Class Blog

Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass points out the significance people (often subconsciously) attach to names and words. When Alice meets Humpty Dumpty and he asks for her name, she questions “Must a name mean something?” (174). Humpty Dumpty answers, “Of course it must, my name means the shape I am” (174). Humpty Dumpty’s name is reflective of his appearance and character. The word “hump” and the shape of the letter “u” illustrate his oval shape, and the “ump” invokes feelings of falling down or “thumping,” matching with his fall from the wall and inability to get back up. 

Carroll often uses made up words, such as in “Jabberwocky” when he uses the terms “brillig” and “slithy.” Despite these being made-up words, they still invoke feelings in the reader, and ideas of what they could mean. The “twas” before “brillig” seems to imply that “brillig” is a time, and “slithy” sounds like a combination of “slimy” and “lithe.” The use of these made-up words explores more deconstructionist ideas of semiotics; rather than a word or name being just that– a “clothing” of speech that gives a fixed name to a concept (Saussure), a name/word is an extension of language that can change in relation to time, other words, and the changing of other words (Derrida). Carroll’s frequent use of wordplay and creation of new words demonstrate this concept by showing that words have connotations that invoke feelings/ideas and connect to other words, rather than having one solidified meaning. For example, with the knowledge of the words “slimy” and “lithe,” readers are able to create a relationship to “slithy.” 

Further, Carroll’s emphasis on names specifically highlights how names hold connotations that can impact our perception of a person. Humpty Dumpty wants Alice’s name in order to understand her business, but then concludes that her name is not one fixed identifier, saying “With a name like yours, you might be any shape, almost,” continuing to reflect this deconstructionist concept of language (175). Curiously, Lewis Carrol’s real name was Charles Dodgson. It is interesting to think about why he chose this pen name, and how he might have thought about the impression his name would leave on readers. “Carol” seems to immediately set up the idea that he is a storyteller.

Edmond Ramus’ Debut in the Studio (1885) and the Illman Brothers’ Feeding the Motherless (19^th c.) oppose each other in the way that they showcase women. In Debut, the woman stands, naked only partially concealed by pale fabric, in a dark room surrounded by three other figures wearing dark clothing. She is exposed from the waist up, and is covering her eyes with her arm, perhaps in an expression of shame. Her hair is up, perhaps to better expose her body. The other people in the room are all staring at her, and all are wearing clothes that drape over them excessively. The reclining figure, possibly another woman although gender is indeterminable, is reclined with more fabric wrapped around them. It is clear that this woman is on display not only to the other figures in the engraving but to the viewer of the engraving itself, as her torso is facing directly towards the “camera.” The man sitting on pillows to the right of the engraving seems to be some kind of artist; he sits before a canvas and easel. His entire body is facing the woman, rather than his art, even as her body is as turned away from him as it can be. The woman stands on an animal skin rug, perhaps in some kind of metaphorical irony that both her and the deceased animal can have no covering to the exposure within the engraving and the audience to the engraving are subjecting them to.

Feeding the Motherless, in visual contradiction to Debut, shows only one woman, the apparent vision of propriety. She is also pale in a dark room. However, this woman is fully clothed, almost conservatively: she wears long sleeves and her body isn’t defined indecently by the clothing she has on. Her hair is also up but in a way that is intentional and part of her fashion rather than to display her body. She stands in profile, shown only from the waist up in the engraving, in contrast to the woman in Debut whose whole body is exposed but is naked from the waist up. She doesn’t give any acknowledgement that she is being observed; instead, she focuses on the baby birds, the motherless, that she is generously and maternally caring for. In the background, there is a table with a vase of flowers on it. Just like in Debut, it is clear that this woman is the focus of the engraving, but for an entirely different reason.

The engravings show two women in contrasting situations, but ultimately are united despite the difference in the content that they display. Both are showing different iterations of an “acceptable” woman – hypersexualized or hyper-maternal. The woman in Debut and the woman in Feeding the Motherless are both being viewed by men and coded accordingly. Although Debut appears sexualized and Motherless appears the opposite by virtue of their surroundings, in actuality both women are displayed for the purpose of men’s art and viewing. They are being used for art, depersonalized and derealized as a fully human being, reduced only to stereotypes of the female body or the ideal of motherhood. They are reduced as “less than” by the male gaze, regardless of how much of their bodies are being displayed; they are used for their symbolism.

