Modern literature: a novel, Volume 2 (of 3)

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.