came to an untimely end: only two numbers ever made their appearance.
Such was the difficulty which the publisher experienced in making
up the second, owing to Hook's listlessness, or more probably
preoccupation, that he declined venturing on a third.
This was the prelude of _John Bull_. The most important event with
which the name of Theodore Hook stands connected, is unquestionably
the establishment of the _John Bull_ newspaper, at the close of 1820.
The universal, instantaneous, and appreciable effect produced on the
great political movements of the day by its appearance, is perhaps
unparalleled in the history of periodical literature.
The Queen's affair had gone on all the summer and autumn; the madness
of popular exacerbation gaining new intenseness with every week
that passed. None who remember the feelings and aspects of the time
will think it possible to exaggerate either in description: but we
shall make no such attempt. The explosion scattered brilliant terror
far and wide. No first appearance of any periodical work of any
class whatever has, in our time at least, produced such a startling
sensation--it told at once from the convulsed centre to every
extremity of the kingdom. There was talent of every sort, apparently,
that could have been desired or devised for such a purpose. It seemed
as if a legion of sarcastic devils had brooded in synod over the
elements of withering derision. But, as far as Hook's MSS. allowed
his biographers to judge, he was really and truly alone; and, at all
events, they exonerate most completely certain other persons who were
at first saddled with a large share of the merit and the obloquy of
the _Bull_. Of the famous songs during the winter of 1820-21, only
one, he used to say, was an extraneous contribution.
The paper set out with one specific object: the extinction of the
Brandenburgh House party; and, to accomplish this, Hook's varied
talents--his wit and humour, his sarcasm and bitterness, his keenness
of argument, fiery zeal, and unscrupulous daring--were all brought to
bear with concentrated energy upon the ranks of the Opposition. Any
man reckless of legal consequences, or beyond their reach, familiar
with the current scandal of the day, and having so powerful an
engine as a public paper at his disposal, may inflict a vast amount
of injury upon his adversaries; but to these conditions, in the
present case, may be added powers, if not of the very highest order,
doubtless the best adapted to the purpose, sources of information
peculiar and inexplicable, a singleness of purpose, and firm
conviction of its justice, that combined to render _Bull_ the most
formidable antagonist that had as yet entered the lists against the
Queen.
Many of _Bull's_ songs, in construction, and even in execution, were
very little different from those which Hook used to improvise in the
course of a festive evening. It has been said by one who knew him,
that a person who never witnessed that marvellous performance could
not take a better notion of what it was than from such a piece as the
"Visit of Mrs. Muggins," in thirty-one stanzas.
Here also Hook commenced and continued from time to time, for ten
years, that famous series of Ramsbottom Papers, which were the
precursors of all the Mrs. Malaprops, Mrs. Partingtons, and Mrs.
Browns of a later generation, and which, like nearly all originals,
greatly surpassed in genuine humour and excellence the cleverest
imitations that have since appeared.
By his flagellations of the Whigs, meantime, Hook had shut against
himself the gates of forbearance at Whitehall. He might have thought
himself well off, if he had not tempted harshness into play against
him. He thought he had: he always persisted that the auditor's final
report on him was an unjust deliverance; and he maintained equally
the opinion that the measures of the Government consequent on that
report were unusually severe. The award was at last given in the
autumn of 1823, and it pronounced him a debtor to the Crown of over
£12,000.
On his arrest under the Exchequer writ (August, 1823), he was
taken to the dwelling and spunging-house of the sheriff's officer,
his captor, by name Mr. Hemp, and still hoping that a protracted
imprisonment was not seriously intended, he chose to remain there
week after week, and month after month, until Easter. The expense
of board and lodging at a house of that class is always heavy; his
accommodations were mean, and the situation about the worst in
London--Shire Lane, so named as separating part of the City from
Middlesex--a vile, squalid place, noisy and noxious, apparently
almost inaccessible either to air or light, swarming with a
population of thief-catchers, gin-sellers, and worse. But his spirit
was not yet to be broken. He endured the unwholesome confinement with
patience--no sooner was hope knocked down in one quarter than it
sprung up again in another--he kept himself steadily at work in the
mornings, and his few intimates commonly gathered round him in the
evening.
