Wilkie Collins's (1824-1889) The Moonstone (1868) continues to give much pleasure to its
readers. Why exactly is this? Romance, crime and mystery are audience-pleasing
topics. The exotic invasion of an English country house by “A devilish Indian
Diamond” (The Moonstone, Period 1,
Chapter 5) and its symbolic link to a young woman’s sexuality, spark interesting ideas. And yet, as so many Victorian sensation novels vividly
demonstrate, exciting and sensational subject matter does not guarantee an
exciting and sensational tale. Interesting social and psychological themes are
not on their own sufficient to make an interesting story. Literary craftsmanship
is needed to create a narrative with lasting appeal.
In his Preface to The Moonstone, Collins writes that he
was going to attempt something new and different: “The attempt made, here, is
to trace the influence of character on circumstances.” The conduct of the
characters, right or wrong, would direct the course of events. This does not
mean that Collins planned The Moonstone
to be full of well-rounded characters with finely-nuanced internal lives. Whatever
Collins’s plans, The Moonstone is
still very much a plot-driven novel, but the main force shaping and driving the
plot is the characters’ conduct based on their psychological make-up.
Fundamentally, the mystery of the diamond’s disappearance is created and
sustained by two young women’s (Rosanna Spearman’s and Rachel Verinder’s)
feelings for one young man (Franklin Blake). If Rosanna had been any less
hostile to the world around her, or Rachel any less firm in her sense of
righteousness, The Moonstone would
have been a much shorter novel. The stubbornness of these women is essential to
the plot.
Characterization in The Moonstone is not brilliant. Miss
Clack is a stereotype; Gabriel Betteredge is a bore. Rosanna Spearman, Limping
Lucy Yolland and Ezra Jennings are tragic cases of melodramatic misery. The Moonstone shows that it is not
necessary for a skilful narrative to depict interesting internal lives of
characters as long as they have the essential quality of consistency. In The Moonstone, each character ‘stays in
character.’ Gabriel Betteredge is boring throughout, Franklin Blake is fidgety
and Godfrey Ablewhite charming from the beginning to the end. The characters in
The Moonstone have plausible backstories,
even if they are sometimes partial or only implied. When we consider Collins’s
treatment of life’s underdogs, Rosanna, Lucy and Ezra, the narrative offers
explanations for their odd-ball demeanour. It makes it possible for the reader
to accept why Rosanna might hate the world and why Lucy might rage against men
and why Ezra might find Franklin and Rachel’s love for each other so compelling.
The characters are not only consistent in their conduct throughout the novel;
they are also consistent in terms of their (fictional) lives.
The Moonstone, like The Woman
in White (1859), employs the technique of multiple narratives. Franklin
Blake, in some point in the future, is collating statements from eye-witnesses
for the benefit of the family archives. The chosen method, by necessity,
introduces several points of view for the narrative and this makes the story
more interesting. It divides the long novel into smaller pieces, with each new
voice revitalizing the story for the reader. Collins handles his narrative method
well; he avoids describing the same events from different angles, but he does
use his method to provide several angles (like the reflecting facets of a
diamond) to the main characters. Miss Clack’s views on Rachel, Franklin and
Godfrey Ablewhite differ significantly from those of Mr. Bruff. Despite this,
the central characters maintain their consistency: they are viewed differently
but they do not become different. Where Rachel’s stubbornness is insolent,
foolish selfishness to Miss Clack, it is admirable firmness of principle to Mr
Bruff, and incomprehensible cruelty to Franklin Blake.
Stylistically, Collins does not entirely
succeed. The voices telling the story should be individual and different.
Collins contrasts Miss Clack’s fervent piousness with Mr. Bruff’s dry style.
Gabriel Betteredge’s voice makes slow progress and rambles, and Ezra Jennings
shifts between romantic melodrama and scientific precision. But many of the
characters share Collins’s verbal mannerism of a distinct sentence structure.
