The Mysteries of G.W.M.
Reynolds
by
R. E. Prindle
Part I
It is now
over two hundred years past since Walter Scott ended his great series of
novels. Closing in on two hundred years
since G.W.M. Reynolds began his truly amazing career that puts him in the
pantheon of great novelists. Not exactly
the household word of his contemporary, Charles Dickens, but after a century of
neglect he is now making a belated reappearance. With the rise of on demand publishing his
whole extensive catalog is now available although it requires some
searching. The British Library is leader
in the field.
Unfortunately
the BL is reprinting the Dick’s English Library editions that use diamond point
for print. At least the books aren’t
heavy. For anyone beginning reading
Reynolds, Valancourt Press of the US has a beautiful paperback edition of what
may be Reynolds’ most popular work, the 2400 page Mysteries Of London. That book was inspired by the French writer
Eugene Sue’s great work The Mysteries of Paris.
If your mind
is attuned to the period Eugene Sue who was as prolific, if not more so, than
Reynolds, is just as readable especially his two great masterpieces Mysteries
of Paris and the Wandering Jew. The
latter book has nothing to do with Jews, rather the Jesuits, but Sue uses the
medieval legend of the Wandering Jew as a framing device.
Sue inspired
Reynolds for numerous titles. Reynolds
was accused of plagiarizing frequently and this may be true in the sense that
he often used their structures. Dumas
had Auguste Maquet who researched material and provided a story outline that
allowed Dumas to put his entire effort into composition without having to
invent the story line so he could clothe the skeleton of the story. In that sense Sue’s Mysteries of Paris
provided the format for what was already in Reynolds’ mind.
Sue and
Reynolds were part of that crop of novelists born from 1800 to 1816 and either
died or petered out about 1860. Their
brains were exhausted, worn out by their prodigious output. His contemporaries are the key to
understanding Reynolds’ work. They were
all essentially sociologists and psychologists.
It might be advisable here to note that Reynolds born in 1814 left
England at the age of sixteen on his own arriving in France in the turmoil
succeeding the French Revolution of 1830 then returning to England in 1837.
Those seven
years were the most formative years of his life. Not unlike the end of the century’s George Du
Maurier who spent his childhood as a Frenchman then going to England with his
French heritage. Reynolds developed an
Anglo-French style of writing. His is
not the pure English style of the period.
It is much richer and fuller. He
digs deeper.
As in his
1840 novel Master Timothy’s Bookcase he explains that his joy in life is
exploring and explaining mysteries, getting behind the effects and seeking
causes. He is not satisfied with surface
appearances. He does so with spectacular
results. Unfortunately he began his
career by plagiarizing the characters and basic plot, such as it was, of
Charles Dickens, (born 1812) Pickwick Papers, not to mention parodying Dickens’
title: Master Humphrey’s Clock with
Master Timothy’s Bookcase. The loss of
credibility cost Reynolds as he was shunned by the literary establishment while
opening a feud that lasted their lives through.
Reynolds
shows his rue in the 1864 reissue of Pickwick Abroad. To justify himself, in a preface he quotes
from ‘a small sample of the favorable reviews which the greater portion of the
press bestowed upon “Pickwick Abroad.”
‘From the
Sunday Times: “Mr. Reynolds proceeds in
his striking imitation of Boz (Charles Dickens). Would it were not so. The writer has powers that may be more
worthily employed to working out an original story (which to a certain degree,
this is) in an original manner.”’
And then
from the Sun: ‘”In Pickwick Abroad” were
not the work built upon another man’s foundation we should say it was one of
the cleverest and most original productions of the modern British Press. We rise from the first Number with the only
regret that Charles Dickens himself had not written it.’
In such a
manner Reynolds tries to justify himself.
As the work was published serially over twenty numbers and the second
quote refers only to the first Number, by the twentieth part Reynolds himself seeks
to exculpate his plagiarism, or perhaps, borrowing might be a kinder word. Afterall, Chretian de Troyes work The Holy
Grail had four different continuators.
Perhaps Reynolds should have described his Pickwick Abroad as a
‘continuation.’ But no, as we will see,
he tried to appropriate Dickens characters.
Nevertheless,
in his last part p. 607 of the 1864 reissue he writes:
“We must now
think of bidding adieu to our friends” said Mr. Pickwick, “and of shortening
the hour of departure as much as possible.
