Class Blog

“The Greek Captive” by Ilman & Sons is a mezzotint that depicts two people: A woman sitting in the foreground, dressed in white, and a man standing in the background, dressed in black. He looks at her controllingly with his hand close to his dagger, ready to draw it if she makes a move. The woman’s facial expressions do not seem scared or sad but rather indifferent. Moreover, she has a very pretty face and a slim silhouette, whereas the man hides most of his bodily features behind clothes and his face behind a long, dark beard. Nevertheless, his facial expression suggests that he his furious and not pleasant to be around.

What stands out here is the choice of colors. The innocent girl, the victim, is dressed in white, whereas the evil person is dressed in black. In relation to “The Woman in White”, we could parallel the people in the picture with Laura/Anne and Fosco.

Laura and Anne are both characterized as fragile young women and one of them only wears white (like the woman in the picture). Marian describes Laura as “sweet-tempered and charming” and claims that “she is an angel” (61). Unlike Marian herself, Laura and Anne are both portrayed as inferior to men. This becomes evident when Marian describes “female” characteristics such as being “inattentive” and “inaccurate” (60-61). Like in the picture, they are below male characters. The male character in the picture, like Fosco in the novel, is always around even if nobody pays attention to him. He is lurking in the corner and ready to take action when nobody looks. In the novel, Fosco did a similar thing: He would reside in the house and wait for the right moment to take Laura captive, to send her to an asylum. That the picture has the word “captive” in its title, is also a detail that fits “The Woman in White” very well.

Another aspect that is important in regards to the man in the background, is the danger that is associated with foreign people during the Victorian era. The man has a beard and clothes that are not western-looking and he is clearly supposed to be the evil person in the picture. Fosco is also foreign, which becomes especially evident in his accent, and it turns out that he also was the sinister person plotting something evil. Consequently, both, “The Greek Captive” and “The Woman in White” clearly show the fear of the foreign in the Victorian Era.

Within Christina Rossetti’s poem, “In An Artist’s Studio” , the writer depicts the way in which women are unfortunately forced to succumb to the male gaze. Specifically, Rossetti uses metaphors and imagery-rich descriptions to showcase how one man uses women as ‘objects’ for his paintings. Merely on display for the artists’ pleasure, Rossetti describes such when she states,

“One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:

We found her hidden just behind those screens…

He feeds upon her face by day and night,” (Rossetti 1).

In the excerpt above, women (through a masculinized gaze) could be characterized as mundane, with no purpose other than for the sole pleasuring of the male species. Likewise, as we viewed in the Trout Gallery, the piece “The Greek Captive” also displays the way in which women are forced to be subservient to men.

“The Greek Captive” from the Trout Gallery

Explicitly shown through body language and stature, the man in the back has utter control over the Greek woman leaning forward. Although it seems she is attempting to move away from the man behind her, the title of the artwork suggests otherwise as she is held under captivity. The weapon that he appears to be holding, the smirk on his face showcasing his supposed superiority, and the fact that he is standing upright all demonstrate the forced subordination of the woman. Showcased in Rossetti’s poem “In An Artist’s Studio”, the women subjects of the male artists’ paintings are inferior to him. While we as the reader may question if they are forced to be his ‘models’ or not, regardless, through phrases such as “he feeds upon her” and “we found her hidden”, it is evident that these women are victims of traditional gender roles: to sit still and look pretty. Both pieces, “In An Artist’s Studio” and “The Greek Captive” highlight the unfortunate gendered hierarchy of men and women, where regardless of force, are hindered to a state of inferiority.

The Pre-Raphaelite artists sought to create beauty in all things and have it present in every man’s life. Ruskin saw art as the Divine or godly expressing itself through artists, so beauty was “vital to man’s private existence” (Altick, 282). The Victorian artists even believed that the presence of beauty in society would help heal the moral decay of their society. The Pre-Raphaelite artists sought to make art that was “freshly observed nature transferred to canvas” (Altick, 288) primarily by painting ethereal women. This idea seems to echo William Rathbone Greg’s idea that women’s occupation should be “completing, sweetening, and embellishing the existence of others” (Greg, 158). The art seen during this period certainly seeks to use the female form for its beauty.

