Class Blog

Quote in title can be found on pg. 158 of “A Woman In White” and is said by Mr. Fairlie when describing his servant Louis. 

The Victorian age was filled with the anxiety to define gender in a legal and economic sense, but also to define its “very nature” (Norton 992). Accordingly, it is impossible to understand Victorian gender without accounting for the role of class and employment. By using the analysis of class provided in the Norton Anthology, I will attempt to analyze Greg’s “Why Are Women Redundant?” with a special focus on the gendering of the female servant class. Once the servant class’s particular position is clear, it becomes easier to understand the role of economics in the shifting and fluid boundaries of all Victorian genders.

In the Norton Anthology, the authors illustrate the limited employment opportunities for middle-class women. They argue the most socially acceptable job that afforded a claim to gentility was working as a governess (Norton 992). When explaining the difficulties such a position presented, including limited pay and poor job security, the authors make a powerful conclusion. Women employed as governesses had an “ambiguous status, somewhere between servant and family member,” (Norton 992).

In Greg’s “Why Are Women Redundant?” he rants and raves about the dangers unmarried women have to Victorian society. He argues in favor of a balance of genders, in accordance with the ‘natural law’ (Greg 160). While he has many choice words for unmarried women, he makes certain to state that “female servants do not constitute any part of the problem we are endeavouring to solve,” (Greg 161). This is because he believes they serve the greater good of society – “they are supported by, and they minister to, men,” (Greg 161).

By putting these texts in conversation with each other, I aim to reveal what Greg refuses to say plainly. According to Victorian definitions of gender, female servants were not women – they were a different gender entirely. While the Norton Anthology speaks to governesses particularly, which are figured a step above servants, I believe their concept of “ambiguity” can be extended to female servants too. Victorian women were defined by their roles as mothers, wives, and sisters – without these identities, it becomes difficult to identify their class, role in society, and right to property. Female servants were often unmarried, hold no property, and rarely had familial ties visible in their workplace. But they served miscellaneous female roles, and as Greg says, “fulfil [the] essentials of woman’s being” hence their ambiguity (Greg 161). They just reached the threshold of womanhood, but their class denied them the full privileges of being respected as a woman. If they were, they’d be seen as more sensitive, soft, and in need of protecting; and further, been viable marriage options for men of all classes. They were decidedly not. That being said, according to Greg, they were respected on the basis of being useful as opposed to independent unmarried women (Greg 161).

Based on Greg’s angry tirade, I propose a concept of Victorian female gender hierarchy which follows the conventional (upper, middle, lower) class, but accounts for marriage and servant/served status. Gender and class were not separate things, but directly linked. As Greg says, female servants were not automatically beneath all other women, as an understanding of class may lead you to believe. In fact, being employed as a servant probably allowed many queer people to continue their relationships and unconventional familial structures.

The etching, “Salammbo,” depicts a naked woman, presumably dead, as an anaconda wraps itself around her body. There is also a man sitting behind the woman with a sitar or similar instrument in hand, presumably charming or controlling the snake. The woman is pale, with her hair billowing out behind her head. The setting is somewhere in the east, based on the clothing of the man and the background of the image. This etching portrays the “dangers” of the east, as a snake charmer possesses a snake which is wrapping itself around a defenseless, naked, exposed, and dead woman. We can assume this woman is supposed to be from the west because of her incredibly pale skin.

In The Woman in White, Count Fosco has a strange relationship with his animals. he has birds and mice which he calls his “children” and he either has them very well trained, or has some sort of mystic power over them. Count Fosco is from Italy, a foreigner in the context of this novel as it takes place in England. It is also worth mentioning that Count Fosco is arguably the main antagonist in this novel and the most threatening character to Laura, the stereotypical pale and fragile female character. Count Fosco is the mastermind behind the scheme to take Laura’s money as he manipulates everyone else. There is also a common rhetoric of Count Fosco being able to “tame anything” reinforcing the idea of him having control of people, but also animals in this story (Collins 217).

There is a common theme between “Salammbo” and the character of Count Fosco as an obsession with “the other” in relation to animals. In both cases, the foreigners have power or control over animals in a mystic or mysterious way. The English obsession with “the other” as a threat with mystic abilities was a common trope in art and literature. The snake charmer and Count Fosco’s similar ability to “tame” animals reinforces the idea of foreigners having power over animals, bringing in themes of “the exotic” as well.

 

“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/