Mr. Pettigrew called here yesterday and stated your proposition. Had
that proposal been made any time between last December up to about a
fortnight back I should have been happy, _most_ happy, to have
accepted the offer—but now I am sorry to say, but I cannot—no, I have
so far committed myself with various parties that if I were to
withdraw my projected publication I am sure that I should be a
laughing stock to some and what is worse—I fear that with others I
should lose all title to honor or integrity. I do assure you, my dear
Ainsworth, I sincerely regret—that I cannot join you in this work, but
what was I to think—what conclusion was I to come to but that you had
_cut_ me. At the latter end of last year you announced that _we_ were
preparing a “new work!” in the early part of December last. I saw by
an advertisement that your “new work” was to be published in the
“Sunday Times.” You do not come to me or send for me nor send me any
explanations. I meet you at Dickens’s on “New Year’s Eve.” You tell me
then that you will see me in a few days and explain everything to my
satisfaction. I hear nothing from you. In your various notes about the
“Guy Fawkes” you do not even advert to the subject. I purposely keep
myself disengaged refusing many advantageous offers of work—still I
hear nothing from you. At lenth (_sic_) you announce a New Work as a
_companion to the “Tower”!_ without my name. I then conclude that you
do not intend to join _me_ in _any_ “New Work” and therefore determine
to do something for myself—_indeed I could hold out no longer_—to show
that others besides myself considered that you had left me, I was
applied to by Chapman & Hall to join with them and Mr. Dickens in a
speculation which indeed I promised to do should the one with Mr. Felt
be abandoned. However I have still to hope that when you are
disengaged from Mr. Bentley that some arrangements may be made which
may tend to our material benefit.
I remain, my dear Ainsworth, yours very truly,
GEO. CRUIKSHANK.”
In 1841, Ainsworth published the “Guy Fawkes” mentioned in Cruikshank’s
letter. About this time he seems to have become involved in
disagreements with Bentley. On June 22, 1841, he wrote to Ollier:
“I am scarcely surprised to learn from you that Mr. Bentley states that
I promised Mr. Barham to write two separate stories for the November and
December numbers of the Miscellany, because it is only one of those
misstatements to which that gentleman, in all the negotiations I have
had with him, has invariably had recourse. Nothing of the sort was
either expressed or implied, and I cannot believe Mr. Barham made any
such statement, because it is entirely foreign to the spirit of the
whole arrangement. I will thank you however to give Mr. Bentley
distinctly to understand that I will not write any such story or
stories, and that if he does not think fit to enter into the proposed
arrangement, I shall adhere to the original agreement and finish Guy
Fawkes in February next. I beg you will also give him to understand that
I will not allow Mr. Leech or any other artist than Mr. Cruikshank to
illustrate any portion of the work; and that I insist upon a clause to
that effect being inserted in the mem. of agreement.”
The remark about Cruikshank is significant when read in connection with
the artist’s letter of three months before, and with his subsequent
conduct. For although it is clear that the trouble about the publication
of “St. Paul’s” had been healed, through the efforts of Mr. Pettigrew,
he rehashed the old grievance thirty years later.
A rupture with Bentley was imminent and it came very soon. Ainsworth
left the _Miscellany_ in 1841, and in February, 1842, the first number
of “Ainsworth’s Magazine” made its appearance. At first he was both
editor and proprietor, and later he sold the magazine to his
publishers—another of Cruikshank’s grievances; but he afterwards bought
it back, and he continued it until 1854 when he purchased _Bentley’s
Miscellany_ and merged both magazines into one. In 1845 he had bought
for £2,500 Colburn’s _New Monthly Magazine_, of which serial he had been
an editor for a short time in 1836. In a few months he discontinued the
consolidated magazine and sold the _New Monthly_ to his cousin, Dr. W.
F. Ainsworth, closing his editorial career. For “Ainsworth’s Magazine”
he wrote “The Miser’s Daughter”, a work of considerable power, which was
long years afterward dramatized by Andrew Halliday and produced at the
Adelphi Theatre. In 1843 followed “Windsor Castle”, an historical
romance with the scene laid in the reign of Henry VIII; and in 1844 his
active pen busied itself with another story of the same class, “St.