Christina Rossetti’s poem encapsulates this idea from the perspective of a woman and a model, but also an artist in her own right. She describes a “nameless girl” (Rossetti) who is valued for her beauty, not for her personhood, distinctly “Not as she is, but as she fills his dreams” (Rossetti). Christina Rossetti writes on how the unknown girl is in every painting “a saint, an angel” (Rossetti) truly anything other than herself. This creates an interesting dichotomy in how women are viewed in the Victorian mindset as both subhuman and superhuman. On one hand, women are effectively lesser, considered incapable of intelligent decision-making and good for childrearing. The upholders of the heterosexual family and not much else. However, they are simultaneously the ethereal muses and the symbols of precious Victorian beauty. Yet in neither of these analyses are women allowed to exist outside of male need and male ideology. At every turn, non-working-class women were meant to be the perfect mother and wife, yet innocent and virginal, beautiful and accomplished but not powerful. Madonna and Aphrodite in a single person who is not allowed agency or independence.

In “A Man’s Resolution: Narrative Strategies in Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White,” Pamela Perkins and Mary Donaghy investigate the authorial discrepancies between Walter Hartright’s claim over objectivity and his editorial footprint. They explain how, “[a]lthough he claims a social and legal sanction for his narrative, the novel itself provides ample clues that the defense of this authority is a hidden agenda” (392-393). Walter, both as an editor and, manipulates the story into a rhetorical framework. In this sense, not only does the novel explain how Walter came to possess Laura and the Limmeridge Estate, but it also serves to justify his acquisition of both. Perkins and Donaghy highlight how, “the imprint of Walter’s editorial hand lies on each account” (396), and accordingly, each piece of the narrative contributes to Walter’s claim over property and wife.

And yet, if we follow this logic, we inevitably face the narratives of Hester Pinhorn, the Doctor, Jane Gould, and a Tombstone. Together, these accounts seem to supply credited, ample evidence against Walter. Excluding the Tombstone, each narrative ends with an indication that the narrator “[s]igned” (Collins 404, 405) their story, implying that these testimonies once validated the death of Laura Glyde. The Tombstone, which appears after all the living accounts seems to compile and finalize this death. Both figuratively and literally, Laura’s fate is written in stone. However, it is precisely this structure which ought to raise doubt over Walter’s narrative.

Over the course of six hundred and eighteen pages, Walter Hartright posits a case for himself as the owner of the Limmeridge Estate and husband to Laura. In seven pages, he establishes what he needs to argue against—these legal documents. Structurally, these accounts function as counterclaim to his story. And in a rhetorical manner, Walter seeks to disprove them immediately by describing himself as dumbfounded when he apparently saw, “Laura, Lady Glyde, was standing by the inscription, and was looking at me over the grave” (Collins 411). Since by the time Walter has collected this story’s accounts, he would have known the full narration, his surprised tone here raises suspicion. Every aspect from Laura’s name to her action appears drawn out, as if to emphasize not her, but rather Walter. Besides pointing the reader at himself, his extra emphasis also helps reveal some of his goals. For Walter, it becomes not only important to relay the events, but to pose himself at just the right moment and with just the right reaction. Ultimately, when Collins opens with, “This is the story of what a Woman’s patience can endure, and what a Man’s resolution can achieve” (Collins 9) it showcases how Walter’s narratives surpass and erase what was written in stone. In a broader sense, Collins critiques a society where a Man’s resolution can both kill and raise someone from the dead, can defy what is written in stone, and can bend the narratives of others. In that world, what does anything mean when a Man’s resolution can erase and redefine what you knew?

Within the novel by Wilkie Collins, the reader is encountered by various perspectives, of mostly men, as well as aspects of Victorian literature, such as sensation and superstition. Towards the end of the story itself, answers of questions regarding the plot and its purpose are brought forth. In particular, Count Fosco in his narration, expands upon the idea of identity and altogether, what Anne Catherick and Laura Fairlie preserved for these men. He states,

“The whole force of my intelligence was now directed to the finding of Anne Catherick. Our money affairs, important as they were, admitted of delay–but the necessity of discovering the woman admitted of none…when coupled with the additional information that Anne Catherick had escaped from a madhouse, started the first immense conception in my mind” (600).

In the excerpt above, Count Fosco explicitly remarks on the ‘hold’ Anne Catherick has on himself, as well as how she has consumed his thoughts. Through the word choice and phrase, ‘the whole force of my intelligence’, one is able to fully understand that Fosco is infatuated with Anne Catherick, due to the ultimate bearing she has upon him. Furthermore, with the addition of the following sentence, where monetary aspects are supposedly pushed aside, it causes the reader to actually question whether or not this is ultimately true. As recounted in class, Collins employs hidden meanings when he brings forth an aspect and then quickly remarks on the fact that it is quite simply ‘no big deal’, or in this case, ‘admitted of delay’. From this sentence added, Collins characterizes Fosco, and other men within the text, as being infatuated with women as well as money.

Not only does Fosco recount how Anne Catherick and Laura Fairlie are inherent with aspects of money, but he also includes Sir Percival. He states,

“Lady Glyde and Anne Catherick were to change names, places, and destinies, the one with the other–the prodigious consequences contemplated by the change being the gain of thirty thousand pounds, and the eternal preservation of Sir Percival’s secret” (600).

