The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth
Page 17
The locations Ainsworth refers to is the home of his cousin’s wife in Chesterfield and the ancient hall belonged to a friend that lived in Cuckfield Place, Sussex. Ainsworth used the settings in combination with his work for his first novel, Sir John Chiverton. The work was completed in 1834 and Rookwood was published in three volumes by Richard Bentley, with illustrations by George Cruikshank.
The narrative takes place in England in 1737. At Rookwood Place, there exists a legend claiming that a death would follow after a branch of an ancient tree would break. When a branch falls from the tree, Piers Rookwood, the owner, dies. It is revealed to Luke Bradley that he was the son, and thus heir, of Piers Rookwood along with the fact that Piers Rookwood murdered Bradley’s mother. This knowledge comes to Bradley while he stands near his mother’s coffin, which falls and opens at the moment of revelation. During the fall, it is revealed that she was wearing a wedding ring, proving that Bradley was not an illegitimate heir. However, the incident was put together by Peter Bradley, the boy’s grandfather. At the same time, Rookwood’s wife, Maud Rookwood, puts forth her own schemes to ensure that her son, Ranulph Rookwood, is able to claim the inheritance for himself.
Ainsworth employs several genres within the novel, adopting trends from the popular Castle of Otranto, reviving the gothic genre of British literature. However, Ainsworth did not rely heavily on the clichés of gothic fiction, moving the setting of the story from medieval Europe to contemporary England. Ainsworth explained in his preface: “I resolved to attempt a story in the bygone style of Mrs. Radcliffe… substituting an old English highwayman, for the Italian marchese, the castle, and the brigand of the great mistress of Romance.” The gothic elements were merged with the use of historical figures, such as Dick Turpin. In its use of highwaymen, the novel is similar to works such as The Beggar’s Opera, Henry Fielding’s Jonathan Wild, Friedrich Schiller’s The Robbers and Bulwer Lytton’s Paul Clifford. Rookwood joins Lytton’s novels in being classified as a Newgate novel — a work published during the early nineteenth century, focusing on, and somewhat romanticising, the lives of famous criminals.
The initial response from the literary public was positive and Ainsworth immediately became famous. In a letter to Crossley dated 6 May 1834, Ainsworth claimed, “The book is doing famously well here – making, in fact, quite a sensation. It has been praised in quarters of which you can have no idea – for instance, by Sir James Scarlett and Lord Durham. I have also received a most flattering letter from Bulwer-Lytton, and it has been the means of introducing me to Lady Blessington and her soirees. In fact, as Byron says, I went to bed unknown, arose, and found myself famous. Bentley has already begun to speak of a second edition – he wants to advertise in all the papers”.” An immediate review in The Quarterly Review said, “His story is one that never flags” and “we expect much from this writer”. A review in The Spectator claimed that the work was “Written with great vigour and wonderful variety”. The Atlas ran a review which stated, “It is long since such a work as this has been produced – the author exhibits ability of no ordinary kind.”