James’s or the Court of Queen Anne”.
During the period between 1836 and 1844, Ainsworth as we have seen, was
closely associated with Cruikshank, who was destined to become a thorn
in his side. The second issue of “Rookwood” was illustrated by
Cruikshank, who furnished also the designs for “Jack Sheppard,” “The
Tower of London,” “Guy Fawkes,” “The Miser’s Daughter,” “Windsor Castle”
(in part), and “St. James’s.”
Whatever may be said of Cruikshank as an artist, he was beyond question
a vain, self-centred and disagreeable person. “He had a tendency,” says
Blanchard Jerrold, “to quarrel with all persons with whom he had
business relations, and when he did quarrel, his words knew no
bounds.”[15] He came to that stage of boundless conceit when he regarded
himself as the creator of all the works for which he supplied the
illustrations and reduced the writer to the level of an ordinary
amanuensis.
All the world knows his absurd pretensions to the origination of _Oliver
Twist_. He also asserted his claim to everything that was good in “Jack
Sheppard,” “The Miser’s Daughter,” and “The Tower of London.” But he
claimed Egan’s _Life in London_ and even a poem of Laman Blanchard’s
which he had illustrated for the _Omnibus_—as well as the pattern of the
hat worn by Russian soldiers! Blanchard Jerrold says in the _Life_ that
the controversies about Dickens and Ainsworth “arose from Cruikshank’s
habit of exaggeration in all things,” which is a biographer’s euphemism,
signifying in plain English that the man was an unmitigated liar.
If any one is curious about the history of the controversies, he will
find a full, fair and dispassionate account in Chapters VIII and IX of
Jerrold’s book. The biographer prints in full Ainsworth’s dignified
rejoinder to Cruikshank’s assault, and justly ridicules the utterances
of the eccentric designer. Austin Dobson, a competent and impartial
judge, has recently added his condemnation of Cruikshank’s
arrogance.[16] “He was not exempt” says Mr. Dobson “from a certain
‘Roman infirmity’ of exaggerating the importance of his own
performances—an infirmity which did not decrease with years. Whatever
the amount of assistance he gave to Dickens and to Ainsworth, it is
clear that it was not rated by them at the value he placed upon it. That
he did make suggestions, relevant or irrelevant, can hardly be doubted,
for it was part of his inventive and ever projecting habit of mind. It
must also be conceded that he most signally seconded the text by his
graphic interpretations; but that this aid or these suggestions were of
such a nature as to transfer the credit of the ‘Miser’s Daughter’ and
‘Oliver Twist’ from the authors to himself is more than can reasonably
be allowed.”
Mr. Frith, a friend of Cruikshank, says in his Autobiography:[17]
“Cruikshank labored under a strange delusion regarding the works of
Dickens and Ainsworth. I heard him announce to a large company assembled
at dinner at Glasgow that he was the writer of ‘Oliver Twist.’*** He
also wrote the ‘Tower of London,’ erroneously credited to Ainsworth, as
well as other works commonly understood to have been written by that
author. My intimacy with Cruikshank enables me to declare that I do not
believe he would be guilty of the least deviation from truth, and to
this day I can see no way of accounting for what was a most absurd
delusion.” In fact, there is only one way, if we concede truthfulness to
the deluded person; he was not of sound mind.
That Cruikshank was pertinaciously suggestive may be readily admitted.
“He was excessively troublesome and obtrusive in his suggestions” says
Ainsworth. “Mr. Dickens declared to me that he could not stand it and
should send him printed matter in future.” He adds, in a kindly spirit
which must appeal to every reader, considering the grossness of the
unjustifiable attack upon him, “It would be unjust, however, to deny
that there was not (_sic_) wonderful cleverness and quickness about
Cruikshank, and I am indebted to him for many valuable hints and
suggestions.” Ainsworth’s appreciation is further shown by an
unpublished letter in my possession, written on December 23, 1838, to
Mr. Jones.
