The Sun.
London, England, 1863-10-07 00:00:00

BRIGHTON IN THE LAST CENTURY.

I believe it was then called Brighthelmstone—a nest of
cupolas, standing, as if it had sprung up like a bed of mush-
rooms, near the sea : a handful of trees, not ever-green, but
ever-brown; a place set round with modest tenements,
looking out on one spot in Brighton—still the cheerfullest
—the Old Steine ; sundry hotels, and an unfinished line of
houses along the West Cliff; the old parish church, above
all, on the hill, standing without dignity, but strong enough
to defy the howling blasts of the ocean ;—these were the
sole distinctive features of Brighton in those days. The
Downs rose above the town ; and, in summer, wheat-
sheaves threw a shadow where houses now stand. The
East Cliff, with its noble sea-view, its bleak points, its wild
desolateness, was totally devoid of horses; the grand
Esplanade was not finished—the embankments were not
begun.

Yet Brighton, rising into importance, and occupied by a
small half-aristocratic, half-royal—one third reputable,
two-thirds disreputable fashionists, was then, perhaps,
strictly far gayer than now—the gaiety of an assembled
population nut consisting in numbers, but in characteristics,

It was, indeed, a charming resort in those days for the
ultra-fast votaries of the Court, around which a group of
celebrated men and dazzling, handsome, clever women
circled. It had still, to London eyes, the novelty of being
partly provincial; the red brick, narrow pavements of the
older streets, the homely houses, with their single bow
windows all the way up; those houses on the Steyne, and
more especially the ancient church, still recall the days
when the Pavilion, with all its traditions of hapless festi-
vities and heartless intimacies, had been the production of
a fancy at once enervated and fantastic. One might almost
imagine, once carried back to those days, that one still saw
Mrs. Fitzherbert in her chariot—a monument to warn
beauty of its perils—or the Regent, with his blinds draws
up except towards the sea, meeting, as a stranger, in his
chariot and four, her for whom he had once defied the coun-
try'sprejudices ;or Romeo Coates—or the man with the pea-
green suit—or any other of those not able persons who made
Brighton their peculiar orb, London being too large for their
light to shine in constantly.
Then there was a pleasant theatre, which with the luxury
of being small, and a company quite good enough for those
whose perceptions were blunted, and whose good opinion
was propitiated by the fact of their having nothing to do,
and to whom therefore going to the theatre was not merely
a choice, but a necessity.
Rosamond Melmoth has a warmer heart, and con-
sequently a happier life, than her sister, so true is
it that happiness is less from without than from
within. We will not betray the secrets of
her story. The unhappy fate of lady Caro
line, occasioned by her overwhelming anxiety
for her son, will painfully arrest the attention of
those who call to mind the approaching death of the
authoress, preceded so immediately by that of her
own son. The story is somewhat crowded with
characters, but their various peculiarities are nicely
discriminated. And, with the exception we have
already, taken as to the manner of the denouement,
we may commend " Nest Door" as a very interest-
ing and attractive novel.

Andrew Dewerel ; or, the Life of an Adventurer en
New Guinea. By Charles Beach. Two vols.
Bentley.
There is a freshness and originality about this
work and its hero, which are very original and very
attractive. In the preface we find the following
suggestive announcement :
The author is an entirely unlearned man, unaccustomed
to literature, but he has actually been in all the scenes
he describes, and has taken part in the adventures. If he
can excite the curiosity and call the attention of the com-
mercial world to the riches and unexplored resources of New
Guinea, he will have conferred a benefit. That beautiful
country offers a virgin field of enterprise which would well
repay the dangers and difficulties of exploration.
Tile glimpse we are afterwards given of the interior
of New Guinea is sufficiently
,alluring to corro-
borate this assertion. It is represented, indeed, as
a land of sweets and spices, of verdure and fertility,
of " milk and honey." Andrew Deverel, after too
brief survey of it, yearns again to return to that
luxuriant soil, but in vain—his fate is otherwise
decreed. This Andrew Deverel, as we have said, is
"a character" and "an original." We first encounter
him a penniless stranger by his mother's grave.
He soon afterwards makes acquaintance with the
prudent, sagacious John Grey, who enacts a true
friend's part to the outcast. In the interview the
following hopeless explanation ensues :
HARING THE WORST OP IT.

