“Well, sir,” said miss rising, making a curtsey, “How do you approve of my work?” “It is like yourself, lovely and charming.” “Would you have the goodness, sir, to write a review of it?” “I can refuse nothing to so fair an applicant, I could be the Carolino myself to such an Athalia.” He now thought he heard some one on the outside of the door, and did not doubt but female curiosity in the person of the maid might be listening to what was going forward; he accordingly suspended some part of his remarks, and made an appointment for the evening, by which time, he said, he should do full justice to the subject; and after again very closely reviewing her lips, he asked if she would not see his mother and sister, and they parted. Our hero accordingly set about the review, which he executed to the following purport. “It was avowedly and evidently the work of the young beginner, but displayed considerable genius. Led by fancy, more than experience and actual knowledge, the author had too much given way to the marvellous; but on the whole, it far surpassed the usual productions of Mr. Nincompoop’s press,” This review, with a favourable analysis, and the best specimens that could be selected, our critic carried to the fair author, who was very much gratified.
About this time a new species of writings began to make its appearance in works of fancy, and professed imitation of life and manners. Le Sage and Fielding had carried the exhibition of human nature and passions, the manners and characters of the times, to a degree of perfection that has not been equalled, and scarcely could be surpassed. Miss Burney pursuing the same track, but possessing greater originality of genius, introduced an extensive variety, not resembling Fielding in detail, but like him, copying from life—excelling in strength of delineation and in humour of colouring. Less comprehensive in range, but acute in observation, picturesque in description, interesting in tale, impressive in character, and pathetic in incident, situation, and feeling, Charlotte Smith headed a different species of just representers of conduct, character, and passion. From the strong, but somewhat coarse and farcical satire of a Roderic and honest Strap, to the delicate tenderness of Adelina, Emeline, and Godolphin, the various classes of the comic epopee, appear to have been exemplified by masterly writers, all adhering to existing or probable archetypes. The Recess and Emma Corbet, verging to the province of Melpomene rather than Thalia, are still imitations of probability. Genius, ardent after novelty, will sometimes leave an old road, not because it may not lead it to its journey’s end, but because it is old. There was at this time a great disposition to literary innovation, that shewing itself on subjects of serious reasoning, religion, morality, and politics, was also manifest in works of amusement. Conception far out-went actual existence and experience. The object of ingenuity appeared to be to enchain and petrify by astonishment more than to allure by pleasure, impel by profit, or guide by wisdom. There was a very prevalent disposition to question established truths, and to transcend admitted probabilities; and while serious pretenders to philosophy proposed new principles and rules for governing social and political man, literary dispensers of amusement also chalked out a new system of tales and exhibitions, and instead of the probable, frequently substituted the marvellous. Some persons of great genius began, and others followed this style of writing. The Eloise of Rousseau rendered it very popular on the continent. It glided along all the eccentricities and easy extravagance of the French ingenuity, and was dragged through all the studied wildness of German labour. Genius relieved the marvellous by the probable, introduced its fanciful beings in circumstances which, diminishing or overpowering the incredible, gave full force to the appearance; while pains-taking dulness never failed to introduce such adjuncts and appendages as broke the spell, and shewed the improbable absurdity. Shakespeare could manage a ghost; but if he introduced a ghost, he brought such a being discovering a foul and unnatural murder, not amusing himself with a tune on an organ. This new style of writing, or old romance revived, generated or regenerated in France or Switzerland, received its clothing from the literary taylors of Germany; and a ponderous garbit was containing the heavy armour and escutcheons, and heraldic blazonry of the feudal times, and the motly patch-work of modern illuminism. It obtained from its uncouth enormity, the name of the Gigantesque. If dexterity or skill happened, at any time, to betake themselves to this species of exhibition, they excited a horror and amazement, which, for a time, might suspend the faculties of the reader, but the gross improbability soon dispelled the deception; but it was reserved for English genius so to temper the marvellous with the probable, and so to mingle both with the pleasing and pathetic, as to hurry on the reader wherever the writer chose. Such were the reflections of our hero, when the “Romance of the Forest” was first sent for his critical examination. The able and inventive author chusing a different tract from a Burney and a Smith, and accommodating herself to the growing taste for the gigantesque, admitted it with the modifications of judgment in her scenery and machinery, but did not chuse it as the ground-work of her story. The actual tale is natural, and during the age and manners which she describes, is probable. No object is actually presented which was not within the compass of known existence at the time. The impressions though arising from imaginary beings, were natural in the characters and state of mind represented. An innocent and inexperienced girl, dejected with the consciousness of her destitute situation, conceiving herself the victim of villany and treachery, where she for a time had experienced protection, torn from the man that she loved, and apprehensive of violation from the man that she hated, in a vast and desolate edifice, which she had recently discovered to be the scene of murder, hearing noises at the still hour of midnight, is perfectly consonant to nature, in apprehending a visitation from the apparitions of the dead. The fears which disturb the marquis, and drive him from the abbey, the scene of conscious murder, is perfectly consonant to the feelings of enormous guilt. La Motte vacillating between the depravity of habitual indulgence ripened into profligacy, and the remains of honourable and virtuous feelings, by temporary impulse driven to crime, but by the remnants of humanity held from hardened atrocity, is a character at once natural and instructive, and very forcibly pourtrays the proclivity of pleasurable vice. The passions, characters, and manners, are in this production natural, striking, and impressive; the fable in its principal constituents, sufficiently probable to interest the reader in the fortunes of the actors; the descriptions of external nature, perhaps too exuberant; but it is the exuberance of genius prompted by taste and sensibility, exquisitely susceptible of the beauties of nature; she cannot restrain her fancy from expatiating on subjects which have afforded to herself so delightful sensations and images. Her marvellous is not improbable. Such were the critical reflections of our hero on his examination of this novel, together with the taste of the times, when it made its appearance. He predicted, however, that attempted imitation, by inferior genius, would inundate the public with monstrous fictions, bearing no resemblance to any thing that ever existed in any age or country, and as it afterwards appeared, he was not mistaken in his prophecies.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Our Hamilton employed the winter in Parliamentary attendance, literary criticism, and the commencement of the great work which he had undertaken.
