{"id":135,"date":"2011-11-14T10:26:02","date_gmt":"2011-11-14T10:26:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.crimeculture.com\/wordpress\/?page_id=135"},"modified":"2021-04-11T13:05:50","modified_gmt":"2021-04-11T13:05:50","slug":"victorian-detective-fiction-an-introduction","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.crimeculture.com\/?page_id=135","title":{"rendered":"Victorian Detective Fiction"},"content":{"rendered":"

An Introduction<\/span><\/h3>\n

Christopher Pittard, University of Newcastle<\/span><\/p>\n

There are two points to consider when talking about Victorian detective fiction: firstly, that the detective\u00a0story as a distinct genre is a product of the nineteenth century; and secondly, that only a small amount of\u00a0the detective fiction produced at the time is still read and studied. For most people, Victorian detective\u00a0fiction is constituted by the Sherlock Holmes stories (despite the fact that a number of\u00a0these stories were written well into the twentieth century) and perhaps\u00a0the trio of Dupin tales written by Edgar Allan Poe in the 1840s. Some\u00a0readers may also be aware of the detective story’s generic cousin,\u00a0the sensation novel, and in particular the contribution of Wilkie\u00a0Collins to the genre. Yet few are aware of the great body of work\u00a0marking the transitional phase from the initial success of the detective\u00a0story to the height of Holmes’ popularity in the early twentieth century.\u00a0The continued academic popularity of these works overshadows the work\u00a0of contemporary writers of detective novels such as B L Farjeon, Headon\u00a0Hill, and M McDonnell Bodkin, to take three names. Any study of Victorian\u00a0literature, including crime literature, must necessarily be a selective\u00a0process.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Much of the recent criticism of Victorian\u00a0detective fiction attempts to account for the appearance of the literary\u00a0detective in the nineteenth century, often relating the success of\u00a0such stories to a ‘Victorian’ desire for social and epistemological\u00a0order (such an argument is frequently proposed for the success of\u00a0Sherlock Holmes towards the end of the century). Although such an\u00a0analysis is an ultimately reductive one, nevertheless a new kind of\u00a0anxiety about the nature of crime was brought about by the changing\u00a0nature of society in the late eighteenth century. The industrial revolution\u00a0brought about not only the growth of the city (by 1851, over half\u00a0of the population of Britain was located in urban areas), but also\u00a0an economy which was beginning to set more value by its portable property\u00a0than land. The theft of property thus became a real threat, especially\u00a0in an environment where thousands of people were living in close proximity. \u00a0The establishment of the Metropolitan Police in 1828 answered some\u00a0of these anxieties – it also created the figure of the official police\u00a0detective.<\/span><\/p>\n

Criminality and Literature<\/span><\/h4>\n
\n

Although\u00a0fiction dealing with crime and mystery had been published well before\u00a0the Victorian age, crime literature before 1800 had frequently focused\u00a0on the criminal as the sympathetic hero. Changes in such representations\u00a0were evident as early as 1773, and the publication of the first Newgate Calendar<\/em>. \u00a0Named after\u00a0the London prison, the Calendar was a series of collections of stories relating details of ‘real life’ crimes. Although the focus was still on the criminal, the portrayal\u00a0was far from sympathetic. As Stephen Knight points out in Form\u00a0and Ideology in Detective Fiction, ‘A short moral preface offered the stories as dreadful\u00a0warnings; an early version recommended the collection for the educational\u00a0purposes of parents and also – presumably as a diversion – for those\u00a0going on long voyages.’ (9) By the start of the nineteenth century,\u00a0then, crime writing was not only beginning to focus more on the\u00a0mechanism of justice, but was becoming constructed as a commercial\u00a0literature of relaxation. The success of the Newgate Calendar gave rise to a short lived sub-genre,\u00a0the ‘Newgate novel,’ the fictional counterpart of the true crime stories detailed in the pages of the Calendar. One of the most successful of these novels, and certainly\u00a0the most well-known, was Dickens’ Oliver Twist (1837-9). The sympathetic portrayal of criminals became increasingly controversial; for instance, in the contemporary debate\u00a0over ‘penny dreadfuls’, a series of papers detailing the exploits\u00a0of criminals of, for the most part, the previous century. Reaching\u00a0a height of popularity in the 1870s, the ‘dreadfuls’ were seen as\u00a0causing crime among juveniles – the readership of the publications\u00a0was predominantly young boys – and as John Springhall discusses,\u00a0were frequently related to thefts and, in one case, a child’s suicide.\u00a0Although the supposed criminal influence of the ‘penny dreadfuls’\u00a0was never fully established, such a debate illutstrated a growing\u00a0anxiety about the representation of criminality. The focus shifted\u00a0from the criminals to those who captured the criminals, and the\u00a0rise of a literature of detection. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