“Bentley” he says “will forward you the introductory chapters and
illustrations of Jack Sheppard with this note. As it is of the utmost
consequence to me to produce a favourable impression upon the public
by this work, I venture to hope that you will lend me a helping hand
at starting.*** Cruikshank’s illustrations are, in my opinion,
astonishingly fine. The scene in the loft throws into shade all his
former efforts in this line.”
This letter also reveals what appears abundantly in the pages of my
collection,—that Ainsworth was given to calling on all his friends of
journalistic and magazine associations to praise his books. He was not
at all backward in urging them to puff the new works; and when Mr. Ebers
was the manager of the opera, he artfully threw in suggestions of “free
tickets,” which was perhaps justifiable but scarcely consistent with
dignity.
As an example of the way in which Cruikshank took pains to inflict upon
his author the details of his designs, it may not be amiss to quote a
letter which is also among my possessions, and which has not been
published, to the best of my knowledge. It is addressed to Ainsworth and
is dated “Saturday evening, 5 o’clock.
“Jonathan Wild has hold of Jack’s left arm with _his_ left hand, and
grasps the collar with his right. The Jew has both his arms round
Jack’s right arm and Quilt Arnold has hold of the right side of Jack’s
coat. This fellow in making his spring at Sheppard may upset the
gravedigger who nearly falls into the grave. I should advise the
approach of the attacking party to be thus. The Jew and some other
fellow go round the _north_ of the church and lurk there and Qt.
Arnold in that road at the N. W. corner—Wild himself to come along the
_south_ side so as to take Jack in the rear. Darrell is about to draw
his sword. In the other subject I have given Jonathan a _stout_
walking stick. I have only time to add that I am yours very truly. The
cheque all safe, many thanks.”
Cruikshank first put forth his claim publicly in 1872, by means of a
pamphlet called _The Artist and the Author_, just after the publication
of the first volume of Forster’s _Dickens_. It is likely that he was
encouraged in his folly by the flattery of foolish friends. Jerrold lays
much blame on Thackeray, from whom he quotes a long passage exalting the
artist far beyond the author. “With regard to the modern romance of
‘Jack Sheppard’,” remarks Thackeray, “it seems to us that Mr. Cruikshank
really created the tale, and that Mr. Ainsworth, as it were, only put
words to it. Let any reader of the novel think over it for awhile, now
that it is some months since he had perused and laid it down—let him
think, and tell us what he remembers of the tale. George Cruikshank’s
pictures—always George Cruikshank’s pictures.” But Thackeray had such a
poor opinion of the book that it is strange he should have ascribed any
merit to Cruikshank for having “created it”. He called it “a book quite
absurd and unreal, and infinitely more immoral than anything Fielding
even wrote,” if, as is generally supposed Thackeray was the author of
the article on Fielding in the _Times_ of September 2, 1840, reprinted
in “Stray Papers” of Thackeray, edited by Lewis Melville and published
in 1901. Thackeray wrote to his mother: “I read your views about ‘Jack
Sheppard’, and, such is the difference of taste, thought it poor stuff
and much below the mark.”[18] Mr. Jerrold expresses the opinion that
Thackeray was always unjust to Ainsworth. “He caricatured him
unmercifully in _Punch_, and never lost an opportunity of being amusing
at his expense.” I am not inclined to agree with Mr. Jerrold’s views.
The long and cordial intimacy of the two men is evidence against the
truth of the theory. I find no record of any resentment on Ainsworth’s
part against the author of _Vanity Fair_, and Ainsworth was by no means
timid in self-defense or averse to a sturdy combat with those who
assailed him. Thackeray—who never got over the conviction that he
himself was an “artist”—a picture maker—naturally gave to the
illustrator an undue meed of praise; and at the risk of denunciation by
all the scribblers who succumb to the “disease of admiration” and find
it easy to glorify a famous man as if he were perfect and infallible, I
venture to say that in grotesqueness and faulty drawing, the great Snob
and the great Cruikshank were not very dissimilar. Yet Thackeray’s
comments were wisdom itself when compared with the silly utterance of
Mr. Walter Thornbury, who thus delivers himself: “Even Dickens had his
fine gold jewelled by Cruikshank. Ainsworth’s tawdry rubbish—now all but
forgotten, and soon to sink deep in the mud-pool of oblivion,—was
illuminated with a false splendor by the great humorist,”[19] A critical
person might be disposed to inquire why the “great humorist” should
lower himself by illuminating anything with a “false splendor.” It is
not complimentary to the great humorist, but Mr. Thornbury unconsciously
told the truth; his hero was falseness personified.
