Bionic Jean's Reviews > The Moonstone

The only London house Charles Dickens lived in which is still standing, is at 48 Doughty St. It has been converted into a museum, and at the moment is showing an exhibition called “Mutual Friends: The Adventures of Charles Dickens & Wilkie Collins”. Yet this is a museum devoted to the life and works of Charles Dickens! Even the name of the exhibition is a clever pun on one of Dickens’s novels.

Wilkie Collins wrote more than twenty novels and around 100 short stories, as well as a dozen plays, numerous essays and pieces of journalism. His books have attracted readers for a more than a century and a half and his unconventional lifestyle has intrigued the literary world for nearly as long. So apart from having a similarly large output, and living in the 19th century, what do these two authors have to do with one another?

The answer is that Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins wrote many works together. Their catalyst was Dickens’s close friend, mentor (and ultimately biographer) John Forster. Both men surrounded themselves with a vibrant circle of authors, artists, playwrights and performers, and although Dickens had many friends, his friendship and collaboration with Wilkie Collins was to become one of the most significant partnerships of both their lives.

It was on 12th March 1851, at John Forster’s house, where this life-changing event occurred. Charles Dickens was introduced to a young man who was a law student at Lincoln’s Inn, but also, like himself, was an amateur actor performing in a mutual friend’s play. So began a personal and professional relationship that would last over 15 years.

Charles Dickens quickly became Wilkie Collins’s friend and mentor, and went on to publish Collins’s story “A Terribly Strange Bed” in April 1852 in his magazine: “Household Words”. The story was very popular, and is still often published in modern anthologies of “Terror and the Supernatural”. From then on they became such good friends that Wilkie Collins wrote in a letter: “We saw each other every day, and were as fond of each other as men could be. Nobody (my own dear mother excepted, of course) felt so positively sure of the future before me in literature, as Dickens did.” Wilkie Collins joined the permanent staff of Dickens’s first magazine in November 1856, at a weekly salary of 5 guineas.

Despite the fact that Dickens was 12 years older than Wilkie Collins, the two authors worked together many times, their special annual Christmas numbers becoming a firm favourite with the public. In fact Collins was sometimes unkindly referred to “the Dickensian Ampersand”, because of the sheer number of works they collaborated on—inevitably referred to as works by “Charles Dickens & Wilkie Collins” rather than the other way round. Nevertheless, Wilkie Collins was one of the best known, best loved, and for a time, best paid Victorian fiction writers. He outlived his friend by 19 years, albeit in bad health, but still writing.

Wilkie Collins’s first serialised novel for Dickens’s magazine was “The Woman in White” in 1859, and officially he stopped being an “in-house” author for Dickens in April 1861, in the middle of his serial novel “No Name”, which Dickens admired and thought very clever. It continued to be published in his new showcase magazine “All the Year Round” into 1862. The two authors had differences of opinion, but complemented each other well. Afterwards Dickens managed to lure Wilkie Collins back now and then, including for The Moonstone, his final serialised novel in 1868. This was just two years before Dickens’s death. It was Wilkie Collins’s last great success, coming at the end of a very productive period in which four successive novels became bestsellers.

As I write, it is exactly 200 years ago that Wilkie Collins was born. His works are “classics”, with observations still relevant to contemporary life. However The Moonstone is also remembered for another significant reason.

The Moonstone: A Romance by Wilkie Collins was described by T.S. Eliot as “the first and greatest of English detective novels”. It was certainly one of the earliest detective novels in English, as we understand the term today, and established many of our modern ground rules. It influenced Wilkie Collins’s successors from Anthony Trollope and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle onwards, setting the standard by which all other detective novels are judged. This is quite an astonishing accomplishment for someone who was originally considered to be “the Dickensian Ampersand”!

The Moonstone could also lay claim to being the earliest clear example of the police procedural genre, although it is told through letters by the characters. Epistolary novels such as this are rare now, but were very popular with Victorians, and were a favourite technique of Wilkie Collins. In fact during its original serialisation in “All the Year Round”, there were crowds of anxious readers outside the publishers’ offices in Wellington Street waiting for the next installment, just as they did with Dickens own serials, from “The Old Curiosity Shop” onwards. Both The Moonstone and the earlier “The Woman in White” have never been out of print.

Both authors wrote great stories with ingenious plots, and none more so than The Moonstone’s was to prove. However Wilkie Collins’s prose was spare and direct, lacking the poetry and allusions of Dickens’s. He did not have the panoply of characters following their own complex, intertwining or parallel stories that Dickens did. Instead, what the reading public enjoyed about Wilkie Collins was his sensational stories, with subtlety of characterisation, and realistic psychological portrayals.

And that is what we still enjoy about The Moonstone. Collins wrote page-turners, but a re-reading of the novel is as delightful as a first reading, (which is another sign of a true classic). We get to know these characters, believe in them totally through all their trials and tribulations, and are sad when the novel is finished and we have to leave them behind. It is unusual for a detective novel to absorb our attention in quite this way. We may be caught up in its plot, but sometimes the characters in detective novels do not have much depth. Such shallow characters abounded in the 19th century too.

