Author: Bridget Jones

Throughout the pieces of Victorian art and literature that we have examined so far, animals frequently stand in for savagery or primitivism. Many of these pieces of art portray humans in competition with animals, exhibiting a clear distinction between the two categories. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland perpetuates this distinction, fitting animals and humans into a hierarchy that mimics the relationship between royalty and peasantry. Through Alice, we get an objective view of this world, and can examine how its inhabitants interact.

When Alice arrives in Wonderland, she notices that the world is divided into two distinct sections. There is the region before the tiny door, and the region beyond it. Immediately, we are introduced to the difference between these two areas: before the door is a “dark hall,” while beyond it lie “beds of bright flowers” and “cool fountains” (Carroll 8). Clearly, the space beyond the door is the more desirable area of this world, and is only accessible to a select few—those who can fit through the door. The door sets up the differences between the social classes of Wonderland, as well as the lack of opportunity to move between those classes. Accordingly, the image of Alice staring longingly out the door and into the beautiful gardens shows her desire to climb the social ladder.

The inhabitants of Wonderland further establish the structure of its social classes. In the “dark hall,” Alice encounters a wide variety of animals, including the White Rabbit, the Mouse, and a group of birds. On this side of the door, there are very few humans, and many of the animals are employed in the service of one particular human—the Duchess. The positioning of most of the animals on the less desirable side of the door, as well as the traditional view of animals as inferior to humans, suggest that in Wonderland, animals are part of a lower social class. This idea is supported by the fact that the rulers of Wonderland, who live in the “loveliest garden you ever saw,” are portrayed as humans. As a human, it is Alice’s birthright to be among this ruling class, and her acceptance of this role is illustrated in her poor treatment of the animals in Wonderland.

One significant aspect of Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market” that sets it apart from other Victorian poems we have read so far is its portrayal of a functional relationship between two women. “The Blessed Damozel,” “The Lady of Shalott,” “My Last Duchess,” and “In an Artist’s Studio” have all explicitly stated the genders of the two main participants in the action of the poems; invariably, they have featured a man and a woman. In most of these poems, with the possible exception of “In an Artist’s Studio,” the man and woman are involved in a heterosexual romantic relationship. In contrast, “Goblin Market” portrays two sisters living and working together in harmony.

While the relationship between Laura and Lizzie is established as sisterly, there are several instances during the poem in which Rossetti hints at a deeper connection between the two women. For example, early on in the poem, Laura and Lizzie “[crouch] close together… / With clasping arms and cautioning lips / With tingling cheeks and finger tips.” Later, as the sisters fall asleep, the poem describes them as “Cheek to cheek and breast to breast / Locked together in one nest.” This language redefines the relationship between the sisters as something more romantic and intimate.

Perhaps the most convincing indication of the sisters’ relationship as romantic partners is seen in the final stanza of the poem. While the lines “when both were wives / With children of their own” seem to indicate a very traditional ending to the poem in which both women marry into separate families, the conspicuous lack of any mention of their husbands can suggest another conclusion. Instead, it can be interpreted that the women act as wives to each other, forming an unconventional family unit between themselves and their children. This reimagined family, while atypical for the Victorian era, reflects an arguably stronger and more successful romantic relationship than the other poems we have read so far. Instead of the unequal power dynamic seen in “My Last Duchess” and “In an Artist’s Studio,” or the yearned-for but unrealistic relationships of “The Lady of Shalott” and “The Blessed Damozel,” Laura and Lizzie are a functional couple, living and raising children in mutual admiration and respect.

Originally published as a serialized story, The Woman in White was accompanied in some newspapers by illustrations depicting the action of the novel. Examining these illustrations can shed light on how these characters were viewed by Victorian readers—and, in addition, they bring Collins’ vibrant characters to life in a way that text alone cannot. A link to the illustrations can be found here.

While looking through the illustrations of The Woman in White, I noticed that Marian and Laura were portrayed as opposing figures in almost every illustration that featured either woman, or both together. In most of the illustrations, Marian wears dark dresses, while Laura wears white. When Marian and Laura are shown together at Limmeridge, Marian has a rigid, strong posture, while Laura either reclines or leans toward her, reflecting Laura’s reliance on Marian’s protection. However, in a scene depicting the sisters at Blackwater Park, the roles have shifted: Marian leans forward, while Laura stands defiantly tall behind her. Here, the illustrations track the exchange of strength between Laura and Marian seen over the course of the novel.

This pattern is especially apparent in the illustrations depicting Walter’s introductions to Marian and Laura. Both women are seen from Walter’s point of view; however, Marian faces away from Walter while Laura is seen in profile. As a result, we cannot see Marian’s face at all, while Laura’s face is full of expression. In addition, while the background to Marian’s portrait has an almost sketch-like appearance, Laura’s background is richly illustrated. These images, which mimic the narration of the novel in meticulous detail, are crafted to reinforce each woman’s role in her society. Laura fits beautifully into her illustration, completing the picture of purity and innocence as she gazes heavenward with an almost angelic quality. Marian, on the other hand, appears to be sketched almost as an afterthought. The fact that she is turned away prevents the viewer from seeing the most unique physical attribute of Marian Halcombe—her strong facial features. Instead, she fades into a rather unremarkable background, just as unmarried women were marginalized in the Victorian era without any social standing.

The Woman in White is full of repetitions, and noticing the differences between these repetitions creates meaning that neither instance can achieve alone. One such replication can be seen in two evenings that Collins describes in detail—one narrated by Walter Hartright at Limmeridge (57-58), and the other narrated by Marian at Blackwater Park (286-287). The scenes are set up to appear almost identical: Laura plays the piano while Marian sits slightly removed at a far window, passing time as the day transitions to night. In the scene at Limmeridge, Walter acts as our guide to appreciating the evening’s qualities of light and sound, while Count Fosco occupies that role at Blackwater Park. Walter’s and the Count’s descriptions of the evening are tied together by common words such as “heaven,” “trembling,” “twilight,” and “tenderness,” as well as by both men’s desire that the torches remain unlit.

However, the differences between the two scenes convey starkly opposing meanings. While Walter describes the light as “shading leaf and blossom into harmony,” Count Fosco twice refers to the light as “dying” against the trees. This reference to death recalls to mind Marian’s first descriptions of Blackwater Park’s decaying forest. Furthermore, while at Limmeridge the lamps go unlit “by common consent,” at Blackwater only Count Fosco “begs” for the lamps to remain dark. These variations reveal that Blackwater is, in actuality, a failed replication of Limmeridge House. Instead of the harmony and easy companionship between Laura, Marian, and Walter, Blackwater is filled with discord and decay, highlighted by Count Fosco’s rejected attempts to become friendly with Marian and Laura.