Category: 360: Victorian Sexualities

For the entirety of the novel thus far, we have been struggling with who and what can be trusted. From the personal accounts, to the shady mystery person who put them all together, we don’t have a firm grasp on the truth. Mr. Fairlie even explicitly states that his account is by no means accurate. How then, do we discern the truth from the falsities of the unreliable narration? I think that we could look to characters that are so far removed from the situation that they couldn’t possibly have a bias.

Nina, Laura Fairlie’s Italian greyhound has no reason (or presence of mind rather) to attempt to deceive the reader. A dog’s reaction to a person is a perfect judge of their character for there are no ulterior motives, simply instinctual reactions. During Mr. Gilmore’s account, he recounts the dog’s reactions to both Sir Percival Glyde and Mr. Hartright. In regards to Sir Percival, Nina “barked and snapped” (134). Dissimilarly, instead of reacting in the same violent manner when in the presence of Mr. Hartright, “the whimsical little brute falsified [Mr. Gilmore’s] expectations by jumping into [Mr. Hartright’s] lap and poking its sharp muzzle familiarly into his hand” (141). There is clearly a contrast in how Nina perceives both men. Her adverse reaction to Sir Percival suggests something threatening about his character.

Here the novel is urging us to see Nina as a perfect and unbiased judge of character. If this is true, we can then derive that Sir Percival Glyde is inherently bad. Though this is not new information, it is the only time we receive this knowledge as fact. This animal does not understand ideas of class, wealth, power or any human social constructs for that matter. It is looking through a lens completely devoid of any of the influencing factors that make the narrators’ so untrustworthy. The dog only knows is who is agreeable and who is not. This simple binary makes her judgment the most reliable.

In the same vein, children possess this same kind of unbiased judgment before they are socialized and introduced to societal teachings and norms. If we equate Anne Catherick, who is described multiple times throughout the book as childlike and innocent, then it would follow that Anne’s judgment is trustworthy as well. Though she is closely involved with the plot, one could argue that she is far enough removed mentally to be trusted. By possessing the mental faculties of a child, she has no reason to deceive us—she may not even be capable. Just like Laura’s dog, Anne possesses the same distaste for Sir Percival. At the mere mention of his name she is sent into a horrified frenzy. Both Nina and Anne are presented as more reliable than the narrators’ and should be trusted primarily.

The issue of trusting the narrator has become very important. As we get more involved with the story, the more imperative it becomes to know what is true and what is not. Those unaffected by society and its influences, in this case animals and children, seem to be the only characters we can trust. I wonder then, what the significance of Count Fosco’s animals is and why he can command them? Or what it really says about Blackwater Park that they senselessly murder stray dogs?

One particular moment within the text that grabbed my attention and made me even frustrated with the novel was on page 338. The moment Mr. Fairlie’s narration begins he takes it upon himself to declare, “I will endeavor to remember what I can (under protest), and to write what I can (also under protest); and what I cant remember and cant write, Louis must remember, and write for me. He is an ass, and I am an invalid: and we are likely to make all sorts of mistakes” (336). Here Mr. Fairlie states that he as a narrator cannot be trusted. The fact that Mr. Fairlie is openly claiming within the beginning of his narration that he cannot attest to the absolute truth within his writing forces us to read this section of the novel with great scrutiny, as we readers simply cannot fully trust what is being said about the events in any way. How are we to know what is being withheld and what is correct? The declaration of this that Mr. Fairlie openly states about himself not only forces the reader to question his validity, but it also forces the reader to wonder why Marian, a strong and intuitive woman, is able to trust Mr. Fairlie to help out Laura amidst her engagement troubles. If Mr. Fairlie cannot be trusted as a narrator, how can he be trusted as an advocate for Laura? Not only does Mr. Fairlie force the reader to question his trustworthiness and accountability throughout the story, but Laura also shows moments when she does not seem to be ‘remembering’ the full truth, as seen within her conversation with Marian after she speaks with the woman in white down by the boat house. The fact that the narrators at times show signs of forgetting or openly claiming that they may not be writing the full truth is very problematic, because it forces the reader to question the authenticity of all that is said and happening.

“Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper.”

From this passage, we can infer than Marian is suggesting the necessary, submissive role of a wife in the Victorian Era. First, she writes, “Any woman who is sure of her own wits”, which has two main ways for interpretation. These two interpretations could also be put together to form one, which is what I believe is the most plausible. It may simply mean an educated woman, someone who has had access to books and teachings. It may also indicate a woman who talks back, or is more clever than a woman should be. Then, she states, “a man who is not sure of his own temper.” Here, readers can infer that she means a man with a bad temper who is unaware of it—-until brought out by his wife. The whole quote put together by “is a match, at any time” implies that Marian is fully aware of a woman’s place in this time period. A clever woman will be put in her place by her husband, possibly by use of violence. Marian is also saying that educated, clever women get beaten more, because they feel superior to most wives—-they may even be smarter than their husbands. Marian’s tone seems rather calm about this matter, but even so, this passage implies that Marian is hinting at her concerns about Laura and Sir Percival’s relationship. It appears that she is worried that Sir Percival is beating Laura behind closed doors, or perhaps even using sexual violence, to get her to obey him. As readers have seen throughout the novel, Laura is a smart, educated woman, but one would not expect her to talk back. However, something tells us it probably does not take much for Sir Percival to lose his temper.

The section that I chose to close read was Marian’s diary entry for December 20th, beginning with the line “I hate Sir Percival!” (191).  What I wish to focus on is the interpretation of the moment in which Laura first sees her name with Sir Percival’s last name attached to it and her reaction.

“Last night, the cards for the married couple were sent home.  Laura opened the packet, and saw her future name in print, for the first time.  Sir Percival looked over her shoulder familiarly at the new card which had already transformed Miss Fairlie into Lady Glyde — smiled with the most odious self-complacency — and whispered something in her ear.  I don’t know what it was — Laura has refused to tell me — but I saw her face turn to such a deadly whiteness that I thought she would have fainted.  He took no notice of the change: he seemed to be barbarously unconscious that he had said anything to pain her.” (191).

Upon first reading I thought that it was rather clear what Sir Percival might have said to Laura.  Considering the discussion between Laura and Marian only a few pages earlier where Marian tells us that, “She has learnt her hard, her inevitable lesson.  The simple illusions of her girlhood are gone” (186) I made the assumption that what Sir Percival whispered was of a sexual nature, something to connect Laura’s new title with her new role in his life.  I also thought that it might be something sexual in nature because of Laura’s refusal to repeat it to Marian. I saw this as a moment of foreshadowing the change in roles that occurs between Marian and Laura post-marriage, as Laura upon her return from the honeymoon refuses to share the problems in her marriage with her sister as a means of protecting her. However, upon further thought, I do think that a more complex reading of this section can be seen when considering the marital laws at the time.

I think that it is very important in this section to consider the phrase used to describe Laura’s impending transition into marriage, “the new card which had already transformed Miss Fairlie into Lady Glyde” (191). In the Victiorian period, when a woman married she ceased to exist as an individual and became completely the property of her husband. I think that by phrasing this as Miss Fairlie becoming Lady Glyde with the exclusion of her first name it is acting as a symbol for this loss of individuality that would occur upon her marriage to Sir Percival.  When considering this reading of the text, it is entirely possible then that Sir Percival did not say anything sexual to her at all, but rather he might have said something in reference to his soon to be ownership of her, and that the concept of losing herself in this unwanted marriage is what shook Laura to the core.  Thus, her reluctance to share her future husband’s words with her sister was not to prevent her from knowing her husbands carnal thoughts about her, but instead to prevent Marian’s further anger at him, as she has been throughout the novel very much a feminist figure.

From the very beginning of the novel, Wilkie Collins sets up a unique narration that sets the reader at the edge of page, quick to discover what comes next.  But what I find most intriguing about Collins’ narrative style is its strategic characterization of Marian Halcombe.

