Class Blog

King of the Barbers: The Irish and Italian as England’s Greatest Threat

As in my previous post I have touched on the musical Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street as a text that bears striking similarity to The Woman in White as well as ideology in Victorian culture. I will be visiting it once again, however this time I am looking at Sir Percival Glyde and Count Fosco and their cultural identities. Within Sweeney Todd they are both found in the guise of Pirelli the Barber (or as he is also known Daniel O’Higgins), who swindles and charms the crowds of London. Initially an Irishman apprenticed to Sweeney Todd, O’Higgins eventually goes away and adopts the persona of Adolfo Pirelli, an Italian barber who serves the highest classes of Italy, including the Pope. He sells hair “tonics” to those desperate enough to fall victim to his words and charisma, despite being an incredibly effeminate and blindingly dazzling man. He embodies two types of people who the English see as suspicious characters.

Directly from his introduction Fosco is displayed as an effeminate, yet charmingly powerful and strangely terrifying man. (217) His little eccentricities and personality (which seems to be somehow false) force characters to like him, just as Pirelli works his “magic” over the crowds. Marian, being a sensible English lady, is immediately distrusting of Fosco, yet even she feels he is beginning to work his “miracle” (217) Fosco, as the Italian or non-Anglo Saxon, in addition to being of a higher class represents a threat to English society, much like a later popular character of Victorian literature[1]. His effeminate nature (I suppose that Pesca is his counterpart) combined with class represents a threat to English society and ideas about what men should be. However, he reinforces his dominance by controlling English women and fulfilling the desires of characters like Sir Percival Glyde.

While Glyde is not Irish no Italian (although his association with both seems unsavory by English standards), a brute Irishman is the cause of his misfortune and in turn the Secret and the plot against Laura and Anne. Because his mother was married to an Irishman (and thus her “marriage” to Sir Glyde was not valid) Percival is unable to inherit the family fortune. Although the Irishman’s deeds are by no means morally sound, it can be implied that it is his fault all of the events in the story happened, and he is not around to voice his own reasoning on the matter. He is nothing more than an Irishman whom can carry the blame (although we as readers still blame Percival for this). Thus both aristocrats, either by their ethnicity or association, represent the types of foreigners who England regards as deceivers and less respectable than true Englishmen.

[1] The Count, from Bram Stoker’s Dracula, also represents a non-Anglo Saxon aristocrat who poses a threat to England through his charms, deception, and inversion of gender and sexuality.

 

Bastard Children of Noblemen: A Look at Percival Glyde and Anne Catherick

At first glance, Percival Glyde and Anne Catherick share almost nothing in common–he’s an esteemed Baronet with crippling debts, and she’s an escapee from an Asylum. However, as Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White progresses, these two characters exhibit surprisingly similar backgrounds: most plainly, the issues of both of their parentages.

The Secret™ that would ruin Glyde’s life, that Anne claimed to know, that Walter Hartright discovered in the discrepancies between the church records at Old Welmingham, is that his parents never married–in fact, his mother was technically still married to an Irishman, though they had since gone their own ways (531). This made Percival an illegitimate child, unable to truly claim his father’s property at Blackwater…unless he resorted to unsavory means.

After some sleuthing by Walter, it was revealed that Anne, too, was the product of an illegitimate union. “Philip Fairlie had been at Varneck Hall in the autumn of eighteen hundred and twenty-six, and that Mrs. Catherick had been living there in service at the same time (…) Anne had been born in June, eighteen hundred and twenty-seven” (553). However, in this circumstance, Anne’s parents did not remain together–their affair was brief , especially as Philip Fairlie “then left (…) and did not return to Varneck Hall till after a lapse of time, when he reappeared in the character of a newly-married man.” (553) Walter suspects that Anne did not even guess her true parentage–certainly she would have been unable to act upon it as Percival did, even if she was aware. She had no claim to the Fairlie fortune or estate, not to mention the fact that the legitimate Fairlie heir was very present, as opposed to the situation Percival found himself in.