The hours that he could possibly spare from the imperious calls of engagement and duty, were chiefly enjoyed in the company of his beloved Maria. Captain Mortimer having business that required his frequent attendance at the admiralty, found it necessary for several months to reside in London, and his brother being obliged to return to Yorkshire, earnestly requested and obtained permission for Miss Mortimer to remain with him in town. Besides his fondness of the company of his niece, the captain had another reason which, without mentioning to her, he communicated to his brother. Sir Edward Hamden, though by his wound unable to follow Miss Mortimer to London, had declared to her father and uncle, that the first use he should make of his recovery, would be to throw himself at her feet. Sir Edward’s wound, though never dangerous, had been more serious than was first apprehended, and the cure was tedious, procrastinated perhaps by the irritation of his impatience, and January arrived before he was able to reach London. Hamilton earnestly entreated Maria to consent to his undeceiving the captain, her father, and Sir Edward, and to become immediately his. But she so strongly represented the effect which such a disappointment might have on Hamden, in his unconfirmed state of health, that he, however reluctantly, suspended his application. John Mortimer, after a long attention and repeated avowals of affection for Miss Hamilton, at last obtained an acknowledgment of a return: but, aware of the eager desire of his father and uncle that he should avail himself of the appointments which he had procured, she, however contrary to her own inclinations, urged him to depart; and to add force to her instances, gave him a conditional promise, that if he complied with the wishes of his friends in going, she should comply with his on his return. His destination was Paris, a scene which before his acquaintance with Charlotte, he had long wished to behold; and which a totally new set of actors had, within a few months, rendered a different spectacle from what it exhibited at any former period. It was the beginning of February, however, before he supposed all the proper dispositions made for his mission, which was principally commercial with an eventual opening to some political trusts.
Hamilton found the wound inflicted by the assassins upon Hamden, tolerably healed, but the wound from the bright eyes of Maria, more deep than ever. He renewed his addresses, but though Maria received him with the respect due to his rank and virtues, and the compassion excited by his sufferings, yet she continued firmly to assure him, that his suit could never be successful. Being repeatedly urged, she, with much reluctance, and downcast looks, confessed that her heart was irretrievably engaged by another, who possessed it long before she had the honour of being known to him. She did not doubt but he would immediately discover who the other was, but she was mistaken. Of Hamilton he had no conception, and it may seem surprising, that to a man of his penetration this was the case; but it was so. The truth was, Captain Mortimer, from the warmth of his friendship, eager for the marriage of Hamilton with Miss Primrose, had passed from wish to hope, and from hope to conviction, and publicly talked of it as a matter certain. The report was current through Brighton. It had been, by officious curiosity and gossiping impertinence, repeatedly introduced before the young lady herself, and it was easily discerned that she listened with confusion, but not with displeasure. Her mother, loving the daughter for her child’s own sake, and not regarding her as a mere instrument of her own vanity and ambition, was resolved in the most momentous action of her life to consult her happiness, and not the increase of wealth, which she did not want, or the acquisition of title, which might not augment her solid comfort and enjoyment; and not to oppose her union with any gentleman of sense, honour, and character, who might win her daughter’s affections. She had soon discovered Louisa’s partiality for Hamilton, and having made particular enquiries, learned that though of small fortune, he was a man of amiable and estimable character, with talents and acquirements which must throw a lustre on any connection that he might form, and adorn any situation he might be called to fill. She was therefore not averse to the wishes of her daughter, and when an opportunity offered, expressed her very high opinion of the gentleman in question. She had seen Hamilton and her daughter twice or thrice in company together, when our hero, much interested by the engaging simplicity of Louisa, and totally unconscious of her sentiments respecting himself, paid her every attention which benignant disposition and moral approbation can prompt in a discerning and polite man towards a young, beautiful, and lovely woman, without any mixture of love. The mother in a great degree, and the daughter much more, had misconstrued these attentions, and neither of them doubted that the increased intercourse that would probably take place during the winter, would produce a declaration. Various engagements with which the daughter would have gladly dispensed, but which the mother thought it necessary to fulfil, detained them till February between Brighton, Bath, and the country; and no explanation having taken place, it was believed by Sir Edward Hamden, and by others, except those in Hamilton’s secrets, that Miss Primrose was to bestow her hand and fortune on Mr. Hamilton.