In his “Few Words about George Cruikshank,” Ainsworth said: “For myself,
I desire to state emphatically that not a single line—not a word—in any
of my novels was written by their illustrator, Cruikshank. In no
instance did he even see a proof. The subjects were arranged with him
early in the month, and about the fifteenth he used to send me tracings
of the plates. That was all.” He adds: “_Ne sutor ultra crepidam._ Had
Cruikshank been capable of constructing a story, why did he not exercise
his talent when he had no connection with Mr. Dickens or myself? But I
never heard of such a tale being published.” Of course, it may be said
that Cruikshank did not pretend that he had written the books—only that
he had furnished the leading ideas; that is an easy thing to assert, a
hard thing to disprove, and an impossible thing to demonstrate.
It is fairly manifest that if there had been any real foundation for the
claims of Cruikshank, he would not have waited for thirty years before
setting up his title. He sought to account for the delay by asseverating
that he had frequently _in private_ asserted his claim, which anybody
possessed of ordinary intelligence will see in a moment was a puerile
make-shift; no sufficient reason or explanation. As nobody whose opinion
is worth accepting has ever given credence to the tale of the old
artist, it may be a waste of time to give it further attention; but it
may be permitted to show that Cruikshank needed a good deal of
instruction himself.
The fact is shown by the letter of Dickens, produced in facsimile by
Forster,[20] and it is confirmed by several of Ainsworth’s letters now
lying before me. In March, 1836, while Cruikshank was engaged on the
designs for the second edition of “Rookwood,” Ainsworth wrote to
Macrone, the publisher, “I _have_ seen some of George Cruikshank’s
designs, and it was because I thought them so _sketchy_ that I write to
you. They are anything but _full_ subjects and appear to be chosen as
much as possible for light work. He shirked the inauguration scene, for
instance, because it was too crowded. I quite agree with you that a few
good designs are better than many meagre sketches, and all I want is
that you should make George understand this. He has evidently two
styles—and one can scarcely recognize in some of his ‘Bozzes’ the hand
of the designer of the Comic Almanack.*** _Do_, I pray of you, see
George Cruikshank, and don’t let him put us off so badly.” Again, in
writing to Macrone in 1836, he makes several recommendations for
designs, and adds: “Another suggestion—and this refers to George. In
addition to the figures I suggested, I wish him to introduce as entering
my old gentleman’s chamber, Thomas Hill, Esq. (in propria persona), or
as I shall call him, Tom Vale. If George has not seen him, you can get
the sketch from Frazer’s Mag. but introduced he must be, as I mean to
carry him throughout and to make him play the part of Mr. Weller in my
story; I wish George therefore to give the portrait, easily done, as
exact as possible.” In a later letter to Cruikshank himself, while they
were at work together on “The Tower,” he writes: “Pray, when you are at
the Tower, sketch the gateway of the Bloody Tower from the south; the
chamber where the princes were murdered; the basement chamber at the
right of the gateway of the Bloody Tower, near the Round Tower.” All
this furnishes competent testimony that Cruikshank was a mere
illustrator, directed and controlled by the author.
