Little Novels
- Wilkie Collins
Collins (1824 - 1889) was a fellow writer and business associate
of Charles Dickens and the author of novels such as No Name
and The
Moonstone. He also wrote stories for the magazine market. These
short stories were first bundled between covers in 1887. The collection was never released in the US because Collins’
stock was so low in the late 19th century perhaps due to his
unconventional personal life: he never married and implied unusual views of
marriage in his writing. Anyway, the collection was
not available in the US until Dover
released a
facsimile edition in 1977.
Mrs.
Zant and the Ghost (1879). A widow suffers extramundane experiences
in public, which attract the considerate attention of a widower and his little
girl. The widower finds the widow under the unhealthy influence of a rum brother-in-law.
One of Collins’ themes was the vulnerability of women, especially due to law
and custom.
Miss Morris
and the Stranger (1881). A light rom-com with a female narrator. A
governess, she is smart and capable but still liable to say endearing things
like “I was so mortified, I could almost have cried.” She also says
parenthetically, “Miss Melbury was a dark woman. It cannot be because I am a
fair woman myself—I hope I am above such narrow prejudices as that—but it is
certainly true that I don’t admire dark women.” Delightful.
Mr.
Cosway and the Landlady (1881). Beware marriages of convenience. A
widow, she wants to get married to hold off men who stay at her inn and nag her
to marry them. He needs to get quits on a huge inn bill she has saddled him
with. But, of course, it all blows up, as we knew it would, because of the unblushing
bride’s malice.
Mr.
Medhurst and the Princess (1884). Collins was funny when he orders a clueless narrator to the helm of a tale. In this case, the narrator is a young
diplomat assigned to a minor German court. His lack of wit and experience among
the diplo sharks disconcerts both his allies and adversaries, prompting one
manipulative character to tell him “Give up diplomacy—and get a farmer to
employ you in keeping his sheep.”
Mr. Lismore and
the Widow (1883). I’d spoil this story if I hinted what kind of
story it was. Suffice to say, I’ve heard the Victorians loved this kind of
twist in a story. I supply the link, you choose to use an half-hour to read it.
You know you want to, you know you’re too far gone to be anything like productive
for the rest of the day.
Miss
Jeromette and the Clergyman (1875).Narrated by a conscience-stricken
clergyman, this story features excellent characterization, besides a coincidence
and a ghost. The climax – “I sat looking at the pillar of mist, hovering
opposite to me - is more awe-inspiring
than scary, which is alright by me.
Miss
Mina and the Groom (1878).The past comes back to haunt a middle-aged
lady. To quote “She was near the door, on the point of leaving me. As I spoke,
she turned with a ghastly stare of horror--felt about her with her hands as if
she was groping in darkness--and dropped on the floor.” Yeh, it’s that kind of sensational
story. Fun.
Mr.
Lepel and the Housekeeper (1884). A pair of college pals find
themselves living out a love triangle right out of opera. One angle is the
17-year-old daughter of a lodge keeper’s widow. Admittedly, the Victorian complacency about the middle
aged male and the not or barely legal maid makes us post-moderns wince. But this
is worth reading because in this late-career story, Collins experiments with
the ridiculous narrator. Mr. Lepel’s
cluelessness about his housekeeper’s motives and actions is a hoot.
Mr.
Captain and the Nymph (1876). Blown off course in the Pacific,
mariners land on an island, which the proverbial crusty sea-dog labels a "beastly
green strip of a place, not laid down in any Christian chart." The local
chief warns the sailor-men off a nearby island, lest they be slain for
desecrating holy ground. Does the Captain listen? No. Does he fall for the
forbidden island’s nymph? Yes. Does it end happily? Oh hell no but it’s full of
action and romance.
Mr.
Marmaduke and the Minister (1878). Told from the point of view of a
Puritanical Scot clergyman, this story has the narrator concerned about his
comely daughter’s marriage to a guy who never stays home in the evenings and
has a room upstairs he bars anybody from entering. The unworldly clergyman worries
if his son-in-law is a gamester or counterfeiter. All’s well that ends well in a
story in which Collins the bohemian pokes fun at the squares.
Mr.
Percy and the Prophet (1877). Collins stretches out a bit. The story
starts with a weird interlude focusing on a spiritualist’s uncanny prediction
of a love triangle. Then, the emphasis changes to the love triangle and the
resulting duel (the story takes place in 1817) and the deep friendship that
arises between the two duelists. Collins’ examination of politics and
government reveals his skepticism about the motives of politicians and
bureaucrats. A solid story, if overwrought.
Miss Bertha
and the Yankee (1877). A young woman from the colonies finds herself
not only an heiress but in a love triangle with an intense English Army officer
and a gentle Yankee. At first the two men are friends but love for the
unintentionally indiscreet beauty comes between them to the point where they
fight a duel. An overheated story that should appeal to fans of melodrama.
Miss
Dulane and my Lord (1886). Again, beware marriages of convenience.
She wants a title, he wants money – or rather fun stuff money can buy like yachts.
But a comely third party – with a past, of course – tears up the pea patch.
Some ill-natured anti-Semitism mars the story. It’s clear that Collins doubted
that the institution of marriage was all it was cracked up to be; in fact, he
never married.
Mr.
Policeman and the Cook (1881). A young homicide detective finds
himself in a moral quandary. This is a serious, almost gloomy story, of what
the conflict between love and duty will drive people to.
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