Notwithstanding the defect of too great length, and the difficulty which authors often experience in obtaining recognition in a new field, Wenderholme was very extensively reviewed in England, and, on the whole, very favorably. Unfortunately, however, for the author's chances of profiting by the suggestions of his critics, it so happened that when any character or incident was selected for condemnation by one writer, that identical character or incident was sure to be praised enthusiastically by another, who spoke with equal authority and decision, in some journal of equal importance. The same contradictions occurred in criticisms by private friends, people of great experience and culture. Some praised the first volume, but did not like the third; whilst others, who certainly knew quite as much about such matters, considered that the book began badly, but improved immensely as it went on, and finished in quite an admirable manner, like a horse that has warmed to his work. These differences of opinion led me to the rather discouraging conclusion that there is nothing like an accepted standard of right and wrong in the criticism of fiction; that the critic praises what interests or amuses him, and condemns what he finds tiresome, with little reference to any governing laws of art. I may observe, however, that the book had an artistic intention, which was the contrast between two classes of society in Lancashire, and that the militia was used as a means of bringing these two classes together. I may here reply to one or two objections which have been made as to the manner in which this plan was carried out.
Most of the local newspapers in the north of England at once recognized the truth of local character in the book; but one Manchester critic, with a patriotism for his native county which is a most respectable sentiment, felt hurt by my descriptions of intemperance, and treated them as a simple calumny, arguing that the best answer to them was the industry of the county, which would not have been compatible with such habits. I have never desired to imply that all Lancashire people were drunkards, but there are certain nooks and corners of the county where drinking habits were prevalent, in the last generation, to a degree which is not exaggerated in this book. Such places did not become prosperous until the energy of the better-conducted inhabitants produced a change in the local customs; and I need hardly say that the hard drinkers themselves were unable to follow business either steadily or long. Downright drunkenness is now happily no longer customary in the middle classes, and in the present day men use stimulants rather to repair temporarily the exhaustion produced by over-work than for any bacchanalian pleasure. In this more modern form of the drinking habit I do not think that Lancashire men go farther than the inhabitants of other very busy counties, or countries, where the strain on human energy is so great that there is a constant temptation to seek help from some kind of stimulating beverage.
The only other objection to the local truth of Wenderholme which seems to require notice is that which was advanced in the Saturday Review. The critic in that periodical thought it untrue to English character to represent a man in Colonel Stanburne's position as good-natured enough to talk familiarly with his inferiors. Well, if modern literature were a literature of types, and not of persons, such an objection would undoubtedly hold good. The typical Englishman, when he has money and rank, is certainly a very distant and reserved being, except to people of his own condition; but there are exceptions to this rule,—I have known several in real life,—and I preferred to paint an exception, for the simple reason that reserve and pride are the death of human interest. It would be possible enough to introduce a cold and reserved aristocrat in a novel of English life,—such personages have often been delineated with great skill and fidelity,—but I maintain that they do not excite sympathy and interest, and that it would be a mistake in art to place one of them in a central situation, such as that of Colonel Stanburne in this volume. They may be useful in their place, like a lump of ice on a dinner-table.
On the first publication of Wenderholme, the author received a number of letters from people who were quite convinced that they had recognized the originals of the characters. The friends and acquaintances of novelists always amuse themselves in this way; and yet it seldom happens, I believe, that there is any thing like a real portrait in a novel. A character is suggested by some real person, but when once the fictitious character exists in the brain of the author, he forgets the source of the original suggestion, and simply reports what the imaginary personage says and does. It is narrated of an eminent painter, famous for the saintly beauty of his virgins, that his only model for them was an old man-servant, and this is a good illustration of the manner in which the imagination operates. Some of my correspondents made guesses which were very wide of the mark. One lady, whom I had never thought about in connection with the novel at all, recognized herself in Mrs. Prigley, confessed her sins, and promised amendment; an illusion scarcely to be regretted, since it may have been productive of moral benefit. A whole township fancied that it recognized Jacob Ogden in a wealthy manufacturer, whose face had not been present to me when I conceived the character. A correspondent recognized Dr. Bardly as the portrait of a surgeon in Lancashire who was never once in my mind's eye during the composition of the novel. The Doctor was really suggested by a Frenchman, quite ignorant of the Lancashire dialect, and even of English. But, of all these guesses, one of the commonest was that Philip Stanburne represented the author himself, probably because he was called Philip. There is no telling what may happen to us before we die; but I hope that the supposed original of Jacob Ogden may preserve his sanity to the end of his earthly pilgrimage, and that the author of this volume may not end his days in a monastery.
P. G. H.
CONTENTS.
PART I.
Chapter
I. Manners and Customs of Shayton [1]
II. Grandmother and Grandson. [5]
III. At the Parsonage [16]
IV. Isaac Ogden becomes a Backslider. [29]
V. Father and Son [42]
VI. Little Jacob is lost [52]
VII. Isaac Ogden's Punishment. [59]
VIII. From Sootythorn to Wenderholme. [69]
IX. The Fugitive. [87]
X. Christmas at Milend. [94]
XI. The Colonel goes to Shayton [106]
XII. Ogden's New Mill. [119]
XIII. Stanithburn Peel [130]
XIV. At Sootythorn [136]
XV. With the Militia [143]
XVI. A Case of Assault. [150]
XVII. Isaac Ogden again [155]
XVIII. Isaac's Mother comes [161]
XIX. The Colonel at Whittlecup. [170]
XX. Philip Stanburne in Love [174]
XXI. The Wenderholme Coach [179]
XXII. Colonel Stanburne apologizes. [185]
XXIII. Husband and Wife [193]
XXIV. The Colonel as a Consoler. [201]
XXV. Wenderholme in Festivity [212]
XXVI. More Fireworks [225]
XXVII. The Fire [229]
XXVIII. Father and Daughter. [238]
XXIX. Progress of the Fire [241]
XXX. Uncle Jacob's Love Affair [249]
XXXI. Uncle Jacob is accepted [252]
XXXII. Mr. Stedman relents [258]
XXXIII. The Saddest in the Book [265]
XXXIV. Jacob Ogden free again [273]
XXXV. Little Jacob's Education. [280]
XXXVI. A Short Correspondence. [284]
XXXVII. At Wenderholme Cottage [286]
XXXVIII. Artistic Intoxication [290]
XXXIX. Good-bye to Little Jacob. [301]
PART II.
I. After Long Years. [303]
II. In the Dining-Room [318]
III. In the Drawing-Room [322]
IV. Alone. [327]
V. The Two Jacobs [331]
VI. The Sale [336]
VII. A Frugal Supper [340]
VIII. At Chesnut Hill [345]
IX. Ogden of Wenderholme [354]
X. Young Jacob and Edith [357]
XI. Edith's Decision. [366]
XII. Jacob Ogden's Triumph [374]
XIII. The Blow-Out. [380]
XIV. Mrs. Ogden's Authority [389]
XV. Lady Helena returns [393]
XVI. The Colonel comes [400]
XVII. A Morning Call. [404]
XVIII. Money on the Brain [409]
XIX. The Colonel at Stanithburn [418]
XX. A Simple Wedding [425]
XXI. The Monk [431]