In April, 1824, Hook at last took his leave of Shire Lane. He
had, as usual, made himself a great favourite with Hemp and his
family, and such a guest could not be allowed to depart without a
farewell banquet. The company exhibited in harmonious contrast Mr.
Hook's theatrical and literary confidants of the time, and sundry
distinguished ornaments of his hospitable landlord's own order. The
sederunt did not close without a specimen of the improvisatore; and
his ballad "showed up" Mr. Hemp and his brethren, as intrusted with
the final offices of the law in the case of the grand culprit before
them:--
CHORUS--
"Let him hang with a curse,--this atrocious, pernicious
Scoundrel that emptied the till at Mauritius!"[8]
The close confinement in the bad air of Shire Lane had affected his
health, and indeed his personal appearance was permanently damaged
in consequence of the total disuse of exercise for so many months,
and the worry of mind which even he must have been enduring. He came
out pale and flabby in the face, and with a figure fast tending to
corpulence. He was transferred to the Rules of the King's Bench,
within which he hired a small separate lodging, in an airy enough
situation--Temple Place.
In 1824 Theodore Hook published the first series of that collection
of tales which, under the title of "Sayings and Doings,"[9] placed
him at once in the highest rank of the novelists of his generation;
above all his contemporaries, with the one exception, of course,
of the Author of "Waverley." The first idea and plan of the work
was struck out during the sitting of a sort of _John Bull_ conclave
held at Fulham, and had origin in the suggestion of a friend, who,
delighted with the anecdotes of Colonial life which Hook was pouring
forth, conceived that they might be turned to better account than
the mere entertainment of a dinner-party, and hit upon a title, at
which Hook caught with eagerness. So convinced was the latter that
his first tale, "The Man of Sorrow," had not been fairly appreciated,
that he actually embodied in his new essay the rejected attempt
of Mr. Alfred Allendale, condensed, indeed, and purged from its
impurities, but not materially altered from the original. Much better
in every respect is the story of "Danvers, the _Parvenu_."
The more prominent characters in Hook's novels are, in spite of his
disclaimer, unquestionably portraits. To many of the Anglo-Indian
sketches, the journal kept during the author's sojourn at the
Mauritius would doubtless supply a key.
Hook, indeed, always denied the possession of inventive faculties.
There was doubtless truth as well as modesty in his assertion: "Give
me a story to tell, and I can tell it, but I cannot create."
The popularity of the first series of "Sayings and Doings" (three
vols.) may be estimated from his diary, which records the profit to
the author as £2,000. There were, we believe, three considerable
impressions before the Second Series, also in three vols., was ready
in the spring of 1825. And shortly after that publication he was at
length released from custody--with an intimation, however, that the
Crown abandoned nothing of its claim for the Mauritius debt.
The first series of "Sayings and Doings" were soon followed
(1825-1829) by a second and third, which are generally considered in
every way superior to the former ones. The author was of this opinion
himself, and the public as certainly ratified his verdict.
In the meantime Theodore Hook, released from his temporary
confinement, had taken a cottage at Putney, of which neighbourhood
he had always been fond, and may be said to have re-entered society,
though his circle of acquaintance continued limited for a couple of
years more.
While at Putney, in 1826, he from motives of pure kindness re-wrote,
that is to say, composed from rough illiterate materials, the very
entertaining "Reminiscences" of an old theatrical and musical friend
of his--Michael Kelly. The book was received with astonishment, for
he generously kept his own secret.
In 1827 he took a higher flight, and became the tenant of a house
in Cleveland Row--on the edge of what, in one of his novels, he
describes as "the real London--the space between Pall Mall on the
south, and Piccadilly on the north, St. James's-street on the west,
and the Opera House to the east." The residence was handsome, and
indeed appeared extravagantly too large for his purpose. He was
admitted a member of several clubs; became the first attraction of
their house-dinners; and in those where play was allowed, might
usually be seen in the course of his protracted evening. Soon he
began to receive invitations to great houses in the country, and
from week after week, often travelled from one to another, to all
outward appearance, in the style of an idler of high condition. He
had soon entangled himself with habits and connections which implied
considerable curtailment of his labour at the desk, and entailed a
course of expenditure more than sufficient to swallow all the profits
of what remained.