With these similar origins of being born the illegitimate children of well-off men, it is interesting that Anne and Percival are so at odds in the narrative, and perhaps demonstrates the imbalance of power between Victorian women and men. Percival, a man, is made aware of his own “claim” to the Blackwater estate, and does everything he can to claim it, including forging a marriage record, blackmailing Mrs Catherick, and even shutting Anne away when it seems as if she might be too close to revealing The Secret™. Anne, a woman, is first of all described as “being always weak in the head” (534) by her own mother, and her true parentage is hidden from her. She is rejected by Mrs Catherick (perhaps her similarity to her father reminded Mrs Catherick of her own past mistakes?), and ironically receives some motherly affection from Mrs Fairlie, the wife of her true father.

However, the one direct confrontation between Percival and Anne, that leads to Anne’s imprisonment and drives almost the entire plot of the story, comes because Anne speaks up for herself against Percival’s dismissal of her as “the idiot” (536). In Mrs Catherick’s words, “she had always had crazy notions of her own about her dignity,” (536)–in order to gain the upper hand on Percival and establish her presence, Anne used the one thing she had heard that could potentially ruin him–a practice which backfires spectacularly on her, as this leads to Percival demanding she be shut up in an Asylum, a place where she would have even less dignity and autonomy than she had living with her mother. Anne is stripped of all power as Percival gains more.

The two illegitimate children of the narrative are treated incredibly differently, and what this unequal treatment seems to highlight is the unequal power afforded each gender in Victorian society.

Walter Hartright’s Hart-On: Unpacking his Conception of Love

My sad-sap romantic sensibilities have gotten the better of me once again! Initially, I thought about close reading part of the conversation between Mr. Fairlie and the inimitable Count Fosco because the former’s account of his involvement in Laura and Percy’s marital feud was just so bloody entertaining. But, really, now that my precious Walt’s returned to his rightful position as the narrator of the novel, he has crept his way back into my heart. I can’t shake him; he’s just so cute when under duress (which is, fortunately, pretty often). Of the main trio, Walt appears the most committed to salvaging some kind of family out of the wreckage that is, well, Laura’s life and social status. I was sort of right in my earlier assumption that he’s not really in love with his current ward, but I suppose he still loves her. Or, more likely, the idea of her.

The long paragraph on pages 413 and 414 all but confirms my belief that the other two women in his life, Marian and Anne, appeal to Walt as well. As expected, not only is Laura morphing into Anne and goes under her alias, she becomes even more endearing to him in the process. He really lays it on thick in a fit of devotion with his repetitive rhetoric, including this gem of a rather possessive tricolon: “Mine to support, to protect, to cherish, to restore. Mine to love and honour as father and brother both. Mine to vindicate through all risks and all sacrifices…” (414). Walt further implies, with phrases like “hopeless struggle against Rank and Power” and “the long fight with armed deceit and fortified Success,” that the reason for his existence is to make Laura well again. Yet his dedication, while no doubt genuine and noble and all that shite, unnerves me quite a lot. He has never really known how to love this girl properly. Though I bet he’d treat me right. I love being smothered!

This whole section is no doubt invoking some kind of heroic trope specific to Victorian literature and probably before that, as well. This is pure, refined melodrama at its best, designed to instill some, uh, sensations in the reader before she is forced to return to her drab, miserable existence. Though I wouldn’t call this heartfelt declaration of protection sexy, especially since Walt’s impression of her these days no longer screams lust: “Forlorn and disowned, sorely tried and sadly changed; her beauty faded, her mind clouded” (414). He and Marian desire to be family figures to Laura until she is brought back to full health…and then what? Is he going to marry her afterwards, and have Marian stick with them as a part of their family? Now, I’m not suggesting polyamory…but then again, this name of this class is “Victorian Sexualities,” so…And the idea of “living with” Marian and Walt does seem more than a little enticing to me. You know, because they’re loyal and stuff?

Of course, I need to address that Walt’s possessiveness of Laura might not be much different from that of Percy. And now he is in a position of power he might secretly learn to crave if he doesn’t get off from it already. Good intentions or not, he could very well groom her to become like her old self (i.e. the version of Laura Walt idolized). What makes him different from Fosco in that sense?

Literally Sensational: Expression of Body Parts in “The Woman in White”

The Woman in White is often credited as being the first novel of the sensation genre to be published.  The sensation genre is defined (on the back cover of our edition of The Woman in White) as a “Victorian genre that combine[s] Gothic horror with psychological realism”, which can evoke intense physical and emotional responses from readers.  This is why sensational novels tend to focus on stories that involve matters like murder, secrecy, and scandal, making The Woman in White a prime example of the genre.