The first encounter that Alice has in Wonderland is with a table, a key, and some doors. She first tries all of the doors but to her dismay, only the smallest of the doors opens, one that she could never fit through. Turning back to the table she finds a bottle of some strange substance that was not there before with the little label, “DRINK ME”. Now whereas you or I would not trust a mysterious bottle that has appeared out of nowhere and has god knows what in it, Alice trusts it for a particularly peculiar reason.

“around the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words “DRINK ME,” beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say “Drink me,” but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. “No, I’ll look first,” she said, “and see whether it’s marked ‘poison’ or not”; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked “poison,” it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.” (Carrol PG)

The first thing to notice here is that the hand in which the words “DRINK ME” are written in is described as beautiful and in large letters. This relates to the debunked study of “graphology” which claimed that from a person’s writing, you could surmise their character. This is untrue. What you can tell from a person’s handwriting is their level of instruction and education, which correlates with their class. Alice has already been taught the classist morality of graphology, even if she doesn’t understand it herself.

The second important thing is the way that the stories that Alice has read influence her. All of the examples shown are good lessons: “don’t touch pokers,”  “be careful with knives,” and “if something says poison on it, then don’t drink it.” The problem is how they’re framed: “They didn’t follow the rules that their friends told them, so they got hurt.” This creates a foundation for a Panopticonian self policing of actions. What happens when a slightly older Alice’s friends say that queer people go to hell? She has been primed to believe, and it doesn’t even keep her safe. She lacks the critical thinking skills that save you from drinking weird fluids.

This is not to say that you should run to touch a fire poker, but rather that we must recognize that the system of British indoctrination starts young and that it can leave people with bigoted and wrong beliefs.

Clawing at the Yellow Wallpaper,

Gev, the Scaled Scorch

 

“Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood; and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago; and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days” (Carroll, 104).

The last few paragraphs of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland interestingly do not center Alice herself, but her presumably adult sister, who dreams of Wonderland as a concept and reminisces on Alice’s adventures. This is interesting for starters because how is she to know what Alice dreamed of, emphasizing the other-worldly almost magical nature of Wonderland. But even more interesting and relevant are her musings on Alice’s future as a consequence of her time in Wonderland. The closing sentence of the novel encompasses the sister’s expectations for womanhood, commenting on the childhood innocence that remains for girls as they grow.

The expectation that Alice “keep… the simple and loving heart of her childhood” implicate a mindset of feminine innocence for the Victorian woman. While Alice partakes in adventures throughout her dream and has a sense of independence that allows her to go through Wonderland by herself, having some level of personal influence and power, Carroll makes it very clear in this last sentence that her adventures are imagination. They are only meant to be dreams, and stories, and fairy tales, that as she becomes a woman, shouldn’t aspire to follow but rather pass on to her own children.

Furthermore, the idea that Alice as an adult woman should “find pleasure in all [her children’s] simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days” influences the expectation that women stay in the realm of childhood their whole lives. They are not only relegated to taking care of children, but they should be like these children, as they were children themselves. Therefore, a Victorian woman never really becomes a woman- she is meant to remain childlike all her life.

 

Victorian ideas of a society being “redeemed by art” as described by Richard Altick rest on the function of looking. Culture, to some Victorians, was “a function, in the first instance, of the eyes”—the quality of the “inner life” was determined by what someone was surrounded with, ideally beautiful things (281). This is quite similar to medieval English ideas of sight, with the differences being physical. To the Victorians, beauty improved your inner self, including your morality and happiness, hence helping society. To English folks in the Middle Ages, looking upon beauty not only improved your morality and happiness, but also your physical health and appearance. In fact, it was a common romantic trope (as in medieval romances as a genre) that physical beauty was equated with inner beauty as well as wealth. Though a fictional trope does not translate directly into the real world, its existence does still reflect a cultural trend. It is one similar to the Victorian equation of beauty in your surroundings with morality as well as wealth. 

But to an extent, the medieval equation of physical beauty in the person with all these things is actually shockingly similar to the Victorians. While I have no evidence of any Victorian writer arguing that in the real world, beautiful and healthy people are always surrounded by beauty and wealth and have perfect souls, Victorian prints—works of fiction, much like medieval romances—strongly suggest the idealistic notion. 