Explicitly shown above, Fosco speaks on themes of money, 30,000 pounds, as well as Sir Percival’s secret. In relation to the text entirely, it is quite interesting that he begins by talking about the women within the novel, and then turns to how they have a direct effect on wealth. Throughout the entirety of the novel, we as the reader, have seen instances of wealth being the ‘end-all-be-all’ of most situations including women. In regards to Sir Percival’s secret, it is ironic that the secret, of him being an illegitimate child, is thus told by Mrs. Catherick to Walter, and ultimately scarred. Essentially, the fact that wealth is involved only heightens classism, and social standing acquired, truly answering the question of what the novel is truly about…males and money.

 

“He was a big fat, odd sort of elderly man, who kept birds and white mice, and spoke to them as if they were so many Christian children.” (p.400)

Count Fosco is, undoubtedly, portrayed as the most villainous character in The Woman In White. He is secretive, mysterious, and charming all in one; and his role in the story prompts conversations about fatness, foreign identity, queerness, and much more. It is my goal to focus on Count Fosco’s proximity to (and from) the Victorian institution of family through a close reading of his servant, Hester Pinhorn’s, testimony in the Second Epoch. In fact, it is in part because of his queer family, that he is such a villain.

The institution of family held many meanings in the Victorian era; it was closely linked to class, politics, and race, and the protection of the aforementioned’s strict binaries, as well as being women’s gendered duty to maintain. In every character’s description in the novel, time is taken to explore their immediate and distant family, as it informs so much of their personality as well as social role. Maintaining a family, whether that be with children, or extended relatives, is key in both gender and social performance. Fittingly, the conclusion of the novel is a remark about the importance of Walter and Laura’s children, as they are the inheritors of the Fairlie estate.

But Count Fosco doesn’t have children – human children, that is. Instead, he has a plethora of domestic and exotic pets which he treats lovingly (almost to an obsessive level). Hester remarks that he treats them as if they were “Christian children”, with a distinct tone of disbelief and amusement (p.400). Count Fosco performs heterosexuality, to an extent, in that he is married to a woman, but the lack of children complicates this. There is no mention of his extended family, as opposed to the thorough genealogy provided for even the most insignificant side characters. Count Fosco is frightening for many reasons, and a compelling one is that he cannot be configured into the social and economic lineage everyone expects.

I would be remiss if I didn’t also touch on the role of madness and circus arts in this. Hester describes Count Fosco as “more like a play-actor than a gentleman”, which conjures up the image of Fosco conducting his animals in a big top (p.400). She also describes him as “a little soft in the head”, a polite euphemism for madness (p.400). I believe both of these comments are significant because madness presents danger to the strong family institution. Wives are unable to dote on children if they are institutionalized (like Anne), so what do they do with that free time? If a parent or older relative is mad, like Count Fosco or Mr. Fairlie, the chance of social or political movement is limited. Madness and disability were central in the Victorian circus, as their taboo nature excited and tantalized audiences. Furthermore, circuses interrupted the family institution and created new found families. Count Fosco, in lieu of human children, has created a found family of animals.

In conclusion, Count Fosco terrifies readers and his fellow characters alike with his distinct posing threat to the concept of family – not to mention the very literal manner he threatens the Fairlie family.

 

As Count Fosco tells his narrative, and he comes to the point where he explains his interactions with Mr. Fairlie, he simply sees the man as another obstacle to his malevolent plans. Fosco describes how he “came, saw, and conquered Fairlie” (Collins 605), a reference to the Latin veni, vedi, veci (I came, I saw, I conquered) used by Julius Caesar around 47 B.C. (see link at bottom of post). Caesar’s phrase was used in reference to a quick and easy victory, which was exactly what Fosco believed he had with Fairlie. Interestingly, going back to Mr. Fairlie’s narrative of the conversation with Fosco, he does not fully commit himself to the foreigner; Mr. Fairlie thinks to himself as he writes the note to Laura about traveling to Limmeridge: “There was not the least danger of the invitation being accepted, for there was not the least chance that Laura would consent to leave Blackwater Park, while Marian was lying there ill” (Collins 355). Fairlie did not believe he had been conquered by Fosco, nor even that he was obeying Fosco’s wishes; he merely believed he was acting in a way that would allow Fosco to leave the house without making too much of a fuss. Fosco, on the other hand, saw this as a victory; Fairlie was doing exactly what the foreigner needed him to, with little complaint or hesitation. This feeds straight into the idea that readers have of Fairlie. He never fights against anyone around him, he (oh God!) simply doesn’t have the nerves for it. Fairlie is weak, incapable, complicit and easily conquered; veni, vedi, veci indeed.