The tone in the novel is thus unsurprisingly suspenseful with topics such as the mystery of Anne Catherick, the terrifying power of Count Fosco, and the Secret of Sir Percival Glyde being prominent drives for the plot.  After reading the conversation between Walter and Professor Pesca, a big reveal scene of Professor Pesca’s secret, I noticed a reoccurring speech pattern of Professor Pesca.  I found it curious how Pesca kept using body parts to express himself.  For instance, he uses the phrases “you have shaken me from head to toe”, “on your heart and soul”, and “put my life into your hands” (pg. 573) within the span of a few paragraphs.

After reading this section of the novel, I realized that scenes that involved cases of suspense or other powerful emotions, such as grief and fear, have generally been depicted in a descriptive style that uses the expression of physical body parts rather than a frank statement of the character’s feelings.  For example, Pesca could have stated “The information that I am about to reveal is extremely dangerous so I am trusting you completely, Walter” instead of saying “My next words, as true as the good God is above us, will put my life into your hands” (pg. 573).  Another example is from the First Epoch when Marian tells Walter about Laura’s engagement to Sir Percival.  Walter’s reaction is described as thus: “The last word went like a bullet to my heart.  My arm lost all sensation of the hand that grasped it” (pg. 72).  This is an impressive way of expressing Walter’s shock especially when compared to my plainer version: “Marian’s words left me speechless.  The news had made me numb to all my surroundings.”  The similes and metaphors of Wilkie Collins are preferable (of course) since they emphasize the gravity of a character’s thoughts and words.

I believe that using such language is definitely the writing style of Wilkie Collins.  By doing so, it is possible for readers to truly feel the pressure of a scene or be able to make a connection with a character, hence fulfilling the purpose of the sensation genre.

 

The Theme of Identity within WIW

Identity plays an important role in ‘The Woman in White” both subliminally and in terms of pushing the plot forward. The eerie similarity between Anne and Laura and the mystery of Sir Percival Glyde’s true background all serve as plot elements that add mystery and suspense to this novel; however, themes of identity are also present in a more subtle way throughout “The Woman in White.” Aspects of one’s identity such as gender, sexuality, race, and class and the way in which these interact with one another to form one’s position in society are highlighted throughout this novel. This is exemplified in the paragraph where Walter speaks about Laura’s supposed death.

“In the eye of reason and of law, in the estimation of relatives and friends, according to every received formality of civilized society, ‘Laura, Lady Glyde’ lay buried with her mother in Limmeridge churchyard. Torn in her own lifetime from the list of the living, the daughter of Philip Fairlie and the wife of Percival Glyde might still  exist for her sister, might still exist for me, but to all the world besides she was dead. Dead to her uncle who had renounced her; dead to the servants of the house, who had failed to recognise her; dead to the persons in authority who has transmitted her fortune to her husband and her aunt; dead to my mother and my sister, who believed me to be the dupe of an adventuress and the victim of a fraud; socially, morally, legally- dead.” (p.413).

There is much to unpack from the quote written above. What first caught my eye was the way in which Laura’s identities related to her class and gender are explicated by the language above. Walter’s decision to used the word “civilized” society was the one indication for me that class is clearly an essential part of his view of Laura. That and the mention of her servants exhibits the way in which Laura’s class was a means upon which Walter worshipped her and saw her as a worthy object of his gaze. She is describes as beautiful, pale, graceful, and a member of the upperclass, making her the stereotypical ‘perfect’ woman of the victorian era.

Another form of identity that manifests itself in this quote  is that of gender. I found it interesting that when talking of Laura, she is described as the “daughter” and “wife” to the two powerful men in her life. This was interesting for me in that she is described as a daughter and wife to men rather than a woman in and of herself. Instead, she is described in relation to the powerful and privileged men of her life that she technically belonged to.  This paragraph again exemplifies intersectional identities through Walter’s explication of Laura sudden disappearance from the land of the living.

