Fiction

Wilkie Collins drafting a prompt for ChatGPT Wilkie Collins is often overlooked as a comic writer, but Legacy of Cain (1889) shows him at his best, with several scenes causing me to snort indecorously on the train. The subtle humour leavens a novel dealing with the thorny issue of criminality and genetics, which could have become ponderous in less skilled hands. Prison chaplain Abel Gracedieu agrees to adopt the young daughter of a woman hanged for the brutal murder of her husband. Determined that she should not be tainted by her mother’s shame, he raises Eunice alongside his own daughter, Helena, and allows people to think them sisters. Even the girls themselves are unaware of their respective parentage. When an indigent and eccentric cousin, Miss Jillgall, appears on the scene, a series of events is set in motion and the putative sisters are embroiled in a love triangle. Malevolent characters appear from the past, and the curious begin piecing together the truth. ...

The eponymous Senator is Elias Gotobed, whose curious name alludes to that fact that he has a tendency to send people to sleep. After his friend John Morton inherits the estate of Bragton Hall, he travels to England with him, his fiancée Arabella Trefoil, and her mother Lady Augustus. The Senator is keen to undertake a study of English life, and is delighted when they are all invited to stay at Rufford Hall, the home of wealthy bachelor Lord Rufford. Arabella realises that the Lord is a greater matrimonial prize than Morton and encourages his advances. Frustrated with her lack of progress, she lets it be known that he proposed to her, a charge he vigorously denies. Lady Augustus threatens him with a breach of promise action and he agrees to pay Arabella £8,000 in ‘damages’. ...

Mary Elizabeth Braddon is, of course, best known for her sensation classic Lady Audley’s Secret, with its infamous eponymous bigamist. A contemporary critic actually thought Henry Dunbar (1864) superior, praising its “excellence of plot,” “animal vivacity,” and “boldness of incident”. Not all reviewers were impressed, however. Some were outraged by the central murder plot and Braddon’s handling of the theme of crime and punishment, in which she appears to argue against the death penalty. Capital punishment was a hotly debated topic at the time, with public executions banned four years after the novel’s publication. The compelling plot and topical themes made Henry Dunbar an ideal candidate for stage adaptation, and successful playwright Tom Taylor did the honours the following year, with Kate Terry appearing as the female lead at the Olympic Theatre. ...

Until a few weeks ago, I didn’t have a favourite novel: then I read The Beth Book. First published in 1897, it tells the story of Elizabeth Caldwell, a heroine whose experiences are closely modelled on Grand’s own life. The young Beth is a bright, inquisitive and loving child who is constrained by her difficult upbringing in a remote town on the west coast of Ireland and then in Yorkshire. Her mother has no idea how to deal with an intelligent daughter and desperately tries to instil in her ideas of feminine self-sacrifice. Like many girls of the period, she is denied an education and encouraged to make an advantageous marriage as soon as possible. ...

As is often the case with Trollope’s novels, The Claverings (1867) is an uncomfortable yet compelling read. The hero of the piece is Harry Clavering, who is jilted by the beautiful Julia Brabazon in favour of a dissipated, but rich, old aristocrat, Lord Ongar. Clavering devotes himself to a career as an apprentice civil engineer and becomes engaged to his master’s daughter, Florence Burton. He looks set for a successful family and business life until the widowed Julia Brabazon, now Lady Ongar, reappears. He must choose between a safe but predictable life with Florence, or the glittering and indolent role of Julia’s husband. ...

In his Autobiography Trollope declared “Lady Anna is the best novel I ever wrote! Very much! Quite far away above all others!!!” Unfortunately, the reading public did not agree and Trollope was forced to defend his heroine on many an occasion. Much of the narrative in this 1874 novel is focused on the eponymous Lady Anna’s mother, Countess Lovel. She was the penniless Josephine Murray who impetuously agreed to marry the dissipated Earl Lovel for his money and status. After the birth of Anna, he casts them both aside, revealing that he already has a wife living in Italy. Shortly afterwards he dies, thereby creating much work for the lawyers. The Countess embarks upon an indefatigable quest to restore her daughter’s good name and fortune. In the meantime, they are supported by the kindly local tailor, Thomas Thwaite, who uncomplainingly spends his life savings on keeping them in comfort. The young Anna falls in love with his son, Daniel, a journeyman tailor and inveterate Radical, but the Countess is determined that she should instead marry her cousin, the heir to her father’s estate. ...

The reading public seems to be divided into those who fall hopelessly in love with Mrs Gaskell’s saintly Ruth and those who find her irritating. I belong to the latter group, an admission which will no doubt lead to some accusations of heartlessness (I’m also with Oscar Wilde on the death of Little Nell). Ruth Hilton, an orphaned dressmaker’s assistant, is seduced and abandoned by the wealthy Henry Bellingham. Alone and pregnant, a hunchbacked nonconformist minister, Thurstan Benson, takes pity on her and helps her establish a new life as a respectable widow, Mrs Denbigh. In this guise she is able to obtain employment as a governess with the evangelical Bradshaw family. All is well until Bellingham reappears on the scene as the local prospective parliamentary candidate, and then Ruth’s hidden past is brought into the light. Her continuing self-sacrifice leads ultimately to tragic consequences. ...

Sent out to domestic service by her drunken stepfather, Esther Waters is forced to leave a good position after being seduced and abandoned with child by fellow servant, William Latch. Repelled by her family, she struggles with life as a single parent, nursing a rich woman’s baby to the detriment of her own, working eighteen hours a day for a capricious mistress, and even resorting to the workhouse in desperation. Although an occasional character looks upon her kindly, most are out to exploit her weakened state. Her fortunes seem to improve when she finds work with a benevolent novelist and wins the affections of Fred Parsons, a steady and earnest member of the Plymouth Brethren, who believes she has already atoned for her “sin”. Just as she glimpses the prospect of security, William Latch reappears, begging her to come back to him so that he can be a father to his child. Esther must choose between the safe option of Fred and the more exciting, but dangerous, alternative offered by William. ...

Ouida’s Moths is credited with being the first English novel to show a divorced woman happily remarried, and as such represents a landmark in women’s writing. Of course many authors, notably of the ‘sensation school’, tackled the thorny issue of divorce, but ultimately either the heroine’s inconvenient spouse would obligingly die at the eleventh hour, or she would have to live a nun-like existence, hidden from society’s disapproving gaze. ...

Felicia Skene’s blue plaque at 34 St Michael’s Street, Oxford Felicia Skene (1821-99) was a philanthropist and writer. Born in Aix-en-Provence, she moved to Oxford during the tumult of Newman’s defection to Rome and was heavily influenced by High Anglicanism. Much of her writing was barely diluted Tractarian propaganda, but in Hidden Depths (1866) she exposes the prostitution rife in Oxford (thinly disguised as ‘Greyburgh’), and attacks the hypocrisy of those who blamed the ‘fallen’ women for the spread of venereal disease, rather than the men (and sometimes women) who exploited them. ...