His next novel, "Maxwell," published in 1830, is, in point of plot,
by far the most perfect of his productions; the interest which is at
once excited, never for an instant flags, and the mystery, so far
from being of the flimsy transparent texture, common to romances, is
such as to baffle the most practised and quick-witted discoverer of
_dénoûments_, and to defy all attempts at elucidation.
New debts began to accumulate on him so rapidly, that about 1831,
he found it necessary to get rid of the house at St. James's, and
to remove to one of more modest dimensions close to Fulham Bridge,
with a small garden looking towards the river. Here in the locality
which had long been a favourite one with him, he remained till his
death; but though he took advantage of the change to drop the custom
of giving regular dinners, and probably to strike off some other
sources of expense, he not only continued his habits of visiting, but
extended them as new temptations offered.
Probably few of his admirers ever knew exactly where Hook lived. His
letters and cards were left for him at one or other of his clubs, but
it is doubtful if the interior of his Fulham cottage was ever seen by
half a dozen people besides his old intimate friends and familiars.
To the upper world he was visible only as the jocund convivialist
of the club--the brilliant wit of the lordly banquet, the lion of
the crowded assembly, the star of a Christmas or Easter party in a
rural palace, the unfailing stage-manager, prompter, author, and
occasionally excellent comic actor of private theatricals.
But, notwithstanding the round of gaiety and pleasure in which the
greater number of his evenings were spent, the time so employed
cannot be said to have been altogether wasted; for, to a writer who
has to draw from life, whose books are men and women, and to whom
the gossip and _on dits_ of the day are the rough material of his
manufacture, a constant mixing in society of every accessible rank
is absolutely necessary--to one of his taste and discrimination,
the higher the grade the better. Whithersoever he went he carried
with him not only an unfailing fund of entertainment, but also
unslumbering powers of observation, that served to redeem what
otherwise would have appeared mere weakness and self-indulgence.
And that he was not slow to avail himself of the advantages that
fell to his share, no one will deny, who casts a glance over the
list of productions he gave to the world, during a period when
the intellectual exertion of his convivial hours alone would have
exhausted the energies, physical and mental, of well-nigh any other
man.
In 1832 he published the "Life of Sir David Baird," a standard
biographical work, and one spoken of in the highest terms by the
best reviews of the day. So satisfied were the family with the
manner in which he executed his task, that they presented him with a
magnificent gold snuff-box set with brilliants, the gift of the Pasha
of Egypt to the subject of the memoir. Hook seems to have tossed the
trinket aside as an unconsidered trifle into a drawer, from which
it was happily rescued on the accidental discovery of its value and
importance.
In 1833 he sent forth no fewer than six volumes, full of originality
and wit; a novel called the "Parson's Daughter," and a couple of
stories under the title of "Love and Pride." In one of the latter,
the supposed resemblance of Liston to a certain noble lord is happily
turned to account; the being mistaken for _Mr. Buggins_, principal
low comedian of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, forming a light and
pointed climax to the _congeries_ of ridiculous miseries heaped on
the unfortunate Marquis.
In 1836, Theodore Hook undertook the editorship of the _New Monthly
Magazine_, at a salary of four hundred pounds a year, irrespective
of the sums to be paid for original contributions. Here he commenced
his "Gilbert Gurney," accommodating himself to the exceedingly
uncomfortable practice, now all but universal among popular and
prolific novelists, of delivering his tale by monthly instalments. To
this plan, though obliged to succumb to it, he always took exception,
as not only wearisome to the reader, but fatal to fair development of
plot.
Of all his works, "Gilbert Gurney" is by far the most mirth-provoking
and remarkable. His own adventures form the groundwork of the
comedy; himself and his friends figure as the _dramatis personæ_,
and throughout the whole there appear an unrestrained expression of
private feelings, and a frequency of personal allusion, that give it
the semblance and almost the interest of true history.