I’ve had the recent privilege of looking at a collection of prints that were distributed in Victorian England, particularly ones produced by the Illman Brothers that feature women as the main subjects. Because I am focusing on images with women, I will not be considering if the equation of beauty with morality with health with money with art also applies to men. I will, though, be focusing on how it might apply to women, and the significance of that gendered analysis. 

“Expectation” is a standout example of one of these art women being surrounded by beautiful objects. She is the beauty standard—a soft face, accessorized hair, and an expensive, modest dress. The luxury of her clothing, as well, suggests equating wealth with beauty. Furthermore, she is framed by angels, flowers, swirls, and fruits. Angels suggest both purity and innocence, a subtle comment on the woman’s morality as represented by the objects or art that surrounds her. Whether it reflects her morality, or causes her normative morality, is unclear. Flowers adorn lots of art—stereotypically beautiful objects that bring joy and life, also perhaps suggesting the youth and femininity of the woman here. Decorative lines, as well, are shown. Interestingly, there is also fruit hanging from the frame. This ripe fruit might imply fertility and health for the woman shown. Through her appearance and these surrounding objects, then, not only the morality, but the external beauty and physical health of the woman is emphasized.

“Health and Beauty”’s title already carries a suggestion that the central woman is both physically fit and gorgeous. She stands tall and proper, an image of extravagance on top of those two previously mentioned features. Not only does her clothing display extra fabric, intricately patterned, but her environment is one that is grand and expensive. A large classically-styled pillar can be seen in the background, along with a decorated railing adorning the steps she descends. The woman’s health and beauty, then, is native to her wealthy and art-filled environment.

“Fannie’s Pets” is an interesting image for multiple reasons. First of all, it features two figures, a woman and a man, as opposed to the previous images only featuring one central character. Second of all, it includes animals as central elements. The woman, presumably Fannie, is assumed to own every shown bird and mammal in the image; their shapes and appearances suggest both elegance (such as the birds) and sweetness (such as the rabbits). Her ownership over them implies that she is wealthy, one of the features in the equivalent list. Because they demonstrate a bond with her, flocking to her side, she is also implied to be moral. The way the animals surround her and gaze up at her evokes a motherly image of Fannie, as well as indicates that she is a trustworthy individual. Finally, a man exists in he image to one side, also gazing in awe at the scene unfolding before him. His awestruck expression may also speak to Fannie’s kind and motherly qualities, as well as perhaps her physical beauty that attracts the man’s gaze. To conclude, these three above images are only some of the most prominent examples of Illman Brother’s prints that suggest fictionalized women must check off a list of desirable qualities, and that having one of the qualities inherently leads to the others. This draws a tentative connection between medieval romance genre ideas of moral character, class, and physicality, and Victorian attitudes towards art.

Works Cited:

Altick, Richard. “Art and its Place in Society.” Victorian People and Ideas, Norton: New York, 1973.

When I encountered this image during our class’s trout gallery visit, it quite literally stopped me in my tracks. Salammbô is visually stunning in its composition as well as narratively intriguing. It instantly sparked several questions about the circumstances of the print as well as its cultural significance and origin. I was fascinated to learn that this beautiful work is inspired by a book of the same name by famous French novelist Gustav Flaubert. The book tells the story of Salammbo, the daughter of the chief magistrate of Carthage, and the subject of this print. In the novel, Salammbo communes with a python, a symbol of the powerful moon goddess Tanith to gain the courage to steal back a protective mystical veil from the attacking mercenaries. In doing so, she saves the people of Carthage from a violent siege. 

 When I first saw this image, I was shocked by the immediate physical danger that Salammbô seems to be in. The snake is portrayed as very large and almost menacing at first glance, with its jaws poised dangerously close to her face. However, upon closer inspection, I noticed the sensual way in which the python is constricting itself around her as if it is clinging to her curves. Additionally, Salammbô’s facial expression is one of ecstasy and pleasure, which is surprising given the circumstances. Her glance towards the viewer is almost inviting, which evokes ideas of exhibitionism. The shading of the man in the background also suggests that he is unseen by Salammbô, therefore assuming the role of an unsolicited voyeur. Themes such as these were very popular in French salon artwork at the time, and pieces like this were especially appreciated by Victorian male viewers.  