The original title page
CONTENTS
MEMOIR
PREFACE
BOOK I. — THE WEDDING RING
CHAPTER I. — THE VAULT
CHAPTER II. — THE SKELETON HAND
CHAPTER III. — THE PARK
CHAPTER IV. — THE HALL
CHAPTER V. — SIR REGINALD ROOKWOOD
CHAPTER VI. — SIR PIERS ROOKWOOD
CHAPTER VII. — THE RETURN
CHAPTER VIII. — AN IRISH ADVENTURER
CHAPTER IX. — AN ENGLISH ADVENTURER
CHAPTER X. — RANULPH ROOKWOOD
CHAPTER XI. — LADY ROOKWOOD
CHAPTER XII. — THE CHAMBER OF DEATH
CHAPTER XIII. — THE BROTHERS
BOOK II. — THE SEXTON
CHAPTER I. — THE STORM
CHAPTER II. — THE FUNERAL ORATION
CHAPTER III. — THE CHURCHYARD
CHAPTER IV. — THE FUNERAL
CHAPTER V. — THE CAPTIVE
CHAPTER VI. — THE APPARITION
BOOK III. — THE GIPSY
CHAPTER I. — A MORNING RIDE
CHAPTER II. — A GIPSY ENCAMPMENT
CHAPTER III. — SYBIL
CHAPTER IV. — BARBARA LOVEL
CHAPTER V. — THE INAUGURATION
CHAPTER VI. — ELEANOR MOWBRAY
CHAPTER VII. — MRS. MOWBRAY
CHAPTER VIII. — THE PARTING
CHAPTER IX. — THE PHILTER
CHAPTER X. — SAINT CYPRIAN’S CELL
CHAPTER XI. — THE BRIDAL
CHAPTER XII. — ALAN ROOKWOOD
CHAPTER XIII. — MR. COATES
CHAPTER XIV. — DICK TURPIN
BOOK IV. — THE RIDE TO YORK
CHAPTER I. — THE RENDEZVOUS AT KILBURN
CHAPTER II. — TOM KING
CHAPTER III. — A SURPRISE
CHAPTER IV. — THE HUE AND CRY
CHAPTER V. — THE SHORT PIPE
CHAPTER VI. — BLACK BESS
CHAPTER VII. — THE YORK STAGE
CHAPTER VIII. — ROADSIDE INN
CHAPTER IX. — EXCITEMENT
CHAPTER X. — THE GIBBET
CHAPTER XI. — THE PHANTOM STEED
CHAPTER XII. — CAWOOD FERRY
BOOK V. — THE OATH
CHAPTER I. — THE HUT ON THORNE WASTE
CHAPTER II. — MAJOR MOWBRAY
CHAPTER III. — HANDASSAH
CHAPTER IV. — THE DOWER OF SYBIL
CHAPTER V. — THE SARCOPHAGUS
L’ENVOY
‘Dick Turpin and his horse clear Hornsey Tollgate.’
MEMOIR
WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH was born in King Street, Manchester, February 4, 1805, in a house that has long since been demolished. His father was a solicitor in good practice, and the son had all the advantages that educational facilities could afford. He was sent to the Manchester grammar-school, and in one of his early novels has left an interesting and accurate picture of its then condition, which may be contrasted with that of an earlier period left by the “English opium-eater.” At sixteen, a brilliant, handsome youth, with more taste for romance and the drama than for the dry details of the law, he was articled to a leading solicitor of Manchester. The closest friend of his youth was a Mr. James Crossley, who was some years older, but shared his intellectual taste and literary enthusiasm. A drama written for private theatricals, in his father’s house was printed in Arliss’s Magazine, and he also contributed to the Manchester Iris, the Edinburgh Magazine, and the London Magazine. He even started a periodical, which received the name of The Boeotian, and died at the sixth number. Many of the fugitive pieces of these early days were collected in volumes now exceedingly rare: “December Tales” (London, 1823), which is not wholly from his pen; the “Works of Cheviot Tichburn” (London, 1822; Manchester, 1825), dedicated to Charles Lamb; and “A Summer Evening Tale” (London, 1825).
“Sir John Chiverton” appeared in 1826, and for forty years was regarded as one of his early works; but Mr. John Partington Aston has also claimed to be its author. In all probability, both of these young men joined in the production of the novel which attracted the attention of Sir Walter Scott. On the death of his father, in 1824, Ainsworth went to London to finish his legal education, but whatever intentions he may have formed of humdrum study and determined attention to the details of a profession in which he had no interest, were dissipated by contact with the literary world of the metropolis. He made the acquaintance of Mr. John Ebers, who at that time combined the duties of manager of the Opera House with the business of a publisher. He it was who issued “Sir John Chiverton,” and the verses forming its dedication are understood to have been addressed to Anne Frances (“Fanny”) Ebers, whom Ainsworth married October 11, 1826. Ainsworth had then to decide upon a career, and, acting upon the suggestion of Ebers, his father-in-law, he began business as a publisher; b
ut after an experience of about eighteen months he abandoned it. In this brief interval he introduced the Hon. Mrs. Norton, and Ude, the cook, to the discerning though unequal admiration of the British public. He was introduced to Sir Walter Scott, who wrote the “Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee” for an annual issued by him. Ainsworth gave him twenty guineas for it, which Sir Walter accepted, but laughingly handed over to the little daughter of Lockhart, in whose London house they had met. Ainsworth’s literary aspirations still burned with undiminished ardor, and several plans were formed only to be abandoned, and when, in the summer of 1830, he visited Switzerland and Italy, he was as far as ever from the fulfilment of his desires. In 1831 he visited Chesterfield and began the novel of “Rookwood,” in which he successfully applied the method of