One of the most important periods of my life has been passed in Paris;
and though I have occasionally met with disagreeable adventures, still the reminiscences of them are almost entirely effaced from my
mind by the many – many happy hours that I have spent in this great city since
the day I left England. The numerous
songs, tales, and anecdotes that I have heard or read are carefully entered in
my memorandum book; and on my return to England I shall place the whole in the
hands of some gentleman connected with the press, and who at the same time is
conversant with France, and acquainted with the character of her inhabitants,
for the purpose of laying them before the public in proper form.”
“The
talented editor of your travels and adventures in England would be the most fitting
for such a work,” observed Mr. Chitty.
“He is the most popular writer of the day, and from the manner he executed
the important task you formerly entrusted to his care and abilities certainly
deserves your confidence in this instance.”
“No, --”
returned Mr. Pickwick: “I am sorry to say that he declines the labour, and it
therefore remains for me to find one who will be bold enough to take it, with
the fear of being called imitator and plagiarist before his eyes. I am perfectly aware that there will be much
hypercriticism to contend with – that many journalists will be severe, if not
actually overwhelming, in their remarks on the new undertaking.”
‘Severe and
overwhelming.’ Reynolds must have been
bold indeed to continue through twenty parts, reach a conclusion and be off and
running in a career that would span twenty-three years and involve from 20 to
35 million words. This guy, Reynolds
turned out enormous works one right after the other, without pause and
sometimes working on two or three at a time.
Just amazing.
His
masterwork, The Mysteries of the Court of London ran to ten volumes and about
5000 pages and took him eight years to finish while writing other novels. Marcel Proust is still blushing.
The Court of
London is too staggering. There is no
let up over the course of the work.
He was
fortunate in his choice of wife in that she wrote for herself while also being
the first editor who transcribed what must have been scurrilous penmanship as
Reynolds must have been turning out thirty to fifty pages a day. The mere editorship must have been a
consuming task. In addition, Reynolds
kept a close eye on French literature as is evident by who he borrowed from. Sue (born 1804) was a constant source after
his Mysteries of Paris published in parts 1841-43. Reynolds must have been reading the parts
when issued. Paul Favel (born 1816) who wrote his own Mysteries of London
beginning in 1843 which very probably
was an influence on Reynolds who was keeping a close eye on literature from France. Favel is quite worthy too.
At least
Reynolds implies as much in his 1840 novel Master Timothy’s Bookcase in which
his apparent alter ego is the hero Edmund Mortimer. As a foundation for his later work Bookcase
is essential reading. A stunning work in
itself it is as nothing to Mysteries of London and The Court of London. Reynolds had a very powerful mind. He was capable of extraordinary mental
gymnastics discussing the most complicated subjects in readily understandable
terms.
Bookcase
borrows the title and in a nearly unrecognizable form the method of Dickens’
Master Humphrey’s Clock. There was no
need for Reynolds to make reference to Dickens work, or as roughly as Reynolds
says he was treated for Pickwick Abroad, it was not enough to make him stop. Indeed the feud or assault continued to
Dickens’ death which came before Reynolds’.
In
Humphrey’s Clock, a number of old stories, were stored in the clock case from
which members of Humphrey’s club extracted stories to read. Reynolds took the notion to a level that was
impossible for Dicken to match.
The premise
of the Bookcase concerns seven members of the Mortimer family as told through
the life of the last Mortimer, Edmund.
The genius of the family appears before each generation in turn and
offers to give them through life the quality they think will make them happy.
The first
Mortimer chose glory, the next literary fame, then love, success in all
enterprises, Health, Wealth and finally Edmund the hero of our story chose
Universal Understanding. Of course, for
each quality there was an upside and a downside; in all cases the downside
prevailed eroding happiness and becoming a curse.
Reynolds
very cleverly shows the downside of universal understanding. The Genius of the family named Timothy
provides Edmund with a magical bookcase that solves all mysteries for him. Like his subconscious the bookcase is always
with him providing a written scroll to answer whatever mystery Edmund asks.
If one
remembers the US radio commentator Paul Harvey, his shtick was : You’ve heard the story, now, here’s the
backstory. Harvey explains the mystery
much as Timothy’s magical bookcase does.