The Countess of Cockatrice, who still kept up her acquaintance with our hero, was not without some knowledge of the truth, but was desirous, for various reasons, that a matrimonial connexion might be formed between our hero, and the great heiress Miss Mortimer. She had studiously sought an opportunity of knowing Maria, and though that young lady had declined her advances, and avoided intimacy, yet they had repeatedly met at public places. Cockatrice, herself discerning, discovered ability and penetration in Maria, and heard the same accounts from others, whom she instructed to enquire and examine, much more than opportunity had enabled her to discover herself. To seduce the affections of married men, had nothing in it repugnant to the countess’s moral creed, either speculative or practical. It was indeed not to be expected, that she who so little regarded her duty to her husband, would care for the duty of another man to his wife. If Hamilton married Maria, the wife might be a formidable and overpowering rival, but if he should wed the fortune of Miss Primrose, it would, she apprehended, be no difficult matter to retain a superior interest in his heart. Besides, the countess, though a votary of love, coupled it as often as possible with ambition and interest, including pecuniary convenience. Like Lady Townly, she much oftener wanted money than her husband gave it, or indeed could give it. Drafts were returned from bankers, not honoured; also those visitations known by the name of executions, were familiar to Cockatrice’s house; and though too common to be much regarded on their own account, yet they were aukward and troublesome. The agents, of John Doe and Richard Roe, though officers, were not deemed pleasing companions even by ladies. No visitants could be more likely to excite among many of the guests, disagreeable recollections, or still more disagreeable forebodings, and so to break the harmony of the company. But what was worse than executions for the past, was the refusal of credit for the future. The insolence of tradesmen often demurred at sending in goods where there was no chance of being paid; and thus the brilliancy of galas, the splendour of dress and equipage, must fall infinitely short of right honourable taste and conceptions. For all these, and many other good reasons, money was a very useful commodity, and if it could be acquired along with love, all the better. Now Hamilton by marrying Miss Primrose, would command a great sum of ready money, and as the countess proposed to have the sway over Hamilton, her dominion would also extend to the cash, which he would receive from the fond affection of the heiress, and she might have the lucrative situation of co-partnery with the husband in the property of the wife, as a set off against her co-partnery with the wife, in the affections of the husband, proposing in the last case that the nominal chief of the firm should not be the acting partner. One objection the lady foresaw to the accomplishment of this scheme: without certainly knowing, she strongly suspected that Hamilton was very deeply attached to Maria, but measuring his sentiments by her own, she made little doubt that the very fine person of Maria was the sole object of his love. She well knew that Hamden was rapturously enamoured of Miss Mortimer, and readily guessed the reason of the young lady’s coldness. Entertaining apprehensions that Hamilton was so fond of Maria, that to gratify his inclinations he might marry her, she considered whether, without disappointing the lover, it might not be possible to supersede the necessity of the ceremony. It appeared to the ready invention of this notable contriver, a very feasible project, that though Hamilton and Maria were not, she thought, rich enough to marry one another with prudence, they might love as much as they pleased; and then might respectively marry the heiress and the baronet for convenience, and might even manifest their affection after such nuptials had taken place. The countess, as we have seen, never wanted agents well fitted for carrying a project into execution. There was a widow lady of a moderate income, who having for several years lived respectably in a circle of acquaintances fitted to her rank, had at a watering place made some great acquaintances, and became unfortunately smitten with the charms of fashion and high life. By complaisance and subserviency she endeavoured to obtain that place in fashionable circles, which her fortune little enabled her to fill. When John or Richard were out of the way or otherwise employed, Mrs. Dicky used to call at the milliner’s, explain and enforce my lady’s orders, or any other little odd jobs that might be wanted. For these good services and attentions, she was to have free egress and regress to the breakfast table, and in due time was admitted to dinner when there was nobody but themselves, or perhaps grand mama and the young men with their governor come home from Eton, with the sweet and charming Lady Selina, and the angelic Aurora, who though not twelve years old, had such wonderful wit and accomplishments, and could perform so divinely on the piano forte; knew God Save the King from Rule Britannia, and even could make out part of a lesson. To praise so extraordinary endowments, was one part of Mrs. Dicky’s province, and if no company was expected for the evening, she was to make one in the drawing-room to whistle to the bird, to play with Pompey, and celebrate his beauty; or while my lord, my lady, and their eldest son and daughter played a rubber at whist, to take a round game with the younger honourables, the governor and governante. Advancing in promotion, Mrs. Dicky became a member of larger parties, when my lord’s sister, Lady Betty, and her husband Sir Ralph, came to pay a visit, and two or three cousins of the family made up an evening party. Now Mrs. Dicky, instead of belonging to a light infantry detachment at a round table, was stationed as a corps of reserve to bring up the rear at Cassino or Whist was sometimes asked, to cut in if nobody else was to be had, and even has had the honour of holding my lady’s own cards. Nor did her honours rest here; while my lady and her party went to the opera with their elder hopes, Mrs. Dicky became chaperon to the governante and the younger ladies, when with the governor and the younger lords they went to the theatre to contemplate the ingenuity of Harlequin, and admire the wisdom of mother Shipton triumphant. Ascending higher in the ladder of fashion, Mrs. Dicky rose at last to a seat in my lady’s own carriage, in which, like a lion retreating she faced those that pursued; and would accompany her lady to Hyde Park, nay, even to the opera itself. For such a consummation of glory, gratitude required very great efforts. Mrs. Dicky would abase herself to any humiliation, that she