at would have
attracted Poe in _The Half Hangit_. _The Boeotian_ for 1824
contained _A Tale of Mystery_, and the _Literary Souvenir_ for
1825 _The Fortress of Saguntum_, a story in the style of Lewis.
Ainsworth's first novel, _Rookwood_ (1834), was inspired by a
visit to Cuckfield Place, an old manor house which had reminded
Shelley of "bits of Mrs. Radcliffe":

"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, substituting an old English squire, an old
manorial residence and an old English highwayman for
the Italian marchise, the castle and the brigand of
that great mistress of romance... The attempt has
succeeded beyond my most sanguine expectation. Romance,
if I am not mistaken, is destined shortly to undergo an
important change. Modified by the German and French
writers--Hoffmann, Tieck, Victor Hugo, Alexander Dumas,
Balzac and Paul Lacroix--the structure commenced in our
land by Horace Walpole, 'Monk' Lewis, Mrs. Radcliffe
and Maturin, but, left imperfect and inharmonious,
requires, now that the rubbish which choked up its
approach is removed, only the hand of the skilful
architect to its entire renovation and perfection."

In _Rookwood_, Ainsworth disdains Mrs. Radcliffe's reasonable
elucidations of the supernatural, and introduces spectres whose
existence it would be impossible to deny. Once, however, a
supposed ghost becomes substantial, and proves to be none other
than a human being called Jack Palmer. The sexton, Luke Bradley,
_alias_ Alan Rookwood, has inherited two of the Wanderer's
traits--the fear-impelling eyes of intolerable lustre, and the
habit of indulging in wild, screaming laughter on the most
inauspicious occasions.

Gothic properties are scattered with indiscriminate
extravagance--skeleton hands, suddenly extinguished candles,
sliding panels, sepulchral vaults. The plot of _Rookwood_ is too
complicated and too overcrowded with incident to keep our
attention. The terrors are so unremitting that they fail to
strike home. The only part of the book which holds us enthralled
is the famous description of Dick Turpin's ride to York. Here we
forget Ainsworth's slip-shod style in the exciteme