One is also
reminded of The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus, tr. 1650. In it the scholar explains how Poemander helped
him solve mysteries. Reynolds was very
well read so there is no reason to believe he hadn’t read the book. The scholar explains the situation thus:
My thoughts
being once seriously busied about the things that are, and my Understanding
lifted up, all my bodily Senses being exceedingly holden back, as it is with
them that are heavy of sleep, by reason either of fulness of meat, or of bodily
labour; Methought I saw one of an exceeding great stature, and of an infinite
greatness, call me by my name, and say unto me, ‘What wouldst thou hear and see: Or what wouldst thou understand to learn and
know?
Then I said,
Who art thou? I am, quoth he, Poemander,
the mind of the great Lord, the most mighty and absolute Emperor: I know what thou wouldst have, and I am
always present with thee.
Then I said,
I would learn the things that are, and understand the nature of them, and know
God, How? Said he. I answered that I
would gladly hear. Then said he, Have me
again in mind, and whatsoever thou wouldst learn, I will teach thee.
And there
you have the magic bookcase, the unconscious of Freud, the auto-suggestion of
Emile Coue. The biblical
injunction: Seek and ye shall find. In a reasonable sense Edmund took the
particulars of a situation worked them through on an unconscious or
semi-conscious sense just as Reynolds does in his explications.
Thus,
through the first couple hundred pages Reynolds has Edmund living his life,
meeting people and involving himself in their problems, the back stories of
which are explained by recourse to Timothy’s magic bookcase.
All goes
well until Edmund is accused of a murder which he didn’t commit but which
circumstantial evidence indicates he did.
In trying extricate himself his explanations were so vague and bizarre
to his judges, but not to we readers, that he is convicted and sentenced to be
hanged but then he is considered to be insane and his sentence is commuted to
life imprisonment in the Bicetre Insane Asylum.
He is then
sent to the famous French prison for the insane where he is considered to be a
mono-maniac. He is imprisoned with three
other mono-maniacs. Now, Reynolds wants
to introduce a discussion of the circulation blood. I think this really clever
the way he leads his story to this point, creating a false ending with the monomaniac
interlude and then Edmund will be freed from the life sentence when during the
1830 French revolution the revolutionaries throw open the prison doors and
unleash a small army of loonies on Paris.
Edmund’s
fellow inmate, a doctor, had contested William Harvey’s right to be called the
discoverer of the circulation of blood, contending that Plato had been before
him. Reynold’s describes the situation:
‘The first
(monomaniac) was an old man of sixty-five, with long grey flowing locks, with
long grey hair flowing from the back part of his head, the crown and region of
the temples being completely bald. He
was short in stature, stooping in his gait, and possessed of a countenance
eminently calculated to afford a high opinion of his intellectual powers, he
was however a monomaniac of no common description. Bred to the medical profession he had given,
when at an early age, the most unequivocal proofs of a fertile and vigorous
imagination. He first attracted
attention towards the singularity of his
conceptions by disputing the right of the Englishman, Dr. Harvey, to the honour
of having first discovered the circulation of the blood. He maintained that Harvey merely revived the
doctrine, and that it was known to the ancients. This opinion he founded upon the following
passage in Plato:--“The heart is the centre of a knot of the blood -vessels,
the spring or fountain of the blood, which is carried impetuously around: the
blood is the food of the flesh; and for that purpose of nourishment, the body
is laid out into canals, like those which we draw through gardens, that the
blood may be conveyed as from a fountain, to every part of the previous
system.”
The young
physician was laughed at for venturing to contradict a popular belief, and was
assailed by the English press for attempting to deprive we Englishmen of the
initiative honour of the discovery. He
was looked upon as an enthusiast, and lost all the patronage he had first
obtained by his abilities.
Thus,
Reynolds as part of his story introduces an extraneous discussion of the
circulation of the blood in which he was interested. And then Reynolds goes on to explain the purposes
of what will be his own more than vast body of work:
“Of a surety…there
are individuals in his world whose motives are so strange that they escaped
human comprehension. Many an action in a
man’s life is explained by some little sentiment or feeling, lurking at the
bottom of his soul, and buried in the most infallible mystery. The most extraordinary and important deeds
are frequently regulated or indeed engendered, by motives so trivial that, if
judged by the side of other men’s minds, they would appear totally incapable of
exercising so powerful a control over a sensible imagination. We are apt to exclaim against the
explanations frequently given by romanticists and novelists, to account for the
conduct of the heroes or heroines, as unnatural and being at variance with
probability; but, in the great volume of human nature, we trace the motives of
character, and eccentricities of disposition, which seem to justify the wildest
descriptions of the professed dealers in fiction. No romance, which emanates from the
imagination is so romantic as the tales of real life. Oh! If
the veil were withdrawn from all eyes—if the whole world could read the
mysteries and secrets of the heart—how much villainy would be suddenly exposed—how
much how many unjust suspicions explained—and how many supposed motives of
applause as rapidly turned into evident causes of blame.