Mrs. Radcliffe to English scenes and characters. The finest passage is that relating Turpin’s ride to York, which is a marvel of descriptive writing. It was written, apparently in a glow of inspiration, in less than a day and a half. “The feat,” he says, “for feat it was, being the composition of a hundred novel pages in less than twenty-four hours, was achieved at ‘The Elms,’ a house I then occupied at Kilburn.” The success of “Rookwood” was marked and immediate. Ainsworth at a bound reached popularity. This was in 1834, and in 1837 he published “Crichton,” which is a fine piece of historical romance. The critics who had objected to the romantic glamor cast over the career of Dick Turpin were still further horrified at the manner in which that vulgar rascal, Jack Sheppard, was elevated into a hero of romance. The outcry was not entirely without justification, nor was it without effect on the novelist, who thenceforward avoided this perilous ground. “Jack Sheppard” appeared in Bentley’s Miscellany, of which Ainsworth became editor in March, 1840, at a monthly salary of £51. The story is powerfully written. In 1841 he received £1000 from the Sunday Times for “Old St. Paul’s,” and he, in 1848, had from the same source another £1000 for the “Lancashire Witches.” In 1841 he began the publication of Ainsworth’s Magazine, which came to an end in 1853, when he acquired the New Monthly Magazine, which he edited for many years. This was the heyday of Ainsworth’s reputation alike in literature and in society. His home at Kensal Manor House became famous for its hospitality, and Dickens, Thackeray, Landseer, Clarkson Stanfield, Talfourd, Jerrold, and Cruikshank were among his guests. The list of his principal historical novels, with their dates of issue, may now be given: “Rookwood,” 1834; “Crichton,” 1837; “Jack Sheppard,” 1839; “Tower of London,” 1840; “Guy Fawkes,” 1841; “Old St. Paul’s, a Tale of the Plague and the Fire of London,” 1841; “Windsor Castle,” 1843; “St. James, or the Court of Queene Anne,” 1844; “Star Chamber,” 1854; “Constable of the Tower,” 1861; “The Lord Mayor of London,” 1862; “Cardinal Pole,” 1863; “John Law, the Projector,” 1864; “The Constable de Bourbon,” 1866; “Talbot Harland,” 1870; “Boscobel,” 1872; “The Manchester Rebels, or the Fatal ‘45,” 1873; and “The Goldsmith’s Wife,” 1874. These novels all met with a certain amount of success, but those of later years did not attain the striking popularity of his earlier efforts. Many have been translated into various modern languages, and the editions of his various works are so numerous that some twenty-three pages of the British Museum catalogue are devoted to his works. The scenery and history of his native country had a perennial interest for him, and a certain group of his novels — that is, the “Lancashire Witches,” “Guy Fawkes,” “The Manchester Rebels,” etc. — may almost be said to form a novelist’s history of Lancashire from the pilgrimage of grace until the early part of the present century.
Probably no more vivid account has been written of the great fire and plague of London than that given in “Old St. Paul’s.” The charm of Ainsworth’s novels is not at all dependent upon the analysis of motives or subtle description of character. Of this he has little or nothing, but he realizes vividly a scene or an incident, and conveys the impression with great force and directness to the reader’s mind. Ainsworth came upon the reading world at a happy moment. People were weary of the inanities of the fashionable novel, and were ready to listen to one who had a power of vivacious narrative. In 1881, when he was in his seventy-seventh year, a pleasant tribute of respect and admiration was paid to him in his native town. The Mayor of Manchester entertained him at a banquet in the town hall September 15, 1881, “as an expression of the high esteem in which he is held by his fellow-townsmen and of his services to literature.” In proposing Mr. Ainsworth’s health, the mayor gave a curious instance of the popularity of his writings. “In our Manchester public free libraries there are two hundred and fifty volumes of Mr. Ainsworth’s different works. During the last twelve months these 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.” It was well that this pleasant recognition was not longer delayed. The contrast was pathetically great between the tall, handsome, dandified figure presented in the portraits of him by Pickersgill and Maclise, and the bent and feeble old man who stood by and acknowledged the plaudits of those who had assembled to honor him. His last published work was “Stanley Brereton,” which he dedicated to his hospitable entertainer. He died at Reigate January 3, 1882, leaving a widow and also three daughters by his first marriage. He was buried at Kensal Green Cemetery. With the exception of George Gleig, he was the last survivor of the brilliant group who wrote for the early numbers of Fraser’s Magazine, and, though he died in harness, had outlived nearly all the associates of the days when he first achieved fame.