Fosco, of course, must boast about his victory over the feeble man. Like Caesar before him, he must let the world know that he came, saw, and conquered someone weaker than himself. Fosco does this because he is insecure; he is finally called out for the whole conspiracy to get Laura’s money, and clearly he was not able to conquer Laura or Marian, so he must go after the weakest link and tell everyone about it. This weakens Fosco’s character, although he believes it strengthens it, and makes him seem like a bully (which he is!).

https://theculturetrip.com/europe/italy/articles/veni-vidi-vici-origin-of-the-saying-i-came-i-saw-i-conquered/

The Woman in White follows appears to follow a variation of “the marriage plot” from the Victorian Era. However, upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that the novel only echoes the marriage plot, leaving room to question the institution of marriage itself, therefore almost entirely dismantling the marriage plot. When Laura and Marian are reunited, after Laura had been away with her new husband Sir Percival, Laura exclaims to her sister, “How often you have made me mock-speeches of congratulation on my wealth! Oh, Marian, never laugh again. Thank God for your poverty- it has made you your own mistress and has saved you from the lot that has fallen on me” (Collins 258). Laura very clearly denounces marriage because of her own misery, expressing her opinion that it would be better to be a mistress than to be married, or, at least, married to Sir Percival. This is particularly interesting given that there was a common sentiment that there was an overabundance of women who were unmarried in England at this time, as expressed by William Rathbone Greg. Laura’s distress in her marriage causes her to believe that it would be better to not be married, even though it there was a perceived societal notion that being a single woman was a horrible thing to be. This inherently questions the institution of marriage by showing a woman in an unhappy marriage, wishing she could be released and envying her sister who remained unmarried. The rest of the novel continues to question conventional marriage as Sir Percival’s motives are revealed, and later, when Laura and Walter get “married” even though no one knew she was still alive at that point. This begs further questions of what exactly constitutes as a marriage, further challenging the conventional “marriage plot” and the institution of marriage.

“She was between ten and eleven years old then, slow at her lessons, poor soul, and not so cheerful as other children – but as pretty a little girl to look at as you would wish to see” (Collins 494).

This quote refers to Anne Catherick and was said by her mother when she describes her daughter. Not only does it touch on mental illness and physical appearance but also about gender and the perception of women in the Victorian Era. A trope that I recognize in the character of Anne is the beautiful-but-crazy woman. Throughout the novel, it is emphasized multiple times that Anne does look pretty (because she looks so much like Laura) but that she is also not mentally healthy. This reminds me of other “mad” female figures in Victorian novels, such as Lady Audley’s Secret or Jane Eyre. Gilbert and Gubar’s essay about The Madwoman in the Attic explores this in greater detail but it is striking that the women who are put into asylums in these stories are usually attractive. The quote underlines that attractiveness is of great importance when it comes to women in the Victorian Era. Negatively connated adjectives, such as “slow”, “poor”, and “not so cheerful” seem to be balanced out by prettiness. It also underlines that the wellbeing of the child is unimportant, as long as it is pretty. While this passage seems to be about mental illness and beauty, it is also about the superficiality of Victorian society.

This raises the question to me why that is and which effect attractiveness in incaptured women causes in the reader. Is it because the reader would be intimidated by “crazy” femme fatales and happy when they end up in an asylum? Comparing the sensation novel to contemporary forms of entertainment, maybe they share the feature that they often use very attractive characters because it is more appealing for the recipients.

Another aspect that bothers me about the “madwoman” trope in Victorian literature is that it reproduces the idea that there are many women who are legitimitally crazy and who belong in an asylum. As we discussed in class, many women were sent to mental institutions for a variety of reasons, including what was known as “hysteria” and I am under the impression that sensation novels use that trope only to bring a shocking factor into the story. Since the female characters in the stories are often portrayed as crazy, they do not feature those women who are falsely accused of madness and sent to asylums. I was positively surprised when Collins incorporated it in The Woman in White.

However (unfortunately, I could not find a second source to confirm this, but)…

… I read online that Wilkie Collins was strongly inspired for The Woman in White by the case of Louisa Nottidge who was the blue print for the character of Laura Glyde. She was sent to a lunatic asylum by a man named Henry James Prince who would financially profit very much from the situation. With the help of others, Nottidge was freed and she successfully sued Prince for sending her to the asylum. It was very scandalous at the time and the online article said that Collins tried to profit off of the attention this case received by incorporating it in his novel. If this is true, his intentions maybe were not of the feminist kind.

 

*Penguin Classics Version from 1974