might thereby be exalted. She would do homage to Mrs. Pinup, my lady’s maid, or to Mr. Secondhand, my lord’s gentleman, that she might thereby have a favourable report with my lady and my lord. She was the willing and humble agent of this my lady and my lord, and that my lady and my lord; adapting her expressions, sentiments, and conduct to her right honourable patrons, whatsoever they might be. With the duchess of Whiglove, abusing secret influence; and the countess of Placehunt, exclaiming against the coalition. Without ill-nature, retailing scandal to the countess of Backbite, and without benevolence, informing Lady Generous of a distressed widow and fatherless children. Among other acquaintances that Mrs. Dicky had made in the fashionable world, was the countess of Cockatrice, for whom she had made assignations, managed appointments, spread stories, deposited jewels, arranged the substitution of Dovey’s paste, and rendered various other services; in short, shewed herself willing, by any means in her power, to earn the favour of the countess. Cockatrice having arranged her plans, instructed Mrs. Dicky to make an acquaintance with Captain Mortimer, and gave her a clue by which she might be favourably received by the honest and unsuspicious seaman. Having learned that an officer of whom Mrs. Dicky had some slight knowledge, had been lately one of the captain’s lieutenants, she instructed her to call on the captain and make particular enquiries, speak highly in praise of the youth, who she had learned was a great favourite with the captain, and find some means of becoming acquainted with Maria. Mrs. Dicky executed the commission with such dexterity the very next evening, that Mortimer, pleased with the interest she took in his young friend Bowsprit, introduced her to Maria, and engaged her to dine the following day. Hamilton, who was one of the party, thought Mrs. Dicky a good passable common-place woman, of whom if he had never again heard, he would have never again thought. In a few days the countess of Cockatrice was to give a masquerade, to which she sent tickets for our hero and three more, desiring he would bring his friend Captain Mortimer and his niece, and also Miss Hamilton. Our hero was not desirous that either of the ladies should be present on such an occasion, but the captain over-ruled his objections. Charlotte, however, resolving to partake of no such amusement in the absence of her beloved Mortimer, resolutely refused to go. On the day of the masquerade they were engaged to dine at Mrs. Dicky’s, who was in the evening to see masks before they went to Cockatrice’s house. The dinner was appointed at so unfashionable an early hour as four o’clock, and by the countess’s assistance, without great shew, consisted of every delicacy that the season afforded, with various ingredients adapted to the occasion. Besides the hostess, Hamilton, the uncle and niece, there was one gentleman, who, both by precept and example, strongly recommended the wines, and during dinner, the captain and he were very free with the madeira. Mrs. Dicky persuaded Miss Mortimer to join her and the rest of the party in two glasses of champaign, and afterwards to taste a highly-flavoured liqueur. In the course of the afternoon, she prevailed on her to take a glass or two of wine more, so that she had somewhat exceeded her usual quantity, and a good deal more, as she afterwards found, in the quality. The fruits were of the finest flavour, and Maria remarked that in the grapes there was something delicious and peculiar. The gentleman who acted as landlord possessed a great degree of colloquial pleasantry; and he, together with the wine, set the brilliant genius and wit of our hero agoing. Maria was also very much animated, and several bright sallies escaped from her lips, while the penetrating sparkling of her eyes even outwent the lively and forcible sayings of her tongue. The ladies did not retire till coffee was announced. In this beverage the young lady found also a flavour at once exquisite and peculiar; and after it was finished, the hostess, with an urgency so polite, that she could not resist it without an appearance of rudeness, prevailed on her to drink another glass of liqueur. From this apartment they ascended to the drawing-rooms which, by the removal of a folding-door, made one, and though not large, being splendidly illuminated, it added to the animation and spirits of the now volatile Maria. Mrs. Dicky now thought that the company of Hamilton and Maria might be mutually agreeable, and ascended to the second floor, where a temporary drawing-room had been made for the purpose; she accordingly sent for Hamilton, wishing, she said, to explain to him the mode and arrangement of a reception of masqueraders, which would begin in the course of an hour. Having learned their intended dresses, she had ordered them to be brought at eleven, by which time the masks would be gone; meanwhile the dominos would suffice. After some immaterial conversation, a servant having asked to speak to Mrs. Dicky, she requested them to excuse her for a few minutes, and departed. Hamilton had drank so much wine, as to animate sentiment and impulse, while it suspended reflection; Maria was also much more enlivened than he had ever seen her; her eyes darted fire, and when turned to Hamilton, glistened with undissembled love. He swore he had never seen her so exquisitely charming. She answered, “my dearest William, I can return the compliment: I never saw you so lovely and so graceful.” The reply to this answer was obvious; the fondest caresses and endearments succeeded; but though prudence was asleep, honour, though somewhat inclined to slumber, was not altogether overwhelmed, and fear, perhaps, proved as effectual a sentinel. Apprehensions of the arrival of their hostess were unfounded, as she had no intention of interrupting their conversation; but this forbearance our hero did not know. Soon after, the masks began to make their appearance, and several characters were well supported. One of the best was a Scotchman, carrying two snuff-mills, respectively replenished with snuff of very different qualities and operations, which he described; “the one (he said) is constitutional, and the other innovation snuff. The first has a pleasant wholesome scent, and diffuses an agreeable animation over the active faculties; the second is very highly flavoured, but so pungent and strong, as to tear and overpower the olfactory nerves; it is a composition of hartshorn and sal volatile, with the strongest rue.” Hamilton tried a pinch of each; the first was mild and relishing. “Ye had better be sparing of the other, or it will set your nose a bluding; it has already had that effect over the water; an’ if I dinna mistaak, it will gar their noses blude a great deal mair, if they go on with it; and may bee