Although The Moonstone is generally considered to be the first detective novel it should perhaps be described as the first “respectable” one. There were earlier detective stories, in particular the 19th-century British publishing phenomenon known as “penny dreadfuls”, first published in the 1830s but going right through to the 1870s. They were printed on cheap paper, in weekly parts of 8 to 16 pages, and selling for a penny an installment. Popular recurring characters were featured, such as Sweeney Todd, Dick Turpin, Varney the Vampire, and Spring-heeled Jack. But the public were predisposed to expect something superior from Wilkie Collins, who was by now an established author. Moreover The Moonstone was not a “penny dreadful” story, but was published in the greatly respected Charles Dickens’s magazine.

Ironically enough though, the plot is not a million miles removed from that of a classic penny dreadful. The precious moonstone of the title is not a softly glowing semi-precious felspar gemstone as we might expect, but a colloquially named magnificent yellow diamond, which is reputed to have mystical powers. It is associated with the Hindu god of the Moon, Chandra, and protected by three hereditary guardians, who believe this is on the orders of Vishnu. The Moonstone is said to vary in brilliance along with the waxing and waning of the Moon … and it has disappeared. These three religious figures, strange and alien to the eyes of the English gentry, may or may not have been involved in its theft.

I did worry about the representation of people from the Indian subcontinent in a Victorian novel. So often the descriptions are offensive to modern perceptions, such as attempts at amusing caricatures—even in my beloved Dickens! Here though, I need not have worried. Wilkie Collins has given an impression of wealthy English people feeling menaced by the unknown and exotic, without specifics. It is all suggestion, and the one character we get to know in depth who does hail from India is a delight; in fact a tragic character, and the most honourable and upright person imaginable. Ezra Jennings’s is a sad tale of ill-health, undeserved prejudice and sheer bad luck.

Modern detective novels often have one officer and their sidekick. Here we have two competing detective figures: the irresistible Sergeant Cuff of Scotland Yard, with his penchant for growing roses (and insistence that his way is better than the chief steward’s). He keeps his own counsel about his suspicions, and is wise enough to keep notes about this, since nobody believes him at the time. Then there is Franklin Blake, a sort of amateur sleuth, but who appeals to our 21st century point of view as he has—unusually for the time—lived in and been shaped by several different cultures.

Technically of course Superintendent Seegrave is the senior officer, but the Police Commissioner’s word is law. This is bound to cause resentment, in a house where emotions are already running high. But we enjoy the sulky slowness of the superintendent, and the insight and asperity of St. Cuff (view spoiler)[for example in assessing the importance of the smudged, painted door. (hide spoiler)]

Sergeant Cuff owes a lot to Dickens’s own Inspector Bucket fifteen years earlier, in the serial novel “Bleak House” (published in 1853). Wilkie Collins may have written the first English detective novel, but we should look to Inspector Bucket for the first important detective in English literature. This middle-aged, friendly and honest man is by temperament philosophical, and tolerant of human follies. It is his logic and sheer tenacity which is his outstanding quality as a policeman, as he patiently observes people and draws conclusions. The two policemen have this in common, and it is interesting to wonder just how much Dickens and Collins shared their thoughts about their invented characters.

Just like in a Dickens novel, we find the characters in The Moonstone engaging. The main narrator Gabriel Betteredge, the head steward, gets our attention (and our smiles of delight) right from the start as he talks about how much he loves the book “Robinson Crusoe”:

“I have tried that book for years—generally in combination with a pipe of tobacco—and I have found it my friend in need in all the necessities of this mortal life. When my spirits are bad—Robinson Crusoe. When I want advice—Robinson Crusoe. In past times when my wife plagued me; in present times when I have had a drop too much—Robinson Crusoe.”

Throughout the book Betteredge entertains us with his quirkiness. He has such a wry, droll sense of humour and we are always on his side. Nevertheless, it has to be said that the novel does begin in a roundabout way. First we have 2 prefaces. Then we have a prologue, which establishes the history of the jewel, taken from a factual historical event. Then we have the title “The Story”— but at the end of chapter 1, Gabriel Betteredge decides he has got off the point, and starts again with chapter 2. Would you believe it, but at the end of chapter 2 he does the same thing, and starts again in chapter 3—and again in chapter 4! It was a popular style for Victorian fiction to be prolix and discursive, but Betteredge continues to meander about and apologise—and it is hilarious! Dickens used to find the roundabout way his friend had of starting a novel infuriating, and often complained to Collins about it. But in fact it is a clever way of imparting quite a lot of information to us, whilst fooling us into believing we are merely being entertained.