For Victorians, sexuality was meant to be controlled and subjugated in everyday life whenever possible. Women were held to extremely high standards of modesty, and limited to procreative sex with their socially acceptable, lawfully wedded husbands.  They were meant to uphold the image of “the Angel in the House”, pure and uncorrupted by the outside world, unable to lead lives of their own or do anything really without the permission of men. Stories like Salammbo directly contradict these social expectations in a fantastical way. The subject of this striking work of art is daring, powerful, and yes, sexual on her own terms! Unlike Biblical Eve, who was tricked by a snake into succumbing to temptation and causing the fall of man, Salammbô is entwining herself with this python because she believes it will save her people. Therefore, this piece stands in stark contrast to many of the widely held beliefs about women at the time. Salammbô’s sexuality in this print differs from both typical associations with the femme fatale (she is supposedly using it to do moral good) and the prudish and restrictive connotations associated with the real-world Victorian body.  Based on these elements, it makes sense that the Victorians would be both fascinated and intimidated by this work, as it represents both an interesting foreign culture and “indecent” ideas about female sexuality.   

Sources:

Williams, Kate. “The Victorians were no prudes, but women had to play by men’s rules”. The Gaurdian, 23 May 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/may/23/queen-victoria-sex-nudes-paintings-prudes-women. Accessed 9 April 2025.

The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Salammbô”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 30 Apr. 2015, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Salammbo. Accessed 9 April 2025. 

 

Taj Mahal-Agra is a really interesting image to me when it comes to the Victorian’s and British Colonialism. In the background, we see the Taj Mahal and some surrounding buildings as well as a far-reaching body of water that comes into the foreground of the print. Also in the foreground are some ruins of what once was possibly a building or some other piece of architecture that is now crumbling. The ruins in the foreground stand as a staunch difference compared to the beautiful and elaborate building that is the Taj Mahal. The ruins also signify the age of India, how it is an old country which contains old buildings and ruins.

While the Taj Mahal was built many years prior to Britain colonizing and gaining control of India, the difference between the ruins and the Taj Mahal shows an idealized belief of India before and after British control. Before British control, India was crumbling and falling apart. Now, it is able to remain as one structure, beautiful and exquisite. As well, the Taj Mahal is staunchly white while the ruins are much darker. This color difference makes it harder for the ruins to blend into the Taj Mahal. The dark color shows years and years of dirt and sand accumulating on the walls. Meanwhile, the Taj Mahal is pristine. This difference follows with the changes that England was implementing in India. They created a railroad system, abolished slavery and infanticide, all things that seem really good. Meanwhile, they also forced high taxes on Indian citizens and left many of them impoverished by selling goods at high prices but buying at extremely low prices (BBC).

The three men in the foreground also follow with this comparison. None of them are clothed in a way the British would consider proper. One of them is fetching water and one of them has a basket next to him and his garment is laying on top of him to make it seem like he was in the water fishing. The last person is looking in the other direction and has a shield on his back. His front is facing away so it cannot be seen what he may be holding but it seems he is on lookout in case anyone attacks. The way the two men collect fish and water is interesting too because they are not industrialized in any way. They are using their hands and catching the fish and filling the water in what would be considered the hard way.

The fact that there is a man on watch shows that there is a level of fear that they could be attacked. To a British, this could be seen as a barbaric community. Three men from a pre industrialized India, or an India before British rule. The body of water separates the men and ruins from the Taj Mahal and the India that the British rule over and consider better. They don’t want this version of India to seep into the westernized, idealized version that Britain has created.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/articles/zx8sf82#zgyq2v4

While the portrayals of Western women and non-Western women were quite different in Victorian era art, one theme that seemed to be present in both representations was the role of nurturer. While there are multiple examples of this theme across the artworks, I will focus on two. My example of the Western nurturer is “Feeding the Motherless.” In this image, a woman is feeding a nest of young birds. As they have no mother, she must step in to provide them with motherly love. This not only emphasizes the expectation that women be caring and protective towards the young, but it also shows that this expectation extends past children and applies to all creatures (including animals and husbands).

