The “Tower of London” was a great success. Cruikshank states that, while it was running, one bookseller told him that if he and Ainsworth brought out “another work similar in style and interest,” he would take 20,000 a month to begin with, while another offered to take 25,000, or even 30,000. On the completion of “The Tower,” according to Cruikshank, he suggested to Ainsworth “The Plague and the Fire of London.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the author, “that is first-rate.”
It was understood, according to Cruikshank, that both author and artist should set to work on the new subject; but the author unceremoniously seized the artist’s idea, and sold his story to the Sunday Times. After a time, on the intercession of their mutual friend Mr. Pettigrew, Cruikshank says that he consented to work again with the author who had stolen his idea. He even went further; he suggested another story to him, viz., “The Miser’s Daughter,” which he had intended to have worked out by another author in his Omnibus.
“The next romance by Mr. Ainsworth,” says Cruikshank, “which appeared in his magazine, was ‘Windsor Castle,’ and the illustrations to the first part of that work were done by Tony Johannot—the remainder by me; and I will now explain how it came to pass that we two brother artists came to be employed upon the same work. After Mr. Ainsworth had finished ‘Old St. Paul’s,’ he, of course, wanted to produce another work, and to have it illustrated; and, as under the then existing circumstances he could not apply to me, he had to engage another artist. And why he did not employ Mr. Franklin on this occasion I know not, but I believe he went over to Paris, and engaged Tony Johannot to make the drawings and etchings for ‘Windsor Castle;’ and these illustrations were done whilst I was working on my Omnibus. But whether he found this plan to be too inconvenient or otherwise, I cannot tell; but, as he induced my friend Pettigrew to come to me and negotiate for a ‘treaty of peace,’ it is, I think, pretty evident that he wanted the assistance of my head and hand work again. After ‘Windsor Castle’ came the ‘Romance of St. James’s; or, The Court of Queen Anne;’ and after that, Mr. Harrison Ainsworth sold his magazine to his publishers! So it really appeared as if all this gentleman’s promises, like pie-crust, were made to be broken; and, as in this instance, also, there was not any written agreement, the arrangements which he had made, and the engagements he had entered into with me when I agreed to work with him in his magazine, all broke down, and I, as it were, again ‘thrown overboard,’ or ‘left in the lurch.’ And thus ended the second edition of this authors extraordinary conduct towards the artist.”
Cruikshank lays equal stress, in support of his pretensions, on the appearance (March 1842) of a drawing made by him, at Ainsworth’s suggestion, “of the ‘author’ and the ‘artist’ seated, in council, or conversing together in his library.” It is a charming sketch, and both portraits are excellent; but how it proves that the ‘artist’ did the author’s work, or any part of it, as well as his own, it is difficult to conceive. Cruikshank asserted that “after the second edition of Mr. Ainsworth’s extraordinary conduct, the penitent author again sent Mr. Pettigrew to entreat him to be friends once more, and resume work together.” “When I heard this,” says Cruikshank, “my friend the doctor found it was not at all necessary to feel my pulse; for he could plainly see that it beat rather fiercely when, in reply, I said, ‘No, Pettigrew. Mr. Ainsworth has acted towards me in what I consider a most dishonourable manner upon two occasions, and I will take care that he shall not do so a third time.”
To all this Mr. Harrison Ainsworth made answer:—
A FEW WORDS ABOUT GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.*
* This was Mr. Ainsworth’s final explanation, addressed to
P. J. for publication.
“On the production at the Adelphi Theatre of the late Mr. Andrew Halliday’s drama, founded on the ‘Miser’s Daughter,’ George. Cruikshank sent a letter to the Times, loudly complaining of the omission of his name from the playbill, and asserting that he had suggested the title and general plan of the story.
“A more preposterous assertion was never made. Had there been any truth whatever in the claim thus impudently advanced, why was it not made long before? The story was written thirty years previously—namely, in 1842—and after that long interval the old artist sets up this absurd pretension.