Another part of this quote I found interesting was Laura’s seemingly lack of a distinct identity and Walter’s seemingly confusion as to how a person can suddenly be gone. It seems to me that this novel is concerned with the way in which identity is not distinct or intrinsic. In fact, it is very easy for one to lie about their identity or lose it suddenly. Walter seems to be grappling with this throughout the novel as he is constantly confused by the identities of those around him. I plan on doing more research about identity within the Victorian Period but there seems to be a lot of anxiety surrounding this topic.

Housework and the Independent Woman

Marian has always been a strong character. To watch her break down over housework, I could not help but think that there was something more to the scene. The type of sadness I felt reading the passage made me feel like what Marian was experiencing was more similar to a death then preforming housework. In many ways I think was more like death.

To start Marian has always lived a life of prestige. She has never had to do housework. By her taking on this role it is showing her fall in status and the hardships to come. Marian’s lost goes beyond her status though it reaches the very core of her character. Marian has always been a very independent woman and now she must completely rely on Walter.  Marian has always had a lot of pride in the fact that she is not obedient and placid like the other woman in her life and now she is being forced into a role that is stereotyped specifically for woman. I think in taking on the housework Marian is giving up a lot more than just some free time.

I also think by performing housework Marian is solidifying her role as “mother” in the trio’s foe family, which is not a role that Marian has ever indicated wanting for herself. Marian has always proven to be a very mature person, but it has always been in ways that are “for men”. For example, her taking care of Laura’s legal affairs in terms of her marriage as best as she could. Now Marian most be mature in a maternal way. She has to tend to the house, take care of the child (Laura), and anxiously wait for her husband (Walter) to return home.

I was reassured however when Marian says “it’s my weakness that cries, not me. The housework shall conquer it, if I can’t” (Collins 433). This line is a reminder that Marian still has a fire in her. She is determined to make the most of her poor situation. While Marian may have lost her independence she has not lost her strength which has always been her defining quality.

Fun Times with Impenetrable Gloom

“Through what mortal crime and horror, through what darkest windings of the way down to Death, the lost creature had wandered in God’s leading to the last home that, living, she never hoped to reach! In that sacred rest, I leave her–in that dread companionship, let her remain undisturbed.

 

So the ghostly figure which has haunted these pages as it haunted my life, goes down into the impenetrable Gloom. Like a Shadow she first came to me, in the loneliness of the night. Like a Shadow she passes away, in the loneliness of the dead.”

That cheery excerpt concludes the second chapter-like section of the Third Epoch. (Worth noting because it amuses me: It’s located on page 555, which is hilariously similar to 666.) While I’m not sure how this quote will show up in WordPress, which has a well-observed habit of screwing with everything I do, the second paragraph is set apart from the rest of the story by a solid line. Talk about blank spaces telling the whole story–this blank space leaves the end of chapter-section two looking like an epitaph! And of course, whenever anything is overly-asserted (especially an ending, since good old Wilkie has already faked us out more than once), one must be suspicious.

So then, what’s really going on here?

Well, Anne Catherick is dead, at least physicaly, but it’s worth remembering that she isn’t legally dead, which makes the grave paragraph above somewhat ironic. I have to wonder if Wilkie Collins isn’t setting us up for one of three things to happen. Firstly, our dearest Laura could really be Anne Catherick after all. To be honest, I don’t believe this, but it’s worth considering just because of how much that passage has hammered home the memory of her death. Secondly, it’s possible that Laura will never be able to get her own name back, but that she will be able to reclaim her fortune somehow just by proving Anne’s parentage. Which would be ironic again, because then poor Anne would remain both dead and alive. I’m not too fond of this theory either, because it seems wildly implausible, but it would be an interesting twist.

What’s most likely going on here, though, is that Collins is hinting that Anne will finally be put to rest. Because, as I have mentioned, while she is technically dead, she’s legally living, and that leaves her in an odd state of limbo. That second paragraph, on the other hand, really asserts her deadness, which could mean that her state of alive-and-deadness is coming to an end. I mean, if that little epitaph is to be trusted, then Anne isn’t just dead, she has disappeared “down into the impenetrable Gloom.” Which has got to be code for super-dead or something because it is so gosh-darn deathy. (It’s possible that this is a reference to Greek mythology, where Hades rules the underworld. If Anne was a ghost all along, then her leaving for his domain, as the phrase “down into the impenetrable Gloom” certainly suggests, indicates that her spirit has finally departed this world. Which in turn indicates that she is basically double-dead.)