My non-Western example comes from the image, “Within the Lines Siege of Agra 1857.” In this artwork, a woman is looking at and cradling a baby. The woman is portrayed as non-Western (presumably Indian, as the title suggests) through her tanned skin and the scarf on her head. According to the title of the work, the woman and the child are in Agra during a time of violent conflict. Here, the theme of protection arises again as it seems like she is working to keep herself and the child safe from the dangers outside. The main way that this image differs from “Feeding the Motherless” is the fact that the woman is experiencing a conflict of some kind, furthering the imperialist stereotype that non-Westerners are savage and violent. Yet, despite this, the message of motherhood and nurturing still persists, showing that no matter whether a woman is Western or not, she is expected to act as a caregiver.

Re-introduced as the White King’s Messengers, the March Hare and the Mad Hatter of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland are transformed in Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass. In a play on regional pronunciations, the Hare becomes “Haigha” and the Hatter, “Hatta.” However, the recurring characters are only identifiable through the embedded illustrations by John Tenniel. Carroll’s description within the narrative itself completely obscures the character’s familiar identities. Upon approach to Alice and the White King, “Haigha” is described as “skipping up and down, and wriggling like an eel…with his great hands spread out like fans” (Carroll 186). Although the first action suggests the hopping of a hare, the subsequent simile likening him to an “eel” and mention of his large “hands” confuses our understanding of what “Haigha” is. Is he a human or an animal? If the latter, what species?

Immediately following this idiosyncratic description, the White King declares “Haigha” is “an Anglo-Saxon Messenger” and explains his odd movement as a result of his “Anglo-Saxon attitudes” (Carroll 186). Here, Carroll seems to be using the historical definition of “attitude,” meaning “[a] posture of the body proper to, or implying, some action or mental state” (“Attitude” n. 2.a.). The description of “Haigha” as “Anglo-Saxon” also identifies him as human, complicating the initial description. Furthermore, this description displaces this character in time, since the Anglo-Saxons lived several centuries ago, perhaps suggesting that the Looking-Glass World exists somewhere outside of our linear chronology.

“Hatta” is introduced in a similarly vague manner, watching the fight “with a cup of tea in one hand and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other” (Carroll 189). While the tea and bread reference the first book’s “mad tea party,” this new version of “Hatta” is neither mad nor a hatter. While identifiably human, “Hatta” is not labeled as “Anglo-Saxon. However, his character is similarly displaced in time, at least within the narrative, as he first appears in the White Queen’s story on page 164 (Fig. 1). The White Queen uses “the King’s Messenger” as an example of “living backwards,” serving a prison sentence for a crime has not yet been tried for, or even committed (Carroll 164). This story is illustrated by an image on the opposite side of “Hatta” chained up in a jail cell, his elusive hat hanging on the wall above his head. “Hatta” is thus aligned with the concept of “living backwards,” jumbling chronological clarity.

 

While “Hatta” appears twenty pages prior to his official entry into the narrative, “Haigha” is not given visual form until noticeably after his introduction. The first drawing of “Haigha” comes on page 190 and pictures him retrieving a sandwich from his bag to hand to the King (Fig. 2). This illustration breaks into the text a full two pages after this action has occurred, scrambling the relationship between the textual and visual narratives that are being told. This divide is accentuated by the recognizability of the March Hare in Tenniel’s drawing as a hare (albeit with hands), opposing the vaguely human description in the text.

 

A second illustration on the opposite page (191) features “Haigha” and “Hatta” at last in the same frame, in which the “latta” (latter) sips from a teacup, a half-eaten piece of bread held in his other hand (Fig. 3). This drawing closely mirrors the character’s textual introduction, yet Tenniel has notably added a top hat, the identifiable accessory of the Mad Hatter. While Carroll’s writing obscures the clarity of these characters’ identities, Tenniel’s images work in contrast to help the reader find familiar faces in a bizarre, unfamiliar world.

Overall, the effect of this dissonance between text and image, interwoven together within this book, disrupts the reader’s perception of time within the narrative as well as its characters. Embodying the uncertain linearity of a dreamscape, the Looking-Glass World confuses our understanding of reality and reliability.

 

Dictionary Source:

“Attitude, N., 2.a.” Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford UP, December 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1203692887.