In his next novel, "Jack Brag," Hook again hit upon a character with
which he could go to work _con amore_. Vulgar, vain, and impudent,
a cross between a tallow-chandler, and what, in the cant phrase of
the day, is termed a sporting _gent_, a hanger-on upon the loose
branches of the aristocracy, and occasionally thrown into society
more respectable, Mr. Brag's _gaucheries_ convulse the reader; while
those who scorn not to read a warning, even on the page of a novel,
may be led to devote more than a passing thought to the folly (to say
the least of it) of indulging in the very silly and very common habit
of perpetual though petty misrepresentation, as regards their means
and position in life, and the nature and degree of their acquaintance
with individuals of a rank higher than their own. There is no lower
depth of drawing-room degradation than is involved in the exposure of
one of these pretenders; unrecognised, perhaps, by his "most intimate
friend" Lord A----, cut by his "old crony" Sir John B----, or never
"heard of" by his "college chum," the Bishop of C----.
"Jack Brag" was followed, in 1839, by "Births, Marriages, and
Deaths," which, notwithstanding its infelicitous title,--as far as
fitness goes, it might as well have been called "Law Notices," or
"Fashionable Intelligence," or by any other newspaper "heading,"--was
a novel of a higher class than any he had before attempted: the
humour is scantier and more subdued than heretofore, and though
the magnificent _Colonel Magnus_, and his rascally attorney
_Brassey_, here and there afford admirable sport, the latter, with
his economical wardrobe, to wit:--"one tooth-brush twisted up in a
piece of whitey-brown paper; a razor by itself tied with a piece of
red tape to a round pewter shaving-box (enclosing a bit of soap),
with the tip of its handle peeping from the bottom of a leathern
case, like the feet of a long-legged Lilliputian sticking out of his
coffin; a remarkably dirty flannel under-waistcoat, edged with light
blue silk and silver; one pair of black silk socks, brown in the
bottoms," &c.--yet the general effect is heavy,--heavier, that is,
than the public were inclined to accept from the pen of Theodore Hook.
This, in point of fact, may be considered his last finished work.
"Precepts and Practice" appeared in 1840,--the name an obvious
plagiarism, and from himself, being merely a collection of short
papers and tales, published during the preceding year or two, in the
_New Monthly_, of which he was the editor. As for "Fathers and Sons,"
portions of which appeared in the same magazine, and "Peregrine
Bunce," we believe neither of them to have been completed by his own
hand; of the latter, about one hundred pages of the last of the three
volumes were certainly supplied by another writer.
The production of thirty-eight volumes, within sixteen years, Hook
being all the while editor, and almost sole writer, of a newspaper,
affords sufficient proof that he never sank into idleness; but in
other respects there had been great changes within that period. Two
unhappy errors into which he had fallen marred the happiness of the
remainder of his life. Before his arrest in 1823, he had formed a
_liaison_, which, though perhaps excusable in his position at Somers
Town, was persisted in afterwards under less adverse circumstances,
until the righteous consequences of guilt could not be averted. This
connection soon became such as, in his position, and with the kind
and manly feelings which adhered to him, made it impossible for him
to marry in his proper condition; and though he often thought of
atoning to his partner, and in some sort to the children she had
borne him, by making her his wife, he never took courage to satisfy
his conscience by carrying that purpose into effect. The second
error regarded his debt to the Crown, which, though during the
last twenty years of life he was in receipt of an affluent income
from his writings, he made no real or adequate effort to repay by
instalments. Hook never denied that he was in justice responsible
for a deficit of £9,000; and those who had the sole authority to
judge of the matter, pronounced the rightful claim to be £12,000.