"Do not talk to me of happiness; 1 am not so silly as to
hope for that. In my life I have seen only two persons
that were not miserable. One of those was a lunatic, and
the other an idiot."
"If only lunatics and fools were happy, you should en-
joy unbounded felicity, for I never listened to more genuine
nonsense than you can talk. Let us take an observation of
the circumstances in which you are placed, and determine
the course for you to steer in the future. Do you state all
that annoys you, and I will examine the means by which it
may be removed."

" Certainly, if you wish it, and I will not converse on
any other subject than the one of which I know the most.
In the first place I have poor health. My constitution has
become injured by exposure and hardships in many climes,
lam ignorant, and have a desire to obtain knowledge. I

am in great poverty, and am not contented with it. I have
not a relative or: friend in the world, and I have some
enemies. The education I have received by wandering
from one place to another makes me unfitted for any special
employment. lam so clothed with rags that no one woulu
listen to any terms I could offer. lam madly in love with
a girl who would faint with disgust and indignation should
I speak to her."

" That is a long catalogue of miseries, and very warm
ones, too," said Mr. Grey; "but does it comprise all ?"
"No. The worst of all is the state to which my mind is
brought by those I have mentioned. I have no energy, no
hope, no love of life, and no fear of death. All my feelings
are gradually changing into hate and pride. I believe the
strongest feeling that keeps me from crime is my dislike to
giving mankind the pleasure of punishing me for it."

Like many of his fellow-mortals, however, our hero
is " not so bad as he seems," or not quite so black
as he paints himself. There is a happier sketch of
him some little time later.

ANDREW REVERED.
Since early boyhood Andrew had been dependent on his
own exertions. The wandering life he had lived, and the
kardships ho had endured, had early developed a strong
and active mind. He had a soul superior to the combina-
tion of a few animal propensities, governed by vanity, that
forms the minds of t,o many young men of the present day.
Ti me is not always the measure of existence. Some people
of 25 years have seen, done, and learnt more than others of
75. Some men with active minds do more in the way of
thinking in one year than others do in ten, although an in-
active mind may think itself ever employed. Andrew
Deverel had ever been in circumstances requiring the exer-
tions of all his faculties.

If he was so much superior to the majority of young men,
the reader may enquire, why should we find him in the
streets of his native village, homeless, ill-clad and hungry ?
His destitute state was not the result of profligacy or of
idleness; but ho had a restless love of excitement and ad-
venture ; he preferred a wandering life, and seeing different
cpuntries, instead of following any fixed employment; he
had chosen to be "a rolling stone," and to sacrifice all the
" moss" of wealth or comfort he might have gained in a
settled business. He was manly and honourable, but he
could not bear control, and he revolted from everything like
routine. His peculiarities were precisely those most likely
to prevent him from ever becoming rich, and to land him
occasionally on the positive fact of destitution, but he could
always find something to which he could turn his hand to
help himself out of his inconveniences; he carried himself
complete wherever he went, and he considered his circurn•

stances, whether good or ill, as merely temporary, He
was tall, well made, lithe of limb, capable of
enduring great fatigue and privation ; with the
free and graceful carriage of an Indian chief, he
had the grave composure of one. His manners had the
characteristic of an old civilisation—viz, that of never seem-
ing to be out of place. His face was decidedly hand-
some—a pair of large gray eyes with log black eyelashes,

which could look very kind and good in spite of a certain
haughtiness, due partly to the erect manner in which he
held his head ; a straight powerful nose ; a light brown
beard and moustache allowed his mouth to be partly seen.
When he was in a good temper or a cheerful mood, the
expression of his whole countenance was kind and gentle,
but it was capable of looking very sarcastic and fierce when
be was not pleased. His hair, which was brown like his
beard, fell back from his forehead over his head rather long,
and without the slightest curl. He had the pride of a dozen
devils, a good deal of perverseness, and though his nature
was kind, his temper was uncertain. Fortune would have
to humour him as well as to favour him, if he were ever
to become a rich man.

Such is Andrew Deverel, who in his rags and
his wretchedness resolves, like the Gipsy Painter of
yore, that the rich man's daughter shall become
his bride. How Andrew speeds with his wooing
we shall not reveal. He has the spirit and determi-
nation of Il Zingaro, and like him deserves to com-
mand success. The episode of Henry Froud, who
goes to California to win gold for his ruined family,
is full of interest, and the scene of his return is de-
scribed with much dramatic force. Very different
emotions are excited by the sad story of the doomed
lieutenant, cursed by a fatal attraction to the
gaming-table. Deverel ultimately rescues him
from want, and lends him money to proceed home-
wards. Then follows a chapter entitled