Part 8
But however painful it will be to me to put myself in communication once again with Mr. Bentley, and openly appeal to you to confirm what I shall tell him, I have no alternative unless you will frankly and openly and for the sake of _your_ old friend as well as my intimate and valued one, avow to Mr. Bentley yourself that he is not to blame, that you heard him again and again refuse to interfere although deeply impressed with the hardship of my case—and that you proposed concessions which he—feeling the position in which he stood—could not have suggested. Believe me, Ainsworth, that for your sake no less than on Forster’s account, this should be done. You do not see it I know, you do not mean it I am persuaded, but he is impressed with the idea, and nine men out of ten would be (if these matters were stated by anybody but you) that to enable yourself to gain your object and stand in your present relations towards Mr. Bentley, you have used him as an instrument by suppressing that which would have shewn his conduct in the best and truest light, and have shrunk from the friendly and manly avowal of feeling which your own impulses and freer and less worldly considerations so generously prompted.
Once more let me say that I do not mean to hurt or offend you by anything I have said, and that I should be truly grieved to find I have done so. But I must speak strongly because I feel strongly, and because I have a misgiving that even now I have been silent too long.
My dear Ainsworth, I am Faithfully yours, Charles Dickens.
William Ainsworth Esquire.”
The little quarrel, if it was a quarrel, must have been composed amicably, for Forster in his _Life of Dickens_ refers several times to Ainsworth in a kind and appreciative way.
In 1840 Ainsworth and George Cruikshank brought out the “Tower of London” in monthly numbers, and were equal partners in the enterprise. It has always been regarded as a work of merit. In 1841 the author received £1000 from the _Sunday Times_ for “Old St. Paul’s”, and it was later one of Cruikshank’s grievances that he was not associated in this production, the idea of which he insisted was his own. Among my letters is one written by Cruikshank to Ainsworth on the subject, which has not, as far as I know, been published, and I give it because it reveals the relations of the two men quite distinctly.
“Amwell St., March 4, 1841.
MY DEAR AINSWORTH:—
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.