Our first impressions of Marian are relayed to us by Walter Hartright, “the lady is dark…the lady is young… the lady is ugly!” (34).  He continues to elaborate on Miss Halcombe’s bold, masculine features which include a strong jaw, facial hair, resolution, and strong will, concluding she is altogether wanting femininity in her physical appearance and demeanor (35).  Though, Walter does admit to a certain charm to her “modest graces of action through which the symmetrical limbs betrayed their beauty when they moved,” it is made explicit that Marian is more man than woman (35).  She is described as level-headed, intelligent, and analytical, a stark contrast to both Laura and Mrs. Vesey who project feminine passivity.

Not only does Walter divorce Marian from his schema of femininity, but Marian also reinforces this instinct by rejecting female-gender-roles and removing herself from the stereotype ‘Victorian woman.’  During Walter’s narration she repeatedly generalizes woman in a very negative light and explicitly admits, “I don’t think much of my own sex, Mr. Hartright” (36). This attitude towards Marian continues through the end of Walter’s narration and into Mr. Gilmore’s narration.

There is a shift however, when Marian begins her narration.  From this point on, Marian’s gender established in the first two sections is contradicted and blurred.  For one, we witness Marian accept her role as a woman when she coddles and protects Laura.  She laments the pain that all women suffer at the hands of men with “miserable, weak, women’s tears.”  And her narration produces a less rational, level-headed voice than Mr. Hartright suggested.  She narrates like a school girl might gossip, impulsively and indulgently.  She frequently relates one idea, only to contradict it later.  For example, when Marian tries to decide her feelings towards Sir Percival she is at first uneasy, though in her journal entry on December 2 she writes, “ on looking back I find myself aways referring to Sir Percival in disparaging terms. In the turn affairs have now taken, I must and will root out my prejudice against him” (186).  She continues of the next few days to praise his handsome looks and respectable behaviors as his “pure charity, his conduct….deserves extraordinary praise!” (190).  But on December 20 she writes, “I hate Sir Percival! I flatly deny his good looks.  I consider him to be eminently ill tempered and disagreeable, and totally wanting in kindness and good feeling” (191).  Therefore Marian is now seen as fickle and easily swayed, more like a woman than a man.  Even later Marian’s voice suggests hysteria in her jealousy and paranoia combined with her impulsive nature.  This shift in characterization of Marian is directly linked to Collin’s narrative style.  Mr. Hartright and Mr. Gilmore write their passage after the written events have already ended, giving them ample time to reflect on and analyze them.  However, Marian’s narration takes place as the events take place which therefore leads the reader to think that she is less rational than the men, more like a woman, and therefore less reliable as a narrator.

Women in the Victorian period were expected to be docile, submissive, and were relegated to the domestic sphere. Once married, as Greg states in his essay, they became their husband’s servants and had no legal rights to own property. Laura Fairlie’s character in The Woman in White embodies all these characteristics, representing the typical Victorian woman. The Victorian stereotype that Laura impersonates can be seen not only in her personality which is described as servile, vulnerable and weak, but it does also apply to her social status. In that period, in fact, marriages used to be arranged by parents, and Laura, being engaged to an older and wealthier man she does not love, is no exception.

However, the interesting figure of Marian Halcombe in this novel completely contradicts this stereotype. From the beginning, she is described by Walter as an intelligent, curious, rational and outspoken woman. When introduced, Walter immediately notices Marian’s physical masculinity which, to a broader extent, can be read as seeping into her character personality, given that she is an independent, dominant character who has great influence in Limmeridge House. She is verbally frank and extremely critical of her own gender, as she states on her first meeting with Walter, “How can you expect four women to dine together alone every day, and not quarrel? We are such fools, we can’t entertain each other at table. You see I don’t think much of my own sex, Mr. Hartright” (36) In addition to this, Marian’s presentation as both an “ugly” and unmarried woman typifies Greg’s idea of a societally dangerous woman: “the residue who remain unmarried constitute the problem to be solved, the evil and anomaly to be cured” (159)

In Wilkie Collin’s The Woman in White, I noticed that the characters Marian and Count Fosco were similar in many ways: They are described to be intelligent, practical, and unattractive. However, even though they are similar, they work against each other to achieve different goals. While Marian works to protect Laura, Count Fosco works with Sir Percival to steal Laura’s inheritance. This opposition shows Collins’ ideas of the society in Victorian England: While Count Fosco symbolizes the driving forces behind the oppression of women, Marian becomes a symbol of those who defy this oppression.

