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[page 354, column 1, continued:]
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MAGAZINE-WRITING — PETER SNOOK.
 In a late
number of the Democratic
Review, there appeared a very excellent paper (by Mr. Duyckinck) on the
subject of Magazine Literature — a subject much less thoroughly
comprehended
here than either in France or in England. In America, we compose, now
and
then, agreeable essays and other maters of that character — but we have
not yet caught the true Magazine spirit — a thing neither to be defined
nor described. Mr. Duyckinck's article, although piquant, is not
altogether
to our mind. We think he places too low an estimate on the capability
of
the Magazine paper. He is inclined to undervalue its power — to limit
unnecessarily
its province — which is illimitable. In fact, it is in the extent of
subject,
and not less in the extent or variety of tone, that the French
and
English
surpass us, to so good a purpose. How very rarely are we struck with an
American Magazine article, as with an absolute novelty — how frequently
the foreign articles so affect us! We are so [column 2:]
circumstanced as to be
unable
to pay for elaborate compositions — and, after all, the true
invention
is elaborate. There is no greater mistake than the supposition that a
true
originality is a mere matter of impulse or inspiration. To originate,
is
carefully, patiently, and understandingly to combine. The few American
Magazinists who ever think of this elaborate at all, cannot afford to
carry
it into practice for the paltry prices offered them by our periodical
publishers.
For this and other glaring reasons, we are behind the age in a very
important branch of literature — a branch which, moreover, is daily
growing
in importance — and which, in the end (not far
distant),
will
be the most influential of all the departments of Letters.
We are lamentably deficient, not only
in invention
proper, but in that which is, more strictly, art. What
American,
for instance, in penning a criticism, ever supposes himself called upon
to present his readers with more than the exact stipulation of his
title
— to present them with a criticism and something beyond? Who
thinks
of making his critique a work of art in itself — independently of its
critical
opinions? — a work of art, such as are all the more elaborate, and most
effective reviews of Macaulay? Yet, these reviews we have evinced no
incapacity
to appreciate, when presented. The best American review ever penned is
miserably ineffective when compared with the notice of Montagu's Bacon
— and yet this latter is, in general, a piece of tawdry sophistry,
owing
everything to a consummate, to an exquisite arrangement — to a thorough
and just sufficiently comprehensive diffuseness — to a masterly climacing
of points — to a style which dazzles the understanding with its
brilliancy
— but not more than it misleads it by its perspicuity — causing us so
distinctly
to comprehend that we fancy we coincide — in a word, to the perfection
of art — of all the art which a Macaulay can wield, or which is
applicable
to any criticism that a Macaulay could write.
It is, however, in the composition of
that class
of Magazine papers which come, properly, under the head of Tales,
that we evince the most remarkable deficiency in skill. If we except,
first,
Mr. Hawthorne — secondly, Mr. Simms — thirdly, Mr. Willis — and
fourthly,
one or two others, whom we may as well put mentally together without
naming
them — there is not even a respectably skilful tale-writer on this side
[[of]] the Atlantic. We have seen, to be sure, many very
well-constructed
stories — individual specimens — the work of American Magazinists; but
these specimens have invariably appeared to be happy accidents of
construction;
their authors, in subsequent tales, having always evinced an incapacity
to construct.
We have been led to a comparison of
the American
with the British ability in tale-writing, by a perusal of some Magazine
papers, the composition of the author of "Chartley," and "The Invisible
Gentleman." He is one of the best of the English
journalists,
and has some of the happiest peculiarities of Dickens, whom he preceded
in the popular favor. The longest and best of this tales, properly so
called,
is "Peter Snook," and this presents so many striking points for the
consideration
of the Magazininst, that we feel disposed to give an account of it in
full.
Peter Snook, the hero, and the beau
idéal
of a Cockney, is a retail linen-draper in Bishopgate street [[Street]].
He is, of
course,
a stupid and conceited, though, at bottom, a very good little fellow,
and
"always looks as if he was frightened." Matters go on very thrivingly
with him, until he becomes acquainted with Miss Clarinda Bodkin, "a
young
lady owning to almost thirty, and withal a great proficient in the
mysteries
of millinery and mantua-making." Love and ambition, however, set the
little
gentleman somewhat beside himself. "If Miss Clarinda would but have
me,"
says he, "we might divide the shop, and have a linen-drapery side, and
a haberdashery and millinery side, [page 355:] and one would
help the other.