it’s strength may strain it’s votaries, till they burst blude veshels.” “Are there any so foolish, as to indulge in a scent so very pernicious?” “Oh yes, there are fules eneugh in the warld: it is not, however, that the quality is altogether so noxious, as the quantity or the unskilful application; there are cases in which it will du vara well; for instance, in habits that are vara relaxed; it may gee a better tone to the feebres; in a palsy, it is the only specific; but on the contrary, if there is any thing faverish, it rapidly increases inflammation.” “What are its effects upon a person in vigorous health?” “When ane is weel, he is a damned fule to be dabbling in medicines.” So saying, he was departing, when returning back, “let me gee you ae bit o’ advice before I gang; if you be naturally a little paper-sculled and scatter-brained, have nothing to do with the innovation snuff, or it will make you as mad as a March hare, and you will do sic a devilish deal of mischief, that it will be necessary to blude you and drench you, and chain you to the bed-post; and sometimes to divert the wildness of your phrenzy, your keeper may let you amuse yourself with a rattle; even if you come back to your senses, he will keep you confined for twa razons; first, because it is his interest; and secondly, because if you got loose again, your indignation would certainly gar you dash the fallow’s brains out.” “But if it have so maddening effects,” said Hamilton, “how am I to submit to a keeper?” “Oh, he’ll first flatter and cajole you, till he get you to take the strait waistcoat; by degrees he’ll bind you to a post, and afterwards chain you to the ground.” Having thus described innovation snuff, it’s progressive operations and ultimate result, he set off to other hearers. Our hero next met a groupe, consisting of a representative and constituents, a lawyer and his client, and many others, breathing kindness, with a Harlequin Touchstone bringing their professions to the test of truth. The representative was accosting his electors immediately after the return; “Gentlemen,” said he, with his hand on his breast, “language is inadequate to the task of expressing the grateful feelings of my heart, at this auspicious moment, that this ancient and honorable borough of Braywell has conferred on me the inexpressible happiness of supporting it’s interests; I shall not lavish words in a multiplicity of professions, but shall briefly, yet I hope clearly, describe the line of conduct which I am determined unalterably to pursue; I shall (here Harlequin applied to his touchstone) bawl against the minister until he gives me a place, and then bawl for him through thick and thin; as to you, you stupid blockheads—you gentlemen, forsooth, with blue aprons, I consider you merely as steps for me to rise upon, and when I am once up, you and your borough may go to the Devil.” “I think,” said our hero, “the representative has expressed himself briefly and clearly.” An attorney was expatiating to his client, on his extraordinary disinterestedness, and eager anxiety for the service of any one who should commit a cause to his management; “for it is ever a rule with me (Harlequin touched the stone) to split attendance into as many subdivisions as possible, so as to multiply the six-and-eight-pences, by calling, and inspecting, and attending, and advising, and engrossing, and instructing, and every other item to long billing, and the client may”—(here the speech was not concluded). Next came, in the most engaging and humble smiles, a courtier, booing to the great man for a place; “I consider myself as peculiarly fortunate in having the honor to be patronized by the virtues and talents of a statesman, who (Harlequin was not idle) is one of the damnedest noodles that ever a poor applicant was obliged to flatter; a mere despicable nay and yea retainer of ministry; an impartial adherent to whatever side is uppermost.” Next two came forward, one with the most ardent expressions of affection; “My dearest friend, intimate companion of my infancy and youth, with what delight I received an obligation from my oldest and most beloved of comrades; your superior talents formed and arranged our plans, and enforced our pretensions, with a vigour of reasoning, and an energy of eloquence, which would have been certainly successful, if they had been carried into execution; but the failure was our fault, not yours. Oh! that I had an opportunity of testifying my grateful affection.” The other replied, “an opportunity now occurs; I have a particular occasion for two hundred pounds, with which, I need not say, I know you, who have two thousand a year, can, and I have as little doubt, will, supply me.” This application seemed to supersede the necessity of the touchstone. “Two hundred pounds!” said he, faultering; “really I am extremely sorry I could not spare so large a sum; I have been at very great expence, and have many calls, imperious and indispensible, for (Harlequin moved) I have thoughts of making alterations in my dog-kennel; I am about to purchase a couple of brace of hounds, I intend to give a grand gala, and” (here Harlequin made the other speak) “where frivolous amusement or silly vanity interferes, the friendship of an insipid heart, governed by a weak head, is at an end.” A lover now came forward, expressing the most passionate fondness and adoration for his mistress, declaring that his happiness depended solely upon the return she made to the most ardent and honorable passion that ever inflamed a human breast; “it is the most earnest desire of my soul, (Harlequin touched the stone) to pursue my own gratification, by bringing you to misery and ruin.” A methodist preacher was sufficiently characteristical; he whined and canted, made love to the women, procured contributions for charitable purposes, and kept the greater part to himself. The lady of the house now coming up, brought with her a domino, who, she said, knew most of the people in the room, and was very well qualified for giving an account of them. “Observe,” said the domino, “that mask so gorgeous in apparel, and resplendent with jewels.” “The very large woman with the red hair, you mean?” “The same; that is a great nabobess, just returned from the banks of the Ganges; her husband, a journeyman druggist in Spitalfields, fell in love with her as she used to carry beer from her father’s, at the sign of the Pewter Pot, and they married; an uncle of Mr. Pestle having become a great merchant at Calcutta, sent for his nephew, who accepted the invitation; went out; was taken into the business; in a short time the uncle died, Pestle got his fortune, became a great man, sent for his wife, who obeyed the summons, and became as great a woman; but in the midst of her splendour, retained all her vulgarity, which her airs and pomposity rendered more glaringly