When he was released from the King's Bench, he was told distinctly
that the debt must hang over him until every farthing was paid. We
know that he had, in his great and various talents, left from that
hour at his free command, means of earning far more than enough for
his own decent maintenance, and that of his unfortunate family; and
most clearly every shilling that he could make beyond that ought
to have been, from time to time, paid into the Exchequer towards
the liquidation of his debt. In neglecting this, he threw away the
only chance before him of effectually vindicating his character,
together with all reasonable chance of ever again profiting by the
open patronage of either the Crown or its Ministers. In every page
of his works we trace the disastrous influence of both these grand
original errors, perpetually crossing and blackening the picture of
superficial gaiety--indications, not to be mistaken, of a conscience
ill at ease; of painful recollections and dark anticipations rising
irrepressibly, and not to be stifled; of good, gentle, and generous
feelings converted by the stings of remorse into elements of torture.
His pecuniary embarrassments became deeper and darker every year.
Even in the midst of his abundant dissipation he worked hard in the
mornings--certainly he covered with his MS. more paper than would
have proved, in almost any other man's case, the energetic exertion
of every hour in every day that passed over his head; and little did
his fine friends understand or reflect at what an expense of tear and
wear he was devoting his evenings to their amusement.
About a month before his decease he wrote to Mr. Barham, whom he
requested to run down to Fulham and see him, as he was too ill
to leave home himself; and of the interview which ensued we are
enabled to give a somewhat full account, committed to paper shortly
afterwards, and evidently with the view of fixing the impression, yet
fresh, in the writer's mind:--
"It was on the 29th of July, 1841, that I last saw poor Hook. I
had received a note from him requesting me to come down and see
him, as he wished much to talk over some matters of importance, and
could not, from the state of his health, drive into town. I went
accordingly, and after a long conversation, which related principally
to * * * and to his novel, 'Peregrine Bunce,' then going through the
press, but which he never lived to complete, a roast fowl was put
on the table for luncheon. He helped me and took a piece himself,
but laid down his knife and fork after the first mouthful, which,
indeed, he made an unsuccessful attempt to swallow. On my observing
his unusual want of appetite--for his luncheon was in general his
dinner--he said: 'It is of no use, old fellow; the fact is I have not
tasted a morsel of solid food these five days!' 'Then what on earth
have you lived upon?' to which he replied, 'Effervescing draughts;'
adding afterwards, that he was allowed to take occasionally a
tumbler of rum and milk, or a pint of Guinness's bottled porter.
[Illustration: At the age of 51 from a Portrait by Count D'Orsay]
"On hearing this, I strongly pressed on him the necessity of having
further advice, which he at length promised he would do, if he were
not better in a day or two. I told him that my wife and myself were
going down to the Isle of Thanet, and pressed him very much to throw
work overboard for a while, and accompany us and be nursed. He said,
however, 'he was completely tied to his desk till he had concluded
what he was then writing for Colburn and Bentley; but that he should
get quite clear of his trammels in about a month, and then, if we
were still there, he would make an effort to pay us a visit.'"
In truth, he was soon past writing; death was advancing upon him
with rapid strides, while earthly prospects were growing, daily,
darker and more threatening. It is painful to reflect that his last
hours, ere the struggling mind had sunk into insensibility, were
disturbed by the apprehension of inability to meet a couple of bills
of comparatively trifling amount, on the point, as he believed, of
becoming due. On Friday, the 13th of August, he took finally to his
bed, the stream hurried on with increasing velocity as it approached
the fall--a brief agitated interval, happily not neglected, was left
for the first, last work of erring man, and on the evening of the
24th he expired.
The disorder under which he had been labouring for years, arose from
a diseased state of the liver and stomach, brought on partly by
mental anxiety, but principally, it is to be feared, by that habit
of over-indulgence at table, the curse of Colonial life, which he
had early acquired, and to which he held with fatal perseverance
to the end. It needed no ordinary powers to enable him to sustain
the contest so long; but his frame was robust and his constitution
vigorous; and he seems to have possessed in a remarkable degree
that power of maintaining the supremacy of mind over matter, which
rendered him indifferent to, or unconscious of, the first slow
approaches of decay. He was buried with extreme privacy at Fulham;
a simple stone bearing his name and age marks the spot, which is
immediately opposite the chancel window, and within a few paces of
his former home.