One\u00a0of the earliest examples of this were the four volumes of the Memoires of Eugene-Francois Vidocq (the\u00a0first head of the Parisian surete) published between 1828 and 1829.\u00a0Vidocq’s position is particularly interesting, as before becoming\u00a0a detective he had been an infamous forger and prison-breaker, and\u00a0the role of the detective as halfway between respectable society\u00a0and the criminal would continue to be developed well into Victoria’s\u00a0reign. The volumes themselves were ghost-written, and had their\u00a0British parallel in the form of ‘yellowbacks’, so called because\u00a0of their bright yellow covers. Although these publications encompassed\u00a0all kinds of popular writing (including the sensation fiction of\u00a0the 1860s), much of the output of the yellowback publishers was\u00a0in ‘true’ crime stories. Ian Ousby describes these as ‘cheap and\u00a0cheerful reading, [which] included a flood of books presented as\u00a0the reminiscences of real policemen but actually fiction written\u00a0by hacks’ (34). Of particular prominence in this field was William\u00a0Russell, who wrote (amongst others) Recollections of a\u00a0Police Officer (1856), Experiences\u00a0of a French Detective Officer (1861),\u00a0and Experiences of a Real Detective (1862). <\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

The First Detectives<\/span><\/h4>\n

It would not be until the middle of the nineteenth\u00a0century that the police detective made his literary debut. Although\u00a0contemporary analyses of \u2018classic\u2019 detective fiction have often\u00a0been concerned with the construction of \u2018Englishness\u2019 in the genre,\u00a0the Victorian detective story was influenced by the work of overseas\u00a0practitioners.<\/p>\n

The\u00a0most notable of these, was, of course, Edgar Allan Poe, and his\u00a0trio of stories featuring the Parisian detective Dupin. Each of\u00a0the stories are significant for study of the development of the\u00a0detection genre. The first, \u2018The Murders in the Rue Morgue,\u2019 (1841)\u00a0pioneered the sub-genre of the \u2018locked room\u2019 mystery by presenting\u00a0a seemingly impossible crime with a surprising solution, and Susan\u00a0Sweeney has discussed the theoretical significance of the locked\u00a0room for narratological theory. The second story, \u2018The Mystery of\u00a0Marie Roget\u2019 (1843) is interesting both historically and structurally;\u00a0historically, because the story is based upon the real New York\u00a0murder case of Mary Rogers; structurally, because the narrative\u2019s\u00a0use of newspaper reports and textual sources anticipates the kind\u00a0of fragmentary structure that would be used by Wilkie Collins in\u00a0The Woman in White\u00a0<\/em>(1860).\u00a0\u2018The Purloined Letter\u2019 (1845) has become significant\u00a0in terms of psychoanalytic theory, following Jacques Lacan\u2019s analysis\u00a0of the story (concentrating on the different meanings of \u2018letter\u2019,\u00a0and Lacan\u2019s comparison of the conscious\/unconscious to language),\u00a0and Jacques Derrida\u2019s reading of Lacan. But in a wider sense the\u00a0stories are significant for introducing us to the figure of the\u00a0detective in Dupin. Dupin would be a template for many of the detectives\u00a0to appear in the late nineteenth century, in particular Sherlock\u00a0Holmes (who repays the favour by dismissing Dupin as a \u2018very inferior\u00a0fellow\u2019 in\u00a0A Study in Scarlet<\/em>), by placing an emphasis on intellect and ratiocination. \u00a0As Julian Symons notes in\u00a0Bloody Murder<\/em>, \u2018Aristocratic, arrogant, and apparently omniscient,\u00a0Dupin is what Poe often wished he could have been himself, an emotionless\u00a0reasoning machine.\u2019 (39)<\/p>\n