conspicuous: as a considerable portion of the society in Calcutta is genteel, she was a laughing-stock among the parties, and as she was extremely arrogant, not a few attempts were made to mortify her to a sense of her intrinsic insignificance; she was very desirous of sinking her origin, but the Pewter Pot being known, that was quite impracticable; they were now returned with a large fortune, tried to get into fashionable society, and did not find it altogether impracticable, as there are gentry and nobility, who, without relishing the company of Mrs. Pestle, had no objection to the company of her husband’s money, which by flattering my lady’s vanity, some of them find means to borrow; but whoever would gain or keep her favour, must carefully abstain from mentioning the Pewter Pot.” The company now began to leave the house of Mrs. Dicky, and before twelve they were all departed, except our hero and heroine; they had both to make some change in their dress, before they joined the masks at Cockatrice-house. Captain Mortimer had returned home, and gone to bed, the only scene for which he now, with three bottles of wine under his belt, was fit; Mrs. Dicky was departed, and not a soul there was in all the house, but one single servant, at midnight, except Hamilton and Maria. William having descended to make some inquiry about his carriage, found that the only person, except Miss Mortimer and himself, in the house, was an elderly domestic, whom he had interrupted in a comfortable sleep by the kitchen fire, and who appeared disposed to return again to the arms of Morpheus. He now rejoined Maria, who was dressed with simple, but most attractive loveliness, as a Nun, while William had from some whim taken it into his head to act the part of Ovid. The master of the art of love, at midnight, alone, even with a Nun herself, was dangerous company, tending to demonstrate the fragility of vows. Maria’s flutter had been increased rather than diminished, by the scenes of the masquerade; Mrs. Dicky had prevailed on her to take some lemonade, which most unaccountably had the same peculiarity of flavour that she had experienced in the fruit, liqueurs, wine, and coffee. Hamilton having taken her hands, the same kind of conversation insensibly revived, which the coming of masks had, above two hours before, interrupted; Maria was extremely agitated, and when our hero clasping her in his arms, pressed her to his bosom, and declared his ardent wishes that she were his wife;—“nay, my dearest Maria, you are my wife, and as a husband,”—here followed impassioned kisses, which poor Maria, with a quick sigh, returned. One sentiment only seemed to predominate, and the project of Cockatrice was on the eve of success, when a noise in an adjoining apartment startled Hamilton, and approaching the door, he heard a man’s voice, saying, “take care of your footing, hold the ladder firm at the bottom.” Immediately comprehending the case, he whispered to Maria to keep still, put out the light, and having seen the key on his side, very softly locked the door. There was still the remains of a fire, in which a poker happened to be left; this weapon he snatched, and taking it for granted that some little time would elapse before the ruffians could enter, he softly conducted Maria to the stair; just as they had got down a few steps, they observed the other door open, and a fellow come out with a dark lanthern; they were now in the turn of the winding, so that the fellow did not perceive them, but he returned again into the room. Our couple stole down by the light of the lamp to the street-door, where a coach was waiting for them; the watchman was passing, and at the desire of our hero, sprung his rattle. The sound of this instrument alarmed the villains, and one of them being before the rest, was running out at the street-door, when our hero’s poker saluting him in the face, arrested his steps. Several watchmen now entered the house, and searched, but could find no one, till reaching the upper room, they found a window open, and saw a ladder moving, and the fellows in the back yard. It would have been easy, by descending immediately, to have secured them; but as these nocturnal guards had the usual deliberation and caution, before they had got down, the ruffians were gone. Maria meanwhile, partly from fear, and partly from reviewing the other events of the night, was in such agitation and tremor, that in attempting to reach the coach, she fainted in her lover’s arms. An hotel being luckily within a few doors, she was carried there, and being, by the care and assiduity of the hostess, recovered, the coach was ordered to Captain Mortimer’s instead of the masquerade; to the surprize of his mother and sister, Hamilton returned about two, though they did not expect him till several hours after.
Maria having, in the morning, leisure and opportunity to reflect on every thing that had passed, with most grateful delight, dwelt on the approach of the robbers, which had saved her from a much greater evil than any their mere depredations could have effected; she compared the various circumstances; the conduct of Mrs. Dicky, in repeatedly leaving her and Hamilton alone, and revolved in her mind, the particulars which she could not avoid imputing to design; at the same time, she could conjecture at no feasible motive; she, however, ascribed no blame to Hamilton; the raptures which he had expressed, she with shame and confusion acknowledged to herself, were, in a great degree, transcripts of her own. Her chief apprehension was, that she had lessened herself in his opinion, by not repelling, instead of permitting such advances: even Hamilton himself, when he coolly considered the last night’s adventure, had too much real love for Miss Mortimer, not to rejoice at the event. He repaired early to the house of the Captain, and found Maria at breakfast, alone. She received him with downcast looks, and her ingenuous nature could not forbear shewing, that she considered herself as having deviated from propriety, and was fearful of having, in some measure, impaired his esteem; he said nothing of the occurrences at Mrs. Dicky’s, but his very avoidance of the subject affected Maria, as her anxiety construed it into an impression, that the reflection must give her pain;—an impression that would imply that she had so acted, as naturally to excite displeasure with herself. Hamilton having at length discerned her actual feelings, soon dispelled every fear of a diminution of his esteem; and after a very long and tender conversation, she consented that he should apply to her father and uncle; but first, it was agreed that he should immediately open the case to Hamden, to prevent that amiable and worthy gentleman from suspecting any deception or duplicity; and accordingly he, without loss of time, set out in quest of the Baronet.
