A tumultuous, sinister, gurgling stretch of quicksand along the coast near the Verinder family’s Yorkshire estate, the Shivering Sand is connected from the start with the Moonstone’s alleged curse, as well as with the tragic character of Rosanna Spearman, who goes there to ponder her dissatisfaction in life—her discomfort at the Verinder estate, her sense of guilt and shame about her “past life” as a thief, her unrequited (and unacknowledged) love for Franklin Blake, and her fruitless search for a fulfilling future. Rosanna ultimately commits suicide there when, under Sergeant Cuff’s suspicion and after realizing she has no hope of winning Franklin Blake’s heart, she abandons her plans to move to London with Limping Lucy and drowns herself.
The Sand’s constant churning and uncertain depths make it, in Rosanna’s eyes, a symbol of the inevitability of her suffering: it “looks as if it had hundreds of suffocating people under it—all struggling to get to the surface, and all sinking lower and lower in the dreadful deeps.” This stands in stark contrast to the manicured Verinder estate, as though to show the underside of the comfortable, leisurely life that Rachel, Julia, and their relatives get to live (at the expense of those who work for them and suffer the Industrial Revolution’s bitterly unequal effects). Ultimately, the clue Rosanna leaves buried in the Sand leads Franklin Blake to realize he was actually guilty of stealing the Diamond—that he, the detective at this point, is the true criminal (both because he stole the Diamond and because his indifference drove Rosanna to suicide). In this sense, too, the Sand points to the invisible negative half of the investigation: the devastation that can follow from good intentions—and, in turn, the unanticipated twists, turns, and truths that drive the novel’s sensational plot.
The Shivering Sand Quotes in The Moonstone
“Do you know what it looks like to me?” says Rosanna, catching me by the shoulder again. “It looks as if it had hundreds of suffocating people under it - all struggling to get to the surface, and all sinking lower and lower in the dreadful deeps! Throw a stone in, Mr Betteredge! Throw a stone in, and let's see the sand suck it down!”
Here was unwholesome talk! Here was an empty stomach feeding on an unquiet mind!
The nightgown itself would reveal the truth; for, in all probability, the nightgown was marked with its owner's name.
I took it up from the sand, and looked for the mark.
I found the mark, and read —
MY OWN NAME.