So if Anne is so dead she’s double-dead, what does this have to say about the rest of the story? To summarize my argument: it might be the author’s way of telling the reader that Laura’s return to her old identity is coming, it might be an ironic indication that poor Anne was never dead at all, or it might suggest that Anne will live on legally for a while yet. We shall see.

These Truths Are Not Self-Evident: Victorian Denial and Internal Bargaining

For this blog post, I will be analyzing Walter Hartright’s statement about Victorian preference for truth and examining what it means in the greater context of the novel. He says, “When an English jury has to choose between a plain fact on the surface and a long explanation under the surface, it always takes the fact…” (442). This is striking for two reasons. The first is that this quote speaks to the characters’ continual refusal to state the truth, while vehemently claiming untruths as the reality. Second, when put into a Victorian Historical context, I think this statement speaks to the lack of support in the English legal system for women, especially married ones. The law rules almost every case in favor of the richest, most male option because it makes sense or seems true to the jury and Victorian society as a whole.

The Woman in White has a set of characters that reflect this quote from Hartright. They deny reality with their words and actions, which is simpler for them despite the complications of lying. This is because Victorian culture has created a set of acceptable realities that its inhabitants mold their narratives to fit. Mr. Fairlie claims to be “one of the most easy-tempered creatures that ever lived,” after refusing to actively help Laura and expressing irritation at Marion’s severe illness. His lack of self-awareness allows him to live with himself despite his complete lack of humanity. Percival’s entire premise as a baronet is based in lie, but this is not revealed until the third epoch, and even then is not explicitly stated. Laura marries Sir Glyde despite being in love with Walter, and I think this is largely because breaking off and working through her feelings seems too complicated. In addition, she does it to preserve her and her family’s reputation as Victorian ideals dictate.

Characters in this novel refuse to acknowledge obvious truths and avoid honesty, which, as we discussed Wednesday, leads to much of the mystery and danger in the plot. Walter’s statement about a jury’s desire to leap to an obvious conclusion also applies to the other characters in the novel. Mr. Fairlie, for example, wants everything to be explained to him as simply as possible. He wants this expedient delivery not so as to understand the situation better, but so as to avoid facing anything that makes him uncomfortable. Laura expresses little desire to find out the details of her inheritance agreement, despite its effect on her life. Marion, Laura, and other characters choose to ignore the suspicions they have about Fosco and Glyde because admitting something nefarious about these men society defines as superior would challenge every tenet of their cultural ideology.

In this quote, Hartright expresses his belief that people want the simple truth, but this is proved false, or at least incomplete. Instead of the truth, characters want to avoid any realities that are difficult to accept or that challenge their concept of morality and social norms. They will accept any explanation, no matter how implausible or complicated, provided it preserves their understanding of the world. the “simple” part of these explanations is that they exclude all contradictory evidence in order to maintain believability. A good way to achieve this is by avoiding all mention of sex, emotion, or other related topics. If these are not discussed, they cannot interfere with one’s worldview, but as we read in Cohen, they still exist. I think that, based on the actions of characters in this novel, Victorians avoided so many topics in order to maintain a kind of internal plausible deniability.

Laura is Basically Walter’s Dog

Laura’s time in the Asylum affected her quite a bit physically and emotionally. The “sorrow and suffering… set their profaning marks on the youth and beauty of her face” (Collins 434), making post-Asylum Laura look almost identical to Anne. Laura also becomes increasingly childish, a trait we previously associated with Anne.

The relationship between Walter and Laura has altered drastically since Laura’s release from the Asylum. As Laura changes to become more like Anne, Walter loses romantic interest in her. Previously in the novel when Walter talked about drawing with Laura, he talked about how he could barely keep his hands and eyes off of her. Now when he talks about drawing with her he simply says he “sat by her side” (Collins 435). Walter never had an inkling of a romantic feeling for Anne, and now that Laura looks and acts more like Anne, Walter isn’t having as strong romantic feelings or any romantic feelings at all for Laura.