There'd
be only one rent to pay, and a double business — and it would be so
comfortable,
too!" Thinking thus, Peter commences a flirtation, to which
Miss Clarinda but doubtfully responds. He escorts the lady to White
Conduit
House, Bagnigge Wells, and other genteel places of public resort —
and
finally is so rash as to accede to the proposition, on her part, of a
trip
to Margate. At this epoch of the narrative, the writer observes that
the
subsequent proceedings of the hero are gathered from accounts rendered
by himself, when called upon, after the trip, for explanation.
It is agreed that Miss Clarinda shall
set out alone
for Margate — Mr. Snook following her, after some indispensable
arrangements.
These occupy him until the middle of July, at which period, taking
passage
in the "Rose in June," he safely reaches his destination. But various
misfortunes here await him, — misfortunes admirably adapted to the
meridian
of Cockney feeling, and the capacity of Cockney endurance. His
umbrella,
for example, and a large brown paper parcel, containing a new pea-green
coat and flower-patterned embroidered silk waistcoat, are tumbled into
the water at the landing-place, and Miss Bodkin forbids him her
presence
in his old clothes. By a tumble of his, own too, the skin is rubbed
from
both his shins for several inches, and
his surgeon, having no regard to the lover's cotilon engagements,
enjoins on him a total abstinence from dancing. A
cock-chafer,
moreover, is at the trouble of flying into one of his eyes, and (worse
than all) a tall military-looking shoemaker, Mr. Last, has taken
advantage
of the linen-draper's delay in reaching Margate, to ingratiate himself
with his
mistress.
Finally, he is cut by Last, and rejected by the lady, and has
nothing
left for it, but to secure a homeward passage in the "Rose in June."
In
the evening of the second day after his departure, the vessel drops
anchor
off Greenwich. Most of the passengers go ashore, with the view of
taking
the stage to the city. Peter, however, who considers that he has
already
spent money enough to no purpose, prefers remaining on board. "We shall
get to Billingsgate," says he, "while I am sleeping, and I shall have
plenty of time to go home and dress, and go into the city and borrow
the
trifle I may want for Pester and Company's bill, that comes due the day
after to-morrow." This determination is a source of much trouble to
our
hero, as will be seen in the sequel. Some shopmen who remain with him
in
the packet, tempt him to unusual indulgences, in the way, first, of
brown
stout, and, secondly, of positive French brandy. The consequence is,
that
Mr. Peter Snook falls, thirdly, asleep, and, fourthly, overboard.
About dawn on the morning after this
event, Ephraim
Hobson, the confidential clerk and factotum of Mr. Peter Snook, is
disturbed
from a sound sleep by the sudden appearance of his master. That
gentleman
seems to be quite in a bustle, and delights Ephraim with an account of
a whacking wholesale order for exportation just received. "Not a
word
to anybody about the matter!" exclaims Peter, with unusual emphasis.
"It's
such an opportunity as don't come often in a man's life-time. There's a
captain of a ship — he's the owner of her, too; but never mind! there
an't
time to enter into particulars now, but you'll know all by and bye —
all
you have to do, is to do as I tell you — so, come along!"
Setting Ephraim to work, with
directions to pack
up immediately all the goods in the shop, with the exception of a few
trifling
articles, the master avows his intention of going into the city, "to
borrow
enough money to make up Pester's bill, due to-morrow."
"I don't think you'll want much, Sir," replied Mr. Hobson with a
self-complacent
air. "I've been looking about long-winded 'uns, you see, since you've
been gone, and I've got Shy's money and Slack's account, which we'd
pretty
[column 2:] well given up for a bad job, and one or
two more. There, — there's the
list — and there's the key to the strong box, where you'll find the
money,
besides what I've took at the counter." Peter, at this, seems well
pleased,
and shortly afterwards goes out, saying, he cannot tell when he'll be
back, and, giving directions that whatever goods may be sent in during
his
absence, shall be left untouched till his return.