It starts with Gabriel Betteredge: “He had kept the Diamond, in flat defiance of
assassination, in India. He kept the Diamond, in flat defiance of public
opinion, in England.” (The Moonstone,
1st period, Chapter 5) A similar coupling of repetitive openings of sentences
spreads to Mr Bruff: “Here was another of the marked peculiarities in her
character disclosing itself to me without reserve. Here was her sensitive
horror of the bare contact with anything mean …” (The Moonstone 2nd Period, 2nd Narrative,
Chapter 1). It is picked up by Franklin Blake: “I knew that the Diamond was at
the bottom of it, last year, and I know that the Diamond is at the bottom of it
now.” (The Moonstone, 2nd
period, 3rd Narrative, Chapter 2) It is found in Ezra Jennings’s
diary: “Here, again, there is a motive under the surface; and, here again, I
fancy that I can find it out.” (The
Moonstone, 2nd period, 4th Narrative) This mannerism
of repetition for effect, is present in Collins’s other novels, too. Although it
gives his prose an identifiable, typical lilt, it does a disservice in a story
with multiple narrators.
The overall plot of The Moonstone is simple and clearly
divided between its four sections: “The Prologue,” “The Loss of the Diamond
(1848), “The Discovery of the Truth (1848-1849) and “Epilogue: the Finding of
the Diamond.” We are introduced to the Diamond; then it disappears from Rachel
Verinder’s Indian cabinet. All the clues to resolve the mystery of its
disappearance are given up front. And they all seem to support Sergeant Cuff’s
conclusions. The second half of the novel works its way back from these erroneous
conclusions as the investigation by the family forces reveals the truth.
Within this wider structure, the unravelling
of the mystery proceeds through a series of minor mysteries, mostly created by Rosanna’s
and Rachel’s unusual behaviour, but also involving others, even minor
characters like Mr Luker and the Indian jugglers. Collins uses this classic
mode of plot progression so superbly because he does not under-estimate his
reader’s intelligence. In a mystery story, there is nothing worse than for the
reader to figure out the solution early on and then having to hang around until
the narrative catches up.
The reader is very much inscribed
in the novel. Gabriel Betteredge addresses the reader directly, assuring her
that “we shall be in the thick of mystery soon” (The Moonstone, 2st Period, Chapter 4) and warning her to “Pay
attention to it, or you will be all abroad when we get deeper into the story.”
(Ibid.). There is a clear assumption
that the reader’s interest is in resolving the mystery and she, too,
is suffering from ‘detective-fever.’ At any new clue or turn of events, the
novel expects that the reader will draw conclusions relating to the mystery of
the Diamond. And as soon as the novel expects a reader has solved a problem, it
gives the answer.
For example, When Miss Clack Mr
Bruff analyze the case, Miss Clack vouches for the innocence of Godfrey
Ablewhite and Mr Bruff declares Rachel Verinder honest. An attentive and
engaged reader automatically considers the possible guilt of the third central
character: Franklin Blake. Miss Clack suggests this next: “surely there is a
conjecture to make which has not occurred to us yet. … Mr. Franklin Blake was also
at the house the time ….” In order for Mr Bruff to explain why Franklin is
innocent, too. (The Moonstone, 2nd
Period, 1st Narrative, Chapter 3). Similarly, when Miss Clack tells
how Mr Bruff takes Rachel for a walk and soon afterwards Rachel breaks her
engagement, the reader assumes that there is a connection between the two
events. This connection is revealed in the following narrative by Mr Bruff.
A slightly different example of
how Collins respects his reader’s intelligence is when Rosanna buys “an old
japanned tin pan” and “a dog-chain” from Mrs Yolland (The Moonstone, 1st Period, Chapter 15). Sergeant Cuff
immediately realizes how Rosanna was going to use these items: “All perfectly
plain, so far. ... the mystery is – what the devil has she hidden in the tin
case?” (Ibid.) The next step in the
reasoning follows: it must be the stained article of clothing she has hidden but
why hide it and not just destroy it? Cuff admits: “I have let Rosanna Spearman
puzzle me.” (Ibid.) Collins here has
presented a small puzzle, the odd items Rosanna acquired, but instead of
leaving the reader to with this easy puzzle, in a short space he develops it into
a more interesting mystery that is linked to Rosanna’s character. There is no
period in the novel, where the reader thinks she knows the solution but the narrative
assumes she does not. Even if the reader draws the conclusion that only Rosanna’s
passion for Franklin could have led her to hide the stained clothing, and the
clothing must therefore be linked to Franklin, the narrative still hides how
the Diamond came to be stolen. The central mystery in The Moonstone is a carefully guarded secret; other smaller
mysteries are solved with a perfect timing for keeping the reader hooked.