The\u00a0first British literary detective, however, would not appear until\u00a01852. Charles Dickens\u2019 novel\u00a0Bleak House<\/em>, presented Inspector Bucket, the detective who solves\u00a0the murder of the lawyer Tulkinghorn. With Bucket, Dickens at once\u00a0created the prototype of the literary detective, and emphasised\u00a0his uncertain status in society, as the figure who stands halfway\u00a0between respectable society and the criminals (who would, by the\u00a0end of the nineteenth century, become configured as a race apart).\u00a0Like Dupin, Bucket has an air of omniscience, and while not quite\u00a0arrogant, his confrontation of Sir Leicester Dedlock during the\u00a0course of his investigation is certainly self-assured. Yet there\u00a0is not the same emphasis on purely intellectual detection; Bucket\u00a0is only able to solve the mystery because he knows the city of London\u00a0intimately, and can cross the boundaries the text presents, not\u00a0only socially but in terms of the novel\u2019s structure of two narrations.\u00a0This dependence on the \u2018footwork\u2019 of detection has its basis in\u00a0the fact that Bucket was not entirely the product of Dickens\u2019 imagination,\u00a0and was based to some extent on the figure of Inspector Charles\u00a0Field of the London Detective Force, the subject of an article Dickens\u00a0had written (\u2018On Duty With Inspector Field\u2019) for his own magazine,\u00a0Household Words<\/em>, in\u00a01851. Dickens\u2019 fascination with the practice of detection continued\u00a0in more articles for\u00a0Household Words\u00a0<\/em>on\u00a0the detective force, and in his later novels. Both\u00a0Great\u00a0Expectations\u00a0<\/em>(1860-1) and the unfinished\u00a0The Mystery of Edwin Drood\u00a0<\/em>(1870) were informed by the sensation novel of the 1860s,\u00a0and the latter in particular represented a move towards the detective\u00a0fiction of the late nineteenth century.<\/p>\n

Wilkie Collins and the Sensation Novel<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Yet\u00a0although the official detective had made a literary appearance,\u00a0the rise of a new form of crime fiction after the mid-century put\u00a0the emphasis firmly on the amateur sleuth and, at times, back onto\u00a0the criminal. The \u2018sensation novel\u2019 rose to prominence in the 1860s\u00a0as a genre of what Kathleen Tillotson has described as the \u2018novel-with-a-secret.\u2019\u00a0(xv) Although such secrets were not necessarily criminal ones their\u00a0unravelling often involved a degree of criminal activity which,\u00a0while not always central to the narrative, helped to make the novel\u00a0all the more \u2018sensational\u2019; for instance, the murder story in Mrs\u00a0Henry Wood\u2019s\u00a0East Lynne<\/em>\u00a0(1861) acts as a sub-plot to the adventures of Isabel\u00a0Vane. The name \u2018sensation novel\u2019 has itself been the focus of much\u00a0speculation; one reason for the genre\u2019s name is the intention of\u00a0the texts themselves in provoking a physical reaction (as Edmund\u00a0Yates said of\u00a0The Woman in White<\/em>,\u00a0Collins intended to inspire \u2018the creepy effect, as of pounded ice\u00a0dropped down the back.\u2019 (Sweet xvi)), although other critics have\u00a0proposed complementary theories. Thomas Boyle points to the use\u00a0of the word \u2018sensation\u2019 in contemporary reports of trials, associating\u00a0the term with the vicarious thrill of criminality, while Ann Cvetkovich\u00a0suggests that the name can also apply to the phenomenal success\u00a0of the genre \u2013 a real literary sensation.<\/p>\n

