August Nemo - Essential Novelists - Dinah Craik

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John Halifax, Gentleman

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Dinah Maria Craik (born Dinah Maria Mulock, also often credited as Miss Mulock or Mrs. Craik) (20 April 1826 – 12 October 1887) was an English novelist and poet. She is best remembered for her novel John Halifax, Gentleman, which presents the ideals of English middle-class life.

Mulock was born at Stoke-on-Trent to Dinah and Thomas Mulock and raised in Newcastle-under-Lyme, Staffordshire, where her father was then minister of a small independent nonconformist congregation.

She came to London about 1846, much at the same time as two friends, Alexander Macmillan and Charles Edward Mudie. Introduced by Camilla Toulmin to Westland Marston, she rapidly made friends in London, and found great encouragement for her stories for the young. In 1865 she married George Lillie Craik, a partner with Alexander Macmillan in the publishing firm Macmillan & Company, and nephew of George Lillie Craik. They adopted a foundling baby girl, Dorothy, in 1869.

At Shortlands, near Bromley, Kent, while in a period of preparation for Dorothy's wedding, she died of heart failure on 12 October 1887, aged 61. Her last words were reported to have been: "Oh, if I could live four weeks longer! but no matter, no matter!" Her final book, An Unknown Country, was published by Macmillan in 1887, the year of her death. Dorothy married Alexander Pilkington in 1887, but they divorced in 1911 and she went on to marry Captain Richards of Macmine Castle. She and Alexander had one son, John Mulock Pilkington. He married Freda Roskelly and they had a son and daughter.

Mulock's early success began with the novel Cola Monti (1849). In the same year she produced her first three-volume novel, The Ogilvies, to great success. It was followed in 1850 by Olive, then by The Head of the Family in 1851 and Agatha's Husband in 1853, in which the author used her recollections of East Dorset. Mulock published the fairy story Alice Learmont in 1852, and collected numerous short stories from periodicals under the title of Avillion and other Tales in 1853. A similar collection appeared in 1857 under the title Nothing New.

Well established in public favour as a successful author, Mulock took a cottage at Wildwood, North End, Hampstead, and joined an extensive social circle. Her personal attractions were at this period in her life were considerable, and people kindly ascribed to her simple cordiality, staunch friendliness, and thorough goodness of heart. In 1857 she published the work by which she would be principally remembered, John Halifax, Gentleman, a presentation of the ideals of English middle-class life. Mulock's next important work, A Life for a Life (1859), made more money and was perhaps at the time more widely read than John Halifax. It was followed by Mistress and Maid (1863) and Christian's Mistake (1865), followed by didactic works such as A Woman's Thoughts about Women and Sermons out of Church. Another collection, entitled The Unkind Word and Other Stories, included a scathing criticism of Benjamin Heath Malkin for overworking his son Thomas, a child prodigy who died at the age of seven. Later Craik returned to more fanciful tales and achieved great success with The Little Lame Prince (1874). In 1881 she published a collection of earlier poems under the title Poems of Thirty Years, New and Old; some, such as Philip my King were addressed to her godson Philip Bourke Marston. "Douglas, Douglas, Tender and True" achieved wide popularity.

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“Get out o’ Mr. Fletcher’s road, ye idle, lounging, little —”

“Vagabond,” I think the woman (Sally Watkins, once my nurse), was going to say, but she changed her mind.

My father and I both glanced round, surprised at her unusual reticence of epithets: but when the lad addressed turned, fixed his eyes on each of us for a moment, and made way for us, we ceased to wonder. Ragged, muddy, and miserable as he was, the poor boy looked anything but a “vagabond.”

“Thee need not go into the wet, my lad. Keep close to the wall, and there will be shelter enough both for us and thee,” said my father, as he pulled my little hand-carriage into the alley, under cover, from the pelting rain. The lad, with a grateful look, put out a hand likewise, and pushed me further in. A strong hand it was — roughened and browned with labour — though he was scarcely as old as I. What would I not have given to have been so stalwart and so tall!

Sally called from her house-door, “Wouldn’t Master Phineas come in and sit by the fire a bit?”— But it was always a trouble to me to move or walk; and I liked staying at the mouth of the alley, watching the autumnal shower come sweeping down the street: besides, I wanted to look again at the stranger-lad.

He had scarcely stirred, but remained leaning against the wall — either through weariness, or in order to be out of our way. He took little or no notice of us, but kept his eyes fixed on the pavement — for we actually boasted pavement in the High Street of our town of Norton Bury — watching the eddying rain-drops, which, each as it fell, threw up a little mist of spray. It was a serious, haggard face for a boy of only fourteen or so. Let me call it up before me — I can, easily, even after more than fifty years.

Brown eyes, deep-sunken, with strongly-marked brows, a nose like most other Saxon noses, nothing particular; lips well-shaped, lying one upon the other, firm and close; a square, sharply outlined, resolute chin, of that type which gives character and determination to the whole physiognomy, and without which in the fairest features, as in the best dispositions, one is always conscious of a certain want.