Count Fosco is Italian, and is described to be an intelligent man in the novel by Marian (219), and Count Fosco praises Marian to have “the foresight and resolution of a man” (324). Both characters are also described to be unattractive, and they are fighting their cause with a less intelligent, but more attractive, counterpart. Compared to Marian, Laura seems to be a weak character who is prone to emotional outbursts, and her value is placed on her looks and inheritance. Similarly, Sir Percival is also described as attractive and rich. Sir Percival and Laura therefore have several Victorian ideals: While Laura is feminine, Sir Percival is upper-class and rich. Marian’s unattractiveness and traditional masculine qualities, and Count Fosco’s similar unattractiveness and foreign status, therefore make them unlikely candidates to be of importance in the Victorian English society, which then gives them room to attempt to control what happens to the people they care about.

Count Fosco’s oppression against women is exemplified in his behavior with his wife. Marian describes how he controls her briefly in her diary: “The rod of iron with which he rules [the Countess] never appears in company – it is a private rod, and is always kept upstairs” (Collins 222). Marian’s brief explanation that he “rules” her with a “rod of iron” suggests overtones of rape and domestic violence. As Count Fosco works with Sir Percival to steal Laura’s inheritance, this suggests that Sir Percival could also “rule” Laura with a “rod of iron,” as Count Fosco is familiar with controlling women. On the contrary, Marian seems to be interested in women’s rights: “‘I remember the time, Countess, when you advocated the Rights of Women – and freedom of female opinion was one of them’” (232). Her criticism of the Countess’ newfound lack of opinion suggests that Marian is an advocate for the Rights of Women as well, which would then make her a symbol of the New Woman. Furthermore, throughout the novel Marian and Count Fosco are shown to use their intelligence to take control of the situation to promote the interests of themselves or their partner. However, I am curious as to why there seems to be an attraction between Count Fosco and Marian at times. Marian’s initial reaction to Count Fosco was attraction, and although it is not as explicitly stated later as she comes to know his true intentions, she still seems to get certain “sensations” by his presence.

The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins was widely referred to as a “sensation novel” as it sparked excitement and desire within the reader through crime, mystery, and romantic triangles.  The dramatic tales were scandalous for the era, and particularly worrisome as they appealed to female reader. In William Greg’s essay discussing the Victorian woman, he focuses particularly on the despair and disappointment of single women. He deems them unaware of their ambitions, and accuses them of setting goals too high to be met, which would leave them in “a dreary void of unshared existence.” In The Woman in White, this idea and the belittling of women is made clear through the male characters. However, Marian Halcombe contrasts the typical female character in her often blunt expressions and her “rational” thoughts.

In Vincent Gilmore’s narration, he has a particularly interesting series of conversations with Marian. His descriptions of Marian often include adjectives that would be used to describe males. He uses hard words, like sharp and dark. On page 146, Marian stands up to Gilmore, in a conversation about Laura. Upon calling Laura “weak and nervous,” Marian says to Vincent Gilmore, “you are altering your opinion about Laura, you are readier to make allowances for her than you were yesterday.” He writes, “No sensible man ever engages, unprepared, in a fencing match of words with a woman.” This not only shows Marian’s ability and confidence to stand up to men, but also her fierce loyalty to Laura, which becomes more and more evident as the book continues. Gilmore, in his narration, is almost submissive, but alludes to the “irrationality” that women were believed to express through their hysteria. I did not interpret his thought as respectful, but rather a mockery of Marian’s provoking statement. Rather than continuing the conversation, he replies to her, “Let me know what happens. I will do nothing till I hear from you.” His avoidance of the argument, or potential conversation, was, in my opinion to avoid Marian getting “hysterical” by some means.

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.