It appears that, after leaving his
shop, Mr. Snook
proceeded to that of Jobb, Flashbill & Co., (one of whose
clerks,
on board the "Rose in June," had been very liberal in supplying our
hero
with brandy on the night of his ducking,) looked over a large quantity
of ducks and other goods, and finally made purchase of "a choice
assortment,"
to be delivered the same day. His next visit was to Mr. Bluff, the
managing
partner in the banking-house where he usually kept his cash. His
business
now was to request permission to overdraw a hundred pounds for a few
days.
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"Humph," said Mr.
Bluff, "money is
very scarce;
but — Bless me! — yes — it's he! Excuse me a minute, Mr. Snook, there's
a gentleman at the front counter whom I want particularly to speak to —
I'll be back with you directly." As he uttered these words, he rushed
out, and, in passing one of the clerks on his way forward, he
whispered,
"Tell Scribe to look at Snook's account, and let me know directly."
He,
then, went to the front counter, where several people were waiting to
pay
and receive money. "Fine weather this, Mr. Butt. What! you're not out
of
town like the rest of them?"
"No," replied Mr. Butt, who kept a
thriving gin-shop,
"no, I sticks to my business — make hay while the sun shines — that's
my
maxim. Wife up at night — I up early in the morning."
The banker chatted and listened with
great apparent
interest, till the closing of a huge book on which he kept his eye,
told
him that his whispered order had been attended to. He then took a
gracious
leave of Mr. Butt, and returned back to the counting-house with a slip
of paper, adroitly put in his hand while passing, on which was written,
"Peter Snook, Linen Draper, Bishopgate Street — old account —
increasing
gradually — balance: £153 15s. 6d. — very
regular."
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Snook," said he, "but we must catch
people when we can. Well, what is it you
were saying you wanted us to do?"
"I should like to be able to overdraw
just for a
few days," replied Peter.
"How much?"
"A hundred."
"Won't fifty do?"
"No, not quite, sir."
"Well, you're an honest fellow, and
don't come bothering
us often; so, I suppose we must not be too particular with you for this
once." |
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Leaving Bluff, Mr. Snook hurries to
overtake Mr.
Butt, the dealer in spirits, who had just left the banking-house before
himself, and to give that gentleman an order for a hogshead of the best
gin. As he is personally unknown to Mr. Butt, he hands him a card, on
which
is written, "Peter Snook, linen and muslin ware house, No. —,
Bishopgate
Street within," &c., &c., and takes occasion to mention that he
purchases
at the recommendation of Mr. Bluff. The gin is to be at Queenhithe the
same evening. The spirit-dealer, as soon as his new customer has taken
leave, revolves in his mind the oddity of a linen[[-]]draper's buying a
hogshead
of gin, and determines to satisfy himself of Mr. Snook's responsibility
by a personal application to Mr. Bluff. On reaching the bank,
however,
he is told by the clerks that Mr. Bluff, being in attendance upon a
committee
of the House of Commons, will not be home in any reasonable time — but
also that Peter Snook is a perfectly safe man. The gin is accordingly
sent;
and several other large orders for different goods, upon other houses,
are all promptly fulfilled in the same manner. Meantime,
Ephraim is
busily
engaged at home in receiving and inspecting the invoices of the various
purchases as they arrive, at which employment he is occupied until
dusk,
when his master makes his appearance in unusually high spirits. We must
here be pardoned for copying some passages:
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"Well, Ephraim, " he
exclaimed,
"this looks something
like [page 354:] business! You havn't had such a job this many
a day! Shop looks
well
now, eh?"
"You know best, sir,
" replied
Hobson. "But hang
me if I a'nt frightened. When we shall sell all these goods. I'm sure I
can't think. You talked of having a haberdashery side to the shop; but
if we go on at this rate, we shall want another side for ourselves; I'm
sure I don't know where Miss Bodkin is to be put."
"She go to Jericho!"
said Peter
contemptuously.
"As for the goods, my boy, they'll be gone before to-morrow
morning.