Although\u00a0East Lynne\u00a0<\/em>was one of the most popular novels of the later nineteenth\u00a0century, the genre of sensation fiction was dominated by Mary Elizabeth\u00a0Braddon and Wilkie Collins. Braddon\u2019s earlier novels, in particular\u00a0Three Times Dead\u00a0<\/em>(1860)\u00a0and\u00a0Lady Audley\u2019s Secret\u00a0<\/em>(1862)\u00a0presented narratives of crime and detection, but it was Collins\u00a0who not only inaugurated the sensation sub-genre but delineated\u00a0a closer relationship between it and detective fiction.\u00a0The\u00a0Woman in White\u00a0<\/em>is considered to be the first of the sensation novels, but his later work\u00a0would indicate a move towards detective fiction.\u00a0The Moonstone<\/em>, published in 1868 (coincidentally, the year of the\u00a0final public hanging in Britain), employed many of the techniques\u00a0of sensation fiction, but was more oriented towards the solving\u00a0of a central puzzle. Whereas the mystery of earlier sensation fiction\u00a0had often been concerned with an undefined \u2018secret\u2019 (as in\u00a0Lady\u00a0Audley\u2019s Secret<\/em>, where the mystery surrounding Lady Audley is as important\u00a0as the disappearance of George Talboys),\u00a0The Moonstone\u00a0<\/em>represents a shift towards detective fiction in that\u00a0the mystery was clearly defined. A later novel,\u00a0The Law\u00a0and the Lady\u00a0<\/em>(1875), made the shift even more apparent by hinting\u00a0at a \u2018secret\u2019 (What is Eustace Woodville concealing from his wife?)which was revealed halfway through the first volume; the rest of\u00a0the novel followed a more conventional pattern of literary detection.\u00a0The detective in that novel, Valeria Woodville, was an amateur (and\u00a0furthermore, an early female detective); but\u00a0The Moonstone\u00a0<\/em>hints at the role of the police\u00a0detective in future crime fiction in the character of Sergeant Cuff.\u00a0Cuff, however, is an ultimately ineffectual detective and, as Stephen\u00a0Knight has argued, emphasises the contemporary role of the official\u00a0detective as the employee of whoever wanted the mystery solved rather\u00a0than the independent restorer of order.<\/p>\n

The Popular Genre<\/strong><\/h4>\n

By\u00a0the last fifteen years of Victoria\u2019s reign, detective fiction had\u00a0become established as a genre in its own right, and one with a huge\u00a0readership; as the\u00a0Graphic\u00a0<\/em>noted\u00a0in a review of Reginald Barrett\u2019s 1888 novel\u00a0Police-Sergeant\u00a0C21<\/em>, this work presented \u2018a tale of criminal investigation,\u00a0which will be welcomed by those \u2013 and they are many \u2013 who delight\u00a0in that form of fiction\u2019. The review was generally favourable towards\u00a0Barrett\u2019s novel (considering that the\u00a0Graphic\u00a0<\/em>could often be scathing in its appraisal of similar\u00a0works), comparing it to the work of the popular French detective\u00a0author Emile Gaboriau. Yet the novel failed to make the impact of\u00a0another tale of criminal investigation published in Britain in the\u00a0previous year:\u00a0The Mystery of a Hansom Cab<\/em>\u00a0by Fergus Hume, a British lawyer who had emigrated to New Zealand\u00a0before settling in Melbourne, the novel\u2019s setting.\u00a0<\/em>Similarly\u00a0influenced by Gaboriau\u2019s bestselling stories, Hume published his\u00a0novel himself after numerous rejections (not, perhaps, without a\u00a0hint of imperialist inverted snobbery \u2013 as Julian Symons notes,\u00a0Australian publishers turned down the book in the belief that \u2018no\u00a0Colonial could write anything worth reading\u2019 (60)). The novel was\u00a0an immediate success, although not even Hume could have foreseen\u00a0the extent of the novel\u2019s popularity when he sold the rights to\u00a0the book for \u00a350. It was thus the publishers, the newly formed \u2018Hansom\u00a0Cab Publishing Company\u2019, which took the considerable profits from\u00a0British sales figures of 375,000 by 1898. Hume\u2019s third novel,\u00a0Madame\u00a0Midas<\/em>\u00a0(1888), although using\u00a0some of the characters and settings from\u00a0Hansom Cab<\/em>,\u00a0failed to make the same impact. Although his first novel had not\u00a0been well received critically,\u00a0Madame Midas\u00a0<\/em>was\u00a0dismissed even more peremptorily; \u2018The style in which it is written\u00a0is beneath contempt\u2019 was the parting shot of the review in the\u00a0Graphic.\u00a0<\/em>The prolific Hume wrote a further\u00a0hundred and thirty five novels up to his death in 1932, encompassing\u00a0the genres of science fiction and adventure as well as detection,\u00a0but none enjoyed the success of\u00a0The Mystery of a Hansom\u00a0Cab.<\/em><\/p>\n

