Part 5: By Dean Chantler.
Chapter X of Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone unfolds during a dinner party at the Verinder estate, where the interplay of dialogue, characterisation, and Gabriel Betteredge’s narration offers insight into the collective Victorian mindset. However, examining this chapter within the context of its original 1868 publication in, All the Year Round and Harper’s Weekly: A Journal of Civilisation, provides even deeper revelations of how the novel reflects broader Victorian preoccupations with culture, science, and empire. Linda K. Hughes champions a “sideways” approach, situating texts within their print and remediated forms, uncovering how they resonate within a cultural zeitgeist (1). A “sideways” analysis, then, not only reveals the dynamics of Victorian interests but traces their evolution across literature and other cultural expressions. Britain’s 19th-century colonial expansion, for instance, can be seen as both a cause and consequence of the era’s fascination with adventure, wealth, and mastery over realms deemed exotic or alien. This colonial drive mirrors Victorian obsessions with the frontiers of science, including chemistry, medicine, and even the extraterrestrial. Valerie Purton, for instance, highlights the deep intertwining of literature and science during the 19th century, observing how scientists draw inspiration from literature just as writers are captivated by scientific advances (vii-viii). Even Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species employs distinctly literary language to articulate evolutionary ideas (viii), demonstrating how his earlier adventures, as detailed in The Voyage of the Beagle, become inspirational for scientific discovery. This interplay between science, exploration, and imagination underscores Victorian fascination not just with tradition but also with progress and the pursuit of the unknown. By comparing The Moonstone to the accompanying articles, stories, and artwork in both journals, this analysis contextualises and complicates the representation of science and discovery in Chapter X. Ultimately, the original publication of the chapter reflects and refracts Victorian abstractions of science and exploration, intertwining narratives of progress with literary expression.
To begin at the top, the Masthead for Harper's Weekly: A Journal of Civilization, features an elaborate design with allegorical imagery, including representations of knowledge and advancement via the juxtaposition of themes of art, science, nature, and religion. For example:
The intricate design of the masthead suggests a harmonious coexistence of traditional values and modern advancements. Harper's visual symbolism, therefore, gestures towards the Victorian period’s ideals of civilisation, implying that intellectual and technological progress are celebrated simultaneously as pathways to enlightenment and harmony with nature. Harper's makes quite the claim, then, considering the journal's inception in 1857, a decade which the historian, Eric Hobsbawm, marks as birthing the second phase of the Industrial Revolution - a decade characterised by the total calibration of industrialised focus with that of capitalism (27). Nonetheless, by embodying such a contradiction, the Harper's masthead positions the journal as a beacon of western culture and intellectual growth. However, the masthead's imagery is suggestive still of the broader Victorian endeavour to innovate new frontiers of discovery in a rapidly shrinking world.
For example, in Chapter X of The Moonstone, the dinner table conversations at the Verinder estate reflect the Victorian thirst for new frontiers. While Mr. Candy teases Rachel by offering to "burn" the diamond "in the interests of science," thus relieving her of "a world of anxiety," he does so by playing the part of a scientist in earnest (Collins 64). Mr. Candy's playful remarks, as well as Rachel's and Lady Verinder's differing reactions, underscores the Victorian perception of "science" as both a tool for "world" exploration and an authoritative means of control, reflecting an age captivated by discovery yet burdened by the moral and ethical "anxiet[ies]" of its practices. The diamond, itself a product of colonial exploitation, becomes a symbol of progress and possession, embodying the era's conflicting desires to understand, own, and dominate the unknown. In other words, the Rachel's gem represents an alien "world," and as such is of "interest..." to "science," capturing the spirit of an age itself captivated by the boundless possibilities of progress and discovery in the unknown - not just on Earth, however, but beyond. Note how the telescope in the masthead points towards the heavens, in challenge to what it does not yet see. The Sun is the tip of the paintbrush in God's hand, afterall, and, as though it were a torch, God passes it to Adam with the full implications of the idiom on display. In other words, it is not only natural but divine to project oneself and interests onto the unknown.