From the time of “Jack Sheppard” until 1881, a period of over forty
years, Ainsworth was a busy man, producing book after book at regular
intervals and until 1855 closely occupied with editorial labors. After
“St. James’s” he began “Auriol,” which was by no means successful. It
dealt with a London alchemist of the sixteenth century, but the plot was
defective and it was not published in book form until near the close of
the author’s life. In 1848 he wrote “Lancashire Witches” for the _Sunday
Times_, receiving £1,000. It was dedicated to his old friend James
Crossley, President of the Chetham Society, which published many
volumes, including Potts’s _Discovery of Witches_ and the _Journals_ of
Nicolas Assheton, both furnishing much of the material for the story. In
1854, “Star Chamber” and “The Flitch of Bacon, or the Custom of Dunmow”
appeared. The “Flitch” treated of the ancient Essex custom of giving a
“Gamon of Bacon” to a married pair “who had taken an oath, pursuant to
the ancient ‘Custom of Confession,’ if ever—
“—You either married man or wife
By household brawles or contentious strife,
Or otherwise, in bed or at board,
Did offend each other in deed or word,
Or, since the Parish _clerk_ said _Amen_,
You wish’t yourselves unmarried agen,
Or in a twelve months time and a day,
Repented not in thought, any way;
But continued true and just in desire
As when you joyn’d hands in the holy quire.”
In 1851 “the lord of the manor declined to give the flitch, but the
claimants obtained one from a public subscription, and a concourse of
some three thousand people assembled in Easton Park in their
honour.”[21] In 1855 Ainsworth himself offered to give the flitch. The
candidates were Mr. James Barlow and his wife, of Chipping Ongar, and
the Chevalier de Chatelain and his wife, the last named being well known
in literary circles. They were old friends of Ainsworth. I have thirteen
letters from Ainsworth to the Chevalier and his wife, of the most
intimate character, dating from 1845 to 1880. In one of them, written at
Brighton on October 22, 1854, he says:
“My dear Chevalier: Thanks for your charming little volume, full of
graceful translations. You have done me the favor I find to include
the ‘Custom of Dunmow’ in your collection. Within the last few days I
have received another version in French of the same ballad by Jacques
Desrosiers. The Tale has been translated under the title of ‘_Un An et
un Jour_’, and published at Bruxelles. You will be glad to hear that a
worthy personage has announced his intention of bequeathing a sum
sufficient for the perpetual maintenance of the good old custom.”
On January 5, 1855, he writes to Madame de Chatelain:
“I need scarcely say, I hope, that I shall be most happy to entertain
your claim for the Flitch—and though I believe a prior claim has been
made, I will gladly give a second prize rather than you should
experience any disappointment.” On July 19, 1855, she received the
flitch of bacon in the Windmill Field, Dunmore.
In 1856 “Spendthrift” appeared, and in 1857 “Merwyn Clitheroe” which he
had begun in 1851 but had abandoned after a few weekly numbers. In 1860
he published “Ovingdean Grange, a Tale of the South Downs.” The two
books last mentioned were partly autobiographical.
It is unnecessary to do more than to enumerate his later productions,
for although they showed the scrupulous care which he exercised in
respect to details and the pains he took to be accurate in historical
references, they were never as popular as his earlier works. The list is
quite imposing: “Constable of the Tower,” 1861; “The Lord Mayor of
London,” 1862; “Cardinal Pole,” 1863; “John Law, the Projector,” 1864;
“The Spanish Match, or Charles Stuart in Madrid,” 1865; “Myddleton
Pomfret,” 1865; “The Constable de Bourbon,” 1866; “Old Court,” 1867;
“The South Sea Bubble,” 1868; “Hilary St. Ives,” 1869; “Talbot Harland,”
1870; “Tower Hill,” 1871; “Boscobel,” 1872; “The Manchester Rebels, or
the Fatal ’45.” 1873; “Merry England,” 1874; “The Goldsmith’s Wife,”
1874; “Preston Fight, or the Insurrection of 1715,” 1875; “Chetwynd
Calverley,” 1876; “The Leaguer of Lathom, a Tale of the Civil War in
Lancashire,” 1876; “The Fall of Somerset,” 1877; “Beatrice Tyldesley,”
1878; “Beau Nash,” 1879; “Auriol and other tales,” 1880; and “Stanley
Brereton,” 1881. Not a single one of this long catalogue is now
remembered. Percy Fitzgerald in an article in _Belgravia_ (November,
1881), said that the description of Ainsworth’s books in the Catalogue
of the British Museum filled no fewer than forty pages. Mr. Axon reduces
the number of pages to twenty-three, but that is very extensive. In
addition to the prose works whose titles are given above, he published
in 1855 “Ballads, Romantic, Fantastical and Humorous,” which was
illustrated by Sir John Gilbert and which contains some spirited and
picturesque verses; and in 1859 “The Combat of the Thirty,” a
translation of a Breton lay of the middle ages, which was included in
the later editions of the “Ballads.”