Although\u00a0the publication of detective novels did not dwindle in the final\u00a0decade of the nineteenth century, modern studies of the genre tend\u00a0to identify this period as the \u2018golden age\u2019 of the short story of\u00a0detection, reflected in such anthologies as Marie B Smith\u2019s\u00a0Golden\u00a0Age Detective Stories\u00a0<\/em>(locating\u00a0that period firmly at the end of the nineteenth century), and Hugh\u00a0Greene\u2019s trio of collections under the title of\u00a0The Rivals\u00a0of Sherlock Holmes<\/em>. The ethos behind this latter collection is interesting,\u00a0as the characterisation of the\u00a0fin de siecle\u00a0<\/em>as the age of the short story of detection is in no\u00a0small part the work of\u00a0The Strand Magazine. The Strand\u00a0<\/em>was launched in 1891 by George Newnes, an editor who\u00a0had already experienced considerable commercial success with the\u00a0periodical\u00a0Tit-Bits<\/em>. Newnes\u2019 acute business sense, combined with a kind\u00a0of public paternalism (perhaps best exemplified in the \u2018Tit-Bits<\/em>\u00a0Insurance Scheme\u2019, whereby the next-of-kin of anybody\u00a0killed in a railway accident could claim insurance if the deceased\u00a0had had a copy of Newnes\u2019 magazine with them), suggested that the\u00a0new magazine was guaranteed at least a degree of success, as well\u00a0as providing the reading public with what Newnes described in the\u00a0first issue as \u2018cheap, healthful literature\u2019. Such literature included\u00a0regular \u2018Illustrated Interviews\u2019, \u2018Portraits of Celebrities at Different\u00a0Times of their Lives\u2019 (with a significant emphasis on illustrations,\u00a0as a display of publishing ability) \u2013 and detective stories. The\u00a0first issue, surprisingly, was without fictitious crime (although\u00a0it included an article entitled \u2018A Night with the Thames Police\u2019),\u00a0but by the second number Grant Allen had provided the\u00a0Strand\u2019s\u00a0<\/em>first detective story, \u2018Jerry\u00a0Stokes\u2019. Later in 1891, Conan Doyle began the series \u2018The Adventures\u00a0of Sherlock Holmes\u2019, presenting the first short stories of the detective\u00a0he had introduced in\u00a0Mrs Beeton\u2019s Christmas Annual\u00a0<\/em>for\u00a01887.<\/p>\n

Doyle\u2019s\u00a0contribution to detective fiction is well known, and the Holmes\u00a0formula was imitated by other contributors to the\u00a0Strand<\/em>,\u00a0especially Arthur Morrison and his series \u2018Martin Hewitt, Investigator\u2019\u00a0(1894). Two more authors made a significant contribution to detective\u00a0fiction in the\u00a0Strand.<\/em>\u00a0The first of these, Grant Allen, had already provided\u00a0the magazine with its first detective story. However, he continued\u00a0contributing to the detective stories the magazine required with\u00a0a number of series of stories: \u2018An African Millionaire\u2019 concerned\u00a0the hunt for the villainous master of disguise Colonel Clay; while\u00a0Allen wrote two series of stories featuring female detectives, \u2018Miss\u00a0Cayley\u2019s Adventures\u2019, and \u2018Hilda Wade\u2019, the latter being a nurse\u00a0by profession. This combination of detection and medical discourse\u00a0was particularly evident in the\u00a0Strand<\/em>, and especially in the many series of stories written\u00a0by L T Meade with a number of collaborators. Her first two series,\u00a0\u2018Adventures from the Diary of a Doctor,\u2019 featured Dr. Halifax as\u00a0their protagonist, and indeed the second series would be written\u00a0in conjunction with Clifford Halifax, MD. Although not all the entries\u00a0in this series were strictly detective stories, the connection of\u00a0crime with disease emphasised a growing discourse of crime\u00a0as\u00a0<\/em>disease.<\/p>\n