Likewise, then, do the readers of All The Year Round have their eyes aimed high - albeit not at the Moon but towards that lesser known celestial body, Venus, and its potential inhabitants. For instance:
This passage from "A Long Look-Out" exemplifies Valerie Purton’s observation of the deep intertwining of literature and science in Western thought (vii-viii), blending speculative imagination with scientific curiosity. After detailing the past and future eclipses of Venus, and having expressed his passion and wonder at the orbital mechanics of neighbouring celestial bodies, the article's unknown author speculates on the life forms of Venus, remarking, “I wonder what the Venusians think of us... They are, moreover, thoroughbred Highlanders: our grandest landscapes are tame compared with theirs,” creating science-fiction through both scientific knowledge and creative liberties (177). Such descriptions showcase a Victorian fascination with blending empirical observations like planetary geography with romanticised, almost fantastical, projections of people and foreign culture. By describing Venusians as adorned in "iridescent garments" and living atop towering mountains, the passage reflects how Victorian literature often uses scientific frameworks to explore, characterise, and understand frontiers (177). If today we are to read "A Long Look-Out" as a playful blending of science and storytelling, such creative license highlights both the era’s thirst for knowledge and its inclination to anthropomorphise, idealise, or exoticise the unknown for sensation and wonder. However, reading such descripting sideways also highlights a pattern of colonial projection on the other.
For example, Mr. Murthwaite says of the Brahmin to Mr. Betteredge, "[i]n the country those men came from, they care just as much about killing a man, as you care about emptying the ashes out of your pipe," showing how Victorian era literary speculation often extends its fascination with the unknown into dramatic stereotyping and colonial ideology (Collins 71). Mr. Murthwaite’s remark, therefore, equates "killing a man" with an everyday and "care[less]" act, reducing the Brahmin to caricatures of an alien morality. By framing violence as intrinsic to "country" and culture, Collins' narrative reinforces the imperial binary of civilized versus savage, casting the other as exotic and dangerous - like the "Venusians" in our article, who "dispose" of their "old and ugly" in unknown ways (177). Thus, while "A Long Look-Out" exemplifies an imaginative blending of science and art, it also reveals how such narratives perpetuate dehumanizing views under the flag of exploration, curiosity, and progress.
Of course, there would be dramatically less exploration without consistant innovation, and so the tools for scientific literacy become increasingly accessible as the following advertisement demonstrates:
Steele's, A Fourteen Weeks Course in Chemistry, serves as an excellent example of Victorian efforts to both monetise and gatekeep scientific knowledge, blending education and accessibility with imperial prerogatives like capitalism. Advertised as a "thorough hand-book" of chemistry's "principles," the text's logos aligns with the Victorian ethos on scientific literacy, and so makes rhetorical appeals to the broader public without sacrificing intellectual rigor (Harper's 67). However, Steele’s refusal to "omit or disguise the nomenclature" reflects a commitment to preserving the "mathematical beauty and discipline" of his field, positioning his work as a tool for intellectual empowerment and himself as an authority. By advertising such tools, Harper's mirrors broader ideals of progress - whether the alien landscapes of India, Venus, or the microscopic world of chemical reactions - all is at once a moral and intellectual authority (67).
For instance, Franklin's disgreements with Mr. Candy highlights how Victorian medicine, while celebrated, also serves as a battleground for authority and interpretation. Mr. Candy says that, by dismissing his advice, Mr. Franklin is, "constitutionally speaking, groping in the dark" through life, ridiculing the remotest skepticism of medicine (Collins 68). By "groping in the dark," the joke is that Franklin appears behind the times - blind to progress and thus worthy of ridicule. Betteredge's narration of events, then, reflects tensions between empirical evidence and personal belief, mirroring broader debates about the limits and applications of scientific authority. Where Steele's book positions scientific literacy as empowering and inclusive, Candy’s dispute demonstrates science as wielded to affirm authority and marginalise perspectives. This dynamic once again underscores the era’s simultaneous embrace of progress and its anxieties about practices.
Approximately three-months prior to the publication of Chapter X in both journals, the eight-month long world fair known as the Paris Exhibition concluded, meaning that both journals begin to publish The Moonstone amidst a transatlantic frenzy of scientific innovation.