CHAPTER XIX.
As Hamilton was proceeding to the house of the Baronet, he met his worthy and respected friend, Dr. Scribble, in company of the no less respectable bookseller, whom he had once seen, Mr. Jeffery Lawhunt. The Doctor, with eager warmth, ran to take hold of Hamilton, whom he had not seen for several weeks, and declared himself extremely happy in the interview. Lawhunt and he were about a project, in which the assistance of Hamilton would, the Doctor said, be of great use to them; and he proposed that they should immediately form an appointment. Our hero, besides the business about which he was employed, had no curiosity to interfere in any publication, in which Jeffery was to be the pecuniary, and Scribble the literary manager. Scribble, however, pressed him very much. Hamilton replied he was engaged to meet Sir Edward Hamden upon business, and that, uncertain how long time that might occupy, he could fix no appointment. At this instant, a carriage passing, a voice called the name of Hamilton, and turning about, he beheld the subject of his conversation. Hamilton informed him, that he was on his way to his house, and wished for a long conversation. Hamden told him he was going out of town, by an appointment, at that time; but would either visit, receive, or meet him, the following morning, at any hour he should name. This matter being arranged, the Baronet departed, and Scribble and his companion, who had heard what passed, and understood that he was unengaged, insisted on his listening to their project; and at length, overcome by their importunity, he consented. Accordingly, walking to the outskirts of the town, they reached a coffee-house, which Hamilton found was to be the scene of their deliberations. They were no sooner arrived than Scribble proposed, seconded by Lawhunt, that they should give directions for dinner. Hamilton, though vexed at the prospect of losing time, in company that promised so little information, instruction, or benefit, yet, not wishing to shock Scribble, by shewing the real estimation in which he held his discourse, consented to continue one of the party; they took possession of a back parlour; down they sat, and opened the business. Scribble commenced with a dissertation on the wonderful benefits that must accrue to British literature, from foreign works, and especially from the modern erudition of Germany. “There,” said Dicky, “they bestow due pains on investigating the valuable secrets of nature; thence are derived our most accurate knowledge on accoustics, acroatics, astrology, astronomy, anatomy, beatifics, botany, chemistry, drill-husbandry, excrescences, eclipses, electricity, in short, why need I enumerate particulars of all knowledge, philosophy, and art, ancient and modern; they have brought illuminism to it’s present wonderful height; they have their Weishaup, and their numberless other enlightened sages, upon morals and politics; then they have their novels, and poems, and plays, manifesting such new views of substances, modes, and relations, shewing God, nature, and man, in lights in which the dullness and ignorance of British genius and erudition never before represented such objects; and they possess that perseverance and industry, which I hold to be the chief constituent of genius. It is a mistake, that intellectual superiority depends upon any natural gift, it is merely the result of exercise and effort; but this subject you will see fully illustrated in my preface to my history of Jack the giant-killer; for instance, as I there admit, I, myself, was not naturally very greatly beyond my cotemporaries. It was my ardent desire of literary excellence, that stimulated me to the extraordinary efforts which have raised me so far to transcend ordinary men; but this is a digression, though tending to illustrate my praises of the Germans, for their meritorious industry: and here let me remark one conspicuous superiority of German over British diligence, in literary subjects; our countrymen, adhering to the absurd doctrine of utility, are loth to apply with equal diligence to all subjects; for instance, a common reviewer would not bestow equal minuteness of attention on the wings and abdomen of a bee, as on the fate of a nation. How different a German, who will employ as profound research, in investigating the various members of a fly, as the powers and qualities of the human understanding and heart; this is, indeed, a minuteness of inquiry, in which I vouchsafe to copy the Germans, both in criticism and in original composition, as you may have observed in various reviews, which bear themselves to be mine, and also in my other writings; but most of all in “my essay upon cats,” including my scheme for improving their moral habits, and teaching them to be more attentive to decency and silence, when inspirited by omnipotent nature; also in my history of Jack the giant-killer: but as I admire German learning to imitation, I think it my bounden duty to naturalize as great a quantity of that valuable erudition, as my time and engagements will admit. A more munificent patron of learning is no where to be found, than this worthy gentleman, Mr. Jeffery Lawhunt.” “Oh yes,” said Jeffery, “I am very fond of encouraging larning, and do all I can for it, except during the term, when I am so construpated by lawyers, that I have no time. Never man was so tormented, yet,—it is not my fault; if they let me alone, I let them alone. I hardly ever am plaintiff, unless indeed it be in filing bills but always defendant. If I happen to give an acceptance, and can employ my money to more advantage than paying it, is not it extremely hard that I must be sued? I have lost at least five thousand pounds, where I should have gained with costs; but juries and judges are so unreasonable, and will hear what even strangers say of me, sooner than what my own intimates say, and confirm with an oath. I very lately lost, by an arbitration, a great sum, though I thought I had every thing cut and dry: I spoke to my brother the fruiterer to come as a witness; he did so, and brought his man with him. This evidence was a hollow thing; but what do you think of the arbitrator,—a counsellor too? Merely because my brother happened, out of forgetfulness, to say something contrary to what he had said