All you and I have got to do, is to pack 'em up; so, let us turn to,
and
strap
at it. "
Packing was
Ephraim's favorite
employment, but, on
the present occasion, he set to work with a heavy heart. His master, on
the contrary, appeared full of life and spirits, and corded boxes,
sewed
up trusses, and packed huge paper parcels with a celerity and an
adroitness
truly wonderful.
"Why,
you don't get on, Hobson," he
exclaimed;
"see what I've done! Where's the ink-pot? — oh, here it is!" and he
proceeded
to mark his packages with his initials, and the letter G below. "There,
" he resumed, "P. S. G.; that's for me, at Gravesend. I'm to meet the
Captain
and owner there; show the goods — if there's any he don't like shall
bring
'em back with me; get bills — bankers' acceptances for the rest; see
'em
safe on board; then — but not before, mind that, Master
Ephraim!
No, no, keep my weather eye open, as the men say on board the "Rose in
June."
By-the-bye, I havn't told you yet about my falling overboard, whap into
the river."
"Falling overboard!"
exclaimed the
astonished shopman,
quitting his occupation to stand erect and listen.
"Ay, ay," continued
Peter — "see it
won't do to
tell you long stories now. There — mark that truss, will you?
Know
all about it some day. Lucky job, though — tell you that; got this
thundering
order by it. Had one tumble, first, going off, at Margate. Spoilt my
peagreen
— never mind — that was a lucky tumble, too. Hadn't been for that,
shouldn't
so soon have found out the game a certain person was playing with me.
She
go to Jericho!"
But for the frequent
repetition of
this favorite
expression, Ephraim Hobson has since declared he should have doubted
his
master's identity during the whole of that evening, as there was
something
very singular about him; and his strength and activity in moving the
bales,
boxes, and trusses, were such as he had never previously exhibited. The
phrase condemning this, that, or
the other thing
or person to "go to Jericho," was the only expression that he
uttered,
as the shopman said, "naturally," and Peter repeated that whimsical
anathema
as often as usual.
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The goods being all packed up, carts
arrive to carry
them away; and, by half-past ten o'clock, the shop is entirely cleared,
with the exception of some trifling articles, to make show on the
shelves
and counters. Two hackney coaches are called. Mr. Peter Snook gets into
one with a variety of loose articles, which would require too much time
to pack, and his shopman into another with some more. Arriving at
Queenhithe,
they find all the goods previously sent, already embarked in the hold
of
a long-decked barge, which lies near the shore. Mr. Snook now insists
upon
Ephraim's going on board, and taking supper and some hot
rum
and water. This advice he follows to so good purpose, that he is, at
length,
completely bewildered, when his master, taking him up in his arms,
carries
him on shore, and there setting him down, leaves him to make the best
of
his way home as he can.
About eight, next morning, Ephraim,
awaking, of course,
in a sad condition, both of body and mind, sets himself immediately
about
arranging the appearance of the shop "so as to secure the credit of the
concern." In spite of all his ingenuity, however, it maintains a
poverty-stricken
appearance, — which circumstance excites some most unreasonable
suspicions
in the mind of Mr. Bluff's clerk, upon his calling at ten, with Pester
&
Co.'s bill, (three hundred and sixteen pounds, seventeen shillings,)
and
receiving, by way of payment, a check upon his own banking house for
the
amount — Mr. Snook having written this check before his departure with
the goods, and left it with Ephraim. On reaching the bank, therefore,
the clerk inquires if Peter Snook's check is good for three hundred and
sixteen pounds odd, and is told that it is not worth a farthing, Mr. S.
having overdrawn already for a hundred. While Mr. Bluff and his
assistants
are conversing on this subject, Butt, the gin-dealer, calls to thank
the banker for having recommended him a customer — which the banker
denies
having done. An explanation [column 2:] ensues, and "stop
thief!" is the cry.
Ephraim
is sent for, and reluctantly made to tell all he knows of his master's
proceedings on the day before — by which means a knowledge is obtained
of the other houses, who (it is supposed) have been swindled. Getting a
description of the barge which conveyed the goods from Queenhithe, the
whole party of creditors now set off in pursuit.
About dawn, the next morning, they
overtake the barge,
a little below Gravesend — when four men are observed leaving her, and
rowing to the shore in a skiff. Peter Snook
is
found sitting quietly in the cabin, and although apparently a little
surprised
at seeing Mr. Pester, betrays nothing like embarrassment or fear.
