_Peter Snook, a Tale of the City; Follow your Nose; and other Strange
Tales. By the Author of ‘Chartley,’ the ‘Invisible Gentleman,’ &c. &c.
Philadelphia: Republished by Carey, Lea and Blanchard._
The ‘Invisible Gentleman’ was exceedingly popular—and is. It belongs
to a class of works which every one takes a pleasure in reading, and
yet which every one thinks it his duty to condemn. Its author is one
of the best of the English Magazinists—possessing a large share of
Imagination, and a wonderful fertility of Fancy or Invention. With the
exception of Boz, of the London Morning Chronicle, and, perhaps a
couple of the writers in Blackwood, he has no rivals in his particular
line. We confess ourselves somewhat in doubt, however, whether Boz and
the author of ‘Chartley’ are not one and the same—or have not some
intimate connection. In the volume now before us, the two admirable
Tales, ‘Peter Snook’ and ‘The Lodging-House Bewitched,’ might very
well have been written by the author of ‘Watkins Tottle,’ of which
they possess all the whimsical peculiarities, and nearly all the
singular fidelity and vigor. The remaining papers, however, ‘Follow
your Nose,’ and the ‘Old Maiden's Talisman,’ are more particularly
characteristic of the author of the ‘Invisible Gentleman.’
The first of the series is also the best, and presents so many
striking points for the consideration of the Magazine writer—(by which
we mean merely to designate the writer of the brief and piquant
article, slightly exaggerated in all its proportions) that we feel
inclined to speak of it more fully than is our usual custom in regard
to reprints of English light literature.
Peter Snook, the hero, and the beau ideal of a Cockney, is a retail
linen-draper in Bishopgate 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, 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 desperate 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 takes
occasion to observe that the subsequent proceedings of the hero are
gathered from accounts rendered by himself, when called upon
afterwards for certain explanations.
It is agreed that Miss Clarinda shall set out alone for Margate, and
Mr. Snook follows 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 off both his shins for several inches, and his
surgeon, having no regard to the lover's cotillon engagements with
Miss Clarinda, enjoins upon 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 his 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 fac-totum of Mr. Peter Snook, is disturbed from
a sound nap by the sudden appearance of his master. That gentleman
{728} 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 _any_ body 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 for to-morrow.”
“I don't think you'll want much, sir,” returned Hobson, with a
self-complacent air. “I've been looking up the long winded 'uns, you
see, since you've been gone, and have got Shy's money and Slack's
account, which we'd pretty well given up for a bad job, and one or two
more. There, there's the list, and there's the key to the strongbox,
where you'll find the money, besides what I've took at the counter.”
Peter seems well pleased at this, and shortly afterwards goes out,
saying he cannot tell when he will be back, and giving directions that
whatever goods may be sent in during his absence shall be left
untouched until his return.
It appears that after leaving his shop, Mr. Snook proceeded to that of
Messieurs Job, 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.
“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_l_. 15_s_. 6_d_.—_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.”
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 warehouse, 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. Upon 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 about a page.
“Well, Ephraim,” he exclaimed, “this looks something like business!
You hav'nt 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 all 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 hav'nt 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, {729} “naturally,” and Peter repeated that whimsical anathema as
often as usual.
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 a few 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 and 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. Upon 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 upon
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 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 upon sight of the
pursuers 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.
“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.”
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 hand and foot, gagged
them and put them down into the hold.
The immediate consequence of this information is, that our poor friend
Peter is bound hand and foot, gagged, and put down into the hold in
the same manner, by way of retaliation, and for sake-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-a-propos to his situation, as entirely to puzzle his
interrogators. He accuses the whole party of a conspiracy.
“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!”
Mr. Snook swears that he never saw Mr. 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 also designates 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, 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.”
“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 would'nt answer, and tell'd you so, if
you recollect, but you would'nt harken to me.”
“What shipping concern?” inquired Peter, with a look of amazement.
{730} “La! master,” exclaimed Ephraim, “it aint of any use to pretend
to keep it a secret now, when every body knows it. I did'nt 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.
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. This narration is singular
enough but we shall give it only _in petto_.
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 Frazer's Magazine, 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 liqueurs 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, his prospects in trade, and especially
the names, residences, et cetera, et cetera, of the wholesale houses
with which 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 discovered
by the creditors in pursuit, and which he was assured would convey him
to Billingsgate.
This relation we have given in brief, and consequently it 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, be 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 their own way, are absolutely faultless. Such things, however,
insignificant in themselves or their subjects, satisfy the mind of the
literary critic precisely as we have known a few rude, and apparently
unmeaning touches of the brush, fill with unalloyed pleasure the eye
of the artist. But no—in the latter case effect is produced chiefly by
arrangement, and a proper preponderance of objects. “Peter Snook” is
rather a Flemish _home-piece_, and entitled to the very species of
praise which should be awarded to the best of such pieces. The merit
lies in the _chiaro 'scuro_—in that blending of light 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 the slight tone of exaggeration
prevalent, yet not amounting to caricature. We will venture to assert
that no painter, who deserves to be called so, will read “Peter Snook”
without assenting to what we say, and without a perfect consciousness
that the principal rules of the plastic arts, founded as they surely
are in a true perception of the beautiful, will apply in their fullest
force to every species of literary composition.