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TO MY MOTHER
When I inscribed this Romance to you, my dear Mother, on its first appearance, I was satisfied that, whatever reception it might meet with elsewhere, at your hands it would be sure of indulgence. Since then, the approbation your partiality would scarcely have withheld has been liberally accorded by the public; and I have the satisfaction of reflecting, that in following the dictates of affection, which prompted me to select the dearest friend I had in the world as the subject of a dedication, I have not overstepped the limits of prudence; nor, in connecting your honored name with this trifling production, involved you in a failure which, had it occurred, would have given you infinitely more concern than myself. After a lapse of three years, during which my little bark, fanned by pleasant and prosperous breezes, has sailed, more than once, securely into port, I again commit it to the waters, with more confidence than heretofore, and with a firmer reliance that, if it should be found “after many days,” it may prove a slight memorial of the warmest filial regard.
Exposed to trials of no ordinary difficulty, and visited by domestic affliction of no common severity, you, my dear Mother, have borne up against the ills of life with a fortitude and resignation which those who know you best can best appreciate, but which none can so well understand, or so thoroughly appreciate, as myself. Suffering is the lot of all. Submission under the dispensation is permitted to few. And it is my fervent hope that my own children may emulate your virtues, if they are happily spared your sorrows.
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PREFACE
During a visit to Chesterfield, in the autumn of the year 1831, I first conceived the notion of writing this story. Wishing to describe, somewhat minutely, the trim gardens, the picturesque domains, the rook-haunted groves, the gloomy chambers, and gloomier galleries, of an ancient Hall with which I was acquainted, I resolved to attempt a story in the bygone style of Mrs. Radcliffe, — which had always inexpressible charms for me, — substituting an old English squire, an old English manorial residence, and an old English highwayman, for the Italian marchese, the castle, and the brigand of the great mistress of Romance.
While revolving this subject, I happened, one evening, to enter the spacious cemetery attached to the church with the queer, twisted steeple, which, like the uplifted tail of the renowned Dragon of Wantley, to whom “houses and churches were as capons and t
urkeys,” seems to menace the good town of Chesterfield with destruction. Here an incident occurred, on the opening of a vault, which it is needless to relate, but which supplied me with a hint for the commencement of my romance, as well as for the ballad entitled “The Coffin.” Upon this hint I immediately acted; and the earlier chapters of the book, together with the description of the ancestral mansion of the Rookwoods, were completed before I quitted Chesterfield.
Another and much larger portion of the work was written during a residence at Rottingdean, in Sussex, in the latter part of 1833, and owes its inspiration to many delightful walks over the South Downs. Romance-writing was pleasant occupation then.
The Ride to York was completed in one day and one night. This feat — for a feat it was, being the composition of a hundred ordinary novel pages in less than twenty-four hours — was achieved at “The Elms,” a house I then occupied at Kilburn. Well do I remember the fever into which I was thrown during the time of composition. My pen literally scoured over the pages. So thoroughly did I identify myself with the flying highwayman, that, once started, I found it impossible to halt. Animated by kindred enthusiasm, I cleared every obstacle in my path with as much facility as Turpin disposed of the impediments that beset his flight. In his company, I mounted the hill-side, dashed through the bustling village, swept over the desolate heath, threaded the silent street, plunged into the eddying stream, and kept an onward course, without pause, without hindrance, without fatigue. With him I shouted, sang, laughed, exulted, wept. Nor did I retire to rest till, in imagination, I heard the bell of York Minster toll forth the knell of poor Black Bess.