The\u00a0work of criminal anthropologists such as Cesare Lombroso and Havelock\u00a0Ellis towards the end of the nineteenth century located the tendency\u00a0to criminality in the body, and even literary and artistic criticism\u00a0such as Max Nordau\u2019s \u00a0Degeneration\u00a0<\/em>(1892)\u00a0fuelled fears that if Darwinian evolution could go forward, it could\u00a0also go backwards. The criminal became a throwback to a more savage\u00a0age, and crime itself became a social disease to be treated by the\u00a0doctor detective.<\/p>\n

Copyright \u00a9 2003 Christopher Pittard<\/p>\n

References<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Anon, Review of Reginald\u00a0Barrett,\u00a0Police-Sergeant C21. The Graphic<\/em>,\u00a0August 25th<\/sup>1888,\u00a0226.<\/p>\n

\u2013 \u2013 \u2013 .\u00a0 Review
\nof Fergus Hume,\u00a0Madame Midas. The Graphic<\/em>, September 29th<\/sup>\u00a01888,\u00a0354.<\/p>\n

Thomas Boyle,\u00a0Black\u00a0Swine in the Sewers of Hampstead: Beneath the Surface of\u00a0Victorian\u00a0Sensationalism.\u00a0<\/em>New York: Viking, 1989.<\/p>\n

Ann Cvetkovich,\u00a0Mized\u00a0Feelings: Feminism, Mass Culture and Victorian Sensationalism.\u00a0<\/em>New\u00a0Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1992.<\/p>\n

Stephen Knight,\u00a0Form\u00a0and Ideology in Detective Fiction.\u00a0<\/em>Bloomington: Indiana University\u00a0Press, 1980.<\/p>\n

John P Muller and William\u00a0J Richardson, eds.\u00a0The Purloined Poe: Lacan, Derrida, And Psychoanalytic\u00a0Reading.\u00a0<\/em>Baltimore: John Hopkins University, 1988.<\/p>\n

Ian Ousby,\u00a0The Crime\u00a0and Mystery Book: A Reader\u2019s Companion.\u00a0<\/em>London: Thames and Hudson,\u00a01997.<\/p>\n

John Springhall, \u201dPernicious\u00a0Reading\u2019? \u2018The Penny Dreadful\u2019 as Scapegoat for\u00a0Late-Victorian\u00a0Juvenile Crime.\u2019\u00a0Victorian Periodicals Review\u00a0<\/em>27. 4 (1994).<\/p>\n

Susan Sweeney, \u2018Locked\u00a0Rooms: Detective Fiction, Narrative Theory, and Self-Reflexivity.\u2019 In\u00a0Ronald G Walker and June M Frazer, eds.\u00a0The Cunning Craft:\u00a0Original\u00a0Essays on Detective Fiction and Contemporary Literary Theory.\u00a0<\/em>Illinois:\u00a0Western Illinois University, 1990. 1-14.<\/p>\n

Matthew Sweet, Introduction\u00a0to Wilkie Collins,\u00a0The Woman in White.\u00a0<\/em>Harmondsworth: Penguin,\u00a01999.<\/p>\n

Julian Symons,\u00a0Bloody\u00a0Murder: From the Detective Story to the Crime Novel.\u00a0<\/em>Revised Edition.\u00a0Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1985.<\/p>\n

Kathleen Tillotson,\u00a0\u2018The Lighter Reading of the 1860s\u2019. Introduction to Wilkie Collins,\u00a0The Woman in White<\/em>. Boston: Dover, 1969.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

An Introduction Christopher Pittard, University of Newcastle There are two points to consider when talking about Victorian detective fiction: firstly,<\/p>\n

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