-full of Joy. He announces that he is now
dubbed a Doctor by the University of Aberdeen. Hamilton explains his
Absence to the Satisfaction of Maria._ Page 104
CHAP. XV.
_The Ball. Schemes of Lady Cockatrice for rendering Maria jealous. The
Company adjourn to Supper. Scribble is introduced in a Dress, which he
says is becoming his new Title. Description of the Doctor’s Dress, and
a philosophical View of its Effects on juvenile Feelings. Attentions
of Sir Edward Hamden to Miss Mortimer. Miss Primrose becomes attached
to Hamilton. Hamden pays his Addresses to Miss Mortimer. Both Hamilton
and Maria highly esteem the Baronet’s Character, and concert Means for
explaining to him the Truth._ Page 113
CHAP. XVI.
_Doctor Scribble becomes acquainted with the Baronet, and undertakes
to instruct him in his Parliamentary Duty. He expounds to him his
own (Doctor Scribble’s) Talents and Erudition: shews the Baronet a
Specimen of Tours, in the Memoirs of his Excursion to Berkshire:
proposes to write Speeches for Sir Edward: declares himself far
superior to Charles Fox. Hamden declines the oratorial Help of Doctor
Scribble. The Baronet joined by Hamilton, whom he is obliged to
leave abruptly. Evening Walk of Hamilton to Shoreham Bridge: learns
that a dispersed Gang of Smugglers has commenced Footpad Robberies.
Nevertheless he sets out on his Return. A dismal Report reaches
Brighton; and is heard by Maria. Frantic Grief of the young Lady.
John Mortimer repairs to the Downs, which is said to be the Scene of
the Catastrophe: finds Stillness and Solitude: perceives a Figure
approach: he hears a Voice. Consternation and Dread. The Figure passes
on. Mortimer returns to his Father and Uncle. A Voice is heard at the
Window calling John Mortimer. They conceive it the Voice of their
murdered Friend. Morning opens. Despair of Maria. Mortimer receives
a Visit, which renews his Consternation. At length convinced of his
Mistake, the Mystery is solved. Hamilton explains the Adventure.
Heroism of a Soldier of the 42d. Joined with the Valour of Hamilton,
saved Hamden from being murdered. Gratitude of the Baronet. His Wound
mends but slowly. Maria’s Concern entirely dispelled. The Mortimers
and Hamiltons return to London._ Page 159
CHAP. XVII.
_Hamilton resumes his literary Pursuits: engages in Criticism.
Indulgence of young and gallant Reviewers to fair Writers. Miss
Lacecap, the Milliner, brings a Novel for Hamilton’s Inspection. Her
Reason for writing. Story of the Maze of Marbles taken from Pyramid
and Thisby. Praises of Sentiment. Remarks on the Word “Error.”
Introduction of the Marvellous to English Works of Amusement._
Page 197
CHAP. XVIII.
_Hamilton engages in a great Work. John Mortimer obtains an
Appointment on the Continent. Hamden arrives in Town, and renews
his Addresses to Maria. He conceives that Hamilton is to become
the Husband of Miss Primrose. She and her Mother entertain the
same Opinion. The Countess of Cockatrice promotes this Report. Her
Ladyship’s Reasons. Motives, Objects, and progressive Rise of a
Toad-Eater, illustrated in the Case of Mrs. Dicky. She is employed by
the Countess of Cockatrice, to prevent the Marriage between Hamilton
and Maria. Countess of Cockatrice proposes to give a Masquerade,
and instructs the Toad-Eater for the Occasion. Dinner-Party at Mrs.
Dicky’s. She sees Masks in the Evening. The Masquerade. The Labours of
the Countess and the Toad-Eater rendered abortive._ Page 225
CHAP. XIX.
_Interview of Hamilton with Doctor Scribble and Mr. Lawhunt. Scribble
praises German Literature; and imputes his own super-eminent
Excellence to his Imitation of Germans. Mr. Lawhunt’s Account of his
own Avocations. Scheme of Dr. Scribble and him for naturalizing German
Plays and Novels. A Specimen of one of these Works translated by Dr.
Scribble. Hurlobothrumbo, a Tragedy, with Music, Ghosts, Ghouls,
&c. Farther Samples of German Literature. New Mode of making Love.
Friendly Condescension of an Earthquake. Specimens of the Morality
of German Plays. Apprehensions of Lawhunt from Visitors worse than
Ghosts. Hasty Departure. Our Hero meets Strongbrain. William’s
Estimate of Dr. Scribble._ Page 265
CHAP. XX.
_Interview between Hamilton and Hamden. Hamilton unbosoms himself.
Liberal and generous Conduct of Sir Edward. The Baronet undertakes to
conciliate the elder Mortimers. Disappointment and Regret of these
Gentlemen, but they at length consent. Preparations for the Marriage
of Hamilton and Maria. Schemes of the Countess of Cockatrice for
preventing the Nuptials. Agents of Defamation. Blackball undertakes
a Chain of slanderous Paragraphs against Maria. Defamation. Skilful
Progression of Calumny. Discovered by Hamilton. With the Assistance
of Sir Edward he pursues and ferrets the Author, whom full Confession
respites from the Pillory. Hamilton is united to his Maria._ Page 301
MODERN LITERATURE.
CHAPTER X.
BRIGHTON is 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 extremely striking 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 the Steyne, 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 chief _ostensible_ object 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. Objects _seen_, as the poet well observes,
are much more impressive than those heard as subjects of discourse.
“Segniùs _irritant_ animos, demissa per aures,
Quàm quæ sunt _oculis subjecta_ fidelibus.”
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, especially in
_shallow_ water. 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 librarian lately 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, that is 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 water excursions 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 to the 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 brilliant which 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 dread _the 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 venerating
their 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 inflict _such_ torments 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
residing in 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 lovely JEM[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 of _cent. per cent._ from the 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-ground
and 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 are _dark 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 we have just mentioned, we accompany our fair party to the
grand fashionable rendezvous on the Steyne. After promenading on
this delightful spot, 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 collecting his 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 article
to 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, 10_l._ a-day are subscribed, affording to the
owner, besides his profit on his stock, 30_l._ 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 the particular 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 for ascending 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 instance of 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.