This timing contextualizes the thematic undercurrents of The Moonstone within a broader cultural preoccupation with discovery and progress. However, by nationalising collective advancements as "superior... American inventions in surgical science" - such as, “the orthopaedic apparatus of Dr. Charles F. Taylor” - the Paris Exhibition also showcases ideals of mastery, not only over the unknown and foreign but the culturally similar. This framing highlights how, even among Western powers, innovation becomes a means of asserting dominance and superiority, highlighting the competitive nature of progress during the era. Such exhibitions serve as stages for nations to showcase their advancements as markers of cultural prestige, reinforcing hierarchies both globally and locally.
In The Moonstone, this same drive for mastery manifests through Rachel's diamond, who, upon wearing it, is described by Betteredge as, "queen of the day," and, "the centre-point towards which everybody's eyes [are] drawn," underscoring how the diamond transforms her into an object of fascination and power, mirroring the Paris Exhibition's purpose of possession and display (Collins 63). The diamond's colonial origins and contested ownership, however, reflect broader tensions around empire and identity, with mastery over material wealth symbolizing control over cultural and geopolitical domains. Just as the Paris Exhibition frames technological progress as a marker of superiority, The Moonstone critiques how such spoils of progress reinforce inequities, whether through imperial exploitation or societal hierarchies within the west. This duality reveals the ambivalence of Victorian progress—at once aspirational and oppressive.
In conclusion, Chapter X of The Moonstone offers a vivid portrayal of the Victorian era’s complex relationship with progress, discovery, and empire. By examining the chapter through a sideways approach, we gain valuable insight into the cultural preoccupations of the time, as reflected in both the novel and its contemporary publications All the Year Round and Harper’s Weekly. Collins intertwines science, colonialism, and personal ambition, symbolized through Rachel’s diamond, which becomes a focal point of power and possession. This gem embodies the era's simultaneous pursuit of knowledge and control, echoing the competitive spirit of the 1867 Paris Exhibition, where technological advancements were not only celebrated but also used to assert dominance on the global stage. Through Betteredge’s narration and the interplay of characters in Chapter X, Collins critiques how scientific progress and imperial conquest often reinforce hierarchies, both within Britain and beyond. The tensions between scientific authority and personal belief, as seen in Mr. Candy’s dismissals of Franklin’s skepticism, further highlight the anxieties surrounding Victorian advancements. Ultimately, The Moonstone reflects the ambivalence of the era’s intellectual and technological progress, revealing both its transformative potential and its capacity for oppression. By contextualizing the novel within its cultural moment, we see how Collins uses the diamond and its contested ownership to explore the intersections of science, empire, and identity, offering a critique of Victorian notions of mastery and the ethical complexities of progress.
Works Cited
Collins, Wilkie. The Moonstone. Oxford University Press, 2019. Print.
Curtis, William George. "American Surgery at the Paris Exhibition." Harper's Weekly, 1 February, 1868: p. 67. Print.
Harper, Fletcher. Masthead. Harper’s Weekly: A Journal of Civilization, 1 Feb. 1868: p. 65. Print.
Hobsbawm, Eric. The Age of Revolution: Europe 1789–1848, Weidenfeld & Nicolson Ltd, 1962. Print.
Hughes, Linda K. “Sideways!: Navigating the Material(Ity) of Print Culture.” Victorian Periodicals Review, vol. 47, no. 1, 2014, pp. 1–30,
https://doi.org/10.1353/vpr.2014.0011.
Purton, Valerie, editor. Darwin, Tennyson and Their Readers: Explorations in Victorian Literature and Science. Anthem Press, 2013, JSTOR,
https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1gxpbw0. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
Steele, J. Doorman. "A Fourteen Weeks' Course in Chemistry." Harper’s Weekly: A Journal of Civilization, 1 February 1868: p. 67, print.
Unknown Author. "The Long Look-Out." All The Year Round. 1 February 1868, p. 174, Dickens Journals Online, https://www.djo.org.uk/all-the-year-
round/volume-xix/page-174.html.