Miss Wilkins's Jerome

A good way to judge the structure of a story is to examine it as if you intended turning it into a play. To do so is to ask about it two very searching questions: Is it well constructed ? Is its theme strongly based upon the verities of human nature ? Looking upon the story with the eye of the dramatist, you will see all its superfluities fade away. — all the “analysis of character,” all the author’s wise or humorous reflections, all the episodical incidents. Everything by which writers of novels are enabled to blind their readers to the structural weakness of their productions, or to the essential improbability or triviality of their themes, seems to detach itself and vanish, leaving the substance and the form naked to the eye.

It is interesting to apply this test, which seems fair, although severe, to Miss Wilkins’s latest story, Jerome. The plot, reduced to its simplest terms, is this: Jerome, a poor young man who is not likely ever to have any property to call his own, promises that he will give away to the poor of the town all his wealth if he ever becomes rich. Two incredulous rich men, taunted and stung thereto by the gibes of the company, declare that if, within ten years, Jerome receives and gives away as much as ten thousand dollars, they on their side will give away to the poor one fourth of their property. Jerome becomes possessed of a fortune, and does with it as he had promised to do. The two rich men thereupon fulfill their agreements.

This is the keystone of the novel, the central fact of the story which supports the whole structure. All that precedes is preparatory, all that follows is explanatory.

Now, to revert to the test of a play, this is not an idea upon which a serious drama could be founded. That such a bargain should be made and kept may be within the possibilities of human nature ; few things, indeed, lie outside the possibilities of human nature. But it is not within the probabilities. Any serious play which should be based upon it would inevitably seem artificial. It is au idea for a farce, or, on a higher level, for a satirical comedy ; for each of these species of composition may be based upon an absurdity, if, when once started, it is developed naturally and logically. A serious play, however, if it is not to miss its effect, must treat a serious theme; one of which no spectator for an instant will question the reality. By such a test as this Miss Wilkins’s novel fails because its theme lacks probability and dignity.

The theme, in fact, is of the right proportion for a short story, and this, indeed, is what Miss Wilkins has made; but she has prefixed to it a series of short stories and sketches dealing with preceding events, and has added another series of short stories and sketches dealing with subsequent events. These are all rather loosely bound together, and the result is that the reader, thinking over the story, does not have an idea of it as a unit; he thinks now of one part, now of another ; and by the mere fact of his so thinking of it he confesses that he has not found it a good novel, but a had novel by a good writer of short stories. Miss Wilkins employs in Jerome her shortstory methods, and has not mastered the technique of a larger structure. She is, as it were, Meissonier trying to paint a large, bold canvas.

The mention of Meissonier calls to mind the merits of the story, which, as any reader of her work may guess, are neither few nor small. There are many admirable human portraits in the book, many excellently dramatic bits of action, much strong, nervous, natural dialogue. Always the work is that of a keenly observant eye, and of the brooding type of mind that is most surely dowered with the creative imagination. A single excellent passage will illustrate our meaning. Jerome’s mother is speaking to him of the report that he has given away his wealth: —

“ ‘ I want to know if it’s true,’ she said.

“ ‘ Yes, mother, it is.’

“ ‘ You ’ve given it all away ? ’

“ ‘ Yes, mother.’

“ ' Your own folks won’t get none of it ? ’

“ Jerome shook his head. . . .

“ Ann Edwards looked at her son, with a face of pale recrimination and awe. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it without a word. never had a black silk dress in my life,' said she finally, in a shaking voice, and that was all the reproach which she offered.”

The longer you consider Ann Edwards’s comment, the more admirable you must think it.

One tendency shows itself in this latest novel by Miss Wilkins which should not pass without mention, and which must be lamented by every reader who wishes well to the literary art. The book, as may be guessed even from this brief synopsis of its plot, is a weak attempt to question the present economic system. It sets off the wickedness or the selfishness of the rich against the virtue and helplessness of the poor after the manner of the sentimental socialist.

A brief literary criticism is hardly the place to treat of economics, but one may pause to remark how odd it is that the novelist, since his business is particularly the study of human nature, and his capital a knowledge of it, should not perceive that the economic trouble lies, not in the present system of property, but in human nature itself.