So, there
you have the goals towards which
Reynolds is striving in all his work with his very powerful mind.
After Edmund
escapes from the Bicetre Asylum he immediately returns to England. Here the stories of deep mystery end and
there is an interlude before a long story titled The Marriage of Mr. Pickwick. Ends the book.
I will deal with the Pickwick story in another part.
It would
appear that the French part of the Bookcase story represents Reynolds’ sojourn
in France in fictionalized or perhaps, hypnoid state. In the interlude Reynolds looks back and
examines that stay from a more sober point of view. Here in an interesting interchange
between Edmund, already an alter ego, with another man who appears to be a
different alter ego. The second alter
ego gives a different brief history of what might have been a portrait of
Reynolds in France seen from a different perspective. It is well to bear in mind that Reynolds
arrived in France when he was sixteen with a very ample inheritance of 12,000
pounds. Such a young sport with money
must have been seen as easy prey to sharpers.
As his stories are replete with such characters and stories, indeed, Pickwick
Abroad is a virtual catalog of sharp and indeed, criminal practices, Reynolds
must have had the same approximate encounters.
It is most likely that at least one or two succeeded and probably more
as he went through 12,000 pounds in six years.
Here is the passage; Edmund, the sober Reynolds and Mr. Ferguson, the
flighty Reynolds.:
As Sir
Edmund was returning home…he stopped for a moment to request a light for his
cigar at a lonely cottage which stood on the way to his own mansion. A young man with a pale countenance and yet
with an ironical and smirking expression thereupon, answered the knock on the
door, which stood half open. The
individual immediately addressed Sir
Edmund by name and claimed acquaintance with him.
“I have seen
you before,” said he:--your face is familiar to me.”
“I reside in
the neighborhood,” answered the baronet; “and that may be the reason—”
“No.”
Interpolated the stranger. “ I have seen
you elsewhere. I never stir out of my
own house and therefore well aware that I couldn’t have seen you in the
vicinity. I was once a man of the world,
now I am a misanthrope.”
“Indeed,”
said Sir Mortimer; “and yet,” he added glancing around him, “methinks that for
a misanthrope you are tolerably comfortable.”
“It was in
Paris that I saw you.” Exclaimed the stranger,
without heeding the observation, and having reflected for a moment. “Ah, now I remember you well, and who you are—and
the strange adventure which befell you there.
But, believe me, I am delighted to see you released from that horrid
dungeon into which you were cast. I
never believed your guilt,--I knew you were innocent,--indeed, I was fully able
to judge of the force of a combination of circumstances, all collected against
you, from my own experience in a most extraordinary scene of adventures, and
yet”, he added with remarkable rapidity of utterance, which was evidently
characteristic of him, “mine was rather
a laughable than a serious history. Did
you know me by name in Paris? Did you
ever hear of Mr. Ferguson, who had acquired the honourable distinction to the
name of the ‘Man of the world? No! Well—I believe I was as much entitled to the
name as the Barber in the ‘Arabian Nights Entertainments’ was to that of Silent…’
Undoubtedly
as a sixteen year old in 1830 Reynolds over the next six years flattered
himself as being a man of the world, which he was, he ruefully recalls, as much
as the obviously talkative Barber in the Arabian Nights had received the
sarcastic name of Silent.
Also
Reynolds having read the Arabian Nights shows how he must have passed much of
his time in France. The work was
translated into French from 1702-1713 by Antoine Galland and first in England
as late as 1844 by Edward Lane.
Reynolds was
exceptionally well read for such a young man.
He was only twenty-six in 1840 when this book was written. He was interested in all the Liberal Arts
including psychology as being developed by the great Anton Mesmer and his
successors and hence the inkling of the sub- or unconscious. And he considered himself a teacher. Quite extraordinary.
As there
will be discontinuity between this period and part two and three I will
discontinue here and pick up on the continuation shortly.
3477 words
