1805-1882
[Sidenote: S. C. Hall’s _Retrospect of a Long Life_.]
“I saw little of him in later days, but when I saw him in 1826, not
long after he married the daughter of Ebers of New Bond Street, and
‘condescended’ for a brief time to be a publisher, he was a remarkably
handsome young man--tall, graceful in deportment, and in all ways a
pleasant person to look upon and talk to. He was, perhaps, as thorough
a gentleman as his native city of Manchester ever sent forth.”
[Sidenote: A personal friend.]
“Harrison Ainsworth was certainly a handsome man, but it was very
much of the barber’s-block type of beauty, with wavy scented hair,
smiling lips, and pink and white complexion. As a young man he was
gorgeous in the _outré_ dress of the dandy of ’36, and, in common
with those other famous dandies, d’Orsay, young Benjamin Disraeli,
and Tom Duncombe, wore multitudinous waistcoats, over which dangled
a long gold chain, numberless rings, and a black satin stock. In old
age he was very patriarchal-looking. His gray hair was swept up and
back from a peculiarly high broad forehead; his moustache, beard, and
whiskers were short, straight, and silky, and the mouth was entirely
hidden. His eyes were large and oval, and rather _flat_ in form,--less
expressive altogether than one would have expected in the head of so
graphic a writer. The eyebrows were somewhat overhanging, and the nose
was straight and flexible. Up to the day of his death he was always a
well-dressed man, but in a far more sober fashion than in his youth.”
[Sidenote: Ainsworth’s _Rookwood_.]
“What have we to add to what we have here ventured to record, which the
engraving which accompanies this memoir will not more happily embody?
(_This refers to a portrait by Maclise which appeared in_ The Mirror.)
Should that fail to do justice to his face--to its regularity and
delicacy of feature, its manly glow of health, and the cordial nature
which lightens it up--we must refer the dissatisfied beholder to Mr.
Pickersgill’s masterly full-length portrait exhibited last year, in
which the author of _The Miser’s Daughter_ may be seen, not as some
pale, worn, pining scholar,--some fagging, half-exhausted, periodical
romancer,--but, as an English gentleman of goodly stature and well-set
limb, with a fine head on his shoulders, and a heart to match. If to
this we add a word, it must be to observe, that, though the temper
of our popular author may be marked by impatience on some occasions,
it has never been upon any occasion marked by a want of generosity,
whether in conferring benefits or atoning for errors. His friends
regard him as a man with as few failings, blended with fine qualities,
as most people, and his enemies know nothing at all about him.”