Gender and Victorian Morality Theme Analysis

Numerous critics and observers have noted that the theft of the Moonstone (from Rachel’s bedroom, in the night, on her birthday as she comes of age) is a metaphor for the symbolic loss of Rachel’s innocence, or virginity; in fact, with Rachel’s broken engagements and the Verinder family’s female leadership, the novel comments extensively on Victorian England’s strict, codified gender hierarchy, whether by mocking those who enforce it or showing how women are capable of far more than men anticipate. Ultimately, although the novel ends in a happy marriage, Collins clearly understands that it is possible to reject gender hierarchy without rejecting the value of love.

Many of Collins’s characters expose the rigid gender roles and ideologies that confined women in Victorian England. For instance, Betteredge repeatedly and openly voices his belief that women are weak, inferior beings in need of protection from men. He thinks of his wife Selina Goby as property and labor, marrying her because “it will be cheaper to marry her than to keep her [as a maid].” He frequently and extensively evaluates Rachel’s appearance, which he considers the most important thing about a woman, and treats her intelligence as a character defect. Finally, he is quite incapable of empathizing with women, whom he thinks fundamentally lack reason and treats like replaceable objects: he declares that, if “you choose a woman, you try her, and she breaks your heart [...] throw her away, and try another!” Even Miss Clack feels she is bound to fit the customary position of a woman, which leads her to avoid topics that are outside the “proper limits of female discussion.” This applies to men, too: Betteredge contrasts Franklin’s awkward intellect and indecision with Godfrey Ablewhite’s confidence, assertiveness, and chivalry—and especially his service to women’s charities. Of course, the prototypically masculine character turns out to be the villain—just like the daring, adventurous John Herncastle, who bestows the Moonstone’s curse on the family. While Betteredge does his best to reinforce regressive gender roles, Collins ultimately throws them out the window.

Indeed, Collins’s women prove far cleverer and more powerful than men imagine them, while men often prove weak and ineffectual. After her husband John Verinder’s death, Julia Verinder manages the family’s estate diligently and fairly, far better than he ever did. Beyond ruling the house authoritatively and commanding the respect of all the men around her, she structures her will so that Godfrey cannot steal Rachel’s inheritance, and Betteredge considers her “one in a thousand” as far as women go. Rachel, too, takes after her mother; men like Betteredge consider her stubbornness and intelligence as disadvantages, but to the contemporary reader she is clearly a feminist figure; she singlehandedly shuts down Cuff’s investigation, ends her own engagement to Godfrey, and continually dictates the terms of her relationship with Franklin. The majority of Collins’s men also overturn gender roles—his main detectives Cuff, Franklin Blake, Mr. Bruff, and Ezra Jennings, in addition to Betteredge, are all weak, infirm, old, or otherwise far out of line with traditional muscular masculinity. With most of his characters going against the social grain, Collins offers an implicit critique of Victorian gender roles.

Collins is also remarkably progressive in his attitudes about sex and marriage, even if they still more or less determine his female characters’ fates. In contrast to most Victorian novelists, Collins is remarkably open about sex. He writes about Franklin Blake and Godfrey Ablewhite’s illicit relationships, as well as Rachel and Rosanna’s desire for Franklin, in a time when novelists usually only confronted these themes through metaphor. But the fact that the novel’s “happily ever after” conclusion relies on Rachel’s marriage to Franklin and eventual pregnancy shows that Collins does not necessarily shun marriage, and Rosanna’s suicide shows that Collins’s faith in love is less than complete. In fact, in killing herself, Rosanna not only gives up on Franklin, but also abandons her plans to move to London with Limping Lucy and try to make a living together—a kind of surrogate marriage. Crucially, this is a tragic ending for her: caught up in the fantasy of having a normal, married life, Rosanna gives up on an alternative that would have let her and Lucy be independent without men. Rachel’s near-marriage to Godfrey Ablewhite is also clearly a disaster: he is only interested in money, and he facetiously offers his love in exchange for her respect, an arrangement that recalls Betteredge’s dreadful marriage to Selina Goby. Collins does not make a case against all marriage, then, but more of a case for love: he clearly thinks it can work in the right circumstances, but also that forcing relationships into the mold of marriage can prove a recipe for disaster.

Although the hunt for the Moonstone may symbolize the quest to restore Rachel Verinder’s honor, it is even more significant that she preserves her dignity and standing in her family through her own efforts, and takes a series of bold stands—hiding her knowledge of Franklin’s guilt, bringing her mother to London, making and breaking her engagement to Godfrey—in order to influence the investigation without losing her family’s respect. By the end of the story, it is simply comical when the naïve and girlish Mrs. Merridew insists on being a “chaperone” to Rachel; their relationship shows underlines Rachel’s maturity and ability to far exceed the circumscribed role offered to her by Victorian English society.