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"Ah, Mr. Pester, is
it you! Glad to
see you, sir!
So you've been taking a trip out o' town, and are going back with us?
We
shall get to Billingsgate between eight and nine, they say; and I hope
it won't be later, as I've a bill of yours comes due to-day, and I want
to be at home in time to write a check for it."
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The goods are also found on board,
together with
three men in the hold, gagged and tied hand and foot. They give a
strange
account of themselves. Being in the employ of Mr. Heaviside, a
lighterman,
they were put in charge of "The Flitter," when she was hired by Peter
Snook, for a trip to Gravesend. According to their orders, they took
the
barge, in the first instance, to a wharf near Queenhithe, and helped to
load
her with some goods brought down in carts. Mr. Snook, afterwards, came
on
board, bringing with him two fierce looking men, and "a little man with
a
hooked nose." (Ephraim.) Mr. S. and the little man, then, "had a sort
of
a jollification" in the cabin, till the latter got drunk and was
carried
ashore. They then proceeded down the river, nothing particular occuring
till they had passed Greenwich Hospital, when Mr. S. ordered them to
lay
the barge alongside a large black-sided ship. No sooner was the order
obeyed
than they were boarded by a number of men from said ship, who seized
them,
bound them, gagged them and put them in the hold.
The immediate consequence of this
information is,
that Peter is bound, gagged, and put down
into the hold in the same manner, by way of retaliation, and for
safe keeping
on his way back to the city. On the arrival of the party, a meeting of
the
creditors is called. Peter appears before them in a great rage, and
with
the air of an injured man. Indeed, his behavior is so mal à
propos to
his
situation as entirely to puzzle his interrogators. He accuses the
whole
party of a conspiracy.
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"Peter Snook," said
Mr. Pester
solemnly, from the
chair, "that look does not become you after what has passed. Let me
advise
you to conduct yourself with propriety. You will find that the best
policy,
depend on't."
"A pretty thing for you, for to come
to talk of propriety!" exclaimed Peter; "you, that seed me laid hold on
by a set of ruffins,
and never said a word, nor given information a'terwards! And here have
I been kept away from business I don't know how long, and shut up like
a dog in a kennel; but I look upon't you were at the bottom of it all —
you and that fellow with the plum-pudding face, as blowed me up about a
cask of gin! What you both mean by it, I can't think; but if there's
any
law in the land, I'll make you remember it, both of you — that's what I
will!"
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Mr. Snook swears that he never saw Jobb in his
life, except on the occasion of his
capture
in "The Flitter," and positively denies having looked out any parcel
of
goods at the house of Jobb, Flashbill & Co. With the banker, Mr.
Bluff,
he acknowledges an acquaintance — but not having drawn for the two
hundred
and seventy pounds odd, or having ever overdrawn for a shilling in his
life. Moreover he is clearly of opinion that the banker has still in
his
hands more than a hundred and fifty pounds of his (Mr. Snook's) money.
He can designate several gentlemen as being no creditors of his,
although
they were of the number of those from whom large purchases had been
made
for the "whacking" shipping order, [page 357:] and although
their goods were found
in "The Flitter." Ephraim is summoned, and testifies to all the
particulars
of his master's return, and the subsequent packing, cart-loading, and
embarkation
as already told — accounting for the extravagances of Mr. Snook as
being
"all along of that Miss Bodkin."
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"Lor', master, hi's
glad to see you
agin, " exclaimed
Ephraim. "Who'd ha' thought as 'twould come to this?"
"Come to what? " cried Peter. "I'll
make 'em repent
of it, every man Jack of em, before I've done, if there's law to be
had
for love or money!"
"Ah, sir," said Ephraim, "we'd
better have stuck
to the retail. I was afraid that shipping consarn wouldn't answer, and
tell'd you so, if you recollect, but you wouldn't harken to me."
"What shipping concern?" inquired
Peter, with a
look of amazement.