before; from that time, I am convinced, he did not pay any regard to what he said.” “How do you know that, Mr. Lawhunt?” said Hamilton. “How do I know it,” replied the other, “because my brother swore point blank I did not owe the plaintiff one hundred pounds, and the arbitrator gave an award of seven hundred, and did not that prove how little they regarded Ned’s evidence?” addressing Hamilton. “Undoubtedly it did,” replied our hero. “But what was worse than that,” said Jeffery, “there was my own foreman, a good obliging fellow as ever lived, that would not stick at a trifle; he and I had a great deal of talk before, and we settled about his evidence. The first day he was called, it was on a Saturday; I remember he was very clear—all for me; plaintiff’s counsel did not ask him a single question. On the Sunday he dined with me; we were quite jocose.” “Dingwal,” said I, (his name is Donald Dingwal) “you did very well yesterday; but get through as well to-morrow, and we will do.” “Why,” says he, “that Chiswick, Farragan’s council (Farragan was the plaintiff, a damned Scotch Highlander; ‘perhaps you know him, sir.’ ‘Oh, very well,’ said Hamilton) was not at all captious.” “With that I agreed; but what do you think? Chiswick was laying a trap all the time. Dingwal having finished what we had agreed, Chiswick began that damned cross-questioning, and dodged and winded the poor fellow so about, that on the Monday, as ill luck would have it, the poor man swore the direct contrary to what he had done on the Saturday. Chiswick had not lain by for nothing, and from the award, it was evident that the arbitrator believed my friend Dingwal against me, though he would not believe him for me. However, I cannot blame Dingwal; he had the good will, and if it had not been for Chiswick’s cross-questioning, would have been a most serviceable witness; and I must say, I before found him very obliging in his testimony; he went through like a hero when he was not so cross-examined. In the instance that I have just mentioned, I lost my cause; so you see I have had trials and tribulations in this world; nevertheless, I am a man of great property, and can afford to pay for a good commodity, in the literary line, as much as any man.” Mr. Lawhunt having favoured his two companions with this biographical sketch, then proceeded to business. “Dr. Scribble here,” says Mr. Lawhunt, “we all know to be a man of very extraordinary genius and larning. He has been a mentioning to me a plan of translating German books, of plays and histories, and philosophers, and luminies, and other pastimes, which he thinks would make very clever books; and if any one can do the job, he is the hand; but I need not mention him to you,—you know Dr. Scribble.” “Yes, yes,” says Dicky, “he knows me.” “That I do,” replied Hamilton, “most thoroughly.” “And I will venture to say,” rejoined Scribble, “that he has a just value for me.” “That you may safely affirm,” said the other. “But,” continued the Doctor, “what we particularly want with you, is to do us justice in the reviews and conversation, by speaking very highly of the work. I have already written a specimen; it is the translation of a play, one of the finest that ever entered into the human imagination to conceive; it is the story of Hurlobothrumbo, a Spanish hero, who sets off to the war with the Moors in Andalusia, with four attendants; he overcomes fifteen thousand, enters the city of the enemy alone, encounters twenty thousand, formed in a hollow square, in one of their narrow streets.” “Very well,” said Hamilton, “that’s a good idea.” “He couches his lance, charges the first five thousand that extended across the lane; defeats them; takes the city by storm.” “That was a great hero,” said Jeffery. “Yes,” said Scribble, “I will defy any writer but a German to think of such a hero.” “Oh do not,” said Hamilton, “disparage our own country too much;—what think you of Drawcansir?” “You know, Hamilton,” said Scribble, with much pomposity, “I do not like jesting upon serious subjects; I have often given my admonitions upon that topic.” “Which I hold in due estimation,” replied Hamilton. “But you do not always attend to them,” rejoined Scribble, a little sharply. “That does not contradict my position,” said the other. Scribble taking this as a compliment, proceeded, “Hurlobothrumbo sets all the prisoners free, returns to his own country, finds his mistress confined in a castle, guarded by a thousand giants, with one more enormous and fierce than all the rest, breaks through seven iron gates, kills the head giant, and five hundred more. The five hundred and second, with the other four hundred and ninety-eight, disheartened by the fall of their master and companions, yield to the heroic conqueror. He learns that his old father is somewhere confined in a dungeon, that nobody knows where but the ghost of a female, that at midnight amuses herself with playing a pibrach upon a Scotch bagpipe, accompanied by two others, performing on the hurdy-gurdy and the Jew’s harp. It is said, by the now subjected giants, to be reported, that the head ghost will answer no questions, unless a tune is hit to her mind. Various airs had been tried, but to no effect. The hero swears he will venture, though a hundred ghosts assail. Midnight arrives, and a dark and gloomy night it is. Hurlobothrumbo goes to the oratory, which all know is the favourite walk[4] of ghosts, and there he meets the three apparitions; the head one in a white silk negligee and petticoat; the other two in muslin. The lady begins Rothie Murcus’s rant, that convinces Hurlo that she is fond of Scotch music, which he, having met among the Moors with a Highland fidler from Strathspey, thoroughly understands. Fortunately there is a fiddle at hand; he answers Rothie Murcus by Money Musk; the ghosts fall a dancing, from which he conceives a good omen. The head lady strikes up Nancy Dawson, and makes a motion for him to join in the reel. The intrepid Hurlo foots it with the head spectre, playing all the while; the hobgoblins, warm with the exercise, sit down upon a bench. The hero regales them with Moggy Lawder; Hobgoblina, delighted with this melodious air, rises, and is making a very low curtsey; but sinking too much, falls to the ground; quickly starting up, she speaks: