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The Caxtons, a Family Picture
1849. In this work, a greater part of the canvas has been devoted to the completion of a simple family picture. It has been my intention to imply the influences of home upon the conduct and career of youth. Whatever our wanderings, our happiness will always be found within a narrow compass, and amidst the objects more immediately within our reach.
472 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1849
About the author
Edward Bulwer-Lytton
4,502 books227 followersEdward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton PC, was an English novelist, poet, playwright, and politician. Lord Lytton was a florid, popular writer of his day, who coined such phrases as "the great unwashed", "pursuit of the almighty dollar", "the pen is mightier than the sword", and the infamous incipit "It was a dark and stormy night."
He was the youngest son of General William Earle Bulwer of Heydon Hall and Wood Dalling, Norfolk and Elizabeth Barbara Lytton, daughter of Richard Warburton Lytton of Knebworth, Hertfordshire. He had two brothers, William Earle Lytton Bulwer (1799–1877) and Henry Bulwer, 1st Baron Dalling and Bulwer.
Lord Lytton's original surname was Bulwer, the names 'Earle' and 'Lytton' were middle names. On 20 February 1844 he assumed the name and arms of Lytton by royal licence and his surname then became 'Bulwer-Lytton'. His widowed mother had done the same in 1811. His brothers were always simply surnamed 'Bulwer'.
He was the youngest son of General William Earle Bulwer of Heydon Hall and Wood Dalling, Norfolk and Elizabeth Barbara Lytton, daughter of Richard Warburton Lytton of Knebworth, Hertfordshire. He had two brothers, William Earle Lytton Bulwer (1799–1877) and Henry Bulwer, 1st Baron Dalling and Bulwer.
Lord Lytton's original surname was Bulwer, the names 'Earle' and 'Lytton' were middle names. On 20 February 1844 he assumed the name and arms of Lytton by royal licence and his surname then became 'Bulwer-Lytton'. His widowed mother had done the same in 1811. His brothers were always simply surnamed 'Bulwer'.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
December 20, 2024
Over the past seven years, I have been reading by degrees the backlog of books I brought from Australia. I was able to purchase affordable classics by visiting book bazaars and I had the opportunity to read 19th century novels, so I jumped at the chance. Aside from the fact that his antique novels were affordable, I also felt challenged with the description of Bulwer-Lytton's works: his writing had been described as lengthy, abstruse, and ornate. After I finished The Disowned, I knew that each attempt to read Bulwer-Lytton would be a grind. Rather than be ground to a halt, however, I improvised reading his books this year by implementing a combination of scanning and reading: if I foresaw that he was going to expatiate on topics irrelevant to the furtherance of the story, I would blaze through that section or chapter. It has led me to grasp the pith of the story without being lost in the minutiae.
After reading The Last Days of Pompeii and Paul Clifford, I had become familiar with Bulwer-Lytton's flaws: he'd often use pages when a few words would do and creatively coin nonce words from Greek or Latin. To me, this novel was his best work because he injected light-hearted humor into his writing. While Paul Clifford was relevant at the time because of its attempts at social reform, this novel aged better because it provided more levity to the reader and had a more creative approach: critics more steeped in Victorian literature have noted of the similarities between this novel and Sterne's Tristram Shandy.
This is because this novel, like Sterne's, also transitions from exposition into a play, especially when important dialogue is concerned, and occasionally morphs into a dialectic. Its critique on the blind pursuit of chivalry and honor to the detriment of other important values such as filial love was also better written: this was shown in the struggle of Herbert de Caxton, who became the estranged son of Roland after he was found to work with scoundrels. Eventually, however, he redeems himself with Pisistratus, the protagonist, who in Australia was able to regenerate their diminished estates.
The same critique with Bulwer-Lytton's other novels applies here: this is a tale that could have been told in 200 pages or less. Many pages were spent to describe Sisty's pining for Fanny Trevanion, who followed her mother's footsteps by choosing "honor" over love. While Sisty would get over her after his stint in Australia, him marrying his cousin wasn't really the ending I was pining for. By focusing on his thesis of "honor above all," Bulwer-Lytton failed to provide a suitable end to Sisty's story and ended Herbert de Caxton's arc unnecessarily. Even though Roland was painted as understanding Herbert, Herbert still felt that he had to prove himself in war before he would be restored to his father's graces.
One laudable aspect of the novel, however, was Bulwer-Lytton's characterization of Uncle Jack, who was the novel's anti-villain. He's manipulative and adventurous, but he truly did not mean evil: he is the brother of Sisty's mother, and his speculations led to the loss of Sisty's education. He would nevertheless make up for it later in the novel and is rather Falstaffian than wicked.
Overall, while still suffering from unnecessary length, The Caxtons is Bulwer-Lytton's best work (from those that I've read) because of his lighter tone, creative storytelling, and social commentary. Even though it's still burdened by his overuse of nonce words (planeticose, exallotriote, neogilos, and the like), it's a much easier read. Nevertheless, I can still only recommend this book to those who are experienced readers of Victorian fiction who also wish to immerse themselves in more challenging writers.
After reading The Last Days of Pompeii and Paul Clifford, I had become familiar with Bulwer-Lytton's flaws: he'd often use pages when a few words would do and creatively coin nonce words from Greek or Latin. To me, this novel was his best work because he injected light-hearted humor into his writing. While Paul Clifford was relevant at the time because of its attempts at social reform, this novel aged better because it provided more levity to the reader and had a more creative approach: critics more steeped in Victorian literature have noted of the similarities between this novel and Sterne's Tristram Shandy.
This is because this novel, like Sterne's, also transitions from exposition into a play, especially when important dialogue is concerned, and occasionally morphs into a dialectic. Its critique on the blind pursuit of chivalry and honor to the detriment of other important values such as filial love was also better written: this was shown in the struggle of Herbert de Caxton, who became the estranged son of Roland after he was found to work with scoundrels. Eventually, however, he redeems himself with Pisistratus, the protagonist, who in Australia was able to regenerate their diminished estates.
The same critique with Bulwer-Lytton's other novels applies here: this is a tale that could have been told in 200 pages or less. Many pages were spent to describe Sisty's pining for Fanny Trevanion, who followed her mother's footsteps by choosing "honor" over love. While Sisty would get over her after his stint in Australia, him marrying his cousin wasn't really the ending I was pining for. By focusing on his thesis of "honor above all," Bulwer-Lytton failed to provide a suitable end to Sisty's story and ended Herbert de Caxton's arc unnecessarily. Even though Roland was painted as understanding Herbert, Herbert still felt that he had to prove himself in war before he would be restored to his father's graces.
One laudable aspect of the novel, however, was Bulwer-Lytton's characterization of Uncle Jack, who was the novel's anti-villain. He's manipulative and adventurous, but he truly did not mean evil: he is the brother of Sisty's mother, and his speculations led to the loss of Sisty's education. He would nevertheless make up for it later in the novel and is rather Falstaffian than wicked.
Overall, while still suffering from unnecessary length, The Caxtons is Bulwer-Lytton's best work (from those that I've read) because of his lighter tone, creative storytelling, and social commentary. Even though it's still burdened by his overuse of nonce words (planeticose, exallotriote, neogilos, and the like), it's a much easier read. Nevertheless, I can still only recommend this book to those who are experienced readers of Victorian fiction who also wish to immerse themselves in more challenging writers.
August 9, 2025
Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s 1849 novel, ‘The Caxtons: A Family Picture,’ is the longest Victorian novel I've read, but oddly enough, I just wanted it to go on and on forever. It is everything a good Victorian novel should be, with good writing at the top of the list, melodrama, comedy, tragedy, love, hope, disillusionment, speculation, peculation, shades of the prison house, vain ambition, despair, grief, cynicism versus gallantry, kindly philosophers, villains, petty crooks, the stage, lords, ladies, drunks, gamblers, an abduction disguised as an elopement, adventure in Australia, humour, redemption, communist turned capitalist… What more do you want? This book has everything!
Bulwer-Lytton was a prolific writer, his imagination ranging from history to lost worlds to fantasy to spiritualism, and making a commercial success of each. ‘The Caxtons’ is none of these. It starts on the day Pisistratus (Sisty, called the Anachronism by his father), the narrator and nominal hero, is born. It might be a simple coming-of-age romance, except that it is also much more. It is as much the story of Sisty’s father, and his struggles and failure as it is of the greater, but more shadowy man, his uncle Roland Caxton, his glorious career, his nobility and valour, and his lost causes. Sisty has another uncle, his cheerful good-for-nothing Uncle Jack, his mother's brother, who carelessly and with the best will in the world, ruins the whole family and abruptly disappears. The book is then about the manner in which the family get up from the ground, check for serious bruises, dust off their clothes, and begin life anew.
Although the plot is good, if a bit jerky, the characters are two dimensional, either very good or very bad; this is a common fault of most Victorian writers, except the realists like George Eliot and William Makepeace Thackeray. All the women are perfect angels, and beautiful to boot, except where they are not, and of course, the marks (usually of vice, but here of ambition and calculation), age them and take away their once vaunted beauty.
For the story alone, the book might well be four starred; however, its very length mitigates against it in an age with less time and less patience. Regretfully, because I loved it, it's being downgraded to three stars, but despite its other faults (too convoluted, too coincidental, too pat) it cannot be just a two starrer.
Bulwer-Lytton was a prolific writer, his imagination ranging from history to lost worlds to fantasy to spiritualism, and making a commercial success of each. ‘The Caxtons’ is none of these. It starts on the day Pisistratus (Sisty, called the Anachronism by his father), the narrator and nominal hero, is born. It might be a simple coming-of-age romance, except that it is also much more. It is as much the story of Sisty’s father, and his struggles and failure as it is of the greater, but more shadowy man, his uncle Roland Caxton, his glorious career, his nobility and valour, and his lost causes. Sisty has another uncle, his cheerful good-for-nothing Uncle Jack, his mother's brother, who carelessly and with the best will in the world, ruins the whole family and abruptly disappears. The book is then about the manner in which the family get up from the ground, check for serious bruises, dust off their clothes, and begin life anew.
Although the plot is good, if a bit jerky, the characters are two dimensional, either very good or very bad; this is a common fault of most Victorian writers, except the realists like George Eliot and William Makepeace Thackeray. All the women are perfect angels, and beautiful to boot, except where they are not, and of course, the marks (usually of vice, but here of ambition and calculation), age them and take away their once vaunted beauty.
For the story alone, the book might well be four starred; however, its very length mitigates against it in an age with less time and less patience. Regretfully, because I loved it, it's being downgraded to three stars, but despite its other faults (too convoluted, too coincidental, too pat) it cannot be just a two starrer.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews