It is generally maintained that the intention of The New Magdalen was to win sympathy for
the fallen woman and argue that not all women considered sinful and lost
deserve the opprobrium meted out to them by the respectable society. If this is
what Collins hoped to achieve, The New
Magdalen is not very successful. Collins has broken the cardinal rule of
fiction 'show not tell.' Mercy Merrick's backstory - her years of sin - are glossed over in a couple of explanatory scenes where
Mercy tells her story - first guardedly to Grace Roseberry (The New Magdalen, Chapter 2), and,
towards the end, to Julian Grey and Horace Holmcroft (The New Magdalen, Chapter 27). At no stage of the narrative
do we learn any details of Mercy's past degradation. This shameful past is a
stated fact and does not provide any dramatic revelations in the plot. There
are only continuing and increasingly tedious statements by Mercy that she has lost
her virtue for ever.
Mercy Merrick has internalized her own immorality and
unworthiness, and it is her feeling of shame that provides the proof of her fallen state. This, we can argue, is of course also the necessary proof of her innate
morality and goodness. Only good people can feel such intensity of guilt. But
it makes boring reading. Mercy can keep wringing her hands and bang on about
her own shame until the cows come home, we would much rather read of the events
that caused that shame in the first place. The New Magdalen is reluctant to be specific and is far from explicit as far the fall of woman is concerned.
Even if The New
Magdalen does not quite engage the reader's sympathies in the manner
possibly intended by Collins, it does demonstrate his masterful skill as an
author who can hook his reader and keep her reading. The narrative sequences
and individual scenes are dovetailed and designed very meticulously to try to ensure that the reader remains in a constant state of anticipation and mild excitement
- this is the aim of any sensation novel. It is also a requirement of serial
fiction: to make the reader desperate to know what happens next. It is
quite astonishing how The New Magdalen
can keep the reader's interest despite being so very
contrived. It manages to stretch our suspension of disbelief to the very edge
of snapping.
As Catherine Peters observes in The King of Inventors (1991), "The narrative leans heavily on
the reader, never presenting alternative points of view." (Peters (1991),
p338). There is no mystery for the reader to solve; the heroine's secret is out
in the open. The tension that is created by the other
characters not knowing the truth about Mercy Merrick is not sufficient, argues
Peters: "there is no suspense and no mystery (Ibid.). I agree: the suspense in the novel does not come from the
other characters slowly unmasking Mercy as an
impostor. This was never intended to be a detective story. The suspense, it would appear, is expected to come from Mercy's inner struggle to confess her crime and the obstacles that the plot incidents and the conditions of the respectable society throw in her way. This is not really achieved in the narrative. Instead, the suspense comes almost entirely from the reader's cat-and-mouse game with the
author: waiting in a state of amused excitement to see what kind of a melodramatic trick the
author can think of next to stop Mercy's secret from being revealed. This is
where Collins comes up with some surprises and red herrings.
From the moment the German doctor revives the real Grace
Roseberry at the end of Scene 1 (The New
Magdalen, Chapter 5), the game is on. When Julian Grey informs Lady Janet
that he wishes to introduce a lady he has taken an interest in, Lady Janet may
suspect Julian has finally decided to marry, but the reader conversed in
conventions of melodrama can be in no doubt that this mysterious lady will turn
out to be the real Grace. This is more or less immediately confirmed with heavy-handed
foreshadowing when Mercy is introduced to Julian as 'Grace:'
"The instant she pronounced the name, Julian started as
if it was a surprise to him. ...A complete change had come over him; and it
dated from the moment when his aunt has pronounced the name that was not her name - the name she had
stolen!" (The New Magdalen,
Chapter 8.)
The reader is led to anticipate that the plot will consist
of the slow reveal of Mercy's deception - Grace will appear at some stage. The
very next chapter confirms that with a "vindictive look" the
recovering Grace Roseberry has asked the authorities to "Find Mercy
Merrick!" (The New Magdalen,
Chapter 9). The narrative has shifted our expectations to anticipate Grace's developing battle to win back her name and expose Mercy.
However, only a few pages later Grace
Roseberry arrives at Maplethorpe House and confronts Lady Janet. Mercy Merrick
walks into the room; sees the real Grace and drops "senseless on the
floor." (The New Magdalen,
Chapter 11). This is the first of quite brilliant plot twists. Surely, this is
the end of the road for Mercy. How is it possible that the deception can go on? It does.
Grace Roseberry sneaks into Maplethorpe House. When she
discovers Mercy alone, she approaches with her "eyes brightened with
vindictive pleasure." We believe that Mercy has been saved by a whisker,
when men's voices make Grace withdraw behind the billiard-room door at the end
of Chapter 15. In Chapter 16, Mercy decides to do a deal with Grace and
"was now eager to devise a means of finding her way privately to an
interview with Grace." (The New Magdalen,
Chapter 16). Unfortunately, Grace
escapes from the house unseen and Julian and Mercy just catch a glimpse of the
closing billiard-room door. The plot twists on tortuously to prolong Mercy's moral agony.
When Grace Roseberry is threatened with madness,
Mercy Merrick's conscience forces her towards a confession. But she cannot
bring herself to utter the words. Instead she decides to confess in a letter. (The New Magdalen, Chapter 20). After
trying her best, for the length of a chapter, to get the words on the paper she
suddenly realizes that writing is wrong, her fiance Horace has a right to hear
the truth from her: "Cost her what it might to avow the truth to him with
her own lips, the cruel sacrifice must be made." (The New Magdalen, Chapter 21). This is another example how the narrative turns, with people entering and exiting, changing their minds and having
minor emotional break-downs, always postponing the anticipated moment of truth. There is even a moment where the arrival of unseen visitors at the gates of Maplethorpe House conveniently (to the
plot) makes it difficult for Lady Janet to keep Julian and Mercy from meeting
in the library: "Would there be time enough to get rid of the visitors,
and to establish her adopted daughter in the empty drawing room, before Julian
appeared?" (The New Magdalen,
Chapter 15). It would be spoiling the plot to reveal whether she succeeded.
The narrative contrives to prolong the suspense by a series of these
slightly comical stratagems. It is not successful; it does not grip in the
sense of transporting the reader to the world of its characters. But the
narrative is not tedious or boring either: it grips in the same way we are
amused, even fascinated by the intricate operations of a clever contraption. The New Magdalen fails in its didactic
mission, and it fails as a sensation novel. It succeeds as a delicately
manufactured machine of melodrama.
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