This makes me wonder exactly what attracted Walter to Laura in the first place. Clearly her appearance was a significant part of why Walter loved her. Earlier in the novel when Walter gushes about being in love with Laura, all he talks about is her appearance. He sees her as an object. Walter also might be losing romantic interest in Laura because she is someone who he now needs to take care of. Instead of just being able to watch her be pretty, he needs to worry about keeping her occupied and in a good mood.

The way Laura and Walter behave around each other post-Asylum reminds me of a way a dog interacts with it’s owner. Just as if Laura was his dog, Walter takes “Laura out for her walk as usual” (Collins 437). Whenever Walter leaves her, Laura gets anxious, claiming “Don’t be gone long! I can’t get on with my drawing, Walter, when you are not here to help me” (Collins 438). Laura’s anxiety about being separated from Walter reminds me of the way a dog behaves whenever it’s owner leaves. After her release from the Asylum, Laura also acts similarly to Mrs. Vesey, sitting around all day and being a very uninteresting character.

Mine: The Language of Possession and Female Objectification

“The most wretched of her sex, if she must give herself in marriage when she cannot give her love” (171) L

“She will be his Laura instead of mine! His Laura!” (185) M

“I [have] just come back from a stolen look at Laura in her pretty little white bed . . . My own love!” (194) M

“My poor, faded flower! my lost, afflicted sister!” (478) W

“In the right of her calamity, in the right of her friendlessness, she was mine at last! Mine to support, to protect, to cherish, to restore. Mine to love and honor as father and brother both. Mine to vindicate through all risks and all sacrifices” (414) W

“If I am to fight our cause with the Count, strong in the consciousness of Laura’s safety, I must fight it for my Wife.” (559) W

In simplistic terms, Laura Fairlie is the object of desire that The Woman in White works toward possessing.

Laura is loved and desired by Walter Hartright; she is sought and desired by Sir Percival Glyde; she is kissed and loved by Marian; she is stolen from Blackwater; she is cared for and coveted by both Walter and Marian in their tangled ménage á trois. In all these cases, syntactically as well as contextually, Laura is the object of desire: she is passive, the desired rather than the desirer. Similarly, she is spoken about as the possessed object – but not by Percival Glyde or Count Fosco, the ostensible villains of her life: by Walter and Marian, her husband and sister.

In the six excerpts above, Laura gets ten possessive pronouns (or, in keeping with the Laura’s syntax and context, ten are given to her). Laura is “my” love, “mine,” or “his.” She is not her own Laura; she is discussed as an object passed around from hand to hand. Marian discusses her marriage to Glyde in almost economic terms, as if Laura’s marriage is a transaction involving a change of possession. Laura herself, describing marriage, uses the phrase “give herself,” reinforcing the possessional aspects of marriage as a contract and a relationship.

Perhaps the worst instance of Laura as an object of possession is Walter’s in-narrative monologue. He refers to Laura as “mine” four times; the paragraph’s anaphora enforces the possessional language, enhancing the concept of Laura as an object of possession which Walter as “at last” gotten into his own hands.

The description of a spouse as “my wife” doesn’t seem especially ominous until connected with the numerous other instances of possessive language. Walter insists to Marian that he wants to marry Laura because it will enhance his position as Laura’s guardian angel, savior, chevalier, knight in armor, etc. – not because he loves her or is attracted to her, but because his possession of her legally will make it easier for him to “save” her (return her to her legal identity, stolen by SPG and CF through AC’s resemblance). We know this through Walter’s umpteenth use of “my” to describe Laura.

Furthermore, Laura is never given her own narrative; not once, except in her (relatively rare) dialogue, does Laura speak in her own voice. The utter exclusion of Laura as a major figure of the action reinforces her presentation as an object; she is handled, desired, passed around, and exchanged, but she does nothing, acts as nothing, performs nothing. The possessional language consistently applied to her reduces her to a possessed object, and the refusal to let her speak as herself reduces her to a thing.

Laura is reduced and possessed throughout The Woman in White. Whether or not Collins is a feminist, whether or not TWIW is meant to argue for better women’s rights, whether or not Marian is supposed to be an example of a “freed” woman – Laura is an object, through the novel’s syntax as well as its contexts. Her objectification and possession are the root of the novel’s dilemma, and her submission to these concepts is the product of them.