Dickens could never have written like this, and he also disliked Collins’s habit of writing epistolary tales. It was a bone of contention even at the beginning, when Charles Dickens was Wilkie Collins’s editor. After “The Woman in White”, when they had been discussing a short story which Wilkie Collins was going to contribute to the Christmas edition of “All the Year Round”, Charles Dickens wrote to Georgina Hogarth (his sister-in-law and confidante):

“Wilkie brought his part of the Xmas No. to dinner yesterday. I hope it will be good. But is it not an extraordinary thing that it began: ‘I have undertaken to take pen in hand, to set down in writing etc. etc.’ … like the W in W (Woman in White) narratives? Of course, I at once pointed out the necessity of cancelling that …”

This was very early in their relationship, so clearly Wilkie Collins took not a bit of notice, and carried on in his own sweet way. The two authors are surprisingly different in their styles. Wilkie Collins sticks to just a few characters, and few—if any—cameos. We get to know them very well; the misunderstood second housemaid Rosanna Spearman; Lucy Yolland, her confidential friend; and Penelope, Gabriel Betteredge’s daughter, whom he relies on to tell him information he might not otherwise be privy to. There is Mr Murthwaite, another noted adventurer like Franklin Blake; and Dr Thomas Candy, the family physician. All have their own part to play in this well-plotted story, where even what we suspect to be red herrings are ultimately revealed to be pertinent facts.

There is Matthew Bruff, the family solicitor; and Godfrey Ablewhite, a philanthropist and lay preacher, much admired by Miss Clack—who herself provides us with a complete contrast to Betteredge ...

The sanctimonious Miss Drusilla Clack has a seemingly endless supply of Christian religious tracts. She is someone whom everyone tries to avoid except us. We sit openmouthed, loving to read the appalling descriptions of her steamrolling her way through meetings and drawing rooms alike.

Several of these are narrators in The Moonstone, and this technique is again a clever way to tell a mystery story. Not only do we have exactly the information the author wants us to have at each point, but also we get to know the personalities and biases of each character. For instance we know that Betteredge reads “Robinson Crusoe” for comfort, and guidance on how to act. Similarly his prejudices against women are humorous rather than offensive. His views are paternalistic but kindly. Wilkie Collins himself was a pioneer campaigner for women’s rights, and knew how to paint this picture subtly. Betteredge is simply naïve, and has no malice. He is happy with his place in the household and the world. He is an upright man who is delighted to be the conveyor of information for us.

We have seen Wilkie Collins painting a morally hypocritical female, but he writes a strong woman of a very different sort in Rachel Verinder. Rachel is a modern, thinking woman in the way of becoming very much in love with another character, whom she suspects of thievery.

It is Rachel who is now the owner of the priceless Indian diamond. For an unfathomable reason, she has inherited the jewel for her eighteenth birthday from her uncle, an army officer who served in India, but whom she had never met. As the story proceeds we see that Rachel knows her own mind, and is not afraid to challenge her mother, Lady Julia, and act according to what she herself thinks is right.

The success of The Moonstone was partly due to the growing public interest in stories of detection, as police work became increasing sophisticated. It was one of the first novels to put the emphasis on the growing use of forensic science and how the police used rational deduction to solve crimes. Earlier novels had tended to be written from the point of view of the criminal, or to concentrate on the social conditions which would make a crime more likely. Yet even so, Wilkie Collins’s popularity began to decline after this landmark novel.

The reason for the sudden change, and halt as a literary best-selling author, is rather sad. In his second Preface from 1871 Wilkie Collins tells his readers how two personal calamities hit him at once, when he was only a third of the way through The Moonstone. His mother died, and he was stricken with the gout which was to plague him for the rest of his life. He had to dictate the rest of the book. In consequence, he began to write novels which contained more overt social commentary, and these did not attract the same popularity. Although he was to live for 21 more years, The Moonstone still outshines Collins’s later works.

The Moonstone was a great success with the public, but after his initial excitement about it Dickens’s enthusiam began to wane. This seems odd, because the episodes of this story had increased the circulation of “All the Year Round” more than any other novel so far—including his own popular ones “A Tale of Two Cities” (1859) and even “Great Expectations” (1861).

However, something similar had happened before. The first weekly installment of Wilkie Collins’s “The Woman in White” had appeared in the same edition of “All the Year Round” along with the final installment of “A Tale of Two Cities” (26th November 1859). But by the end of “The Woman in White” in July 1860, sales of the journal were up! The critics may have had a mixed reception, but in the eyes of the public, Collins’s sensation novels were a huge success. Collins even adapted The Moonstone for the stage in 1877.

That success continues today, with many dramatisations of both “The Woman in White” and The Moonstone. People are still caught up in the intrigue and mysteries of these stories. The latest is an excellent BBC miniseries from 2016 and stars David Calder, Sophie Ward, Jeremy Swift, Guy Henry and Jag Sanghera etc. It has 5 episodes of 45 minutes each.

What many people look for in a mystery story is a simple “whodunnit”. Will you guess the culprit in this case? You might, if you are familar with Victorian tropes, just as you might in a modern crime novel, if you pick up the clues. It is quite a complex plot, although with far fewer characters than Dickens novel and a more direct story line. The ending is perhaps not what you expect, but I personally feel is exactly right.

“If half the stories I have heard are true, when it comes to unravelling a mystery, there isn’t the equal in England of Sergeant Cuff!”

I shall no doubt enjoy seeing the current exhibition at the Charles Dickens Museum, and actually being in the room where these two great authors’ collaborations took place.