"La! master," exclaimed Ephraim, "it
aint of any
use to pretend to keep it a secret now, when everybody knows it. I
didn't
tell Mr. Pester, though, till the last, when all the goods was gone out
of the shop, and the sheriff's officers had come to take possession of
the house."
"Sheriff's officers in possession of
my house!"
roared Peter. "All the goods gone out of the shop! What do you mean by
that, you rascal? What have you been doing in my absence?" And he
sprang
forward furiously, and seized the trembling shopman by the collar with
a degree of violence which rendered it difficult for the two officers
in
attendance to disengage him from his hold.
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Hereupon, Mr. Snap, the attorney
retained by the
creditors, harangues the company at some length, and intimates that Mr.
Snook is either mad or acting the madman for the purpose of evading
punishment.
A practitioner from Bedlam is sent for, and some artifices resorted to
— but to no purpose. It is found
impossible
to decide upon the question of sanity. The medical gentleman, in his
report
to the creditors, confesses himself utterly perplexed, and, without
giving
a decision, details the particulars of a singular story told him by Mr.
Snook himself, concerning the mode of his escape from drowning after he
fell overboard from the "Rose in June." "It is a strange, unlikely tale
to be sure," says the physician, "and if his general conversation was
of that wild, imaginative, flighty kind which I have so often
witnessed,
I should say it was purely ideal; but he appears such a plain-spoken,
simple
sort of a person, that it is difficult to conceive how he could invent
such a fiction." Mr. Snook's narration is then told, not in his very
words,
but in the author's own way, with all the particulars obtained from
Peter's
various recitations. We give it only in brief.
Upon tumbling overboard, Mr. Snook
(at least according
to his own story) swam courageously as long as he could. He was upon
the
point of sinking, however, when an oar was thrust under his arm, and he
found himself lifted in a boat by a "dozen dark-looking men." He is
taken
on board a large ship, and the captain, who is a droll genius, and
talks
in rhyme somewhat after the fashion of the wondrous Tale of Alroy,
entertains
him
with great cordiality, dresses him in a suit of his own clothes, makes
him drink in the first place, a brimmer of "something hot," and
afterwards
plies him with wines and cordials of all kinds, at a supper of the most
magnificent description. Warmed in body and mind by this excellent
cheer,
Peter reveals his inmost secrets to his host, and talks freely and
minutely
of a thousand things; of his man Ephraim and his oddities; of his bank
account; of his great credit; of his adventures with Miss Bodkin; of
his
prospects
in trade; and especially of the names, residences, etc. etc.,
of
the wholesale houses with whom he is in the habit of dealing.
Presently,
being somewhat overcome with wine, he goes to bed at the suggestion of
the captain, who promises to call him in season for a boat in the
morning,
which will convey him to Billingsgate in full time for Pester and Co.'s
note. How long he slept is uncertain — but when he awoke a great change
was observable in the captain's manner, who was somewhat brusque, and
handed
him over the ship's side into the barge where he was [column 2:]
discovered by the creditors in pursuit, and which he was assured
would convey him to Billingsgate.
This relation, thus succintly given by us, implies little
or nothing. The result, however, to which the reader
is ingeniously led by the author, is, that the real Peter Snook has
been
duped, and that the Peter Snook who made the various purchases about
town,
and who appeared to Ephraim only during the morning and evening
twilight
of the eventful day, was, in fact, no other person than the captain of
"the strange, black-sided ship." We are to believe that, taking
advantage
of Peter's communicativeness, and a certain degree of personal
resemblance
to himself, he assumed our hero's clothes while he slept, and made a
bold
and nearly successful attempt at wholesale peculation.
The incidents of this story are
forcibly conceived,
and even in the hands of an ordinary writer would scarcely fail of
effect.
But, in the present instance, so unusual a tact is developed in the
narration,
that we are inclined to rank "Peter Snook" among the few tales which
(each in its own way) are absolutely faultless. It is a Flemish
home-piece
of the highest order — its merits lying in its chiaro 'scuro — in that
blending of light and shade and shadow ,where nothing is too distinct,
yet where
the
idea is fully conveyed — in the absence of all rigid outlines and all
miniature
painting — in the not undue warmth of the coloring — and in a well
subdued
exaggeration at all points — an exaggeration never amounting to
caricature. |
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