In 1881 Ainsworth was nearly seventy-seven, and approaching the end of
his career. On September 15 in that year, the Mayor of Manchester, Sir
Thomas Baker, gave a banquet in his honor at the town hall. In proposing
the health of the guest, the Mayor said that in the Manchester public
free libraries there were two hundred and fifty volumes of his works.
“During the last twelve months”, said the Mayor, “those volumes have
been read seven thousand six hundred and sixty times, mostly by the
artisan class of readers. And this means that twenty volumes of his
works are being perused in Manchester by readers of the free libraries
every day all the year through.”
A report of this banquet is given as an introduction to “Stanley
Brereton”, which was dedicated to the Mayor. I have a copy of the
“official” report, a pamphlet of twenty-nine pages, whereof forty copies
were printed “for private circulation only”. The speeches are
characteristic of English dinners, and some of them are funny without
any intention on the part of the speakers. The Mayor rather astonishes
us by saying that the six of the most popular works, in the order in
which they were most read, were “The Tower of London”, “The Lancashire
Witches”, “Old St. Paul’s”, “Windsor Castle”, “The Miser’s Daughter”,
and “The Manchester Rebels”. But this was in Manchester. Ainsworth’s
response was modest and graceful, and he dwelt upon his delight in being
styled “the Lancashire novelist”. His old friend Crossley and Edmund
Yates were among the orators of the occasion, the latter responding to
the toast of “The Press”, and saying of “after-dinner Manchester” that
“even in the midst of enjoyment he would hazard the friendly criticism
that though it was eloquent it was not concise.” The account ends with
these significant words: “This concluded the list of toasts, and the
company shortly afterwards broke up.” One who reads the story of the
feast is not surprised at this, for the speeches were enough to break up
any company; but the tribute to Ainsworth was well-meant and sincere.
My English friend, the prospective biographer of Ainsworth, takes issue
with me on my assertion that his favorite is an author who has fallen
into oblivion and whose books are not read by the present generation. He
refers of course to English readers, and assures me that the stories are
still popular in England. “Routledge”, he says, “issues a vast number of
cheap editions of his works, and in addition many other publishing firms
have recently issued editions of the better known novels. This has been
done by Methuen, Newnes, Gibbings, Mudie, Treherne, and Grant Richards,
to mention a few that I recollect at the minute.” It is doubtless true
that there is a demand for the tales among the less cultivated English
readers, but it can not, I think, be maintained successfully that the
author has a permanent and enduring literary fame. Perhaps I am
influenced in my opinion by the American lack of acquaintance with
Ainsworth and his works.
Contemporaneous memoirs and records are full of testimony to the
personal popularity of Ainsworth in the social life of the day. He
entertained freely, and was a favorite guest. Dickens and Thackeray were
both fond of him, although Blanchard Jerrold, as we have seen, doubted
Thackeray’s friendship. Forster says in his _Dickens_, referring to the
period _circa_ 1838, “A friend now especially welcome, too, was the
novelist, Mr. Ainsworth, who shared with us incessantly for the three
following years in the companionship which began at his house; with whom
we visited, during two of these years, friends of arts and letters in
his native Manchester, from among whom Dickens brought away his Brothers
Cheeryble, and to whose sympathy in tastes and pursuits, accomplishments
in literature, open-hearted, generous ways, and cordial hospitality,
many of the pleasures of later years are due.” I have a little note of
his, addressed to Dickens, saying: “Don’t forget your engagement to dine
with me on Tuesday next. I shall send a refresher to Forster the
unpunctual.” There is also this letter from Dickens—strangely enough in
black ink and not the blue which he employed in later days.
“Devonshire Terrace,
Fifth February, 1841.